“Your turn,” I whisper. His eyes drift back to mine and hold. He doesn’t look away, even as he lifts up and slides the hoodie over his head, exposing his bare torso.
I suck in a sharp breath, the tattoos covering his corded muscles and the various scars are a sight to fucking behold.
I want to know the story behind those scars. And wanting to know anything past how hard he’s going to make me come is terrifying.
But I’ve always loved that feeling. I’ve always craved more of it.
After some maneuvering, he kicks off his boots and socks and manages to wrangle his wet jeans down his legs. It’s a moment that would usually feel awkward, but with Zade, it only dries my mouth as he exposes his glorious body to me, inch by inch.
Chests pumping in tandem, we look each other over, our eyes thirsty as he settles back between my legs—this time, with nothing between us.
His mismatched eyes pin me against the seat. I couldn’t move if I wanted to.
And that’s the problem. I don’t want to.
I love the way his fiery orbs trace over my body, like a paintbrush tracing the curves of a woman on a canvas. The wetness pooled between my legs is becoming too much—too heavy.
Too painful.
The quick fuck against the tree only took the edge off while simultaneously ramping up our need to toxic levels.
“I’m waiting for you to bow,” I taunt in a husky whisper.
His eyes dilate and his nostrils flare. My words hang in the air like the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. A tense pause, and he snaps.
He grabs my biceps and yanks me up. Turning me towards the gap between the driver and passenger seat, he directs, “Bend over between the seats.”
I do as he says, keeping my knees on the backseat bench while I fit my body in the small gap between the two seats, planting my hands on either side for balance.
Zade leans forward, grabbing the seatbelt on the passenger side and looping it around my body before clicking it in the driver’s side buckle.
“What are you…” He shushes me, repeating the process with the driver’s side seatbelt. When he’s finished, I’m completely strapped in place, unable to move. It does allow me enough leeway to turn my head and look back at Zade.
Like a king on a throne, he sits on the bench behind me, arranging himself between my legs so my ass is directly in his face. Butterflies hatch in my stomach at the sight of Zade sitting behind me, his legs splayed wide and his hard cock jutting up past his belly button. From this angle, I have no idea how it ever fit inside me.
He grins at me. “I’m too big for this car, baby, so this is the closest I can get to bowing right now. But I’ll be sure to get on my knees for you later.”
And just like in the House of Mirrors, he lifts my ass up until my knees are no longer grounded, the seatbelts digging into my sensitive flesh, and feasts on my pussy like a starved man.
Like I’m his last meal, just as he asked me to be not too long ago.
My eyes roll as his tongue laps up my cunt, circling my clit and spearing into my opening. It’s too much—too good. I force myself to find something to focus on, to draw out the pleasure. My gaze locks on the fogged windows, the trails of rain marring the clouds. I try to concentrate on the millions of splashes against the glass. Or how the rain is falling so hard, it rivals the husky moans falling from my lips.
But I lose focus, and it all fades to black as his teeth join in, sucking and biting before easing the sting with his tongue.
“Fucking nirvana,” he murmurs before suctioning my clit into his mouth. I cry out, pleasure consuming me whole. And he’s right. The way Zade eats pussy is nirvana.
It doesn’t take long before his tongue lashes at my clit in just the right way that an orgasm explodes out of me before I can process it.
My screams echo in the confined space as he swallows everything I have to give him. And then he’s unbuckling both seatbelts and jerking me backward until I’m on my back, and he’s crowding over me again.
Our bodies clash, and with fluidity, he lifts my body against his. My legs encircle his waist while my hands seek balance from his broad shoulders.
Our eyes stay locked, even as my pulsing core presses against the rigid length jutting between my legs. He snarls, his lip curling ferociously at the feel of my heat enveloping him.
My eyelids droop, and with an ease I never knew I possessed, I grind my hips against him, spreading my juices across his cock.
His hand shoots up, curling into my wet hair and pulling tightly. My head cranes backwards from the pressure, but my eyes don’t leave his near-feral face. His teeth are bared, and the blackness starts to consume his one white eye. Darkness bleeding into purity—tainting it.