Page 3 of Raced (Driven 3.50)
She just stares at me, eyes blank but body still responding, as every nerve within me shouts to drag her against me and take until I get my fill of her addictive taste. Time’s up, sweetheart. Decision’s mine now. I’ll show her what she wants. Give her what the boyfriend doesn’t. She had her chance to walk away and she didn’t. I sure as hell am not. I always get what I want.
And right now, I want her.
I tighten my fingers on her neck, unable to hold back the smile on my lips as I think about pressing into her soft curves and wet pussy. And then I move. She resists as I claim her mouth. I’m skilled but far from gentle as I coax her trembling lips open and take my next fix.
One more taste.
That’s all I want. I lick my tongue against hers. Probing. Tasting. Demanding.
Sweet fucking Jesus. That’s the only thought I can manage when she begins to respond, our bodies connecting, her tongue playing with mine. Her hands move, fingernails scraping along my jaw, and fist in my hair. A fucking inferno burns its way down my spine and into my gut, a groan falling from my mouth as her body moves against my rock hard dick. Her soft yielding to my steel.
Every primal urge in my body begs to touch her, to claim her as mine. I drag one hand down the curved lines of her hips, our bodies vibrating with adrenaline and desire. I put one hand on her back pressing her into me, my cock against her stomach, my knee wedging between hers. She responds instantly, the Holy Grail between her thighs rubbing against my leg so I can feel her wet and wanting pussy through my slacks.
So fucking responsive. Her body just complies with the subtlest hints from mine, reacts to the slightest touch. Takes selflessly. Submits willingly.
God, I want to corrupt her.
And then she makes the softest, most erotic fucking sound I’ve ever heard. A gentle moan that begs and pleads and offers all at the same time.
And I’m decided. Consumed. Determined.
Fuck the game.
Mine.
I want her. Have to have her. I’m calling the shots now. Adrenaline hits me, coursing through me like the wave of the green flag.
I need to make her mine.
I nip her lower lip then lick away the sting. Pleasure to bury the pain. “Christ, I want you right now.” I murmur against her lips between kisses, my dick throbbing at the thought of slamming into her. My hands move to possess now. Desire fueling my fire. Fingers rub over hardened nipples just begging to be tasted as we crash against the wall. My hands roam to connect with naked flesh. I reach the silk of her nylons and skim my way up until I trace the lace tops of her thigh-high stockings. I groan into her mouth.
Motherfucking perfection. Silk, lace, and skin. If it’s possible to get any harder, I just did.
I guess fangirl doesn’t want to be considered a dime a dozen.
As she gains confidence, her tongue taunts mine in a dizzying barrage of maneuvers. My fingertips snake up the bare skin of her inner thigh—smooth softness just pleading for me to lick, suck, and nip. I reach the swatch of lace at my awaiting heaven just begging to be ripped off.
“Sweet Jesus,” I murmur as I feel how wet the material is, how ready she already is for me.
“No. No—I can’t do this!” She pushes me back a step, and I watch her bring a trembling hand to her mouth. Her eyes tell me no, but her body? Her treacherous body vibrates with anticipation: chest heaving, lips swollen, nipples pebbled.
I force myself to swallow. To breathe. To regain the equilibrium she just shook and pulled out from under my always steady feet. I’ve had more women than any guy could ever ask for, but she just rocked my fucking world with her lips alone.
She’s not going anywhere.
Mine.
“It’s a little late, sweetheart. It looks as if you already have.” Like you have any fucking choice now. You started this, fangirl, and I’ll say when it’s finished.
Fire leaps into her eyes and she lifts her chin in insolence. My God, that look alone gives new meaning to the word sexy.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” she spits at me. “Touching me like that? Taking advantage of me that way?”
We’re back to the damsel in distress thing again? “Really?” I scoff at her, running my hand over my jaw as I ponder what to say next.
It’s a little late for self-preservation, sweetheart.
“That’s how you want to play this? Were you not participating just now? Were you not just coming apart in my arms?” I can’t help the sliver of a laugh that escapes. “Don’t fool your prim little self into thinking that you didn’t enjoy that. That you don’t want more.”
