“Yes. That. It wouldn’t happen. I don’t know about being with a Cyborg, but,” she placed her hand on her stomach, “there’s no way in hell I’d be allowed to leave. Even if I wanted to. And what about Bengie and the bar?”
“Clara, I think you’re lying through your teeth.”
She shifted on his lap and rolled her eyes. The smell of her berries mixed with the salty tang of her dried tears, and the fading aroma of liquor, had him running his free hand up her leg and under her long skirt to settle over her thigh.
She shivered but didn’t stop him, sighing, “If you take me, we’ll never be able to return.”
Sure we could.But he didn’t say it.
“I’ve always wanted to see what else was out there,” she continued. “Do you think it’d be okay? For the babies?”
He bit back a laugh and squeezed her leg and pushed back his chair an extra inch. “Seriously?”
“Don’t be an asshole. My hormones are all over the place. I don’t think I have any more patience left in me for your hot and cold ride.”
Reid pulled at her body and shifted her in his lap until she straddled and faced him. His shaft twitched and pressed up to feel her sex, having missed it every second of every day since she left. “I know your hormones are erratic.”
Clara gripped his shoulders and dug her nails into him, biting through the expensive fabric. He had never replaced so many suits since she walked into his life. His own fingers grabbed her hips, under her skirt, and pressed her down onto his erection.
“We can leave. Right now.” He held her to him, tight and taut. “If you want.”
“Right now? This very moment?”
He hissed. “Yes.”
She lifted over him and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Reid lost it. In the seconds that followed, he tore at the barriers between them until the heat of her pussy bathed his groin. Without any preparation, he slid his fingers over her wet folds and spread her opening to take him. He banded an arm around her butt, letting her lean back, and forced his way back into her body. Her cunt accepted him reluctantly until he had her seated to the hilt.
Neither of them spoke as he pulled down Clara’s shirt and her breasts spilled out the top. Reid leaned back with a heavy, satisfied groan as his woman rode him, and as she loosened up for him, the tension morphed into desperation. When she tired out, he kept her going—taking charge—unable to stop the mesmerizing sight she created above him, or the clawing and kissing chaotic inferno that had caught them.
When she bit down on his neck, he came, his release guttural and long-awaited as her sheath squeezed him for all he had.
Reid pressed her back onto the rickety table and pulled out, taking in her disheveled state before he dove forward and sucked on her clit. He pulled her shirt up so he could see her scars as he reclaimed her.
Clara writhed her hips and he stopped her. “Stay. Still.” Not only because he wanted her to, but because he was unsure of the integrity of the table.
She moaned but settled and he slipped his fingers in and found her g-spot, coaxing her into a heat, into a firestorm. He poured his soul into it, wanting her to know it was a promise for so much more to come.
“Now,” he bit out. His fingers went into a frenzy inside her as his mouth latched back onto her bud. She screamed and seized and with a flood of heat, climaxed all over his hand and chin. Reid lapped it up, licked his hand, watching her as she came down, her eyes locked with his.
He helped her up, settling her skirt and pulling up his pants.
Clara eyed him warily. “You really like to embarrass me.”
“Wrong.” He moved to the wheel and started up the trailer. “Iloveto embarrass you.”
