Chapter 18 #3
“I’m going to fuck you,” I growled. “Turn around.”
His breath caught. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I dragged my mouth along his throat, then pulled my fingers free. “I want to watch you take me.”
Keaton lifted carefully and began to turn in my lap, bracing himself with his left hand on the driver’s seat. It wasn’t smooth. His knee bumped the seat, his sling got in the way, and I had to adjust my position enough to shove my jeans and boxers down to free my dick.
With his feet planted on the floorboard and his knees spread outside my thighs, his good hand gripped the driver’s seat while he leaned forward enough to give me room.
The position gave me exactly what I wanted: him over me, his body open for me, and his ass hovering against my dick while he waited for me to take him.
I got more lube on my hand and slicked myself while he stayed braced in front of me. Then I lined myself up behind him, and he lowered down slowly, taking me inch by inch. He was hot and tight, and watching him make himself take all of me nearly took me out before we even got started.
I gripped his hips and held him steady while he took the rest of me. His head dropped forward, and his hair fell around his face. He rocked once, testing the angle, and I had to bite back a groan.
“That’s it,” I breathed. “Use the seat.”
He moved again, dragging himself up and dropping back down until we both cursed. The car rocked beneath us as he found a rhythm that worked for his shoulder and destroyed every thought in my head.
I slid one hand up his stomach and kept the other locked on his hip. “You feel so fucking good.”
“Then hold on.”
I did.
He rode me harder, his body working over mine in tight, controlled movements that made it hard to think.
It was too dark to see much, but I could feel every inch of him, his ass taking me again and again, his thighs tense against mine, and the way he kept chasing more even with one hand braced on the seat.
I pushed my fingers into his hair and pulled until his head tipped back.
“Ro.”
The sound of my name did something to me. I wrapped more of his hair around my fist and held him there, his throat exposed, his body still moving over mine because he couldn’t stop.
“Oh fuck,” he gasped.
I dragged my mouth up the side of his neck. “You like that?”
“Yes.”
I pulled harder, and his whole body rolled down on me.
“Shit.” His good hand slipped against the driver’s seat before he caught himself again. “Do that again.”
So I did.
His back bowed against my chest, and I bit at the skin beneath his jaw while he rode me harder, taking me deeper with every sharp little movement. I kept his head tipped back, kept my mouth on his neck, and slid my other hand around him until I had his cock in my fist.
With a curse, his hips jerked when I pumped him.
He fucked himself on me while I worked him in my hand, my mouth at his neck, my fingers tangled in his hair. Every pull made him take me harder, and every drop of his hips pushed me closer to losing it.
“You’re going to make me come too fast,” I warned.
“Good.”
“Keaton.”
“I want it.” He pushed down harder, taking me deeper. “I want to feel you.”
I tightened my hold on his hair, stroked him faster, and thrust up into him as much as the back seat allowed. “Come on my hand, baby. Let me feel you squeeze my dick while you do it.”
His body locked around me, and he came with a sound that filled the car. I kept stroking him, holding him against me as his head tipped back and his body shook. Then he dropped down one more time, taking me all the way, and I was done.
I came hard, buried deep inside him. For a few seconds, nothing existed but his breathing, mine, and the river moving somewhere beyond the glass. He eased back against me carefully, and I loosened my grip on his hair to smooth my hand over the mess I’d made of it.
“Shoulder?” I asked, my voice breathless.
“Still attached.”
“Keaton.”
“It’s okay.” His hand covered mine where it rested on his stomach. “I’d tell you.”
Eventually, we cleaned up with napkins from the console and more awkward shuffling than either of us deserved after sex that good. I helped him get his joggers back up because he had only one useful hand and too much pride. He complained the whole time, but he let me.
Once we were dressed enough to be decent, he settled sideways against me, his good shoulder near my chest and his legs stretched out as much as the space allowed. I wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed the side of his head.
“This car has seen some things.” He chuckled.
I laughed. “Seriously?”
“What? It has.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You love me.”
“I do.”
His hand found mine in the dark, and for a while, we stayed like that, breathing in the heat we’d made.
My flight back to Florida was still waiting at the end of the weekend. Once I got on that plane, I didn’t know when I’d get this again. I didn’t know when I’d get his body against mine, his hand in mine, or a few minutes when neither of us had to pretend the distance didn’t hurt.
So I held on to him while I still could.