“Undo me,” Frank ordered.
Blood racing in my ears, I unzipped his jeans and palmed his cock. He shifted beneath me to give me more room to work. It was somewhat challenging with his shoulder, but I found my way around. My sex ached against the press of his length. Then I readjusted myself, lining up our bodies so that his tip teased my entrance. This had to be fast and rough. Each time apart from him sent me into a withdrawal worse than the previous one. Tonight, I wanted a little pain.
Frank wrapped his arm around my back and gripped my shoulder, guiding me. Shuddered breaths escaped his chest.
I sunk onto his cock until I couldn’t go any farther. Until my legs trembled and my toes curled. My body welcomed the wave of pleasant hurt as it rolled through my limbs.
Frank’s features hardened, eyes slammed shut. He enjoyed the actual act of penetration, the act of becoming one, as much as he enjoyed the ride and getting to the finish line.
I took him whole. Every throbbing inch of his length. At this angle, he felt massive inside me. All my sweet spots buzzed as our bodies began to move together. The slick grind of our hips was perfect. My blood thickened, my pulse sprinted. The air inside the car was heavy.
My fingers dove into Frank’s hair and skimmed through its thickness. “Slap my ass, baby,” I asked between my moans. “I want it a little rough.”
He smoothed his hand over my skin and gave it a smack. A gasp left my mouth. I felt the burn spread across my thigh.
“Want me to do it again?” Frank asked, staring at me through the flutter of his lashes.
I nodded.
He knew exactly what I needed. The next smack was a little harder and louder. I cried out and picked up the rhythm. He met the roll of my hips with hard thrusts and another smack. Everything in me, every part, buzzed. His cock had no mercy. He pumped fiercely. His hand slipped to my shoulder to push me down against his length. The leather seats squeaked under the weight of our bodies. We were a mixture of sweat, moans, dirty words, and a sliver of pain. Chasing our orgasms. And the chase was beautiful. For a second, we were truly whole. All his worries filtered through me. All his heartbeats repeated mine.
The release was so intense, I blacked out for a brief moment. My mind soared. My body shook. When I came to, Frank’s arm was wrapped around my waist, chin pressed to my shoulder. Mouth open, he was still trying to catch his breath. His broad chest heaved.
My face dropped to his. Cheek to cheek, we rocked slowly, delaying the inevitable. The moment we’d have to separate. The moment we’d have to break this incredible intimacy apart.
“I love you,” I whispered, kissing his damp hair. The words didn’t check with me first. They simply came out because they wanted to. I was tired of telling him this while we fought. I wanted to tell him when we were sharing a passionate moment. Like right now.
He cradled the back of my head and stayed silent, but I felt the thrum of his pulse spiking beneath my touch.
“Just accept it, Frank.”
“It’s such a foreign thing for me to say, baby.” He was still inside me. Our lust coated our thighs and stained the seat. “Just give me some time to get used to it. The way I feel with you…” His voice wavered, tripped, and faded into the sound of the music. “I can’t quite put it into words just yet.”
“Says the award-winning songwriter?” I smiled, but something in my chest twitched. I remembered what he’d said to me the other day. He didn’t want to make music anymore. Yes, he’d been drunk, but something told me he felt this way when he was sober too. At least, for now.
Being mad at him was impossible. Though twisted, his confession meant a lot.
“That’s why it’s so difficult. Words are tricky. Wrong ones hurt the most.”
“I’m not going to hurt you, Frank.” I caught his gaze. “Unless you give me a valid reason to. I’ll admit, it’s been challenging, but the problem you have is fixable. Everyone feels down. Everyone is miserable at some point in their lives. The main thing is to face it and find the strength to move forward, and as long as you’re trying to work through this, I’ll be by your side.”
It was the strangest thing, talking to a man about recovery while he was buried inside me.
Frank’s face softened. “You might be the best thing that ever happened to me. You’re smart, beautiful”—a playful glint entered his eyes—“and your blow jobs are amazing.”
I laughed and smashed my lips against his. We were a mess, beyond hot. We were smoldering. Nothing else mattered.
A tap on the window was like a bucket of cold water. I saw the jerk of a flashlight. Then there was another tap and a voice.
Panic clutched my chest. “Oh shit. Police.” My hands shook as I tried to pull my dress over my breasts. We separated.
Cursing, Frank zipped up his jeans. “Let me get behind the wheel,” he hissed.
“No,” I protested, sliding back into my seat and lowering the music. “Stay there.” I wasn’t about to let him crawl across the center console with a busted shoulder. A Ferrari wasn’t a very spacious car, after all.
Rolling down the window, I caught only a small glimpse of the uniform and the badge. The flashlight blinded me. Chilly air streamed in, biting the bare skin on my shoulders and knees.
“Ma’am?” I heard a drawl. “Have you been drinking?”
Squinting, I shook my head.
