Faust studies me, but he doesn’t put the car in drive, and I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin, waiting for him to make some sort of decision.
He drops his hand from the shifter, both on his thighs now.
Then he jerks his chin.
“All right,” he says quietly, “crawl over here and make me keep you safe.”
For a split second, I think I won’t. I think I’ll take a page out of Cyn’s playbook, stealing from girl talk we’ve had in the past where she makes a man beg.
But the way he’s looking at me through hooded eyes, lips parted, as if in challenge… Not to mention the fact Iwantto fuck him, it gets me moving.
Fuck the games.
I’ll think about the consequences of tonight later.
I shift in my seat, then carefully climb over the console, careful in my tipsy state not to knock into the slushy between us.
I drop my hands down on his hard shoulders, and his fingers come to either side of my ribcage, steadying me as my knees find their place on his seat, either side of his lap. I latch my arms around his neck, and there’s enough distance between my spine and the steering wheel, I don’t accidentally press the horn.
But now that it’s done, and I’m settled in his lap, his cock hard beneath me, my mouth ghosting over his, I feel my pulse skyrocket. The scent of him fills my nose, and his lips are so full it should be a crime. They’re soft, too, and his breath is cool mint from the spearmint he dosed us with earlier.
Soft bass thuds from his speakers and I don’t know the song but it’s sensual, lending to the moment.
I arch my back, pressing my breasts to him, my nipples straining against the thin material of my cami.
“Kiss me,” he whispers, fingertips pressed into my sides, right over my hips.
I tilt my head and part for him, our mouths tentative at first, reverent. But then I moan against his lips and he groans, biting my bottom lip and rolling it out.
Fuck.
I shift my hips over him, our teeth clashing as we kiss each other hard, tongues entwining, breath stolen.
I’m melded against him, and he’s pulling me so close there’s nothing between us but air.
“I want to fuck you, Faust.” I grind against his erection, hoping he’ll let me before I burst, our mouths so close.
He bands his arms around me, keeping me trapped against him.
Then he tips his head back to the seat, eyes searching mine. There’s a seriousness to his posture, the look in his eyes, it steadies me even as the rum pounds pleasantly through my pulse.
“Do you?” he asks.
I drop my temple to his, and let my eyes fall closed, full of sensation, need. “Please let me.”
He grabs both my wrists in one hand, pinning my arms behind my back and tugging down. My shoulders shift, my breasts forced up as I lift my chin to stare at him.
His gaze is heavy and dark along my body, but when he finally meets my eye again, he doesn’t give in to me.
“I’ll make you come, but you don’t need my dick for that.”
I narrow my eyes and feel myself pouting, but I can’t stop it. “What? Why? I want to feel you?—”
He buries his head in my neck, cutting off my words as his teeth find my throat. He bites down, hard, and I tense, my body lifting involuntarily as he sucks at my skin, deep enough to leave a mark.
His name leaves my lips on a whimper.
“Yeah,” he says, his breath fanning my skin where his teeth were. “I think you feel me just fine.”
