Chapter 15
MINNIE
The world stills as we lock eyes, the air between us shifting. He’s not smiling anymore. His eyes flicker to my lips and I lick them, watching hunger burn in his gaze. Feelings I thought were long extinguished steal every last gasp of oxygen from my lungs.
We crash together, a mess of need and tongues and vulnerability and reward. He tugs me tightly against him, fingers pressing into my back. I come up for air and his lips travel to my neck, making me sigh with pleasure. Everywhere he touches burns after he moves on. I’m melting, limb by limb.
Chest heaving, I drag his face back to mine. ‘It’s only a two-seater.’
His lips curl into a wicked smile. ‘There’s a lot we can do in a two-seater.’
He jumps to his feet and I let out a strangled yelp as he scoops me over his shoulder with surprising ease.
He opens the passenger door, bends us both down, and I hear a coil sound.
The fact that he’s basically back-pressing me makes him rival even the most fantastical shadow daddy.
Gently, I’m deposited on the seat, which has been rolled so far back it’s almost in the boot.
Before I can wonder why, he’s climbing into the footwell.
‘The World Champion, kneeling before me,’ I remark.
He anchors his hands on the outside of my legs and rises until we’re eye-level. ‘Two-time World Champion.’ His fingers press against my core through my cycling shorts, dragging a squeak from my lips. Lord, he wastes no time.
I ready myself to guide him through basic foreplay as I do with most men, but Jack’s lazy, tantalising strokes prove he needs no guidance. I clutch the seat and fight the urge to rock my hips. His ego’s big enough as it is.
‘How’s that?’ His voice alone, all gravelly and thick, has the power to send me somewhere I don’t know if I have the confidence to go in front of him.
‘Fine,’ I manage, but it’s embarrassingly strained.
How can I be this horny with my clothes on? I’m so wet there’s no knowing where I end and my thong begins.
His thumb presses against my opening, making me start. ‘And now?’
The knowledge that he knows what and where – without looking – is treacherous. More than one past partner has asked if I was close whilst poking my thigh.
I swallow. ‘Mhm.’
His smile’s nothing short of pornographic.
Just when I thought it couldn’t feel any better without stripping off, he cranes forward and drags his teeth gently down my seam.
I shoot up and grab the headrest. ‘I can take them o—’
‘If I want something, Roberts,’ he murmurs, looking up from beneath his lashes, ‘I’ll make it happen.’
Before I can mock his arrogance, he licks there, then he sucks hard. Fuck his ego; I throw my head back and grip him, holding him in place. I can feel his smile against me. If he can do this much damage with shorts on, I’m a ruined woman.
He does it again and I cry out.
‘Alright, Roberts, I think you’ve earned it.’
I’m a sensitive bundle of nerves as I watch him take his time unzipping my skirt and sliding it off. His fingers slip under the band of my shorts and my hips lift of their own accord. Finally, my thong, which he treats with reverence. It’s the most thoroughly I’ve been touched possibly ever.
He glances up from the footwell. I must be a sight, all splayed with naked legs akimbo. It’s dark, but he can probably see where my razor missed, and the stretchmarks on my thighs. I don’t know how my body compares to the hundreds of models he’s probably shag—
His hands shoot out to keep my legs from closing. I’m about to argue when his mouth descends on mine. This kiss is slower, less need and more intent. I could make out with him for days. With a little sigh, my lips part and his tongue slips inside. I reach for his belt, but he catches me.
‘I’m not done,’ he rasps.
I try again. I’ve had my turn.
A chuckle rises from the back of his throat. ‘I’m not done.’
In one swift movement, he lifts me and slides behind. It takes a painfully long time to register that I’m now sitting on his lap. Jesus, is that his dick digging into me?
His kisses trail from my shoulder to my collarbone to my neck to behind my ear, where he bites my lobe, and I’m jerked back from whatever stupid dreamy haze I was in. His legs are pinning mine wide open. My muscles are tender from this morning’s stretch, but the ache feels too good.
His finger’s tracing idle circles up my thigh, inching higher and higher.
I usually don’t like so much attention – I feel selfish or frustrated or sorry for them – but this is different.
From the hardness pressing into my lower back, Jack’s as into this as I am.
His other arm’s binding me to him so I couldn’t slither away if I tried.
I especially like that he can’t see my reactions.
He’s almost where I need him, almost, so tantalisingly close, when he hesitates and switches to the other leg.
‘Arsehole,’ I mutter.
His response is a smug peck on my shoulder.
When his fingers finally, finally meet their destination, we both suck in a breath. I want it so much it’s a struggle to keep still.
‘Fuck,’ he hisses, gently tracing my folds. ‘You’re so wet.’
Mortification returns with a vengeance, and I wrestle to close my legs but he’s unbelievably strong.
‘It’s a good thing,’ he assures me, a fraction from my ear. ‘And you’re a good girl. Good girls get rewarded.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘Have you ever squirted before?’
Sexy Minnie: deactivated. ‘What?!’ I twist around to look at him.
His laugh is all hot breath. ‘You’ll like it.’
‘You don’t know what I like.’
Even in the shadows I can see his eyebrow lift. ‘Oh yeah?’
I don’t have the strength to argue because his fingers are back doing that stroking thing again against my clit, and I have no choice but to settle back against him. Arrogant prick. His movements accelerate and slow, accelerate and slow, driving me closer and closer to the brink.
Then a long finger pushes inside me.
It arches and brushes against somewhere very, very sensitive. I retaliate by running my nails down his forearm, and his breathing hitches.
‘When I tell you to, push out,’ he whispers in my ear, alternating circling my sex and dipping inside. ‘Can you do as you’re told, Roberts?’
In no world am I going to do that – like, what if I wee?! – but I don’t have the energy to put that into words. Sexy World Champions aren’t the kind of guys you try risky manoeuvres with. I want him to think I’m pretty and feminine, not some out of control spewing whale.
As if Jack can read my thoughts, he says, ‘Don’t overthink it. Just do as I say.’
I grind my hips against his straining dick. He punishes me by adding a second finger.
Holy Jesus.
The fullness.
I moan and press my face into his neck.
He picks up the pace, thrusting in a relentless rhythm that has me building with shocking velocity.
I can’t believe I ever thought he didn’t know what he was doing.
My knees try to close, shying away from the pleasure rocketing in my core.
I have no control over my body or the noises erupting from me. It’s terrifying.
‘I—’
‘Atta girl. You’re almost there.’
‘But... I...’
It’s too much. Too soon. Too good. Too— holy shit.
‘Come for me, baby,’ he orders. His fingers whip out but the circles keep coming.
My body’s entirely submissive to him. I can’t resist any longer. So I let go. And—
OH.
MY.
GOD.
Release courses through me. I scream as my body does things I didn’t think it was capable of. He keeps going, dragging my orgasm out. His fingers are back inside me, ruining me, devastating me.
And it happens again. And again. And again.
When there isn’t an ounce of pleasure left in me and it physically hurts to come, I slump against him. He gently brings it to a close and wraps both arms around me.
What the hell just happened?
I’m a trembling wreck.
I’ve never orgasmed with someone else in the room – is this what normally happens? What even came out of me? Was it bad?
Was I bad?
Did I embarrass myself? He’s going to think I’m crazy. Or inexperienced. That’s worse.
‘Well that was amazing,’ he says, lips finding my head.
My laugh doesn’t sound like me, it’s shaky and winded and an octave too low. I shrug him off and skitter out the car wearing only a top.
‘Take your time,’ he urges, getting out too. His arms shoot out to catch me when my legs give way. ‘Slow, Minnie.’
I feel like a baby foal, wobbling on unfamiliar limbs.
The fresh air’s helping. I press a hand to my head.
The dizziness is wearing off. My sex is throbbing something fierce – but in a good way.
I think. I’ve got nothing to compare it to so it’s hard to tell.
It feels happy though, if that’s possible. Deep breaths, Minnie.
The hills in the distance steady as Jack collects my clothes. I feel infinitely less like falling over by the time he hands them to me. Instead of putting them on, I point him to the seat, which – looking at it now – is soaked and very probably stained. And the dizziness is back.
‘Your turn,’ I croak.
He nods towards the car. ‘Not this time. In you get.’
What’s wrong with him? I’ve never been with a man who didn’t at least want it fifty/fifty. Most are happy to miss my go, which usually suits me fine because they’ve never done anything remotely close to that. ‘It’s your turn,’ I press.
Amusement dances in his eyes. ‘Get in.’
I do as he says because apparently I have no mind of my own anymore. ‘But—’
He leans down to be on my level. ‘Roberts, a man doesn’t fuck a girl like you in a car.’ And with that he shuts me in.