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Moving before thought can stop me, I unbuckle my seat belt and practically launch myself at him. He catches me easily, his fingers diving into my hair as his tongue sweeps against mine.
He lets out this panty-melting groan that has me climbing into his lap. The steering wheel wedges into my back, but he quickly solves the problem, scrambling for a lever and shoving the seat back as far as it will go. I straddle his thighs, nestling my wet core over his erection and moaning into his mouth.
His tongue is sweet fire, hot and commanding, silently asking for more. I happily give it to him, deepening the kiss until I can’t figure out how I ever survived life without doing this on a daily basis.
My hips start to rock of their own accord, my body seeking relief from the pulsing ache between my legs. He lets go of my hair, dragging his fingers across my shoulders before his large hands cup my breasts. A hungry whimper builds in my throat when his thumbs flick my hardened nipples. That feels so fucking good. I want to tell him so, but my tongue’s too busy doing a deep dive into Ethan Galloway’s mouth. I want to live here forever.
I want?—
“Holy shit,” I gasp when he pinches my nipple, sending a sharp spike of pleasure shooting through my body. “Magic hands,” I rasp. “You have magic hands.”
His throaty chuckle vibrates against my neck as he nibbles and licks his way to my collarbone.
Deft fingers are pulling my shirt and bra straps down, exposing an expectant, pleading nipple to Ethan’s wet tongue. The second he latches on, I can’t help tipping my head back with a moan so loud I’m sure every sorority girl on this street can hear it.
I thrust my chest toward him, begging for more. With his tongue working my nipple and his hard ridge grinding against my sensitive core, I feel like an implosion is inevitable. My brain cells are the consistency of chocolate mousse while my muscles are as taut as piano strings.
If even the tip of his finger brushes my clit, I’m gonna come with an embarrassingly loud, orgasmic scream, and right now… I don’t even give a shit.
I just want?—
Ethan’s mouth rips away from me, his ragged breaths hitting my face as he whispers, “Maybe we should cool it.”
Okay, well, I don’t want that.
My insides deflate faster than a popped balloon, and I lean away from him, scanning his face for any signs of why he might suddenly want to pull the plug on this thing.
He winces and glances out the window. “We’re on a public street.”
People would have to walk right up to the windows to see us.
I want to argue that point, but he’s already pulling my bra straps back into place. I can feel my breasts wailing in despair while my pulsing V-jay starts screaming out aWhy? Why? Why?
I’ll have to take care of that myself when I head inside, but I really wanted him to do it for me.
The thought of those long fingers stroking my insides only strengthens the pulsing ache.
“We could go someplace else,” I whisper, my tone kind of desperate.
He swallows, his face bunching as he shakes his head. “I’m really sorry. I’ve got an early practice in the morning.”
I nearly yell,“It won’t take much to make me come. I’ll be quick!”
But how desperate would that sound?
And do I honestly want to be quick with Ethan Galloway?
Uh, no. I want to enjoy every inch of his body. I want to watch his eyes fill with pleasure, hear that guttural groan he makes. I want to feel every inch of him feeling me and sending me to the moon and back.
Those types of things really shouldn’t be rushed, and they should most definitely not be begged for when the guy who can give them to you is lifting you off his lap and silently telling you that time is up.
Ouch.
Painful.
Humiliating.
Why am I expecting anything less?
