Page 61 of Tight End

Lust that crashes through me as her mouth crashes to mine. I didn’t realize how lost I was, how much I’ve truly missed her until this moment. Her tongue slides into my mouth, and I can taste a hint of the white wine she had with dinner.

Her date.

The thought activates the primal side of my brain, and I take over the kiss, gripping her hips so tight I know she’ll be wearing my bruises tomorrow. Good. Maybe she’ll realize whom she belongs to.

I plunge my tongue into her mouth, exploring her with raw desperation. She consumes me, yet I can’t get enough. Can’t get close enough. Can’t get enough of her taste, her smell, how fucking at home she feels in my arms. She’s my drug, and like an addict I keep coming back for more.

With every swipe of her lips, every little whimper, every fucking time her fingers tighten, digging into flesh, she destroys me. Brick by brick, she decimates everything I am.

If we weren’t in my car, in a parking garage, I’d be tempted to tug down my jeans, pull aside her panties, and fuck us both into oblivion. But I can promise you, the first time I plunge inside this woman after four goddamn years of craving her won’t be in a car. It’s going to be in my bed, where I can worship her for hours, remind her what it was like between us. And fucking destroy her for any other man.

Just from this one kiss, I’m already hard as steel, and it doesn’t take June long to groan, grinding herself along my length.

Fuck that feels good.

My hands slip under her dress, my fingers digging into her soft thighs as I rock my dick against her clit. She groans again, her arms wrapping around my neck, and I continue to fuck her mouth with my tongue. June doesn’t retreat, she doesn’t hold back, she meets me stroke for stroke. She kisses me like she’s almost as desperate as I am.

I need more—more of her mouth, more of her taste, more of those guttural noises she’s making at the back of her throat.

She’s branding me, my soul, and turning me completely inside out.

My dick throbs, painfully hard in my jeans, and I rub her core along my length over and over, grinding my erection into her clit.

June breaks away from me with a cry, tossing her head back, and the horn blares. We both jump, her hands flying up to cover her mouth, and she gasps. Reality crashes down around us, and while the moment may be over, this is only just beginning.

TWENTY-SEVEN

June

Oh my God,what was I thinking?What was I thinking?I’m in Ryan Devlin’s lap, and he just kissed me. Actually, scratch that. I’m pretty sure I kissed him first.

He crashed my date, offered Michael freaking football tickets to get the—excuse me—fuck out of the restaurant, and then pretty much told me he’d burn the entire world to the ground to be with me. Of course I kissed him. How could I not? It’s his fault, it really is. He should think twice about being so swoonworthy.

Now for the really important question—how do I get off his lap and out of the SUV without falling on my face or dry humping his dick? Again.

Do I want to dry hump him? Let’s see. Does a starving man want a bite of a delicious cheeseburger? Hell yes, he does. But I’m not starved, just a little sexually depleted. Not enough that I have any excuse for making bad decisions. You know, like I just did.

Sure, I haven’t been with anyone since Ryan, and although he doesn’t have a girlfriend, that doesn’tmean there isn’t a revolving door of women in and out of his penthouse. It may have taken me a few days to search him on the internet, but once I did, I didn’t see any shortage of women hanging around him.

He may want to have sex with me, but does that mean that he really wants me? Or am I just the only one in close proximity? It’s not like he can bring anyone home with Oliver and me cramping his style.

I’m a cockblock.

A tease.

I need to get out of here.

I shift back toward the passenger seat, but the second I move, Ryan’s fingers flex against my thigh. My bare thigh. And I rubbed his dick again. Let me shift. Gah! I did it again.

“You trying to run away from me again, Princess?” Ryan’s voice is gravelly, pained, and I suspect it’s because I’ve rubbed against him for a third time. I can’t help it. It’s big and down there and this seat is cramped.

“I, uh ...” My eyes widen, going back and forth across the front of the SUV. The dang SUV that he bought because it would be safe for our son. He really is trying to kill me here. “I ... I need to not be in here.”

Eloquent. Very eloquent, June.

I shift again, trying to open the driver’s-side door, and I freeze at Ryan’s pained groan.

“If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll get us out of here.” His laughter rumbles through him, which rumbles through me, because I seem to be stuck on his lap.

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