Page 13 of The Landlord
Understanding dawns, and a thrill runs through me. I've never had sex in a car before. As he opens the passenger door for me, I climb in, watching as he walks around to the driver's side.
The moment he's inside, I'm climbing over the center console, straddling him. The space is cramped—I'm 5'10", and Damien is even taller—but I don't care. I want him too badly to worry about comfort. I can deal with the cramps and soreness later.
My dress rides up as I settle on his lap, and he groans, his hands finding my thighs. "You've been driving me crazy all night in this dress."
"Good." I roll my hips against the bulge in his jeans, making us both gasp. "That was the plan."
His hands slide up to cup my ass, and he frowns slightly. "Are you wearing anything under this?"
I smile, feeling powerful and sexy for maybe the first time ever. "A thong. Barely there."
"Fuck, Alyssa." He captures my mouth again, his kiss hungry and desperate and demanding.
My fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt, wanting to feel his skin. When I finally get it open, I run my palms over his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath warm skin.
"You feel amazing." I lean down to press my lips to his neck, his collarbone.
He runs his hands all over me—tunneling through my hair, cupping and kneading my breasts through my dress, slippingunder the fabric to touch me directly. When his fingers find the edge of my thong, I whimper.
"I need you. Please, Damien."
I lift up slightly as he unzips his jeans and pulls himself free. Even in the dim light, I can see he's impressive—thick and hard, the tip already glistening. Dang. So this is why he found the dildo laughable. It really has nothing on him.
He reaches between us to push my thong aside, his fingers finding me wet and ready.
"So fucking wet for me," he growls, circling my entrance with one thick finger.
I rock against his hand, desperate for more. "Please."
He guides me over him, and I sink down slowly, taking him inch by inch. The stretch is delicious, bordering on too much, and I have to pause halfway.
"You okay?" he asks, his voice strained with the effort of holding still.
I nod, breathing deeply. "Yeah, I'm f-fine It's just that … you're not small. You were right to be cocky. The real thing really is b-better."
His laugh turns into a groan as I take another inch. "Take your time, baby."
When I'm finally seated fully on him, we both moan. I feel impossibly full, connected to him in a way I've never felt with anyone else.
I start to move, and immediately bump my head on the roof of the car.
"Ow!"
Damien's eyes widen with concern, but then we both burst out laughing.
"Are you okay, baby?"
I wince and rub my head. "Car sex seemed sexier in theory."
"We're both too damn tall for this," he says, but his hands tighten on my hips. "But I'm not stopping unless you want to."
"Not a chance." I adjust my position, leaning forward more, which brings my breasts level with his face. "Better angle anyway."
He makes a sound of agreement before pushing my dress down to expose my bra. His mouth closes over my nipple through the lace, and I gasp, instinctively clenching around him.
We find an awkward rhythm, laughing every time one of us hits something or cramping my hand. But beneath the laughter is intense pleasure, building with every movement.
"You feel so good," Damien groans, his hands guiding my hips. "So perfect around me."
