Page 36 of Brazen Deceits

“That’s not from the cars. That’s from where the cars end up.” He presses into my hand, a groan escaping him.

“And where do the cars end up?” I ask, barely able to keep my mind on the conversation.

Jansen pulls my hair tight, tilting my head to the side. “I have a friend who owns a chop shop. Sadly, those beautiful vehicles are stripped down to parts and on the open market by now, anything with a serial number melted away.” He nips my neck, the tension on my hair a bite itself. “I think that’s enough about my midnight activities. I have better things to do with my mouth right now.”

He covers my lips with his, conversation discarded, our tongues meeting and twisting, all of me hot and needy. He thrusts into my palm while his hand squeezes my ass, my body already wet and throbbing.

With a moan, he rolls us onto his back. Unraveling his hand from my hair, he grasps my hips with both hands. Once I’m stable, he slides his hands up my sides, stroking his calloused thumbs over both of my nipples, electricity shooting from them to my clit, and I sigh. Sadly, he leaves them and instead cradles my face, urging my lips to his. “Make me scream, beautiful,” he says.

I grin, ready for the challenge.

Leaning over, I let my hair fall forward, the strands swaying over his chest. He lets me control the pace, the intensity of our connection. I kiss and lick his cheek, then his ear, trailing warm breaths across his skin, teasing, building. With one hand, I trace the muscles of his chest, his abs, the deep groove from his hip to his cock. Once I make it to the end of my exploration, I grasp his cock, thick and slightly pulsing inmy hand. Lining up, I slowly lower my weight onto him, the delicious stretch pausing my descent. We both groan once he’s fully seated, our eyes locked, anticipation bright.

I shift forward, searching for a spot where his piercing will rub my clit just right, and once I find the perfect place, I ride him, agonizingly slowly. We shared an explosion before. This time, I want our connection to last.

His hands break from their anchor on my hips to trace my curves, cradling my ass, smoothing to my waist, slight movements that somehow keep me on edge. I lean down, nipping and licking a line from one of his shoulders to the other. The earthy scent of him, bold under the tang of the gas, begs me to pick up the pace, but I hold back. Good things are worth the wait.

His hand snakes through my hair again, grasping the back of my head. Gently, he pulls me away from his skin, neither of us stopping our steady ride. His eyes are hazy, his breath as labored as my own. “Are you trying to kill us both?” he asks.

“Just a little,” I answer, pressing a kiss to his lips, licking his tongue with mine, the slow pace lighting every inch of me up like a field of fireflies. He bites my tongue, just hard enough to communicate his frustration, and I grin, nipping him back.

Pulling away, I pick up the pace, the pressure building through my body, his piercing pushing me higher and higher. Jansen bucks from below, fingers digging into my hips as he slams me against him, swelling pleasure coursing through us both. “Oh God,” I say, the edge so close, so fucking close. But I need Jansen to come with me, for us to tumble into oblivion together.

“Clara,” he moans, his fingers likely leaving marks. “Oh God, please.”

I nod, not sure what I’m agreeing to, clawing at his chest, my body slick with sweat. I grind down once, twice, three times, then shatter around him.

Jansen plunges into me, calloused fingers locking us together, as he groans his own release, the throbs of his cock prolonging my own spasms, both of us breathless, speechless, locked together, watching each other in wonder, lingering in a state of quiet creation.

Eventually, his hands ease from my hips, and he rolls us onto our sides, pulling me close, his lips pressed against my forehead.

I trace the muscles of his chest, languor robbing me of anything other than the tiniest of movements. His fingers tangle in my hair, both of us content to just rest in each other’s arms, reveling in the peace which, for Jansen, only exists in moments like this.

I brush my nose against his chest, breathing him in, disappointed that once again, his work is keeping us apart. We rushed last weekend. Then he was gone all week, apparently breaking, entering, and committing grand theft auto. Now, he’ll disappear for the weekend, doing reconnaissance in Chicago.

I guess being a criminalanda college student is a lot of work.

“Say, Clara?” Jansen asks.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to say anything, but I just wanted to let you know…” He stops, rubbing his nose against my head, his thought unfinished.

“Let me know what?” I ask.

Jansen fills his lungs, his chest expanding against my palms, but he’s cut off by a bang on his door.

“Get up, asshole!” Trips yells. “RJ needs the cash to go buy your ride.”

Tension strums through Jansen. “Fuck off!” he shouts.

There’s a pause, Trips probably as uncertain about what to do with an angry Jansen as I am. After what feels like an eternity, Trips answers, his voice quieter, but no more polite. “I’ll be in my room, jackass.”

His footsteps fade as he leaves, the rigidness in Jansen melting the farther Trips gets, but not disappearing entirely. I tilt my head back, brushing my hands along the bristle of his cheek, encouraging him to focus on me. “You were saying?” I ask.

A soft smile replaces his grimace. He rubs his nose against mine, kissing me softly. “It’s not important.”

“You sure?”

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