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Crow’s hand grabbed a handful of my hair, moving it out of the way as his lips ripped from mine and pressed into my throat instead, making a shiver course through me.
My hands moved up the sides of his neck to slip into his hair, finding the strands slipping through my fingers like silk, softer even than it looked.
His fingers moved downward, teasing across my clavicles, then over my shoulder, carelessly swiping the straps of my dress off of them, then slipping to the center of my chest to start to work the buttons of my bodice free.
My breath felt stuck in my chest as his fingertips pulled the material downward, exposing my breasts. The cool air and the thrumming desire coursing through me made my nipples twist into tightened buds.
A deep breath shook through Crow’s chest as his gaze took me in before his hand moved out, softly brushing over one of the swells before moving to circle my nipple.
Arching backward, I pressed myself into his touch, the flames of need burning through my system, scorching everything within me, promising nothing but ash in the aftermath.
My hips rocked against him again, needing the friction, the promise of fulfillment.
Crow’s hands moved to my sides, sinking in at my ribs and pulling me up, making me lose the friction of him, making disappointment bloom in my body for a moment before he leaned down and sucked one of my nipples into his mouth.
The sound that escaped me was loud and desperate, something primal, so long-buried that I didn’t even recognize it as myself.
A growling sound moved through Crow upon hearing it, making his lips vibrate around my nipple, sending a shot of burning need between my thighs.
Crow’s hand slid from my knee and up my thigh, slipping inward at the last possible moment, and pressing against the strip of material between.
His lips pulled from my chest as he let out a groan. “Fucking drenched for me,” he said, making my hips rock against his still fingers. “Haven’t even done anything yet,” he added.
He hadn’t even done anything yet, and still it was the most I’d felt from a man in so long. My body was almost overwhelmed with the sensations as his fingers teased the line of my panties before slipping inside and stroking up my cleft.
His thumb found my clit as his other fingers slipped back downward, pressing against the entrance to my body, then slipping in.
My body folded forward at the sensation, my face resting in the crook of his neck as a long, low moan escaped me.
God, I had no idea how much my body had been missing this, craving it.
Or, perhaps, it hadn’t been.
Not until him.
My hips rocked against his palm, silently urging him to move, to give me the friction I so desperately needed.
He didn’t need more encouragement than that.
His other hand snaked up my back to sink into my hair, gathering it around his hand, and yanking me backward by it so he could watch me as he started to drive me up.
It didn’t take much.
It seemed like hardly a moment or two passed before my walls were tightening, before every inch of me tensed for the climax.
“Fuck,” Crow grumbled, making me distantly aware of the ringing of his phone in the cupholder. Once. Then a short silence. Then starting up again. “Come on, baby,” he demanded, fingers curling inside of my to stroke over my top wall. “Come for me,” he demanded.
I didn’t need anything more than that.
I crashed down into the orgasm, crying out in the quiet car as the waves crashed through my system over and over, making me collapse back onto his chest.
His fingers slipped out of me, resting on my hip.
The other went around my back for a moment, holding me against him, before it moved away.
It wasn’t until I heard him speaking that I realized he was calling back whoever he missed two calls from.
“What? Yeah. Sorry. Five minutes,” he said.
And, somehow, that was what managed to shock me out of my post-orgasm contentedness.
What the hell was I doing?
Screwing around with a former mark of mine in his car like a couple of uncontrollable, horny teenagers.
Christ.
What had gotten into me?
Thank God he needed to be somewhere before things progressed.
I couldn’t be getting involved with anyone in town. Least of all someone who knew about me and what I did. That was dangerous.
Because sex was complicated.
It made people unpredictable.
Even if you both agreed to keep it casual, there was a chance that someone caught feelings.
Not me, of course.
I didn’t do feelings.
I didn’t do anything that put any chains on me.
But, say, if things got physical with Crow and he got ideas about wanting more than sex, and I didn’t, and he got butt-hurt about it, he was walking around town holding onto the truth of who I was and what I did.
