Page 127 of Knot So Fast
“Pretty sure I do,” I shoot back, then kiss him, deep and greedy and full of intent. He tastes like champagne and danger, and I want to drown in it.
He tangles one hand in my hair, the other still braced on my lower back, and when I start to grind against him through the layers of our clothes, he breaks away to breathe, eyes wild and pupils blown so wide they swallow the green entirely.
“Fuck, I missed this,” he whispers, the words ghosting over my lips like a secret. “Missed you.”
His honesty shatters something in me. For a moment, I just stare at him, the world reduced to the heat of his hands and the sharp hunger in his gaze. He’s here, he’s real, and this time, no one’s going to make me stop.
The car slows, then stops completely, the glow of brake lights outside making the tinted windows pulse like a heartbeat.
We’re caught in the crush of traffic, boxed in by a dozen other cars, but inside this cocoon, there’s only us.
“You realize there are people everywhere,” Lachlan says, voice low and teasing, “and you’re about to make me ruin these very expensive trousers?”
I reach between us, deftly unbuttoning his belt, fingers working the zipper with a practiced flick. “They can’t see a thing,” I say, “and even if they could, you’d just flash that thousand-watt champion smile and convince them you’re perfect.”
He laughs, but it turns into a gasp as I free his cock and wrap my hand around it, slow and deliberate, stroking until he’s throbbing under my touch. His head falls back against the seat, eyes closing, and he makes this sound—somewhere between a moan and a curse—that makes me want to mark him everywhere I can reach.
I stroke him with the kind of precision that wins races, thumb circling the head, hand twisting at the end of each pull. He’s leaking already, slick and hot, and when I squeeze a little harder, his hips buck up into my hand.
“You’re going to kill me,” he manages, voice barely more than a breath.
“Not yet,” I purr, shifting so the heat of my cunt lines up perfectly with his cock. “We both know you love the anticipation.”
He opens his eyes, blue-green and feral, and I can see the moment his self-control snaps.
His hands slide up, one to my waist, the other around the back of my neck, and he yanks me in for another kiss—this one desperate and brutal and perfect. I bite his lip, and he groans, deep and guttural.
“Please,” he says into my mouth, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. “I need your tight, slick, dripping pussy on my cock right now. Choke me up like an anaconda, Sugar.”
The words hit me like a punch, and for a second, I can’t breathe. I want to make him beg again, but my body has other plans. I reach down, shove my panties to the side, and guide himin, slow at first—just the head, teasing us both with the threat of what’s to come.
He bares his teeth, hands digging into my ass, and when I finally sink down the rest of the way, we both moan, loud enough to startle even the seasoned driver up front.
We pause there, both of us trembling, the sensation almost too much.
He’s thick and perfect, stretching me just past the edge of comfort, and the pulse of pleasure at being so completely filled makes my entire body light up.
I rock my hips, just a little, and the friction is so good I almost come instantly.
He catches my rhythm, meeting me thrust for thrust even with the awkward angle, and the car becomes its own little universe of heat and motion, the outside world reduced to flashes of light and soundless shouts behind the tinted glass.
“Fuck, Auren,” he groans, voice breaking, “you feel like heaven.”
I shudder, grinding harder, chasing that feeling of oblivion. “Don’t stop. Not ever.”
He buries his face in my neck, biting down just hard enough to leave a mark, and when I clamp down around him, he almost loses it.
Outside, horns blare, and the car lurches forward a meter, but inside, time is suspended—just the two of us locked together, the air thick with sweat and sex and everything we’ve never said.
His hand slides up, finds my breast, and he tugs the dress down to expose it, mouth finding my nipple and sucking hard enough to make me cry out.
I ride him, each thrust bringing me closer to the edge, every roll of my hips stoking the fire until I’m barely coherent, barely more than sensation and need.
He pulls back, gazing up at me, and there’s something raw in his eyes—vulnerability mixed with the kind of want that could set the world on fire.
“I love you,” he says, voice hoarse. “Always have.”
I can’t speak, so I just kiss him, pouring every answer into the slide of our tongues, the slam of our bodies, the mutual destruction we’re so good at.
