42. Bindi #2
In an instant, I’m straddling Cassidy in the driver’s seat, knees sinking into the upholstery on either side of his hips. The steering wheel is no longer jammed into me.
I brace a hand on the ceiling for support as Cassidy bucks his hips up, grinding that hard bulge of his cock against the center of my jeans. A bolt of white-hot pleasure rips through me. I cry out into his mouth, and he answers with a guttural groan, swallowing the sound with his lips.
His free hand is everywhere, grabbing my ass, sliding up under my shirt, clutching at every part of me.
He tugs the cup of my bra down and suddenly my breast is in his rough palm.
He breaks the kiss, both of us gasping for air, and his lips find my neck, my collarbone.
He bites down hard as his thumb flicks over my nipple.
I half hope we get caught, just so I can watch the cop’s face as Cassidy keeps going as I moan for him. I’m beyond any kind of reason. Let them chase us. Let them find us. Let everything go to hell. Nothing matters right now but this.
I roll my hips down against him, grinding on his lap, and we both hiss at the sweet friction.
His teeth leave my lips to scrape along my throat.
He’s sucking at the skin there, hard, and I know he’s leaving bruises.
I dig my nails into his shoulders and let him mark me.
I want to wear this moment on my body tomorrow.
Every dark bruise is a reminder that I’m not the person I was an hour ago.
I tug at his jacket, shoving it down over his arms. It’s in my way—I need to feel more of him.
Cassidy lets go of me just long enough to shrug the leather off one arm, cursing as it catches on his elbow.
The sight is absurd and somehow sexy—him wrestling with clothing while half under me—and a crazed little giggle escapes my lips.
He silences my laugh with a sharp bite to my lower lip, just shy of too hard. I gasp, and he soothes it with his tongue, but his eyes bore into mine, daring me to make another sound. He doesn’t need to speak. The feral heat in his expression says it all: no more fucking around.
I nod, breathless.
His hand fumbles between us, finding the button of my jeans. There’s a metallic pop as it gives, and the zipper is dragged down in one swift yank. Cool air hits my abdomen, then the backs of his fingers brush my stomach as he forces his hand past the denim waistband and into my underwear.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Cassidy growls against my ear. His fingers slide through the slick mess between my thighs. He shoves my panties aside and teases my clit.
“Get inside me,” I rasp. “Now. Fucking now.”
I grab the base of him, guide him to where I need him most, then he slams me down onto him with an animalistic grunt.
There’s no warning, no easing in. Just Cassidy inside me, stretching me open, filling every inch.
I cry out, loud and broken. My body’s never been this full and still somehow needs more.
“You’re—fuck, you’re so deep.”
“I know,” he snarls, hands gripping my hips like he wants to leave bruises. “Fucking ride me, Bindi.”
And I do.
Every thrust is filthy and frantic, more grinding than rhythm, more need than control. His eyes never leave mine—not once. Not when I curse. Not when I throw my head back. Not when I roll my hips and moan like I want him to fucking destroy me.
“Want me to fill you up? ”
“Yes. I want you to come inside me.” I’m so far gone, I’m sure I’d agree to another bank robbery if it meant he would let me come.
He bucks up so hard I lose my balance, one of my hands slamming against the ceiling.
“I’ll fuck a baby into you right here if you beg for it,” he snarls, spit-slick lips against my throat. “Is that what you want, Firefly?”
“Yes,” I gasp, dizzy from how deep he is, from how fast the orgasm is building. “I want it. I want you to come so fucking deep I feel it for days.”
“Say it again.”
“Fill me,” I pant. “Fucking breed me, Cassidy. I don’t care what happens—just give it to me.” It’s insane—I should care about pills or protection. But I don’t. Not right now. Not when he feels like this.
He slams up into me with brutal, punishing force. My body shakes with it. He grabs the back of my neck, forcing my forehead against his, eyes locked on mine like he wants to see the exact second I come apart.
“Take it,” he snarls. “Fucking take everything.”
And I do. I come hard, choking on his name, spasming around him. My nails rake down his chest, my thighs quivering as I ride it out, hips still rolling, milking him.
Cassidy isn’t far behind. He pulls me flush to him and buries himself to the hilt. One, two, three brutal thrusts, then he’s coming inside me with a desperate groan, cock pulsing deep.
“Fuck. Fuck —You’re gonna be sitting in this fucking seat leaking my cum while I drive us to the next town.”
We don’t move for a long minute, we just breathe. Sweat clings to my skin, and his cum leaks out around him, pooling in the mess between us, hot and obscene. My body’s still twitching with aftershocks, still pulsing around him like I don’t want to let him go.
His hand slides up my back, gentler now, fingers threading through my hair. Then he grabs my jaw, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“Open your mouth,” he orders.
I do, without hesitation, my mouth wide, tongue out.
He leans in, eyes locked on mine, and spits. The thick line of it hits my tongue. His thumb brushes my bottom lip, smearing spit and sweat and whatever other filth across my face.
“Swallow it.”
I close my mouth and do exactly that, letting it slide down my throat while his cock is still buried inside me, still leaking. Still claiming me. His eyes are dark and he presses a hard kiss to my lips.
“Fuck. That’s it. You take everything I give you, don’t you?”
I nod, dazed, tongue flicking out to lick the corner of my mouth.
“Spit. Cum. My fucking kid—you’ll take it all.”
And maybe he’s fucking right.