His breath tickles my ear, and I lean further back into him, rubbing my hands down his thighs.
“I’m trying to be a good boy here, Sarah. It’s getting hard though.”
I laugh at his choice of words. “See, you’re just as dirty as I am.”
He kisses my neck, causing chills to run through me. “I can’t get you out of my mind,” he says barely above a whisper.
I lean my head back, slightly turning it, giving him more access to explore my body. My fingers interlace with his as I say, “Feeling’s mutual. I had to stop myself multiple times from calling you today.”
“Why didn’t you?” he asks as he holds me closer against him.
I bite my inner lip, trying not to sigh when I feel him push his cock up against my back. His spicy smell washes over me, and I have to inhale to calm the lust racing through me.
He’s barely touching me, and we’re sitting in the wide open, yet I’ve never been so turned on, so needy for a man’s touch, as I am right now. I try to breathe to bring my focus back to him and not the urgency racing through me.
“I wasn’t sure if you were busy. I didn’t want to bother you,” I say as I lift my arm behind me and run my fingers through his hair.
He flips me around to face him. “You’ll never be a bother to me.”
Our eyes meet, and in the moonlight, his normally crystal blues darken as his gaze drops to my lips and then back to my eyes.
“I don’t know how long I can be good for,” he says, licking his lips.
“I’m sick of being good,” I say without any hesitation.
The growl that escapes his mouth shoots right to my core as he yanks me to him, kissing me with pure abandon, throwing out everything holding us back as we both completely forget where we are.
My want goes directly to need as I rub my hands up his back. He reaches under my sweatshirt, dancing around my skin, leaving a path of heat every place he touches.
He stops himself, placing his forehead to mine.
Why did he stop? Please, for the love of God, don’t stop.
My heart is pounding out of control. I feel like I’ve taken my first hit of drugs, and I’m addicted—addicted so bad that I might not be able to breathe if I don’t get more.
“I’m sorry,” he says after taking a deep breath.
He might be sorry, but I’m not. This is what I want. Every single part of him, and I’ll be damned if he doesn’t fuck me right now, bed or not—a truck will work just fine.
I interlace my fingers with his, pulling him to the passenger side. Our eyes stay locked on one another, his expression stoic.
I open the door and slide into the seat, gripping his shirt and pulling him into me. I go straight for his lips, making sure he knows exactly what I want and not holding back one bit.
His hands wrap around my head, holding me steady as he explores my mouth. Every swipe of his tongue fuels my desire, and every exhale I feel against my skin makes me want to have him inside of me.
I wrap my legs around his waist, yanking him in, grinding into him, loving the friction it’s inducing. His labored breaths only fuel me more. He might want to go slow, but I want this man so bad right now, and I need to show him, so he has no doubts.
I reach under his shirt, running my hands up his bare back, feeling his soft skin and lines of other tattoos I haven’t seen. I move his shirt up higher and remove it completely, taking in the man of my dreams, who is staring back at me with so much lust in his eyes that I almost come undone completely.
I lift my own shirt, doing a slow striptease for him, keeping my eyes glued to his. When he licks his lips, my chest tightens in anticipation for this man—this gorgeous man that I want to give my entire body to. I want him to show me exactly what he’s feeling, thinking, dying to do to me.
He crashes into me, pushing me further into the truck and down to the seat. After climbing on top of me, his fingers make their way up my body, exploring my curves, feeling my breasts. When he pulls my bra down and wraps his lips around my nipple, my lower back instantly lifts off the seat, pushing harder against him.
He moves to my mouth when bright lights break our trance, pulling our attention to the police car parking behind his truck. He grabs his shirt, slipping it over his head and placing his feet on the dirt road.
I take a deep breath while I put my sweatshirt on, making sure my outfit is lying flat and doesn’t look like I was just being mauled.
Adam stands up straight and steps toward the officer, who I see exiting his car from the back window. “Can we help you, Officer?” Adam asks.
