Chapter 23 #2
He searches my face. “Do you have somewhere to be?”
“Nope.”
He brushes a finger through my hair. “By the way, I like your hair.”
I grin, my pulse erratic as he twirls it with his finger. “Thanks.”
“I’ll try not to ruin it.”
At this point, I don’t care what he does to my hair as long as he’s on me, in me, everywhere.
His hand finds mine again, and our fingers tangle together.
“Where’s your car?” he asks, his voice husky.
“In the hairdresser’s lot.”
“Meet me at our spot?” He grins.
“Yeah.” I know exactly why he’s asking. We’re a secret still. And if I leave my car here for too long, Violet and others will start asking questions.
We pull apart, our hands staying for just a second longer before we let go. I practically run to the car trying not to be too quick to draw attention to myself.
Then, I slip into my car, my breath coming fast, and drive.
Ten minutes.
That’s all it takes to get to Pulse Point.
And the second I park and open the door, Adrian’s already in the backseat of his car waiting, his expression dark and hungry.
His hands rest on my waist when I climb in next to him. “It’s going to be a hell of a long week not seeing you. I have to work all weekend, which sucks.”
I know the feeling. The thought of days without him leaves an ache in my chest I don’t want to acknowledge.
But I don’t want to waste time thinking about that.
He moves me on top of him, straddling his lap, and oh, God, I feel him.
He’s hard. He’s ready.
A small, needy sound slips from my throat as I rock against him.
“Fuck, Amelia,” he grits out, his fingers tightening on my waist, holding me still.
I kiss him, swallowing the low groan that rumbles from his chest, feeling the heat of his body through our clothes.
He thrusts his hips, just once, just enough to send a spark all the way to my toes. But he doesn’t rush. He lets me set the pace.
“I like this,” he rasps. “I like you using me, doing what you want to me.” His eyes burn into mine. “Take me as hard as you want.”
A shiver runs through me.
I lean back slightly, my fingers fumbling with his belt, my heart pounding loudly in my ears. He watches me, his hands sliding down my thighs.
But I need to get out of these clothes first.
I shift beside him, quickly shimmying out of my jeans, my skin flushed and feverish. The car is hot, full of our ragged breaths and the scent of us.
I keep my top on. So does he.
His cock juts against his open fly, thick, hard, waiting, and there’s something about it that makes me want to tease him first.
I slide down, dip my head, and take him into my mouth.
“Fuck, Amelia,” he groans, his hand threading through my hair, holding but not forcing, like he just wants to feel me.
Grip tightening slightly, he gathers my hair carefully away from my face. I moan, my hand wrapping around his base, twisting, stroking, giving him the friction he’s desperate for.
His hips jerk.
“Your mouth is perfection.”
His encouraging sounds make me dizzy with power.
But then—
“Amelia… stop,” he chokes out. “Get up here and fuck me. Now.”
It’s not just a request. It’s a warning. A desperate, urgent plea.
I pull back, my lips swollen, tingling, my pulse racing.
Climbing over him, I reach down to guide him to my entrance, when—
“Wait… condom.” His voice is rough, barely holding on.
He fumbles in his pocket, pulling one from his wallet.
“Let me.” I take it from him, my fingers brushing his, my hands far steadier than I feel. I tear the foil with my teeth, roll it on, and once he’s covered, I line him up and sink down.
Oh, God.
I freeze, my nails digging into him as my body stretches to take all of him.
It’s so much.
So full yet I feel incredible.
I breathe through it, letting myself adjust.
His hands grip my waist firmly, waiting for me. There’s something different in his touch this time, more possessive, more certain. Like he’s claiming me in a way he didn’t before.
And when I’m ready, I lift slowly, then sink back down, savoring every inch, every shuddering breath against my lips.
His eyes lock onto mine. Which are dark, intense, and all-consuming. It makes me breathless; I’ve never felt so special.
I start to move, my hands holding on to his shoulders, my hips finding a rhythm. He meets me, his hands guiding me, urging me harder.
Heat builds in my core.
I can feel myself climbing to orgasm.
So I move faster, chasing it, losing myself in the friction, in the way he feels inside me.
I hope he comes too, but I don’t think I can stop—
“Fuck—”
He thrusts up just as my orgasm slams into me, the pleasure crashing through and tearing me apart.
His name spills from my lips. “Adrian.”
He follows a second later, his arms locking around me, holding me tight as his body shudders, his release spilling into the condom.
For a moment, neither of us move.
We just breathe, holding each other, my head buried in the curve of his neck, my fingers still clutching his shoulders. My pulse is still racing, and there’s this feeling of rightness, a connection so big, I can’t ignore.
Finally, I exhale a shaky breath. “Well, that was unexpected.”
Adrian chuckles, his hand smoothing down my back.
I pull back slightly, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. “So was you finding me outside the hair salon.”
Then reality starts creeping back in. Our secret, the lies I’ve been telling to Violet, the carefully planned hook-ups to keep this hidden. I need to leave before someone notices I’m gone, but the thought of pulling away from him right now is breaking something inside me.
“I should clean up and head home,” I murmur. “Mom’s waiting for me.”
Adrian nods, his hands gripping my waist before I finally force myself to slide off him.
We tidy up; the car fogged, still smelling like us.
I pull on my jeans. He tucks himself back in, adjusting his clothes.
“When will I see you again?” he asks, voice still a little rough.
I smile. “I don’t know, but I’ll definitely try to squeeze you in again.”
He grabs me. “Funny.”
I lean in one last time. He cups the back of my head, his lips claiming mine, like he doesn’t want me to go just yet.
And neither do I. But I have to.