Page 36 of Tide of Treason
He was amused. “Messy doesn’t bother me.”
My voice came out lower than I meant. “How fast are you going?”
“Fifty.”
I dragged my nails up the inside of my thigh. “Can you drive with one hand?”
Lucius gave me a look. It coiled. Seeped. Didn’t touch the surface so much as settle into the marrow and announce that the man beside me wasn’t bred for passivity. That he was thinking about it. Really thinking about it. One hand on the wheel. One hand in my hair. One mouthful of consequence.
And it made me wet.
The shame was soft and far away, like a warning whispered down a long hallway. I ignored it.
“You offering?”
“It’s a health concern. God forbid you lose focus and hit a pedestrian. I’ve always admired your ability to pretend nothing’s wrong when your cock’s so hard it could knock the gear shift out of alignment.”
His jaw twitched. “I’ve driven with worse. Once had a gun barrel between my legs the whole drive to São Paulo.”
“Mm. And this is different how?”
Lucius ran a thumb over his mouth. Spread his legs a little wider. “I’m in a much better mood.”
I felt my heart dip into a rhythm too dangerous for seatbelts. I knew I shouldn’t. But knowing and caring were two different things, and I’d given up on the second one a long time ago.
“I want it,” I said softly.
“My dick?”
I nodded.
He cursed under his breath. “Come here.”
My hand slid across the center console. Brushed the inside of his thigh. He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, one hand now, just like I’d asked. Leaning over, I inhaled slowly. Pressed my nose to his waistband, breathed in like a woman possessed. Or maybe freed. I rested my chin on his belt, staring up. His free hand went to my hair, fingers threading the base of my skull.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
I inhaled him again while undoing his belt buckle. Lucius had enough sense to keep his eyes on the road, but it was a hard-won struggle. It was impossible to focus, with his scent everywhere, warmth scorching me. Curling my fingers around the ridge of his erection, I dragged it through the open fly of his suit trousers, felt the heat pulse against my palm.
Jesus, he was big. Thick and long and Brazilian, and if I hadn’t already known from a dozen intrusive thoughts what it would feel like against my tongue, I certainly did now.
He slid down one inch in his seat, hand tight in my hair. Sucking him into my mouth, I moaned around him, taking him deeper. He stopped me from taking him down my throatby holding me in place, pulling me up so only the swollen head rested between my lips. I swirled my tongue around it, slid it along the underside. Then, I removed his hand from my hair and showed him how much I could take instead.
Lucius groaned.
I gagged.
One sound fed into the other, heat pooling between my legs. It throbbed, ached. I was wet enough to slide a finger underneath the crotch of my pantyhose without pushing anything aside, rub the folds in slow, wet circles. He’d make some smart-ass comment about me making a mess in his passenger seat. I spread my legs instead, let my heel dig into the seat.
“Shit.” His voice was rough. “This can’t be an expression of gratitude, which means it’s only happening because you’re just as much of a bastard as I am. And I think we both know how you feel about me.“
I popped him out of my mouth just long enough to whisper, “It’s called Schadenfreude.” My tongue slid down his length, swirled around one of his heavy balls, and pulled the other halfway into my mouth, sucking hard.
He liked that. Like, really, really liked that.
“You mean sadism,” he breathed.
“Not quite.” I took him back into my mouth and moaned around the thickness. Bracing my free hand against his thigh, I hollowed out my cheeks and set a brutal rhythm I could feel in every clench of my own pussy. God, it was good. So good. I was grinding against my heel without thinkingabout it, just letting it happen in the same mindless haze that had me taking him so deep it hurt.
