Under the Rose - Kathryn Nolan Page 0,76

Sam unraveling right in front of me.

“You wouldn’t be such a fucking distraction if you hadn’t strutted around half-naked and wet every night in our Quantico dorms,” I whispered, nipping his throat.

His chuckle was dark, arrogant. “Must have been subconscious on my part.”

He moved me with firm hands, laying me across his lap in the car. The windows were slowly starting to steam. And the sounds we were making were nothing like our previous sparring sessions—there was nothing to describe the guttural, biological release of Sam and me slamming together like this, of devouring each other in the front seat of a car because we’d always expressed things better physically anyway.

“Spread your legs.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I said—but who was I kidding? They were spreading of their own accord, my body already seeking the pleasure that awaited me. I’d known Sam for a long, long time. And what I knew was that his ambition and tireless drive made him very, very good at everything he did.

It turned out that finger-fucking me in a sequined dress while in the front seat of a car was no exception.

33

Sam

Freya was beautiful, adorable, pliable in my lap.

Her glasses were torn off, hair tangled, breasts bare and perfect. Nothing could stop me from making this woman say my name and beg for more. She deserved exquisite pleasure. Nothing less.

My hand smoothed along her toned legs, fingers stopping at the seam of her underwear, already wet. I stroked up and down along it—and Freya slammed our mouths together. Pulled hard on the strands of my hair as I stroked. Stroked. Her hips were rolling not a second later, seeking a deeper friction.

“Is making your partner come a distraction?” I whispered against her lips.

“Yes,” she sighed. “Yes. Oh, it’s the best kind.”

I slipped past the material, touched the folds of her sex for the first time. She was hot, wet, perfect. “Is this right?”

I slipped a finger inside her. She was gripping my face, out of control.

“That’s fucking perfect,” she gasped. “I’d be furious with you if you weren’t so goddamn good at this.”

“Say that again.” I fucked her in slow, smooth strokes, slipping in and out of her body with ease. Teasing her inner walls with the pad of my finger.

“You’re good at this, Sam,” she breathed. I slipped another finger in, and her face broke out in a satisfied, teasing smile. “Really fucking good.”

My name on her lips sent a bolt of possessive lust coursing through me. How could sex feel this vital this immediately? An entire career spent within the confines of a hierarchical bureaucracy meant suppressing my inner desires was as natural as breathing to me. And now here was Freya—spread on my lap with my hand beneath her dress—and I already never wanted it to end. It was a wicked action with no grander intent behind it. No outcomes, no close rates, no higher-ups to impress with your ability to toe the line. This—this slick, seeking discovery—was unplanned and spontaneous.

She writhed as I buried my mouth against her ear, inhaling the sugar-scent of her hair. “I should have done this for you while studying for finals,” I said. “Helped you with stress relief.”

“What a way to learn.” She moaned loudly, head back. “Oh, god, we’d never have made it to graduation. And keep moving your fingers just…just like that.”

“Now who’s bossy?” I couldn’t stop licking her nipples, sucking her breasts into my mouth, biting her neck. There was so much beauty suddenly available for my enjoyment, and my head spun with the intensity of it all.

“Oh, god,” she sighed, “oh, god, oh, god.” She was starting to flutter around my fingers. I let my palm graze her clit, and her toes curled on the dashboard. “Please fuck me.”

I didn’t stop my fingers, but I pulled back, staring at her. “What did you say?”

“Fuck me,” she said. “Please.”

Eyes heavy-lidded, lips parted—Freya the temptress had me utterly enthralled. If I’d had a pen and paper, I would have written her a hundred letters, secret codes and all.

With a groan, I slipped my fingers free and dragged her up until she was straddling me, our faces barely an inch apart.

“Freya.”

“Sam.”

I stroked the hair from her face until her eyes opened and met mine. Arousal and trust burned bright in all that green. “I want you to drag me into the back of this car and fuck me senseless, Agent Byrne.”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

I lifted her off my lap, then she