He bites his bottom lip, trapping a groan in his mouth. I grasp his hips, stilling him in place.
“Don’t swallow your pleasure. The entire fucking parking garage will hear you come apart on my cock. I want them to hear every filthy, depraved thing we do.” Swiveling my hips, I hit a spot deep inside him that has him clenching around me for dear life.
He takes one of my hands off his hips, placing it at his throat. Ever since our first night in the woods, he loves when I control his breathing. He yearns for my hand pressing the sides of his throat, the airy, fuzzy feelings it gives him.
I oblige him, making sure he can still breathe as he starts a brutal pace again. His ass is going to be sore later, puffy, red, and leaking with cum.
Next time I need to bring a plug. He can keep me inside him until we’re home, and I can watch it drip out.
“Cal,” he gasps silently, pleading with me to finish him. He’s absolutely beautiful when he’s desperate for release and full of my cock.
“I got you, baby.”I’ll always have you.This man is my salvation, my everything.
Tightening my hold on his hip, I drive into him, meeting his every move. I can feel how close he is. His wild moans fill the car, driving me to an unhinged place inside me I try to keep under lock and key. A possessive, dangerous beast lives there, and it’s better for everyone if he stays trapped.
“Touch yourself for me. I want that hole to strangle me, baby.”
A few strokes later, he comes into his hand, locking my cock into a vice so tight, I lose myself for a second. I bite the other side of his throat, giving him a matching mark. We pant together in the front seat, my cock still inside his warmth and our arms wrapped around each other.
We hear footsteps outside our car, and Bolton’s body tenses.
A light female voice says, “Don’t come knocking; that car was rocking.” Her raucous laughter echoes around the garage.
A second female voice with a British accent replies, “Stop, they can probably hear you. You’re just jealous no one is fucking your brains out in a sports car in broad daylight. Good on them.”
We wait until we hear two car doors close and the unmistakable sound of a vehicle passing us. Bolton’s body relaxes, and we both burst out laughing.
“Fuck, that was hot.” He licks his lips. “Fuck me again when we get home?”
I start the engine, backing out of the spot. “Whatever you want, baby.”
4
BOLTON
Someone call Santa, because I’m a ho-ho-hoe. A holiday hoe on the naughty list whose body is so limp, he can barely get out of bed.
“Come on, lightning bolt. Our Thai food is here,” Cal says as he vaults out of the bed with a spring in his step. I thought men were supposed to slow down as they approached their fifties. How the hell is he able to walk after what he did to my ass?
“You’ve reached Bolton Monroe, aka best-selling author Bolton Blue. I can’t come to the phone right now because my husband destroyed my ass and sent me into a post-coital coma. Please fuck off and don’t leave a message,” I dramatically recited, barely lifting my head from the pillow. “Beeeeeep.”
“You need to eat,” he says in a stern, steady voice, unaffected by my bullshit. He’s rarely fazed by my shenanigans.
I yawn, trying and failing to move. “I’ll eat later.”
“No, you’re going to eat now,” Cal corrects me. He lifts me, cradling my body against his as I try to wrap my limp noodle thighs around his waist.
Somehow, after almost an hour of cardio, this man carries me to the couch and gently deposits me in my favorite spot. Right next to the Christmas tree. He turns on the lights, andthey twinkle between multi-colored and white. The way the light reflects off the glass ornaments and balls always catches my eye.
“I’ll be back,” he assures me before retrieving our food from the front lobby and plating it for us. He brings our plates over and puts them on the coffee table. Then he pulls me onto his lap and feeds me.
I try to rearrange my body so I can sit up better and feed myself.
“Stay still,” he orders me as he brings another forkful of pasta to my mouth.
“Whatever you say, Santa,” I sass. He wrinkles his face, and I’m satisfied at how my teasing ruffled his feathers.
“Excuse you?” He asks.
