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But he steals away her control.
Kicking up his knee, Preston forces her closer to his body—and takes away her space to rock against his hand. One hand grips her chin and mouth, the other is buried between her legs. He delves fingers into her wet heat.
A moan escapes her, her lips parting around his fingertips. He dips them into her mouth, over her tongue—
And glides his fingers out of her core, along her aching bud.
She’s pinned in place, trapped against him, against his fingers that rub in circles around her bud and fingers that push into her open mouth.
Her muscles are tensing, desperate to ride against his hand, to build higher the thrills that climb in her body.
Billie can’t fight the whispery moans. They escape her with each breath that comes harsher and harsher than the last.
That fucking finger. It circles and circles around the bud screaming for pressure, for touch. It’s teasing the hell out of her, and all she can do is grip and tug his shirt tighter.
Then, he slips his fingers out of her core and pushes them, hard, against her clit. Billie moans with relief, but it’s a fleeting moment before his flicks with more pressure, then—pinching it gently—rubs.
Her moan turns into a shout.
Hands pulling at his t-shirt, Billie tenses against him, bringing her chest against his—and she stills for a moment.
A whimper comes first.
Then absolute ecstasy comes crashing down on her.
Billie’s cry is muffled by the pressure of his fingers against her mouth. Her face twists just a second before the first jolt strikes through her.
Pulling him closer, she feels every shudder jerk her body.
Her lashes flutter.
A breath ribbons out from her parted, swollen lips.
Preston’s fingers still against the heat of her core.
And slowly, she recovers, her body relaxing against his.
Seconds pass, and she feels the graze of his hand leaving her slit. He travels his grip to her waist and holds gently—
He waits.
Breaths choppy, Billie rests her head against shoulder. The bone of his clavicle presses against her but in her daze, she feels no bite of pain.
Still, he waits.
Hard and trapped against her pelvis, his cock twitches impatiently.
With a small smile, Billie gives him the ok in a mild nod against his shoulder and a whispered moan.
He’s fast to act.
Hands tighten on her waist, fingertips press into her skin, and Preston expertly twists her around. He throws her onto her back.
Billie lands on the leather with a grunt. Pressing her heels into his seat, she pushes her body further up her own seat until the nape of her neck rests on the rolled down window ledge.
Good thing there’s no cup holders in here, otherwise there’d be another piece of car sticking into her.
Still, a smile breaks out over her freckled face, a laugh bubbling up her slight chest.
