Chapter 30
For half a second, I think he’s joking.
I haven’t fooled around in the back seat since I was a teen and the one and only guy who ever put any moves on me back then attempted to put his hands in my jean shorts.
It was awkward and clunky, and he didn’t think to undo the button before rubbing me hard over my panties.
The rest is a blur. From what I remember, I pretended to come just so he’d finally take pity on me and pull his numb hand free.
My sex life hasn’t been all that experimental. I doubt the same can be said about Beck’s.
“You’re overthinking,” he murmurs, knuckling my chin. “If you’re not comfortable, we can head right to bingo or go for a drive. I’ll even take you to Blank Page and let you choose another nasty concoction for me to drink.”
I snort, touching his wrist. “No. I’m just realizing that you’ve got to be very well versed in sex, and all of my experiences are very boring.”
“All you’re doing right now is getting me excited to help you branch out, baby.”
“And is that what you were doing when you jerked off in the shower, right in front of me?”
My cheeks heat at the memory, and my nipples poke through my bra, rubbing in a very distracting way. I shift in my seat, refusing to press my thighs together. It’s hot in here, but it has nothing to do with the thermostat or the summer heat outside.
Beck’s eyes twinkle as he takes my chin and brings me in for another kiss. I melt into it, welcoming the furious rush of blood to my head. A sigh hits his mouth when he coaxes my lips apart and strokes my tongue with his. I unbuckle my seat belt without giving the action a second thought.
He smiles into the kiss, then releases me. “Go on. Climb back so I can stare at your ass.”
“Jesus Christ,” I sputter.
His chuckle fills the car as I listen to his demand. Refusing to think too hard about how easy it was for me to make that choice, I crawl over the console and half barrel roll into the back seat.
I’ve barely caught my breath when he joins me, slightly out of breath with a wicked grin on his face. His giant body looks almost comical sitting back here. The wide spread of his long legs is incredibly enticing, though. He’s made a really comfortable chair.
“Keep it up and I’m going to start thinking that you’re staring at my crotch.”
“You wish,” I taunt, staying still on my own seat.
“I do. I very much wish.” He smooths his veiny hands down his thighs. “You wanna sit on me, Quinny?”
“I won’t crush you?”
His fingers wrap around my wrist and tug. “Don’t insult me.”
With a quick scootch, he settles into the middle seat and helps me onto his lap.
It’s like how we sat on my bed, but still different.
Somehow, this feels more intimate. The fact that we’re both completely clothed doesn’t change anything.
He’s looking up at me now, his eyes gooey with warmth, adoration.
It’s like he can see all of me from one look.
All of my hidden insecurities and hopes and dreams. My scars and the pain I feel when I remember how far I’ve come from the girl who was forced to raise her little sister while her mom stayed busy chasing highs.
Beck pushes my hair from where it drapes over my cheeks and guides it over my shoulders. His fingers follow the strands to the middle of my back, smoothing them. It’s a soothing gesture, and I blink twice, willing the burn in my eyes to subside before he notices.
The ferocity that works through his features has my stomach dropping. I look at the window, but he’s ready for me to pull back. The first press of his lips to my neck pulls a strangled moan from the depths of my chest. My heart gallops, and I clutch his bicep, feeling the hard, thick muscle there.
“Stay with me, Quinn,” he whispers, dragging his mouth up beneath my jaw. “I’ve got you.”
I shudder, nodding. My cheek meets his temple, and I arch for him, opening myself for more of what he’s doing. It feels so, so good, and his words settle every fear and doubt in my mind. It’s just us, just this. That’s all I need to know right now.
It’s so easy to rock my hips forward. The first brush of our bodies sends lightning zipping beneath my skin. He fists my shirt, tugging it up to my waist as he pants against my throat. I repeat the motion and turn my face into his hair, shivering.
“Can I touch you?” he pleads.
“Yes.”
I expect him to reach into my jeans or grip my ass. He does neither.
My breath whooshes out of me when he pushes his face into my chest and wraps both of his arms around my back in a python grip. He pinches my shirt between his teeth and tugs at it before finally reaching around my stomach to push it up and over my breasts.
“Told you I had plans to worship these tits, baby.” His tongue curves around the swell of the right one, tracing the edge of my bra. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”
It’s impossible to speak. I thread my fingers through his hair and hold him in place, my skin burning beneath his lips.
Each time he sucks at me, I jerk in his lap, drawing throaty sounds out of the both of us.
But then he finds my nipple, and I grind down as hard as I can, pleasure throbbing between my legs.
“That’s good?” he asks softly, grazing his teeth across the aching tip. “I love your tattoos. They’re beautiful.”
The twin skeleton hands underneath my tits are tugging on the wishbone between the heavy mounds. It was the first tattoo I ever got. There was no rhyme or reason behind the design, but suddenly, it feels a thousand times more special.
My bra is a pathetic boundary between us. It’s damp from where he’s been sucking on it, and even with the thick padding, I can feel every stroke of his tongue like there’s nothing between us.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. He repeats the motion and drops a hand to my ass, using the firm hold to guide me forward again.
My bra unsnaps, and in a haze, I feel him lifting it out of the way.
The air is muggy, thick with tension and the heat from our bodies, yet it’s cool against my beaded nipples.
They pull tighter, and I suck in a sharp inhale when he flicks his tongue against one and then blows a steady stream of air across it.
My eyes close. “Do that again.”
He does, repeating the motion on both of my nipples. “What else do you like?”
“Everything.”
“I doubt that, Quinny. You have things you like more than others. Tell me,” he coaxes, then pulls my right bud into his mouth, sucking firmly.
Pushing into his mouth, I scrape my nails across his scalp. “You can be rougher with them.”
His teeth come back into play, and I moan the instant they gently bite down. I rock my hips in a constant back-and-forth motion, feeling him get impossibly thicker beneath me. Even through our jeans, I can feel how big he is, and that does little to calm the raging need that I’m drowning in.
“Like that,” I confirm on a stuttered exhale.
My hands wander as he does what I want, only stopping long enough to swap nipples.
His chest is a piece of art, and I don’t waste the opportunity to feel it again.
I push his shirt up out of the way and drag my fingers across his muscles, taking note of every ridge and indent, the way they tense and then release.
He’s breathing heavily like me. I press my palm flat to the space between his pectorals and try to feel his heart thumping.
“Do you feel it?”
I keep my cheek to his temple, not trusting myself not to break down and ask him to fuck me right here in the back seat if I look at him right now.
“What?”
“How fast my heart is beating.” Beck takes my hand from its place on his chest and brings it higher. My knuckles find his neck and dig in until I can feel his pulse thrashing against them. “It’s like that every time you’re near me.”
I relax my fingers and palm his throat, feeling the strong way it pulls when he swallows.
Then, I finally meet his stare. My own heart stills before racing forward, recognizing that soft look in his eyes and the way it threatens to break me apart piece by piece, only to glue me back together the way I should be. The way I wish I were.
It’s too much. Too intense and knowing, and I move before the moment can grow out of control. Ripping my gaze away, I push a hand against the window and lift myself just enough that I can scoot down his thighs an inch. With more room between us, it’s easy for me to unzip his jeans.
The back windows are fogged, and there’s a streak across ours that’s unmistakably my handprint. If anyone drives by, they’ll know someone’s in here and what exactly it is we’re doing. It’s pretty obvious to me that I don’t care if we get caught. Not when this is feeling so good.
“Jesus, I’ll come too fast if you touch me, Quinn,” he warns but makes no move to stop me.
“So you can give me pleasure, but I can’t do the same for you?”
Regardless of the question, I’ve already unzipped his jeans.
I curl my fingers into the waistband before pulling them free and palming his crotch instead.
His hissed breath kisses my forehead. My clit has its own heartbeat now, pulsing impatiently as I explore him, teasing just enough to have him gripping my hips tightly.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t. Go ahead, baby. I want nothing more than to feel your hand around me. But the last thing I want is to embarrass myself here.”
Smoothing my palm down his cock, I apply more pressure near the base and flick my eyes up to watch his face tighten.
Tongue travelling across his plush bottom lip, he stares me down and hitches a brow in a silent dare.
His good-boy, happy-go-lucky attitude is slipping, revealing the filthy-mouthed heathen that I saw in my bedroom yesterday.
I shiver, the hair on my arms standing up in anticipation.
“I won’t hold it against you,” I tease, squeezing him through his jeans.
His erection kicks beneath my grip, and I stare down at the sight of my hand on him. Even with my fingers spread as wide as possible, I can’t cover the entire bulge.