Page 95 of Down and Dirty

But this was Britta.

Should he take her up on the offer… when she makes it? Or should he be noble and not take advantage?

But then she surprised the spit right out of him. She didn’t make the offer. Nope. Before he could say “Hallelujah” or “No thanks,” like that was ever gonna happen, she slammed him up against the trunk of his Firebird, bent him backward, and began to rip off his shirt, buttons flying everywhere.

He was laughing and protesting, “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” at the same time.

“What?” She stopped.

His chest was bare, his shirt pushed back over his shoulders and halfway down his arms. Man, she’s strong. Her blouse was off. When did that happen? He grabbed her upper arms to hold her in place. “Wait just a minute, honey.” I sure hope I have a condom in my wallet.

She went still, even before he released her arms. “Are you not feeling lustsome tonight?”

Oh, yeah. I’m feeling lustsome, all right.

But she didn’t wait for him to answer. She put her hand over his erection, checking for herself.

Talk about a kick-start hard-on. He went from mild interest to full-blown boogie in a nanosecond.

She smiled and stroked him several times.

He was pretty sure he gurgled something out. And in that split second where his eyes were rolling back in his head, she’d begun caressing his chest with her breasts, back and forth.

“I like how that feels. Do you?”

Are you kidding? “I don’t know. Do it again.”

She did. Again. And again. Then she plucked at his nipples, which had a direct line to sex central. “Now your nipples look like mine,” she murmured.

“Huh?” I don’t think so.

“They’re all pointy and hard.”

Okaaaay. “Let me see.” His fingers played with her breasts then, fluttering the engorged peaks, twirling them between a thumb and a forefinger, then fluttering again.

She moaned and arched her back so her breasts stuck out even more. What a picture! Like a hood ornament. Which gave him an idea.

He sat up, then stood. Picking her up by the waist, he carried her to the hood, which faced the woods behind the lot, and placed her on the cool metal so that her head was almost to the windshield. “Don’t move.” He pulled off her high-heeled sandals, tugged her jeans and bikini panties off, then put the high heels back on, spreading her legs slightly in the process. “Raise your arms.”

“Like this?”

His you-know-what gave a mental shout of “Hoo-yah!” He, on the other hand, was unable to speak at first. Then, “Don’t move,” he repeated.

Damn, he wished he had a camera. This was a picture he’d like to have. But, no, he didn’t need a photograph. This image was imprinted on his brain for life.

He shook his head to clear it, which was almost impossible with testosterone barreling through his body, sizzling his gray matter.

In the blink of an eye, he was nude, covered, and ready for action. He crawled up and over her, kissing his way, till he was on his elbows facing her, and they were belly to belly, with his cock pressing against her clit. Sex heaven.

She lifted her belly, trying to make him enter her. “Not yet.” He panted for control, sweat beading his forehead.

He kissed her softly, once he was reasonably sure he wasn’t going to embarrass himself. “You didn’t have to do this for me, you know.” Am I nuts? “But thank you anyway.” I’m carrying on a bleepin’ conversation on the hood of my car with a naked woman. How amazing is that?

I better be careful, or there’ll be a dent in the bodywork.

Hah! Who the hell cares?

“Do what for you?”