Chapter 40 Neve #2
My heart flutters inside my chest. “You might like how they move when they’re around it better.”
He inhales sharp. Then he closes his eyes a second and groans, “Fuck, Neve.” I can hear how much he wants me in those two words.
“You could,” I push. I take another drink, then slowly put the cup in the cup holder between us. It’s small enough I won’t knock it over when I straddle this man, which I’m definitely going to do.
He glances at me, then pinches the bridge of his nose. His nails are short and neat and gorgeous and fuck, he is sexy.
“We’re getting to know each other, remember?” His voice is strained, like it kills him to say that. “Tell me what you want to do when you graduate.”
I shake my head with a smile. “So noble.” Then I dig my nails into the back of his neck, massaging him and trying to hurt him all at once.
He sucks in a breath, those full lips parted.
“You don’t need to get to know me to fuck me.”
He reaches out fast, snatching my wrist in his grip, pulling me off him. He tightens his hold hard enough I gasp, but it doesn’t hurt. I’m just surprised at the look in his eyes, the set of his mouth.
“Why are you like this?” he snarls. “You want my cock inside you but you can’t tell me what you’re trying to do in seven, eight months? A question everyone asks us all the time, so I’m sure you’ve got a ready answer to give to any guy trying to be polite before you let him inside you.”
I try to jerk my hand free but he only holds tighter. I lean in close to the console, glaring up at him. “Fuck you.”
“Yeah,” he says lowly. “We all know you were trying to.”
I breathe in hard.
“What?” he presses. “You gonna spit on me like you did Connor?” He tilts his head. “Go ahead. I might like it more than he did.”
“Oh? You think it got his dick hard, too? You think I’d have an easier time riding his cock than yours—”
“Don’t.” One word, and it’s vicious. Almost enough to make me shut up.
Almost.
“No,” I smile at him, and it’s full of menace. “I don’t think I will. Since I ran into you two, it’s been inevitable I’d sleep with at least one of you. He seems the easier lay, but he’ll probably hurt me more, won’t he?”
Faust’s grip on my wrist tightens. This time, it does hurt, but I don’t say a word about that. I lean in closer and keep talking.
“The good thing is, I like to be hurt.”
He stares at me a long moment, chest rising and falling.
But he doesn’t fall for my bait.
He doesn’t hit back.
He just lets me go like I burned him and turns away from me.
“Okay,” he says simply, hand going to the shifter. “I’ll take you back and you can see if he’ll degrade you.”
“What about not spending the night alone?” I taunt him, because the truth is, no man has ever done this. Backed down from a verbal war with me, and I feel oddly rejected. Weird. Pathetic.
Faust grins at me, and it’s mean. “You won’t be alone with his cock in your mouth, will you?”
“And what if he’s the one who…” I don’t say it, my voice small. We both know what I mean. Killed those men. But that’s not why I’ve suddenly lost my confidence. It’s the fact he’d take me to someone else willingly. Let me go. Not try to get me to fuck him tonight.
It’s like all I have to barter with is sex.
You’re pathetic, Neve.
Maybe Cyn is right. All the sleeping around I’ve done has chipped away my self-worth.
This is not the therapy session I wanted to have with myself. Especially not right now, like this.
Faust studies me, but he doesn’t put the car in drive, and I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin, waiting for him to make some sort of decision.
He drops his hand from the shifter, both on his thighs now.
Then he jerks his chin.
“All right,” he says quietly, “crawl over here and make me keep you safe.”
For a split second, I think I won’t. I think I’ll take a page out of Cyn’s playbook, stealing from girl talk we’ve had in the past where she makes a man beg.
But the way he’s looking at me through hooded eyes, lips parted, as if in challenge… Not to mention the fact I want to fuck him, it gets me moving.
Fuck the games.
I’ll think about the consequences of tonight later.
I shift in my seat, then carefully climb over the console, careful in my tipsy state not to knock into the slushy between us.
I drop my hands down on his hard shoulders, and his fingers come to either side of my ribcage, steadying me as my knees find their place on his seat, either side of his lap.
I latch my arms around his neck, and there’s enough distance between my spine and the steering wheel, I don’t accidentally press the horn.
But now that it’s done, and I’m settled in his lap, his cock hard beneath me, my mouth ghosting over his, I feel my pulse skyrocket.
The scent of him fills my nose, and his lips are so full it should be a crime.
They’re soft, too, and his breath is cool mint from the spearmint he dosed us with earlier.
Soft bass thuds from his speakers and I don’t know the song but it’s sensual, lending to the moment.
I arch my back, pressing my breasts to him, my nipples straining against the thin material of my cami.
“Kiss me,” he whispers, fingertips pressed into my sides, right over my hips.
I tilt my head and part for him, our mouths tentative at first, reverent. But then I moan against his lips and he groans, biting my bottom lip and rolling it out.
Fuck.
I shift my hips over him, our teeth clashing as we kiss each other hard, tongues entwining, breath stolen.
I’m melded against him, and he’s pulling me so close there’s nothing between us but air.
“I want to fuck you, Faust.” I grind against his erection, hoping he’ll let me before I burst, our mouths so close.
He bands his arms around me, keeping me trapped against him.
Then he tips his head back to the seat, eyes searching mine. There’s a seriousness to his posture, the look in his eyes, it steadies me even as the rum pounds pleasantly through my pulse.
“Do you?” he asks.
I drop my temple to his, and let my eyes fall closed, full of sensation, need. “Please let me.”
He grabs both my wrists in one hand, pinning my arms behind my back and tugging down. My shoulders shift, my breasts forced up as I lift my chin to stare at him.
His gaze is heavy and dark along my body, but when he finally meets my eye again, he doesn’t give in to me.
“I’ll make you come, but you don’t need my dick for that.”
I narrow my eyes and feel myself pouting, but I can’t stop it. “What? Why? I want to feel you—”
He buries his head in my neck, cutting off my words as his teeth find my throat. He bites down, hard, and I tense, my body lifting involuntarily as he sucks at my skin, deep enough to leave a mark.
His name leaves my lips on a whimper.
“Yeah,” he says, his breath fanning my skin where his teeth were. “I think you feel me just fine.”
An icy, late autumn breeze blows through the cracked windows and I shiver in his arms, my own still bound behind my back.
He licks a line down my throat, then pulls back, and jerks his chin, glancing down.
“I’m going to let you go for one second. You’re going to pull those pants down. Everything else, too.”
My lips are parted and I’m breathing hard, my breasts needy between us. I want him to cup them, pinch my nipples, slap at me like Sylvan did.
“Do you understand?” he asks quietly, staring at me.
I nod once. “Whatever you say,” I gasp.
A wicked smirk curves his lips. “Good girl.” Then he releases me, and his hands come to my breasts as if he read my mind.
I tip my head back and groan as I lift off my knees.
It takes me more than a second to push down my sweats, my underwear, then shift my knees closed to get them to my ankles.
My face warms at being half-naked in front of him, even in the dark, when he’s completely clothed, but when I glance up at him, he’s staring down at me and panting, like he needs to taste me.
When I’m done, the scent of my wetness between us, I straddle him again and right at the moment I’m settled, he jerks my wrists behind my back, holding me with one hand.
Then he stares down at me, spread and bare before him.
He bites his bottom lip and groans, but he trails one hand from my nipple—pinching lightly and making me gasp—down my sternum, my belly, toward my wet cunt.
He cups me, glancing up at me like a man possessed.
“Fuck.”
Then he pushes two fingers up inside me.
I clench around him, back arching, nipples sharp points and my body like a livewire.
My eyes close for a heartbeat, and he bends his wrist back and grinds his palm to my clit.
“This how Connor did it?” he asks, his voice low.
Warmth forms on my neck, but I open my eyes and stare down at him, his fingers inside me, his hand circling my clit.
“Yes,” I gasp.
His eyes darken.
He pushes another finger in, like he wants to punish me by stretching me around his thick fingers.
It feels so fucking good.
“Ride my hand, Neve.” It’s a command. I imagine it’s how he speaks to his team, what he’s like when he’s in charge. Quiet, cold, firm. A way that makes it impossible to disobey. You just don’t want to.
But…
“I need to touch you,” I gasp out.
He tilts his head, and his smile. “Oh?”
He’s taunting me.
My cheeks flush hot and I know they’re red.
If only it was Sylvan. Maybe he wouldn’t notice my blush.
“I can’t balance well if I—”
He curls his fingers up and my eyes nearly roll back in my head. “Ride my fucking hand.”
And this time, I just do it.
I bounce up and down using my knees and the muscles in my thighs. I have to tip my head back, throat exposed, breasts nearly level with his face, just so I can close my eyes and not think about how I look.
But pretty soon, with his murmurs of encouragement, I don’t care.
I’m riding his fingers like I own them, twirling my hips to grind his palm just where I want it on my clit. The slick sounds of me against him spill out into the car and I don’t care. I’m moaning in earnest, loud, and if someone was in those woods behind us, they’d definitely hear me.
None of it matters.
Besides, we’re alone.
“Good fucking girl,” he murmurs, then he leans down, and he bites my hard nipple through my cami.
Fuck.
He sucks, his tongue dampening the thin cotton layer.
I keep riding him, my tits jumping as I do, but he keeps one in his mouth. Then he drags his teeth to the other, biting at my breast.
“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, and that word brings me closer.
I tighten my walls around him, my shoulders straining as hard as he’s holding my wrists back, and I don’t think he even realizes it.
The pain gets me closer, though.
I wasn’t lying when I told him I liked it.
And I like something else too.
“Spit on me,” I gasp as he tugs my nipple between his teeth. “Spit on my face.”
His fingers move in time with my thrusts, and I grind hard against his hand as he pulls back, and a second later, mortification washing through me that I actually demanded that out loud, I hear it before I feel it.
He spits on my face, over my cheekbone, down the side of my mouth.
Then he releases my wrists, yanks up my shirt, and slaps my exposed nipple, cold air and the sting of his hand making me come.
“You have perfect fucking tits,” he snarls, and he slaps the other one as I fall apart on his hand.
“Fuck,” I whisper, head thrown back, leaving my arms in the same position he left them. “Fuck, Faust.”
He grabs my throat and forces me to look at him as the wave crashes through me and I tighten on his fingers, the orgasm still vibrating through me.
“That’s right,” he whispers. “You only say my fucking name.”
And just as I bring my arms forward, digging my nails into his shoulders, his fingers still inside me, there’s a sharp rapping sound on the back windshield.
I flinch, biting my lip to keep from shrieking, at the same time he pulls his fingers out of me and wraps his arms around my back, pressing one palm on the back of my skull and pulling me down so I’m cradled against him.
We don’t move.
We don’t breathe.
The only sound I hear is my own pulse in my ears.
My knees feel wobbly, my body tired, but my mind is on high alert.
What the fuck was that?
Maybe ice, dropping from the trees above us?
Probably not an insect, not in this weather.
We’re silent a moment, then Faust says, “I don’t see anything,” a whisper against my ear as he holds me close.
“Probably snow,” I say, because I need him to agree.
He doesn’t for too long, until he finally does.
“Yes,” he says, but there’s tension in his tone. “Probably snow.” Then he kisses the top of my head, and I wonder if we’re alone at all.