Roman’s hands tighten on the wheel. When he speaks, his voice is a warning growl. “You don’t want to know what we do to people who think they can control us, Siren. Watch your mouth.”
It’s a blunt dismissal of the conversation, but I don’t want him to have the last word. My lips part on more venom threatening to fall when a hand clamps around my thigh. I jolt, my head whipping down to see that Maddox is squeezing my leg. In his sleep.
I’m wearing a plaid skirt that exposes a little skin, andas his thick fingers dig into my flesh, I bite back my whimper. I glance up at the front, but Roman and Kairo have gone back to discussing their plans. They aren’t paying us any attention as Maddox’s hand shifts up further, and his fingers dip under my skirt. His warm palm closes around the inside of my thigh, ghosting the lacy pink panties I’m wearing.
I peer over at him, the breath skating from my lungs as his pinky nestles between my clothed folds. His head is tipped toward the side, and his face is still slack with sleep. I try to gauge if he’s awake, but I can’t tell.
“Maddox,” I whisper in a hiss as I gently pry him off of me.
His mouth twists as his hand tightens on my thigh, and I wince at the pressure. I grab his wrist, but it’s no use as his finger rubs against me in a slow, punishing rhythm.
“Oh, fuck,” I curse low, pressing my hand to my mouth. He’s teasing my clit through my panties, and the wetness coating me is embarrassing. I try to clamp my legs together, but it only heightens everything as he presses his digit harder against me.
I bite my lower lip, panic and desire clawing away at me and battling with my reason.
This is messed up.
I should wake him up.
I reach across the seat and lightly slap his cheek. “Maddox! Wake up!” I whisper, but he doesn’t budge. I slap him again, more forcefully this time, and I’m still met with radio silence.
It feels good to smack him around, but he’s asleep. Not waking him would be a serious mistake I have to answer for in the future, and my morals have never been questionable. I have to get him up somehow.
His finger presses into me, soaking my panties with my arousal as he circles my bud with gentle, teasing strokes. My eyes flutter as pressure builds, and I try to stop him.
This is so wrong.
How the fuck is he still sleeping?!
I dig my nails into his wrist, squeezing as hard as I can, but he only grunts in his sleep before pressing harder into me.
Fighting seems to make it worse…
I relax my body, letting my thighs part against my better judgment, and rest my head back as I ride out the pleasure.
When he wakes up, I have to tell him.
His fingers work me expertly, even in his comatose state. It’s like muscle memory for him, and I can’t find it in myself to be angry. It’s not like he knows he’s doing it. He’s still sleeping!
I’m reaching the peak as my climax builds. The slickness between my thighs only seems to encourage him further as he speeds up. I roll my bottom lip in, keeping my moans contained as the heat in me begins to spread. I’m scratching his wrist in the process, my nails digging into his flesh and leaving red marks everywhere.
As my orgasm shatters me, I swear I feel him tense, but when my head whips around to him, he’s still slouched. I pant quietly from my seat, letting the last dregs of my post-clarity clear before Maddox’s arm goes slack, and his hand hits the seat. He’s still dead to the world, and I’m stuck trying to pick up the fragments of my composure.
I fix my skirt, clearing my throat as we near the electric gates of my home. Roman rolls down the window, typing in my code before the iron slides open, granting us access.
Up ahead, Charlie’s custom, fire-red BMW is parked along the cobblestone path, and she’s propped against the door with two iced coffees in her hands. She’s dressed in a cute, black mock neck romper that stops just past her calves and thick tortoise shell sunglasses blocking out her sleep-deprived, baggy eyes.
As Roman shifts into park, Maddox’s head whips up, and I stop breathing. I think he’s going to notice what happened, maybe feel the dampness on his fingers, but he opens the back door and slides out without even looking back. My shoulders sink at the anti-climactic moment as nerves eat away at me.
I’m going to have to confront him.
Charlie gives me an impatient look through the windshield, and I grumble as I open my door and step out onto the driveway.
My best friend holds up the coffee. “I brought a peace offering for not being at the shoot.” Kairo reaches for one with a grin, and she yanks it away from him. “Down, boy. Not you.”
He mopes into the house with Roman hot on his heels. The bigger guard stops in the doorway before giving me a pointed stare. “Eat some lunch. Coffee isn’t a meal, Rosalie.”
“Eat some lunch,” I mock quietly, flipping him off in my head as I snatch one of the coffees from Charlie. “Fuck you for leaving me with them.”
