Now she’s almost level with me.
Not quite, but close enough.
And when her knees part instinctively to hold her balance, when her thighs tighten around my hips without her even noticing, I swear something low and animal wakes inside me.
I step further between her legs, caging her in. Both my hands brace on either side of her hips on the seat, boxing her in with my body, my cock threatening to betray me right now and make himself known.
Her breath stutters, her fingers clutch the collar of my cut, tugging me closer like muscle memory, like instinct.
My eyes drop to her mouth, her bottom lip trembles, her lashes flutter in slow motion, and her chest rises, shallow and shaky, as if she’s struggling to pull air around the want choking her.
The air changes.
It thickens, turning electric, charged enough that one wrong move could set off an explosion.
I move in so close I smell her lip gloss in the air, cherry and warm sugar, and I swear my pulse hammers loud enough for both of us to hear.
She’s shaking for me.
Not with fear.
But with anticipation.
With want.
I move slowly, deliberately, giving her time to pull away if this is all in my head. My hand cups the side of her neck, my thumb brushing her jawline.
She doesn’t pull away.
She leans in. Just a breath. But it’s enough to destroy every wall I’ve been holding up. My hand slides fully to the back of her neck, guiding her in.
Her breath mixes with mine, warm, uneven, so fucking hungry.
Her fingers curl into my leather cut like she’s bracing for impact.
And then I can’t hold back any longer.
I slam my mouth against hers.
Not gentle.
Not cautious.
Not controlled.
It’s a collision—raw, rugged, volcanic.
Like every neon sign on the Vegas Strip is exploding behind my eyes.
Her lips part under mine instantly, soft and warm, as I sink into her. A tiny sound escapes her throat, high and breathy, the kind of sound that shoots straight down my spine and sets every nerve ending on fire. She yanks me closer by the front of my cut, as though she needs more contact, more pressure, moreme.Her thighs lock tighter around my hips, dragging me in until there’s no moonlight left between us, only heat, hunger, and the pounding of blood in my ears.
I deepen the kiss, sliding my mouth over hers, taking, tasting, claiming. Marley tilts her head for me, offering, opening, like she’s been waiting for this moment just as long as I have. Her hands tremble against my cut. Her breath stutters into my mouth. Her whole body presses closer, chest to chest, thighs tight around my waist, as if she’s trying to fuse herself to me. My cock moves on its own. I have zero control now with the heat of the moment, and I know she can feel it as it presses against her.
Her lips are soft, lush, and addictive.
This is the kind of kiss that ruins a man.
The kind that rewrites his being.
