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Right…?
“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “If it’s too much, you tell me.”
Everything about Ronan Wentz was too much.
He’s going to ruin me. Right here. Right now.
I reached for him. Needed him. Wanted him so badly I could hardly breathe. Ronan read my face, felt my body waiting beneath him. He poised himself over me in that tight space, and I reached to guide him inside me. Slowly, inch by inch, Ronan pressed in, and my eyes fell shut as my mouth opened in a soundless cry.
“Shiloh…?”
“Don’t stop,” I breathed. “Oh my God…”
My fingers scratched at his shoulders, struggling to hold on as our hips met, Ronan filling me completely with his hard heaviness. He grunted and drew in tighter, eliciting another cry from me.
“Shiloh, look at me.”
I opened my eyes. All I knew or saw or felt was Ronan. On and over me. Inside me. His mouth brushed mine, our foreheads touching, his gaze locked on me, silently commanding me not to look away.
I obeyed, surrendering to him. My eyes widened as he pulled back, and I whimpered as he pushed back in.
“Oh God, Ronan…”
He held me captive in his gaze, his cock moving slowly in and out of me. There was just the intensity of him and the pleasure building from where we were joined. He angled his head, trying to kiss me, our mouths bumping to the rhythm of his thrusting hips. It was too much, staring into his eyes as he fucked me, but I couldn’t stop and didn’t want to.
He moved faster, his biceps straining to hold him over me on the seat. And then he hooked his right arm under my left leg, spreading me wider, granting himself better access. I cried out as the angle changed, hitting me somewhere deep I’d never known existed. Ronan watched my reaction, his eyes hooded and dilated. Then he bent his mouth to mine in a shallow kiss—licking and biting, his hot breath gusting over my lips.
The shards of tingling pleasure coalescing between my legs were growing into a heavy pressure, deeper and more intense with every stroke of his cock. My hands flailed for something to hold on to as his thrusting intensified, my palm smearing the fogged glass of the window.
Like Kate Winslet in Titanic, came the random thought, since my rational mind was breaking apart, leaving logic and reason behind. All that remained was how good this was and how I never wanted to leave this world that was just him and me.
Ronan’s thrusts were merciless, pinning me to the car seat. I hooked my leg around his waist to lock him to me, to steady my body that was at the mercy of his, while my breasts bounced under my sweater. A drop of sweat trickled down his cheek and dripped off the blade of his jaw, landing in the hollow of my neck. The space was hot and cramped, and there was still too much clothing between us. I wanted to see him naked. I wanted every inch of his body—sweaty and hard—touching mine, because Jesus, if he could do this to me in a car, what could he do in a bed?
That fevered imagining broke apart, too, as the pressure deep in my core raced toward combustion.
Ronan’s mouth took mine, his thrusts relentless, stoking me to the edge and then over. I cried out as every nerve-ending in my body fired, a beautiful chaos of sensation that ripped through me, pulsing hard between my legs where he was still driving in and out of me. The tension tapered as the orgasm flowed and ebbed, and I let him have me.
“Fuck me, Ronan,” I whispered dully, drunk with him and the pleasure that slid through my veins like warm syrup. “Fuck me however you want.”
His eyes flared, and somehow his hips drove in deeper, harder when I thought he’d given me all I could take. It was raw and almost dirty how I let my legs fall open as far as they could go, giving him everything while kissing him almost serenely, completely relaxed as my core throbbed.
I felt him tense, muscles straining.
“Come in me,” I whispered in his ear. “It’s yours. All yours…”
Ronan grunted and shuddered, and then a sound deep in my chest rumbled with his release that I imagined spilled deep in me, condom or not. It was mine, that release. The sounds he made as he came, the sexiest I’d ever heard. Also mine.
The little voice came back, whispering that we belonged to no one. This was just sex. Casual, messy, backseat-of-the-car sex. And yet my arms wrapped around Ronan, holding him close, my hands in the damp softness of his hair as he breathed hard against me. His chest was pressed to mine, his hardness cushioned by my softness. My embrace a refuge for him. Every part of him welcome inside me.
Finally, his breathing slowed, and he raised his head from the crook of my neck. His hair a mess where my hands had been in it, his face drowsy with orgasm.
“You good?” he asked.
“I’m really good. You?”
“Yeah. I’m good.”
Something in his tone felt heartbreaking. Like it had been a long time since he’d been able to say that.
