“We were just going to get drinks,” I gasp.
“After I told you not to? After I told you to come back to me?”
His shadow falls over my face.
“So, tell me again, since you weren’t going to my place—who were you wearing that for?” He’s half on top of me in the seat. I struggle against him.
His fingers graze my jawline.
“You don’t dress like that for anyone except me.” Then his mouth is on mine. His tongue forces its way in my mouth. His hands are on my thighs, pushing them apart. I feel his fingers there against the lacy panties. “You never dress that nice for me.”
The hem rides up on my hips so he can spread my legs wider. His fingers are under the fabric now.
“Were you going to let some other man do this to you? Spread your legs, open your dripping-wet little pussy for him? Fuck, and you even got yourself nice and smooth for him. Greedy little slut.”
I slap at his chest. He just laughs and digs his fingers into the swollen slit of my pussy.
I nip his lower lip. “You’re fucking crazy.”
“Yes, I’m fucking crazy. You make me fucking crazy. You’re making me lose my mind.”
I can’t tell if I want to back away or grind against his hand as he starts stroking me.
His mouth is on my breast, sucking at the nipple. His hands are rough as he strokes me, his fingers playing in my opening, curling. I need them higher, need them on my clit.
“You can’t,” I whimper. “This is a public street.”
“You’re mine, Mandy, and if I want you to come screaming my name, you’ll do it anywhere.”
I moan as he twists his hand.
“You don’t want me to stop,” he whispers against my mouth. “You want my cock in your greedy little cunt. Ever since I told you I was going to throw you down on the floor and fuck you ’til you screamed, that’s all you can think about. I bet you were in your bed last night, stroking your clit and thinking about me. I bet it scared you, so you thought you’d go find someone else, someone safer, someone lesser.”
“You’re so self-absorbed. Not everything is about you.”
“This is.” His fingers twirl around my clit, making me whimper.
I’m panting, my breath fogging up the window.
“I have half a mind,” he whispers in my ear, “to drag you out of this car, bend you over the hood, and make you spread your legs…”
His fingers are really working my pussy now. Three fingers shove inside me roughly, making me wish they were his cock.
“Let you stand there, your juices running down those thick thighs, your fingers spreading your pussy—you begging me to give you my cock, to let you know what it’s like to be fucked by a man who wants to own you.”
“Shit,” I gasp.
His fingers are insistent on my clit, and I cling to the wool fabric of his suit jacket. His hair is still perfect while mine is a sweaty mess. My teeth sink into the expensive fabric of his jacket.
“No.” He shakes me off. “I want to watch you come.”
He sits back, one hand on my neck, pressing me back against the leather seat. I grab his wrist with both hands. Unrecognizable, needy whines come out of my throat as he strokes me hard.
“That’s right.” His voice is rough in the dark. “Spread your legs for me, push your panties to the side. I want to see your dripping pussy.” He gives me a shake. “Do it.”
I spread my legs, one hand hooking the soaking-wet fabric.
His eyes flick from my sweaty face to my bare tits, exposed by the bodice of the dress, down to my pussy.
