Chapter Five #2
My heart does this thing where it stops beating and starts racing at the same time. It's strange. And good.
"Lift your hips for me," he orders, hooking his fingers around the band of my panties. "Help me get these off."
My eyes dart around the parking lot, only to realize that it's mostly cleared out. The nearest car is several yards away. It's probably not far enough to qualify as privacy, but it does give us anonymity…
"Right here?" I ask anyway, my heart in my throat.
"Right here," he says, his eyes locked on mine in the dark. "Right now."
"If my brothers see my underwear on the internet, I'm moving to Aruba."
"No one sees your underwear but me," he growls, his tone nine kinds of possessive. "Now, lift your hips."
I gulp, using his body for leverage to lift my hips.
He doesn't look away from me once as he reaches for my panties, almost like he's daring me to put a stop to this. But stopping this is the last thing I want to do. I want him to touch me. I want him to shatter me.
He tugs them down as far as they'll go with me in this position before he helps shift me around, tugging them from one foot and then the other. I watch with wide eyes as he tucks them into his pocket.
"You aren't getting them back, butterfly."
"They aren't that bad," I whisper.
"Bad?" His intense gaze tangles with mine. "I didn't see a fucking second of the performance tonight. I was too busy thinking about those panties covering your pussy. I was busy imagining my handprint against your ass."
My core clenches, heat rushing through me. "Yes."
His lips quirk. "Yes?"
"Yes," I say again, not even sure what the heck I'm giving him permission to do. I just know that he said he wants to see his handprint in my skin, and now I want it. So freaking badly.
His lips quirk in that way that isn't quite a smile—those are rare from him—but close. "We'll get there." His hand drifts up my leg again. "Part your thighs, Hattie baby. Let me see what I'm eating."
"E-eating?" Oh, sweet Jesus.
"Yeah, eating." His hand creeps higher. "As in, licking you until you're screaming."
Part of me wants to remind him that we're in a parking lot at a fancy opera house. The other part just wants to get to the eating part right now. That part wins by so many miles it's laughable.
I shift on his lap, parting my thighs until I feel completely exposed.
The only thing saving me from utter humiliation is the fact that it's dark.
Well, that and the way he's looking at me like he wants to burn the vision as deep into his brain as it'll go.
This right here is what it feels like to be desirable, to be wanted… to be irresistible.
Watch out, world, I'm unstoppable.
"Oh!" I jerk, my whole body trembling when he touches me, his fingers ghosting against my sex. My head falls back, my breath already a shaky pant.
"Keep your eyes on me, butterfly," he rasps. "I want to see you."
I try. Really, I do. I keep my eyes on him while he strokes my clit until I'm whimpering. But there is no watching him when he hauls me up, trying to drape my thighs around his head. There is, literally, no room to work with in this truck. My head bumps the roof and then the door.
He shifts and twists, grunting and cursing while reclining the seat, until he's back as far as he can go, his head basically in the backseat. He drags me up his body again, holding me steady.
"Sit," he growls.
"On your face? You'll die!"
"Then let me."
"That cannot be nor—"
He yanks me down.
"Sidney!" I shout, clutching at the roof. One of my knees is jammed against the side of the truck. The other slips off his shoulder, pitching me sideways.
He just grunts and hauls me back into place, his tongue already lapping at my clit. And Christ Almighty, I don't know how many people are left in that opera house, but they're all about to hear me. I'm going to hit notes that would make Italy proud.
"That's it," he snarls against my pussy. "Ride my face."
Is that what I'm doing? It feels more like I'm hanging on for dear life as he thrusts his tongue inside me, fucking me with it. His hands squeeze and knead my ass, spreading my cheeks in a way that should not feel so damn good.
Everything about this feels good.
"Sidney," I sob, clawing at everything I can reach.
His beard tickles my inner thighs. His breath is hot against my skin. His nose keeps grinding against my clit every time I rock against him. I can't stop rocking against him.
His fingers drift down the crevice of my ass, thrumming against my back entrance. He doesn't try to push inside, just adds a little pressure. Enough to light my whole body up.
I shout his name, coming in a powerful wave that won't relent. As soon as I think I'm done, he licks me again, or strokes me again, and sends me hurtling right back into another dimension.
I claw at his arms, at the door, my knees clamped around his head so tightly I'm convinced he's probably dead now. RIP, Sidney Hawkes. RIP, magical tongue.
But he isn't dead. He's just living his best life between my legs, eating me like I'm a whole meal. He groans and growls and snarls, every sound louder and more desperate than the last.
And then I'm moving through the air—literally. He bucks me off like a wild animal, practically tossing me into the backseat. His wild eyes meet mine, his big body trembling. I see my juices all over his face, see the feral glint in his eyes, and I choke on his name, my body igniting all over again.
"If I'm not inside you in the next two minutes, I'm going to destroy this entire fucking city," he growls.
"Yes."
He moves so much faster than I can even process. One minute, he's in the front seat. The next, he's launching over it like a giant comet, all hands and curses and desperation. He lands in the back beside me on his knees, already reaching for me.
Within seconds, I'm flat on the seat beneath him with my legs around his waist and his face buried in my throat.
"This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go," he rasps, ripping through his zipper. "I was going to be a gentleman, kiss you at the door, behave. Fuck, butterfly. I can't behave."
"Don't," I gasp, rocking beneath him, every word making me want him more. I love that he wanted to give me something soft and sweet—that he wanted to be a gentleman for me. But I think I like this better. I like him a little wild and so turned on that he can't think straight.
I like being the reason he's so hard right now.
"Sidney, I…I…"
"I know," he says, his voice sweeter than I've ever heard it as he lines up at my entrance. His lips brush my throat. "I know, butterfly. Me too."
I melt beneath him, wrapped around him like a glove.
He nips my throat as he sinks into me, inch by inch. He goes slow. At least, he tries to go slow, but we're both so turned on, so desperate, that neither of us has much patience. We're greedy and want it all, right now.
"Please, please," I sob, caught in some net of pleasure and pain that's unlike anything. He's so damn big, and I'm so full. And still, it isn't enough. I want every inch.
He bites my throat, cursing as he pushes forward another inch…and then another.
Jesus Christ. This man is going to break me.
"H-how much more is there?" I choke, already stretched to capacity.
"Too much," he growls. "Be a good girl and take it for me, Hattie baby."
I dig my nails into his shoulders, turning my face toward his. His lips brush mine, and I taste myself on him. I taste him too—this unique combination that's all strength, heat, and Sidney. I want to remember his taste forever.
I never want to forget the way he kisses me, either.
It's like he's a dying man, and my mouth is salvation.
He sinks into me with a groan, his tongue tangling with mine.
Every stroke claims a little piece of my soul, unlocking some hidden part of me that I don't think I ever realized existed until just now.
It's that part that I never got to experience before—the one that feels cherished as much as desired, the one that feels free and so damn safe at the same time. The one that aches for this man—not any man, just this one—so intensely, it hurts.
He touches that part, bringing it to the surface. He shapes and molds it, making me his in ways I don't think can ever be undone. In his truck in a dark parking lot, with his body sheltering mine, I admit to myself what I never have before.
I didn't ask him to date me because I was desperate. I asked because it had to be him. Because, no matter how many times I lied to myself, he was always my type.
When this ends, it's going to break me.
But it isn't over right now. Right now, he's here, in my arms, inside me. And I have never, not once, felt this alive or this perfect.
"That's it," he growls, finally bottoming out inside me. "Look at you, taking me like a fucking queen." His lips brush mine again, and then my cheeks. "Jesus, butterfly. Are you okay?"
"Perfect," I whisper, my voice shaking.
"Yeah, you are," he breathes, one hand sliding down to my leg. He hitches it higher, squeezing gently. "You ready for me to move?"
"Yes. God, yes."
"I don't know if I can go slow. I've wanted this too fucking long."
"Then don't," I whisper back. "I can take it."
I see a ghost of a grin touch his lips in the dark. "Yeah, you can."
I try to say something in response, but the words get lost when he starts to move. Sidney Hawkes is a beast on the field…and an electric storm inside me. He fucks me like he intends to break me in half, driving in all the way to the hilt over and over.
I shake and moan beneath him, each thrust sending bomb blasts of ecstasy ricocheting through me. His mouth is everywhere—attacking my throat, kissing down my chest, biting my nipples until I'm sobbing. His hands are everywhere too, like he's trying to touch every part of me at once.
"Christ, Hattie," he growls against my skin. "You feel how good this is?"
"Yes," I choke.
"That's because you were made to take this cock." He bites my nipple through my dress, dragging it through his teeth. "I'm going to ruin this pretty little pussy with it, make sure my name is the only one you ever moan."
I claw his back, pretty sure he's already accomplished his mission. When I touch myself from now on, this will be what I think about—him inside me, fucking me so deep I can't breathe or think. Him inside me, telling me how good I feel wrapped around him and how perfect I sound moaning his name.
He shifts positions slightly, striking some spot inside me that has my hips bucking off the seat.
"Oh, baby." His dark chuckle hits me low in the abdomen. "Did I find your spot?"
"Yes!"
"Good. I'm going to keep hitting it until you're screaming and coming all over me," he growls. "And then I'm taking you home with me, and we're going to do it again."
He slams inside me again, his pace brutal perfection. Every thrust steals my breath and leaves me reeling. Every touch lights me up like fireworks. I claw and gasp and moan, not caring if anyone hears us. I'm not even sure I'd care if they lined up outside the truck to watch at this point.
He slips a hand between our bodies, his rough fingers finding my clit.
"Sidney!" I shout, my mind going wild when he rubs frantic circles. Every sensation in my body shrinks to two points—where he's touching me and where he's inside me. It's all I feel.
"Not stopping until you come all over me, butterfly," he growls, raking his teeth down the side of my throat. "Give it to me before I fuck you apart at the seams."
He's already doing that. I'm unraveling, atom by atom, piece by piece.
"Fuck. I love the way you feel wrapped around me right now," he groans. "I can feel how close you are to losing it, Hattie." He drives into me again, grunting a curse. "Don't make me keep you on my cock all night."
I'm not sure if it's his threat or the pure male satisfaction in his voice when he says it—like he can't think of a single thing he'd rather do than fuck me all night—but something about that does it for me.
My inner muscles clamp down on him, his name ripping from my throat in a loud cry as I splinter into pieces.
I come so hard I see stars. They circle my head, sending me catapulting into space. I try to breathe through it, but I can't. All I can do is cling to him, his name still echoing around us.
He grunts, a dark, wild sound, and then drives into me twice more before planting himself deep. His body locks up, my name rumbling from his lips in a loud crack of sound as his cock jerks, his cum spilling inside me in a hot rush.
It's only when I feel it that I realize he's not wearing a condom. And, God help me, but something about that realization has me tumbling over the edge all over again.
When I finally catch my breath, he's rolled us so that I'm cradled in his arms, my face buried in his throat. His whole body moves every time he breathes. I feel his heart beating wildly against my chest.
"You didn't wear a condom," I whisper into the silence.
He goes still for a long moment before tipping my head back. His eyes meet mine in the dark. "I'll always be bare with you," he says.
I have no idea what that means. Absolutely none. But I know he means it. I see the intensity glittering like stars in his eyes.
"Don't regret it," he whispers like it might break him if I do.
"I don't," I say, my throat raw. Isn't that the issue currently freaking me out? He just fucked me without a condom, and I don't regret it, not even a little bit.
"Good." He brushes his mouth against mine in a soft kiss. "Because I meant what I said, butterfly. You're coming home with me."