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The sound gets louder, breaking the spell he was weaving over me. I blink a few times as Nova leans forward and adjusts the volume on both speakers.
Then we settle in to watch the movie, the apocalyptic world unfolding on the big screen before us. The action scenes are intense, but I find myself more drawn to the chemistry between the lead female character and her male counterparts.
All three of them.
They're constantly saving each other, even when they're grumpy about sharing face time with the girl. I can't figure out if it's the actors' intrinsic chemistry with one another or if the actual story was written that way.
I get my answer ten minutes later, when all four main characters seek shelter together. They have one of thoseoh my god, we might actually dietype of moments and that's the moment they give in to their desires.
The camera pans out to show the four of them tangled up in each other, their bodies writhing in pleasure. It's all done creatively with suggestive angles, shadows and the play of light obscuring the more explicit details.
But oh holy shit the sounds they're making are actually the most explicit part of it all.
A full-body flush rolls over me, and I shift a little bit, squeezing my thighs together tightly.
I'm no stranger to porn, and hell, I read some of the filthiest smut you could imagine. But I'veneverfelt like this from a movie.
I chance a glance at Nova out of the corner of my eye. But he's not watching the screen anymore. His focus is entirely on me, his eyes dark with a lust that sends heat pooling between my legs.
There's this charged moment between us, the air actually fizzling with tangible lust. I can feel it crackling across my skin, and my heart races inside my chest.
We're having our own moment. We're not about to die like the people in the movie, but in some ways, I feel like if he doesn't touch me soon, I might actually combust.
Or say fuck it, and touch myself.
We're hidden under the cover of darkness and an illusion of privacy in the back of his truck. I'd bet Nana Jo's cowboy boots that most of the people in the surrounding cars are fucking around too.
I swipe my tongue across my bottom lip and shift to my knees and inch closer to him. My heart pounds so loudly in my ears, it nearly drowns out the moans and grunts coming from the speakers.
Shadows play across his face, highlighting the cut of his cheekbones and darkening his intense gaze.
My bare leg bumps against his thigh, and his hand wraps around it from behind, the tips of his fingers on my inner thigh.
It's the encouragement I needed.
I swing my leg over his lap and straddle his legs. I take my time sinking into his lap, relishing the way his eyes rake over me, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, like he's physically holding himself back.
I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't want him to hold back. I want to feel his hands on me. And his mouth. And his cock.
Ohgod, do I want to feel his cock.
I rock against him, just a tiny shift of my hips, my center pressed against his hardening cock. And I'm rewarded tenfold.
He groans, a low rumble of appreciation in the back of his throat. Both of his hands are on my thighs now, gripping tightly but not hindering any movement.
Every inch of my body is aware of him. From the way his gaze devours me to the slight flex of his fingers still clutching my thigh.
I've never felt so feminine, so in control.
It'sintoxicating.
I exhale a quiet breath, my face so close to his that an inch of space separates our lips. My entire body aches for him, my core pulsing with a need that belongs wholly to him.
But I don't rush it.
I take my time, reveling in the feeling of the slow back and forth of my hips. I slide my hand up his chest, curling it around the back of his neck and sinking my fingers into the small hair there.
And that's all it takes for him to rid himself of whatever restraint he was practicing. His hands slide up my thighs, underneath my skirt, and don't stop until he's clasping my hips. His thumbs swipe slow strokes over my hip bones, and it's the only thing soft about him.
