I whip the car down an alley, slam it into reverse, and pin it until we nearly hit the back wall. The car jerks. Her seatbelt snatches her hard. Her hands go to the dash, and then she shoots me a look that could curdle paint.
“That little stunt supposed to scare me or just make your dick feel bigger?”
Her mouth always gets her in trouble. “I’m fucking tired of hearing you.”
I unbuckle, the click of the belt lost in the sound of her doing the same. She’s climbing into my lap the second the metal’s free, hands in my hair, mouth crashing into mine. It’s not a kiss, it’s a collision. All tongue and teeth, her nails raking my jaw, her hips grinding down on me like she wants to ride me through the goddamn seat.
I bite her lip until she hisses, and she just bites back. I grab her ass, hard enough to leave a mark. Her breath is hot against my ear.
“Fucking brat,” I growl, squeezing harder.
She just laughs, low and cruel. “Like you’re going to fucking do something about it.”
She’s all over me before I can even think, mouth on mine, biting, sucking, her hands in my hair and yanking like she wants to rip something out. I meet her, kiss for kiss, teeth clashing, tongues fighting for dominance. Every sound is a dare. I can feel the sweat on her skin, the scent of her mixed with leather and blood. I want to mark her. I want to leave something she’ll still feel tomorrow.
My hand slides under her shirt, under her bra—she gasps when my fingers find her nipple, rollingit, pinching just enough to make her jolt. She moans, grinding harder against my cock, her whole body vibrating with need.
“Harder,” she demands, voice raw.
I pinch and tug, pulling her head back with my other hand, mouth closing on her neck, sucking until I feel her pulse jump under my tongue. She grinds down, rocking against me with a little noise that goes straight to my dick.
“Yeah, I know how you fucking like it,” I growl, grinding up to meet her, hips moving rough and insistent.
“You pretend you want control,” I say, squeezing her breast until she hisses, “but I know what you want, Saint.”
She glares at me, eyes flashing. “You don’t know anything about me anymore.”
Before I can answer, she kisses me again, bruising and desperate, riding me like she’s chasing a high she refuses to ask for. She’s soaking me through her pants, rubbing harder and harder.
“You haven’t changed,” I mutter against her mouth, voice breaking from want. “You want to be fucked the same way you want everything else. Hard. Fast. You want to win, even when you’re losing.”
She digs her nails into my shoulder, scraping across the bullet wound from yesterday, and I grunt, pain and pleasure tangled. “But don’t act like I don’t know you. You’re only lying to yourself. You want to fight, and you want to fuck, so let’s do it.”
I pinch her nipple again, vicious, and she cries out—half pain, half pleasure—her hips stuttering against mine. Her nails rake me again, and our pace goes wild, grinding against each other until she’s trembling.
“Come on, Saint. I know you’re close. You always areafter a fight. Fucking admit it—this is what you want. You want me to ruin you, right here in this fucking alley, where anyone could see. Take it. Come for me, right now.”
She whimpers, legs shaking, breath ragged. I press harder, rolling her nipple and grinding up until she finally breaks—body locked, eyes rolling back as she comes, soaking me through both our clothes.
I let her ride it out, then shove her back with one hand, breath still ragged. “Get in the back seat.”
She’s gone, scrambling over the console, already tugging at her pants. I pull off her boots. Watch her working her pants down those long legs. I grab the ankles and pull them off the rest of the way and toss them into the passenger seat, voice low and sharp:
“Put your feet up on the seats, Saint.”
She does, nothing left on her but a shirt, panties, and socks. She’s panting, thighs shining. The wet patch on her panties nearly makes me lose it.
“Fucking soaked,” I mutter, unbuckling my belt.
I twist around in the front seat, can’t take my eyes off her—shirt riding up, panties clinging to everything, legs spread across the cracked leather. She’s breathless, flushed, wild. Looking like something I want to own.
“Pull your panties to the side,” I order, voice guttural.
She doesn’t hesitate. Hooks a finger in the damp fabric and drags it aside, exposing her cunt—glistening, lips swollen from grinding on me, begging for more. I lick my lips, grip my cock through my jeans just to keep from losing it.
“Let me see you,” I rasp. “Wider.”
She opens her legs further, feet still on the headrests. Ican see everything—the way she’s still trembling, the slick on her thighs, the way her pussy clenches at nothing.
