I do. I shake until the pleasure softens into something warm and heavy. I sag against him, chest pressed to his. He strokes my back once, slow and steady, grounding me.
But I'm not done. My body still feels hot. Hungry. His cock is still hard between us, still slick from me, still pushing against my sore, sensitive clit.
"I want more," I whisper without thinking.
He lifts my face and kisses me again, slower this time but deep enough to pull another shiver out of me.
"You're getting more," he says. "All of it."
doesn't give me time to recover. His palms cup my ass and lift me just enough that the head of his cock slides down, nudging at my slick entrance. The thick glide makes my whole body tense again. The parking lot is quiet outside the fogging windows, but inside this SUV everything feels tight and crowded and hot enough to blister. A low "mmm" catches in my throat when he rubs me along the length of him, teasing, slow. I can feel every ridge, every steady throb, like he's trying to carve his shape into me before he even pushes in.
"You ready, baby?" he murmurs. His voice curls around my spine, smooth and deep, loaded with that command he can't shake even when he's half naked in a car.
"Yes. Please." The words tumble out too fast, breathless. My hands grab at his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscles there, needing something solid.
He drags the wet tip over my clit one more time just to watch me shudder, then he lines himself up. I hold my breath as he lowers me slowly. The blunt pressure stretches me, fills me. Every inch slides in like molten steel, thick and deliberate. My eyes fall shut and a tight "oh" spills from my lips. He groans too, rough and quiet, forehead pressing into the hollow beneath my jaw. The air smells like sweat and leather and my perfume, all mixed into something heady. I sink until my thighs rest against his hips, until he's buried inside me, and the fullness steals whatever words I thought I had left.
He grips my hips, thumbs biting in. "Look at me." It's an order more than a request, familiar, threaded with the seriousness he uses during briefings. I blink my eyes open and meet his gaze. Dark. Focused. He likes watching the exact moment I give in. Knowing that makes me wetter, somehow, because he sees me coming apart and he doesn't look away. He never has.
"How do you feel?" His voice is gravel.
"Like you're splitting me open," I whisper. It isn't enough. I roll my hips forward just a little and the motion drags him against the tender spot inside me. "Oh, God." My nails bite into his shoulders.
"That's my girl," he mutters, satisfaction curling the words. He braces his back against the driver seat, plants his boots on the floor for leverage. "Ride me just like that."
I start slow. Too slow. I lift just enough that the head of his cock slides down my slick walls, then drop back down, taking him all the way. The car rocks. The noise that leaves me is sharp and needy, more of a sob than a moan. He meets each rise with a push upward, giving me more of what I crave. The leather squeaks under me. His breath punches out in short huffs, keeping pace with my motions.
"Fuck, Gabe," I gasp. "You feel so—" The word dies when he bucks up hard enough to jolt my teeth. Pleasure shoots through me like a live wire. "Ahh!"
His hands move from my hips to my ass, spreading me, the grip rough. He watches where we join, a hungry sound rumbling from his chest. "You're taking me so deep," he praises, voice slipping into that low rumble reserved for whispered orders. "Keep that pace." His thumbs press into the divots above my thighs, guiding every motion, keeping me grounded when the pleasure threatens to toss me from my own body.
I grind forward, circling his cock with slow, deliberate rolls that make my core clench. Every downward push has my thighs shaking. The console digs into my knee, car horn thankfully quiet. The world outside could be on fire and I wouldn't notice.All I know is how thick he feels inside me, how my clit rubs against his pelvis with each grind, how his body stays so steady beneath mine. I kiss him again, because I can't not. His tongue slides into my mouth, hot and insistent, swallowing each whimper. I suck his bottom lip and he growls, deep and violent, like it drags something primal out of him.
He taps my thigh once. "Want it harder?"
"Yes. God, yes."
He plants his feet, braces his hands around my waist, and suddenly he's thrusting up into me, hard and brutal. The seatbelt buckle clinks next to my knee as the whole vehicle rocks. I cling to him, nails raking down his shoulders, forehead pressed to his. Every slam of his hips drives a sobbed "mmm" out of me. His cock pounds that spot inside me over and over until my vision fuzzes. The wet slap of our bodies fills the car, shameless, loud. "Ahh! Gabe!" I cry out, voice echoing off the interior.
"That's it. Take this cock." His words are grit and sin. "You wanted more, so come get it." He keeps thrusting, keeps driving up into me with the kind of focus he uses on a firing range. He doesn't falter. Sweat trickles down my spine. My dress is bunched around my waist. His dog tags swing between us, tapping my sternum with each stroke. I love that sound, metallic and rhythmic, like proof he's still the soldier even with his jeans shoved open.
I move with him, rocking down every time he surges up. The motion sends shockwaves through my body. My breasts bounce against his chest. His mouth closes around one nipple, sucking hard through the fabric, teeth grazing. "Ahh, yes!" I arch into him, giving him more. He bites lightly, a warning, then soothes with his tongue. It's too much. Not enough. Both. My clit grindsagainst him, and I feel a pulse deep inside, a coiled spring ready to snap.
"You close again?" he demands. He knows the answer just from the way I clamp around him, but he still wants me to admit it.
"Yes," I pant. "Oh, God, yes. Right there." I press a hand to the fogged rear window for balance, fingers leaving streaks in the condensation.
He grips my throat with one broad hand, not choking, just holding me still so I have to look at him. "Come for me. Do it now." The command slams into me. My body obeys before my brain can process it.
My climax hits in a white-hot rush, ripping through me with a sharp scream. "Ahh!" The sound bounces off the dash. I tremble, hips jerking, muscles fluttering around him. He keeps thrusting through it, dirty praises pouring from his mouth, each one feeding the pleasure.
"Good girl," he rasps. "So damn tight. Milk me." He groans when I clamp down, his own breath hitching. I ride the waves, shaking, nails biting into his scalp as I hold on. Every pulse drags a whimper from me.
"Yes," I cry, unable to form real words.
He doesn't stop. Even as the aftershocks make me twitch, he keeps moving, keeps giving me thick, deep strokes that scrape at the edges of another orgasm. My body is sensitive to the point of pain, but I crave every thrust.
"Gabe," I whine, half plea, half worship. "It's too much." My head falls back, colliding lightly with the roof liner. I don't care. I can't stop moving.
