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“Almost there,” I tell her, guiding us past one more car then over to my passenger side door.
Opening it, I help her into the low seat and shut the door.
The angel on my shoulder lifts his head long enough to glare at me. A silentwhat in the fuck are you doingexpression on his face. But it’s not enough to stop me.
Maybe I don’t know what I’m doing.
And maybe I don’t know how much I’m willing to give.
But I know I’m going to lose my damn mind if I don’t get her taste on my lips and her wetness on my dick.
The devil leans forward, rubbing his hands together, approving of my plans.
Yanking my door open with too much force, I lower myself into the seat.
I don’t look over at Maddie.
I can’t.
If I see that needy, horny look on her face, I’ll be tempted to fuck her right here in this car. And I’m too old for that shit.
“Seatbelt,” I command.
Clicking my own in, I reverse out of the parking spot and make my way through the lot.
The music is at a normal level, but as I pull out onto the road I reach out and click the audio off. Now the only thing I can hear is my own roaring pulse, and Maddie’s soft panting breath.
“Have you been drinking?” I need to know.
In my periphery, I see Maddie shake her head. “No, only Sprite. I promise.”
“Good.” My hand moves from the shifter to the top of her thigh. “Open your pants.”
Maddie swiftly inhales a breath.
Keeping firm pressure, I slide my hand up her thigh, until the side of my palm is pressing between her thighs.
I press harder, and the heat of her seeps into my bloodstream.
After a moment of pause, Maddie fumbles with her buttons. The dark pants she has on look nice, but I especially like that – right below where they cling to her glorious ass cheeks – they flow out. Meaning there’s space to work with.
Maddie’s leg muscles twitch as I drag my hand up, letting my fingers trail up the seam of her pants.
When I lift my hand further, nearly to the top of the clothing barrier with my fingertips, Maddie’s hands suddenly clamp down over her stomach.
Pausing, I glance towards her, seeing a worried expression on her face. “What is it, Baby?”
“I just…” I glance back over and see her squeeze her eyes shut.
“Talk to me.”
“It’s just that when I sit like this,” her words tumble out, “it makes my stomach stick out, and I don’t want you to be grossed out by it.”
The hand still on the steering wheel tightens until the leather begins to creak.
“Put your hand on my lap.”
The hand she has closest to me tentatively moves over until it’s on top of my leg.
