Rich Prick – Tijan Page 0,42

soon as the Wagon was in park, he grabbed the keys, tossed them to the dashboard and he was on my side. He buried his head in my neck. His hand pushed behind me, smoothing down my back, nestling between me and the seat until he could cup my ass. “Jesus,” he groaned. “Do you not get how much I want you?”

I was starting to get it, and I was shocked at the suddenness of it, but this hug felt nice.

It felt really nice.

I melted into my seat as he murmured into my neck, “You have these long legs that I daydream about winding around my waist. Your rack is honestly perfect for me, and not to mention just you.” He wasn’t doing anything except rubbing my ass, but my body was burning up. An inferno built between my legs, and he just kept talking, stoking that fire. “You’re unbelievably sweet. And pure. And chaste. And you’re smart. And you’re kickass because you do your own thing. You’re funny in a cute way, and I love how you’ll be biting your lip, and then I’ll say some smartass comment, and you burst alive—like a bomb or something—and then you’re all about putting me in my place and trying to make me a better person.”

He eased his head back, his eyes finding mine, and the seriousness in them took my breath. “Whatever the fuck this is between us, it’s not just taking you by storm.” His eyes fell to my mouth. “I called you my woman today.”

My heart pounded. “You did?” I felt the drumming in my sternum.

He nodded, his voice hoarse. “Yeah, and I never took it back. I didn’t even want to, because fuck—I want you to be my woman. Will you be my woman?”

My mouth opened and hung there. Not even a full week ago, he’d been saying he couldn’t do a relationship. I didn’t have time to voice my thoughts before he groaned and pulled away.

“I’m sorry. I know I’m all over the place. A week ago, I didn’t want to date anyone. Five days ago, I promised you I wouldn’t touch anyone—but nothing else—and I’ve spent the night with you twice, plus most of Sunday. Today, I had to force myself to stay away from you because I know once I’m in your presence, I won’t want to leave, like, ever. School is going to suck tomorrow, and now I’ve sprung this on you? I’m sorry. I really am.”

Oh.

My.

God.

I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t think. I could only feel, and my heart and vagina were throbbing in unison. I was one giant, aching organ, needing to be touched.

I had never experienced anything like this.

This guy had just said some of the most honest—a bit crass at times—and extremely romantic things to me, and I could only gape.

Then I lunged for him. My hands found his head, and my mouth was on his.

Someone growled (that was me) and he said, “Hell yeah.”

He moved his seat backward and brought me over to straddle him. I went right to grinding on him, and his hands moved inside my shirt. His fingers found my breasts as our tongues began a dance together.

I was buzzing for him.

My vagina was singing a melody.

I just wanted him.

“Shit, babe,” he whispered against my mouth, but I soon shut him up.

He was quiet for a long time, and I was blind with emotion. It pulsated through me. Need. Want. Desire. And when I felt his fingers moving inside of me, I hissed like I’d just gotten water after seven days of thirst.

It felt so fucking good.

I rode his hand, and he groaned, moving me until his fingers were so deep that I threw my head back, my hips blindly answering that need to explode. And then I did, and I was a mess. I came apart, literally. I started crying on his lap.

“Hey. Hey.” He ran his free hand over my face, sliding my hair from my cheeks. His voice was so soft and tender, crooning to me as if I were a broken baby bird. I couldn’t handle it. A whole other burst of sobs erupted from me, and he cursed and undid his seatbelt.

Yeah. That’d all transpired with his seatbelt in place.

“Come on.” He lifted me in his arms, guiding me to the backseat.

I climbed back there and waited in a corner until he was next to me. He scooped me up, bringing me back to his lap, and he folded himself around me,