This was pure fantasy. This was romance novel stuff. He held her tight, thrusting hard, moving his other hand around to stroke her clit, making her whimper and push back against him as he continued to fuck her like she was precious and profane all at once.
He felt so big inside of her, filling her completely. Absolutely. Making it so she couldn’t breathe or think or be anything but his.
Her forehead hit the window, the upholstery on the seat bit into her knees, her fingers curled so tightly on the back of the seat, trying to hold herself in place. But none of that mattered. Nothing mattered except for him. For this.
He leaned down, bit her on the shoulder, and the sharp shock of pain sent her right over the edge, crying out his name, her internal muscles tightening hard around him.
“Marlowe,” he whispered, low and tight as he began to take her, over and over again.
As he shuddered out his release, slamming into her one last time.
And then she collapsed on the seat with him behind her.
He moved away for a moment, and she heard the sound of a paper bag rustling.
Then he moved onto the seat beside her, pulling her on top of his chest.
And in spite of it all, she found herself drifting off to sleep.
Chapter Fifteen
When she woke up, it took her a moment to realize what had happened. They were still in the truck, squeezed onto the bench seat, lying there in the cold.
Cody had her draped over his chest, and he was hot like a furnace, his heart beating steadily underneath her hand. Her body was nice and warm thanks to him, but her nose had a slight chill, and she rubbed the tip of it as she thought about last night.
Her body felt so sore in the most delicious way.
Like he had thoroughly worked her out, and he had certainly left her satisfied.
She breathed out, and something about the irregular breath made him stir.
His hand went to her hair, and he combed it with his fingers before tightening them into a fist.
She closed her eyes, let her arousal wash over her. Even now, in the early hours of the morning.
She had a strange feeling that she had forgotten something, or someone that she was accountable to. That there were going to be consequences or repercussions for staying out all night,for not telling someone where she was going, but there weren’t, because she was only accountable to herself now.
She had been afraid of this kind of freedom for most of her life.
Afraid of not having roots. Of not having somebody to…
To hold her back.
To hold her down.
Because part of her had always wondered if she was going to be like her father, an alcoholic who loved to drink more than he loved anything else. Or like her mother, an aimless wanderer who couldn’t even love the people who wanted her there enough to stay.
Marrying the first man she had ever dated had proven something to her. That she was stable. That she made good decisions. Staying and staying, even when the marriage hadn’t been great, had been evidence that she was good.
Good.
There was that word again.
This brand of good that she had tried to be all of her life, that no one had ever cared about except for her. And maybe it wasn’t even good that she was trying to be.
Just safe.
This thing with Cody wasn’t safe. Letting him fuck her in the truck like they were animals, that wasn’t safe. It was hot. It was experimental and new and bright and wonderful, but it was not safe.
