Daddy Undercover (Crescent Cove #9) - Taryn Quinn Page 0,50

breath.

“I don’t know. We should get to know each other better.” I pressed my damp thighs together. With the vehicle off, the cold was already seeping in, but despite my short skirt, I was feeling no pain. “Really soon.”

With his other hand, he jerked back his seat. “Get on me.”

His sexy gravelly tone made up for what the request lacked in romance. But that didn’t mean I was going to make it easy for him.

“Why, Sheriff, I don’t think this is strictly legal. This area isn’t sanctioned for extracurricular activities.” I played with my necklace so that the chain dangled lower into my cleavage. “Could we get in trouble?”

His hand clamped around my upper arm so deliciously that my clit throbbed. Between that and the intensity in his gaze, visible even in the darkened car, I was toast. “You’re about to if you don’t get on my lap.”

“Maybe I want to stay here.”

“Suit yourself.” He leaned toward me and yanked at my top, pulling it down in one fell swoop with my strapless bra. His sound of gratitude would’ve made me giggle if his lips hadn’t captured one of my brutally taut nipples and sucked hard enough to make me dissolve into the seat. “Beautiful. So beautiful. Lift up your skirt.”

I ran my fingers through his short, thick hair and let myself just enjoy the flicks of his tongue and his hungry little bites. I would’ve teased him some more, but apparently, I no longer had a voice.

He didn’t wait for me to do as he’d asked. Instead, he eased back long enough to whip off his suit jacket and dropped it on his coat before dragging me to the very edge of the seat. His older Jeep was not made for this action—and he was a big guy—but where there was a horny will, there was a way.

And how.

Shifting to the side, he rolled up my skirt and covered me with his mouth. His long, low groan blazed through me, and even though I wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t sprained something at that angle, I echoed him with one of my own.

My top and bra were cutting into me where they were shoved under my breasts, so I pulled them back up and soothed myself with my own touch on my nipple. It wasn’t enough by a long shot, but he was occupied elsewhere and I needed to try to ease the ache.

This wasn’t fair. Not at all. It was his turn. But his long, dexterous fingers were parting me, already making me mindless. I was still so wet and overstimulated from before, and somehow he knew not to go straight for my clit. He just teased me with sly licks and deep, maddeningly slow thrusts of his fingers that had me lifting off the seat to give him room to work his magic.

I held his head against me, squeezing my eyes shut at the whimpers now coming from the backseat. They weren’t constant yet, but I knew what was coming.

And it wouldn’t be me again unless we picked up the pace.

Heat and need built inside me, and I rocked into his ministrations. If he heard Samantha, he didn’t give it away. He just showed his devotion to his task with his pumping fingers while his thumb bore down on my pulsing clit.

“Yes. Yes.” I jammed my knee up into something as I orgasmed, the pleasure unrelenting.

As was the pain from my sudden move. Ouch.

“God, you’re gorgeous when you come.” His voice was a rasp. “Bee, look at me.”

I did, ignoring the fussy baby and the throbbing in my knee and the wild flutters between my legs. His face was so close, those intent eyes I loved focused entirely on me. His shaking fingers brushed over my lower lip before he took my mouth, kissing me fiercely, offering me my own taste mixed with his.

When I finally needed to breathe, I wrenched my head away, my gaze bouncing around, unfocused.

Until it landed on the car pulling up behind us with the telltale lights on top.

“Jared,” I whispered just as he lifted his head and noticed too.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m gonna kill him.” He tried to move back into his seat and bumped the dashboard and jabbed his elbow into the gearshift with a stream of curses not unlike mine from earlier. Ending with “motherfucker!” at top volume.

The baby screamed.

I glanced between her and my top—in place, more or less—and my skirt—yank, yank—and tried to look inconspicuous.

The knock

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