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“Too much?” I ask, my face scrunching up.
He nods, his fist tightening the steering wheel. “You said you were worried you’d break my heart,” he says. “I’m going to say that’s highly improbable. I’ve had my fair share of intimate partners. And I don’t get attached.”
I watch him, an internal fight happening with the way he opens and closes his mouth. We come to a red light, and he turns his head toward me. “I have certain . . . desires.”
Oh.
I make a mental scan of the things I like. What are my kinks? I honestly hadn’t thought about it. What’s the point when you’re not having sex?
I lift a brow. “Such as?”
“We can get into all of that later.” He licks his lips, his gaze turning dark before he turns back to the windshield and presses on the gas as the light turns green. “Right now, I want you to open those pretty thighs for me and touch yourself.”
“It’s still light out,” I argue. “Someone will see.” I press a finger to my mouth and bite down.
Even though I protest, one leg comes up and the heel of my foot lands on the edge of the seat. A groan of satisfaction leaves Declan. It only spurs on the confidence I’m channeling, and I rest a hand on the inside of my leg.
“More,” he says in a throaty command that sends a surge of thrill rushing through me.
I obey, gliding a hand down until I reach the hem of the lace panties I’m wearing. He continues to drive, glancing over every few seconds, while I stroke two fingers along the sensitive flesh, up toward my knee, then back down my leg. I draw lazy patterns, teasing both of us.
When he stops at another red light, I push aside the lace fabric, feeling my slick arousal. Then I finger myself, eyes trained on him.
There’s no time to question what I’m doing, or why. I can only feel the need we have for each other, the air thick with tension. Despite how good this feels. I want it to be his hand. I’ve pleasured myself enough all these years. It’s the caress of a man I want now.
“Touch me,” I say. “Please, Declan.”
He lets out a groan and shifts in the seat. My back arches when a hand leaves the steering wheel and lands on me. His nails dig into my knee, and I gasp when he drags my leg toward him. He slides it between his legs. I settle against the back of the seat and soak in how good it feels.
The roughness of his calloused hand against my bare leg, the harsh way his fingers dig into me, the rushed movements of a man in a frenzy to have me. I squirm as his hand travels higher and higher until he cups my pussy. Heat coils inside of my belly when a finger nudges against my entrance. But then he pulls away after a soft tease, back down the apex of my thighs, and up again. He circles my clit, glides toward my entrance, only enough to make me whimper when he pulls away the second I feel an ounce of bliss.
“Yes,” I pant.
Two fingers slide inside of me, and he thrusts once, twice, only to remove them when I let out another squeal. My knees naturally fall, only for him to shove them back open. Over and over, he plays with me, never fully giving me the release that’s been building up inside of me.
He pulls into a parking garage—probably the hotel’s garage if I’d been paying attention instead of being teased—and he slams the car in park. Declan’s seatbelt flies off. Then he’s leaning over, shoving one leg open while he fills me with two fingers.
“Declan,” I squeak between harsh thrusts. “Oh—” My entire body tenses.
He leans over, his face right against my core, then spits against my clit.
“No” His fingers pull out of me to slap the inside of my thigh. “Keep. Them. Open.”
My eyes roll back at the gruff command, the way he pins me with his elbow to the passenger door. I couldn’t close them now even if I gave it my full effort.
“Stop fighting me,” he warns, his tone stern. It only sends a jolt of electricity through me.
Or what?I want to ask. I open my mouth to speak, but he silences me with the fingers that were just inside of me.
“You taste yourself?” he asks.
I groan around him, nodding. “So good, isn’t it? Fuck. I need you.”
My tongue swirls around the saltiness of his skin and the musky taste of my wetness, lapping up every drop.
“Stay still.” He pulls his hand from my mouth.
“I need to come, and you’re teasing me,” I gripe. “It’s impossible to sit still.”
