Then he rips my underwear off and buzzes the window down, tossing them outside before I can protest.
“That was unnecessary,” I say.
“It was entirely necessary,” he murmurs against my neck.
He’s like granite under me, the ridges of his stomach through his shirt and my dress.But it’s his fingers playing with the soft skin at the inside of my thigh that make me pant.
Clay slides his hand between my legs, making a sound of approval.
“You’re wet.”
My head falls back against his shoulder.
He’s so big and hard I can’t even think of where I am, much less that there’s a chauffeur in the front seat.I grind my ass against him, seeking relief, and he presses his mouth to the side of my neck, his stubble grazing my skin with a scrape of sensation.
“You’ve been wanting this all day, haven’t you?”
“Mmm.”
“Tell me who this is for.”
He swipes a finger through my wetness, and I bite my lip to stop the groan.
“The limo,” I whisper.“I get hot for a car with an L-couch for a back seat.”
“The limo,” he repeats.“You like the idea of being pushed into these leather seats.You want that sweet body teased until you make a sticky mess.”
“Yes,” I say, my head spinning.
“How about this finger?”He hooks a digit inside me with a soft stroke.
I gasp at the feel of him filling me.“I love that finger.”
“That’s my girl.”
The limo drives a few more blocks, and Clay’s breathing speeds up as he fingers me, my hand in his lap, coaxing him through his pants.
He’s so hard.
He’s going to fuck me.
I have to have him.
I reach for the button of his slacks.
He grabs my wrist, pinning it down at my side.
“Not yet.”
I try to shake him off.“I want you.”
“Not here.”
He’s huge and determined.My fingers dig into his arms as I arch my hips to ride the feeling.
I groan.
His thumb brushes my clit.“Tell me again who this is for.”
