Chapter 20
THE BEST IDEAS ARE BAD IDEAS
Rhys
Kissing Margot is a bad idea.
But it’s the only idea—it’s been the only idea—and every part of me is on board.
My hands. My mouth. My dick. What’s left of my brain after her lips touch mine.
And she’s not a start-softly kisser.
Not tonight.
Tonight, she’s an if we’re doing this, we’re doing this kisser.
She knocks my hat off and plunges her hands into my hair while she devours my mouth with hers, and I can’t stop the feral, possessive growl that rumbles low in my throat as I reach across the console to pull her closer to me.
I haven’t made out with a woman in my truck since I was a teenager, and having Margot crawl into my lap in the driver’s seat is turning me on in a way I haven’t been aroused in what feels like just as long.
Her ass lands on the steering wheel, and the horn honks, which sends us both into a fit of laughter.
I hit the button to recline the seat while peppers kisses over my lips, but the motor is so fucking slow that her ass honks the horn three more times before my seat’s fully back.
“We should go inside,” she gasps between kisses.
“No.” I hook a hand around her neck and pull her tighter for a deeper kiss.
My cock is throbbing. My heart is racing.
Her tongue glides against mine, and my brain forgets how to brain.
I grip her bare thighs under her skirt, feel hot, smooth skin over her thick muscles, and my dick hardens to steel granite diamonds—if that’s not a thing, it’s what my cock is now—while my heart pounds even faster.
She pushes my shirt up, her hot little hands exploring my chest while she settles her hips over mine, cradling my hard-on with her pussy, and I get that warning sensation in my gut that tells me I’m two thrusts from blowing my load.
Inside.
She’s right.
We should go inside.
“I’ve never done this in the front seat of a car,” she says.
We should stay right here. “Truck’s here all night.”
She smiles and kisses me again.
Her hands are magic, skimming over my chest hair and finding my nipples, giving them a quick tweak before she glides her fingers down to the button on my jeans. “Stop me when I go too far,” she says.
As if she could. “No too far. Kiss more.”
She’s giggling as her lips find mine. She pops the button on my jeans and dips her fingers beneath the waistband, the heady scent of her arousal tickling my nose.
And not for the first time tonight.
Remembering how she smelled on the drive to dinner—that’s what’s had me half-hard all night.
And now she’s straddling my lap and I’m caressing her thighs and she’s sticking her hands down my pants to—ahhh, yesssss, fuuuuuuuck.
Her warm fingers wrap around my cock, and it’s all I can do to not come on the spot.
I squeeze her thighs.
“Oh, you’re big,” she whispers. “So soft too.”
“I am not soft,” I grit out, my breath coming in short, desperate pants.
I want inside this woman.
I want inside her now.
She chuckles and strokes me once more. “Your skin is.”
I’m sweating with the effort of not coming in her hands, and I realize I’m clenching her thighs so tightly that she’ll have bruises tomorrow. “Margot—”
She palms my cheeks as she scoots her pussy over my exposed dick, the thin fabric of her panties the only thing between us.
She licks my lips, her pelvis grinding against my aching cock, and I swat for the console between the seats.
Condoms.
Bought condoms.
At a store.
Tonight.
Her hands work their way into my hair again, fingers scratching my scalp while she explores my mouth with her tongue, and my eyes cross.
I don’t know if they’re open or shut, but they’re crossing.
Has kissing and dry humping a woman ever felt this good?
My balls are wound tight. My cock’s straining to be inside her.
God, the way her thigh feels—so strong, so thick, so perfect—and the way she still tastes like ice cream and apple and cinnamon—and now she’s teasing the shell of my ear with one hand while the other strokes down my neck, over my shoulder—
Condoms.
There.
There.
My hand connects with the box.
Why didn’t I open the fucking thing when I bought them?
Fuck on a crabcake, how do her hands feel so good on my chest?
“More,” I gasp when I mean to ask for help opening the fucking box.
She scrapes her fingers down my chest while she lightly nips at my lower lip. “This?”
“Fuck, yes.”
“Your body is magnificent.”
“Less talk. Condoms.”
Her eyes crinkle at the edges when she smiles at me, and I’m gone.
I’m just gone.
My dick’s still straining to be inside her, her hips still rocking against me and pushing me to the point of the good kind of pain, but she’s smiling at me, her eyes dark and her lids half-lowered, mouth parted as she pants heavily too, and I don’t need anything else.
Just for her to smile at me like that.
To make me feel valued.
Cherished.
Worthy.
Wanted.
She makes me feel wanted.
She takes the box from me, rips it open, and sends condoms flying everywhere.
I snag a strip off the passenger seat.
She takes it and tears the end condom open.
I shove her dress up, eye the skimpy pink panties covering her pussy, grab them by one of the strings over her hip, and rip the fucking thing apart.
“Why is that such a turn-on?” she says on a gasp while she rolls the condom down my length.
I rip the other side too, dipping my finger under the fabric as it falls away, through her curls and into the wet, slick heat between her thighs.
And she is turned on.
She’s wet.
So wet.
“Oh, god,” she pants as I slide a finger inside her.
“Kiss me while I fuck you,” I growl.
She dives into another kiss, riding my hand while I fuck her with my fingers, my dick demanding to know when he gets a turn.
She gasps and whimpers, her tongue tangling with mine, her hips bucking erratically in my palm, all of her arousal coating my fingers and dripping lower.
I’m so turned on, my brain is cramping.
“So—good—harder,” she gasps against my mouth.
I flick my thumb over the hard little nub of her clit, and her inner muscles clench around my fingers, squeezing them with a pulsing heat that once again tests the limits of how long I can go without blowing my load.
“Yes, yes,” she pants.
She throws her head back, grinding down in my hand, and I lean up to lick her neck.
She shudders, goosebumps rising beneath my tongue.
The things I plan to do to this woman when I have her in that bed inside instead of the driver’s seat of my truck.
“Oh my god, Rhys,” she pants, her pussy still squeezing my fingers.
“Wait until I eat you,” I growl against her jaw.
She shudders once more as I keep mercilessly thrusting my fingers into her clenched heat, the smell of sex thick around us.
“I’ll fuck you with my tongue until you can’t walk, and then I’ll fuck you so hard with my dick that you’ll see stars.”
“Now,” she gasps.
“You’re not done yet.”
“Oh my gaaaaahhhh,” she pants.
I crook my fingers inside her and press hard on her clit, and she sings.
Swear to god, she hits a high note while her head rolls back again, her sweet pussy clenching even harder.
My hand is fully coated in her release, and I keep teasing that orgasm higher until she finally flops against me, panting and limp. “Holy shit.”
“Not done yet, Skillet,” I murmur.
She lifts her head, eyelids heavy, one eye a little crossed, her lips pink, the skin around them chafed.
And she gives me the sweetest, softest smile.
The kind that can crack a man in two.
Make him forget his own name.
Make him fall in love.
“We’re not, are we?” she murmurs.
I lift my fingers and lick the salty, heady taste off of them.
She shudders. “Why is that so sexy?”
“Because you’re fucking sexy, you gorgeous minx.”
And then she’s moving, shifting against my hips until she’s sliding onto my dick.
Fucking heaven.
She shudders again. “How—so good—already?”
“More,” I grunt.
She rocks on my dick, slowly lifting before sinking back down again with a soft gasp. “Talk dirty to me.”
“You talk dirty to me.”
She lifts herself again, almost all the way off of me, and hovers there. “You’re so big.”
“Not—dirty.”
Her hips flex, and she rides down on my hard-on again. “Brain scrambled.”
I push her dress higher. “So good.”
“So perfect.”
She rides me in the front seat, her slow, easy pace becoming frantic as I find her breasts and stroke the underside, then over the top, making circles without reaching her nipples.
“Rhys—”
“Only dirty-talkers get their nipples pinched.”
Why am I doing this?
Why am I torturing myself too?
I want to come.
I want to come inside her, hard and furious, until there’s nothing left of me.
But I want her to come again first.
“You should’ve fucked me from behind while I was cleaning up your mess,” she gasps while she rides me faster. “Snuck into the laundry room and pulled my pants down and fucked me with your long, thick, hard cock. There. In the bubbles.”
“Close enough.” I thumb her nipples, then pinch them both.
She cries out and grinds harder against me. “More.”
“You like?” I like.
I like the feel of her tight little nubs between my thumbs and fingers.
“Yes.”
One little word, and she has me at my breaking point. “Margot—”
“How—so good?” she gasps. “Again?”
“Baby, I can’t—” I start, and then I feel it.
Those walls clenching around my dick.
“Oh god, oh god, I’m coming.” She grips my shoulders while she strains down against my cock, and I let go too, coming fast and thick and hot while she milks me with her sweet, hot, wet pussy.
“Fuck, yes,” I groan, my head dropping back while I let everything go.
Everything I have.
More.
Bursting out of me in an orgasm not just in my dick, but in my brain, in my heart, in my gut, in my soul.
I think this woman owns me now.