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Collided: Dirty Air (Book 2)(104)

Author:Lauren Asher

“Do I get a kiss for my good efforts? Well, to be honest, I’ll take a kiss or a blowjob. Who am I to discriminate?”

She lets out the softest laugh that I want to record. “We can negotiate a deal of our own.” Her lips find mine in the dark. I tug her close, loving the feel of her pressed against me—a high worse than any drug.

Her soft lips kiss mine and her tongue teases my bottom lip. She invades my mouth like she does my life—unforgiving and unapologetic. Not that I want her to be. Shit, being with her brings out parts of me that I never knew were there to begin with. Her tongue caresses mine, our warm breath mingling together, an erotic feeling I don’t want to let go of. I crave everything with her.

I want to steal her kisses, leaving her mindless and numb, the only thought playing in her head is of me fucking her until stars dance behind her eyes. With her, I want to kiss and suck at her skin until I leave bruises so no fucker comes near what’s mine.

Mine? Shit. More like mine for the season.

My brain shuts off when her teeth graze my bottom lip and her hand cups my dick. I push Sophie into the blanket and crawl over her, the warmth of my body protecting us from the chilly desert breeze. Our lips never move away from each other. The hunger between us burns strong, fueled by our indisputable chemistry.

Her hands find the hem of my hoodie and she tugs it over my head. She traces the ridges of muscle from my shoulders to my stomach before removing my belt and chucking it to the side. I follow suit, removing her sweater and jeans. Not caring for anything between us, I make quick work of her bra and panties, along with my own jeans and boxer briefs.

I hate barriers as much as I hate the way she looks at me with lust and something else I can’t place. Something about it is off. It’s a look she hasn’t given me before, so I have no way to gauge what’s happening with her. Her glassy eyes find mine, the bright stars reflecting off them, calling out to me like a lost man finding his way home.

My fingers skim her pussy, finding her ready for me. She pants when I pump two fingers into her, bringing her to the brink of pleasure, kissing her to combat the swirling emotions inside of me. The very ones that creep in the night, tugging at my composure and challenging my rules. This is the very reason I set expectations in the first place. With my life on the road and my past rearing its ugly head time and time again, I don’t have the capability of doing more.

Do I?

Like Sophie senses my mind drifting as I kiss her, she pulls me back, her fingers lightly scratching against my back.

“You want to be fucked under the sky?” My words come out mumbled between kisses.

Sophie bobs her head up and down. My lips trail kisses down her neck before I pull one of her nipples into my mouth. She lets out a gasp as my tongue darts out and licks her, sucking the hard tip. Her moans encourage me. I leave a path of lazy kisses across her chest toward her other breast, paying special attention to her.

Everything with her feels so fucking right all the time. Somehow being with Sophie became as essential as eating and sleeping, and that thought alone makes my chest constrict.

She’s my star in the dark sky, shining bright and guiding me back from the shadows. But unfortunately, the Prix lights will shut down in a few days, casting us in a cloudy night with no light in sight. Because in the end, us together is like a stormy evening—starless, dark, and destructive.

“I need you right now,” her voice croaks.

A stupid man would ignore those words and continue on. I release her from my torture, lining myself at her entrance as I push away the negative thoughts clouding our moment.

“Wait. Condom.” She pushes her hand against my chest.

I don’t know why the request bothers me. Last week she was all for going bareback, but she’s been distant ever since Brazil. Adding a condom to the mix feels like another way she wants to pull away from me. But I can’t figure her out, let alone argue with her reasoning for wanting protection. Instead of complaining, I should be thankful because other women would use me during a moment of weakness.

I busy myself with a condom from my wallet, pushing away my uncertainty. Then I return to her. In one move, I bury myself to the hilt inside of her. Her legs wrap around me, her nails running down my back while I smother her cries with my lips. My dick throbs at the pressure of filling her. My eyes close while my body stills, wanting to enjoy the moment.

I regret shitting on the missionary position because with Sophie, it’s unreal. Sex with her never feels vanilla or boring. Quite the opposite, always pulling everything out of me, no matter the position. Anything with Sophie feels right.