The words rip from my mouth before I can take them back. We both freeze. Because never—fucking never—have I wanted that with anyone. I have a future. A career to protect. I can’t afford to fuck it all up with a mistake.
“Spencer,” she whispers, and I close my eyes as I kiss her breast, the sad regret in her tone enough to tell me that she’ll let me have whatever I want, but not this. “I can’t—I won’t. Not unless I’m in a relationship. A committed relationship.”
There’s a pause. Like she’s waiting. Waiting for me to piece it together, to understand. That what I want, she’s saving for someone else. For the next khaki-wearing prince that rides in on his damn trusty steed.
My shoulders tense. She tries to soothe them with her hands.
“I fucking know that,” I bristle, leaning out of her touch. “I didn’t fucking mean it.”
This isn’t a fucking relationship. It’s just fucking, period. Good fucking. And I’m not about to ruin that with—with dumb fucking words in the heat of the moment.
So, I grab a condom from where I know she’s stashed them in the glove box. Soon after, she settles on my length, both of us moaning at the joining of our bodies. When she lifts herself and almost bumps her head on the car ceiling, we softly laugh. I tilt the seat back, wrapping my arms around her. Press my mouth to hers and sample the taste of her, of me, of us on her lips as she begins slowly rolling over me.
She’s under my skin. All the time. More than that, I want her skin on mine. To touch her, constantly. To gather her in my arms and listen to her recite my name and crude words as she works me.
I gather her closer, until her breasts are crushed against me and her mouth is on mine. She stalls, losing herself in the kiss, her body relaxing into mine. It’s how I know she’s not actually made of ice. Because when Kennedy kisses me, her body softens, leans into mine. Like she’s so affected by the heat inside her, it melts her muscles and bones and all those things meant to keep her upright. All she’s left with is my arms, and an unspoken trust that I’ll hold her, keep her from damn well falling into a puddle at my feet.
No other girl has ever reacted to kissing me that way. It’s Kennedy, pure and simple. And I want to think it’s me, too. That she doesn’t fall into other men like this with one simple fucking kiss. Doesn’t let herself surrender to them as easily as she does me.
Then I growl, because I’m thinking of her. Her and other men. Of her kissing them and sucking their dicks and riding them in this same car once she’s done banging out her ex with me.
A familiar feeling prickles over me. Hot and throbbing and making blood rush in my ears. My arms tighten around her, and she pulls back. Senses the urgency, the anger, coursing through me. Her expression is equal parts confusion and arousal at my sudden change. She asks, “Spencer?”
And before the last syllable falls from those red smudged lips, I grip her ass in both palms and slam into her. She yelps with shock and pleasure, and I do it again. Again and again, I don’t relent. Don’t ease my furious pounding. I need to punish her. To mark her. To make her mine. To take from her things she would never give anyone else.
I slip one hand between her ass. Press a finger in the crease. Kennedy’s back shoots straight up, enough that her hips lift off me. Her mouth drops open, and her eyes are wide as saucers. Instantly, she grabs my wrist, stopping me from going any further. She gasps, “Spencer!”
Gently, I rub my finger over that forbidden part of her. “Say it, princess. Say where I’m touching you, and I’ll stop.”
I move my finger again, and her red lips flatten in a line. And I see it. The small shiver she tries to hide from me.
“You like it, Kennedy?” I murmur, my gaze fixated on her face, her eyes squeezed like she’s trying not to enjoy it. I press harder. “You like my finger on your…”
“You…” she finally moans. “You asshole.”
Hesitantly, she lets go of my arm. I stop, like I said I would, but she stalls my hand again. Face burning red, even in the dark of the car, she slides my hand back where it was.
I release a tense breath and enter her again. Her lips meet mine, eagerly, and she sinks back into me. This time, her arms twine around me, envelope me in her hold, keeping me steady as I ram my hips to hers. There’s no turning back now, from either of us, as we move and moan and fuck. I’m ruled by passion. By how surely she gives herself to me. By her, screaming my name as she climaxes with my finger on her asshole and my cock in her pussy. And soon, so soon after she trembles above me, I drive my hips in a frenzy and come in a rush, imagining that she’d given me everything I wanted, that she’d let me spill myself inside her.
Kennedy kisses the pulsing vein in my temple, then smooths back short strands of hair from my forehead, slick with perspiration. I heave deep breaths, keeping her clutched tight against me when she tries to move away. She gives up, barely puts up a fight, before choosing to collapse on my chest.
We’re quiet. Not talking about what we’d just done. The fucking intensity of it. The liberties I’d taken with her, that she’d allowed me. Or the fact I’d wanted to fuck her raw. Something tells me to open my goddamn mouth, to
