wanted it hard and deep. She wanted him to hold her head, control her mouth, shove in far.
“You can handle it like this?” he grunted, needing the confirmation.
She nodded as she sucked him deeper, her lips nice and snug.
“Like your mouth belongs to my cock?”
Another nod.
“What am I going to do with you?” he whispered, almost to himself, as he gave in to the way they both wanted it, his big hands wrapping around her skull, her gorgeous dark red hair spilling like silk through his fingers. She wanted him to keep her immobile as he fucked up into her mouth. She wanted him to be unforgiving in his desire.
The blow job was both too much, and never enough.
His dick thickened even more in her warm mouth, as white-hot sparks sped through his bloodstream. Flexing his hips, he pumped into her as he held her in his grip in the backseat of a town car speeding into Manhattan. She hummed around his cock. The vibration. Oh, fuck. It made him dizzy. His skin burned. His organs heated. His brain was bathed in pleasure from this most fantastic trip of all—this kind of dirty intimacy with his Annalise. His eyes locked on her swollen lips, racing up and down on his shaft, then she was shifting in her leather seat, her hips rocking the slightest bit, like she needed to be fucked, too.
He’d be taking care of her soon enough.
But first this. Her wicked, wonderful mouth. Her eager tongue. Her soft, talented hands that played with his balls as she sucked him without mercy and he fucked her mouth right back.
Unrelenting.
Until he started to lose control. His quads tightened, his spine ignited, and he was helpless to stop the rush. He thrust harder as his vision blurred. “Coming,” he grunted, barely even managing that one word of warning as his orgasm pulsed through him, fast and hot. He groaned her name, and came in her throat.
He shuddered and cursed. “Holy fuck. That was…”
As the aftershocks subsided, she released his dick from her mouth. She sat up, sighing happily as she ran a hand through her messy hair. She leaned back in her seat like she was spent.
“Um,” he began. “No. Just no.”
“No?”
He patted his thighs. “Get on me.”
“Are you going to fuck me now?”
“No, but I’ve got a good feeling I’m going to be making you come in a hot minute.”
She climbed on him, straddling his thighs, her hands on his shoulders. “You know I’ve always wanted your tongue, Michael,” she whispered against his lips.
“I know. You’ll get it. You’ll get it tonight. But for some reason I like making you wait for it, getting you all worked up.” He craved her taste fiercely, but he wanted to be able to spread her legs, to feel her bare skin pressed against his cheeks and give her room to wrap those sexy legs around his neck as he licked her sweet pussy.
As he worked open her zipper, he sighed in frustration. “These jeans are so damn tight.” He could barely get them off. But he was up to the challenge, and he didn’t really need them down far anyway. All he needed was just enough room to glide his fingers beneath the fabric of her light blue panties.
Like that.
Oh, just like that. His fingers slid across her wetness, hot and slippery and fantastic.
“You’re soaked.”
“I know,” she murmured as her fingers curled around his shoulders. “You turn me on. You drive me crazy.”
He drew lingering, luxurious circles across her silky, hot clit, coating his fingers in her arousal, but never thrusting inside. She didn’t need penetration right now. She was near the edge already. A few strokes. A couple of circles. Some faster, fevered sweeps of his fingers against her clit, and her hips were arching, swaying, rocking mindlessly against his hand until she cried out and came in less than sixty seconds.
Afterward, he kissed her face, her cheeks, her eyelids, the tip of her nose. Then her lips. That sweet, intoxicating mouth that had driven him wild. She opened her lips for him, her tongue seeking his, kissing like they were drunk on each other. They kissed like they could do it for ages, never wanting to stop.
But eventually they did, and he clasped his hand on her thigh. “Now listen. I have drinks with a client this evening. Then I’m taking you to dinner, and I would really appreciate it if you were wearing a skirt instead of jeans. Can you