“You know what that mouth does to me,” he says, voice low and raspy. Then, as quick as lightning, his hands are on my face, holding me in place while he leans forward. And before I know what’s happening, his lips are on mine, and I’m opening my mouth to let his tongue slide inside.
Again.
I have to stop letting him in, butgosh, can he kiss. He tastes like so many possibilities and all the wrong things all at once. I know I should stop; this isn’t right. But my hands somehow find their way to his chest through his open shirt, caressing his hot skin when I should be slapping him.
He slides one hand down my body, slowly, as if he’s afraid he might frighten me. Or maybe he’s just taking his time with me. I’m not sure which. When his hand lands on my ass, he squeezes it and then pulls me even closer and rubs his massive cock against me until pleasure starts spiking at my core, and without thinking, I push myself down more so I’m pressed as tight as I can get against him.
God, he feels so good.
A knock on the window makes me jump, and my teeth scrape his lip as I pull back.
He locks eyes with me and smirks before another knock comes.
EIGHTEEN
SOREN
“What?”I snap as I turn at the sound of someone knocking on my window.
“Great fight, man. Think you can teach me?” the man asks.
Cressida attempts to move off my lap, but I yank her back. Having my aching, hard-as-fuck cock pressing against her feels too damn good to stop now.
“No,” I tell him, then basically dismiss him by turning my attention back to Cressida.
“Let me go. You can drive me home,” she says.
But I don’t want to let her go.
I want her lips back on mine and to feel her pushing down against my cock again.
Fuck.
What are we doing?
I don’t play with women, but I can’t seem to stop myself when it comes to her.
What is wrong with me?
“Come on, man, I pay well,” the man outside the window offers. Ignoring him, I keep my focus trained on the woman straddling me.
“You’ll stay in the car? You won’t try to run off?” I confirm.
“Bros before hoes,” the guy calls out.
Cressida’s eyes flare wide, and she turns her head to the window. “Fuck you! I’m no one’s hoe.”
I can’t fight a smirk from forming. I lean in and whisper in her ear, “You plan to pull out your kung fu skills on him?”
I growl, “Fuck off.”
The guy holds up his hands and starts backing up, clearly intoxicated. When I feel he’s far enough away from the car, I look back at her.
“I have skills,” she asserts before climbing into the passenger seat.
“I’m sure you do.”
“I do,” she insists, then adds, “With my mouth.”
