Hannah and the Hitman

Chapter 31

31

JACK

I had Hannah tucked in my car and on the way back to my apartment in minutes. She was quiet, but fidgety. She wrung her hands in her lap. Crossed and uncrossed her legs. Was her pussy aching?

Reaching across the console, I set my big hand on top of hers. A spark of static electricity zapped us.

She gasped. “Why does that keep happening?”

I flicked my eyes toward her, then back on the road. “We’re potent together. Now, panties.”

She blinked. “What?”

I raised my hand, flicked my fingers. “Give me your panties.”

“Here?” She glanced around at the dark downtown. There were people and other cars around, but no cared what happened in a random SUV. “Now?”

“Gorgeous, in the library I had my hand up your skirt and my fingers buried deep in your pussy where anyone might see. You’re shy now?”

She wanted it like in the romance books where the guy took charge. Where he knew what she needed even if she might not know herself. Knew how much to push to ensure she got what she needed.

She warred with herself for a moment, then shimmied, sliding her hands up her thighs, the hem of her blue dress going with it. Hell, yes. She was as naughty as I suspected.

I watched as those white panties came into view. Then she pushed them down, worked them over one sandaled foot, then another. She held them up and I was sure they were wet because the scent of her arousal filled the air.

A horn blared and I veered back into my lane.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the smirk playing around her full lips.

Fuck me, she was going to kill me. And not from blue balls.

I snatched the scrap of cotton from her and tucked them in my suit coat pocket–after I sniffed them. Best scent in the world. Then I focused on the road. And floored it.