Elle nods her head and raises an eyebrow, silently asking what I mean. My eyes fall to her lips as she sucks in a deep breath and relaxes into my touch. I shouldn’t start this shit now, but I can’t help myself. I take her mouth, slowly at first, and let her lead. She responds quickly, wiggling out of her bucket seat and straddling my lap. Her tongue dominates mine, and I don’t fight it. This excitement is what I want from her. I like knowing she’s as affected by me as I am by her. She deepens the kiss and rocks herself into my dick. I’m half-hard when she pulls away to get some air. I keep her face close to mine, refusing to let her get far. She’s given this to me three times today, and she’s got another thing coming if she thinks I’m not a greedy fuck who’s going to consume her or die trying.
“You’re not a stupid woman. You giving me your mouth means you’re mine. Your pussy, your tits, your gorgeous fucking legs. All of it belongs to me now, and I take care of what’s mine. Prepare yourself, because the second we get into that motel room, we’re getting naked, and I’m going to fuck every bad memory out of you. Getting naked for me, spreading those sweet legs for me—all of it is a goddamn gift, and I won’t ever force you into anything you don’t want.” To drive home my point, I take her hand, place it on my hard cock, cover her hand with mine, and give it a squeeze. My dick throbs under our touch, and I don’t fight the moan that slips out.
“Not gonna lie, babe. I want my dick in your mouth, your tongue all over me, making me come like a fucking teenager. I want to watch you swallow what I give you, and I want to bury my face in your pussy so deep I think I might lose oxygen. I want all of it. Every fucking thing you can give, I’m going to take, and you’re going to love it.”
“You talk a lot,” she says on a shaky breath.
“Had a lot to say. Now, go get us a room so I can make good on my promises.”
She presses her tits into my chest and kisses me. The way her lips move over mine is so fucking erotic—soft and confident and all woman—that I have to mentally pace myself, or I’m going to whip my dick out, cut her jeans off her, and bury myself in her pussy right here in the parking lot. She slows the kiss down, then pulls away and slides off me. Even when she’s out of the truck and walking to the office with those long as fuck legs, she still affects me. My chest is tight, my body tense, and my heart is fucking full.
My eyes fall closed as I try to calm myself down enough to avoid coming before I even get into her pussy.
I’ve waited a long time for this woman, and it was fucking worth it.
She’s worth it.
Chapter 5
I have wet panties. Not “middle of August” damp. Not “just got out of the shower” wet. No, my panties are like a fucking waterslide. I’ve never been touched so much with so little physical contact before.
Dear God.
The clerk at the check-in desk must think I’m either on drugs or I need some drugs, because I could barely talk without losing my train of thought. Things got really awkward when the clerk asked if I wanted one bed or two. I’m not that girl—at least I’m not normally—so when I’m blushing and embarrassed, and desperately in need of an orgasm, and I can’t so much as have a basic conversation with a motel clerk because a man’s got my brain all mushy, I don’t know how to act.
I clutch the room key in my sweaty palm and try to keep myself in check as I head for the truck. I fail miserably at staying calm, especially when I eye Diesel leaning up against the old, dirty brick siding of the motel, with two duffle bags in one hand and one more in the other. His head is down, his shoulders are lax, and he’s got his chin tucked in to his neck. He’s rolling his head from side to side. The drive’s worn him out. I almost feel bad about refusing to let him crash the minute we get in the room.
Walking past Diesel and two doors down, I think back on everything he said in the cab of the truck. I didn’t mean to say what I had about sucking dick. I almost regret opening my big mouth since he’s somehow blaming Grady for what he perceives as some kind of emotional trauma. But then, Grady’s a dick, so I’m actually mostly okay with Diesel’s assumption. For now.
We get into the hotel room, and Diesel drops the duffle bags on the corner of the bed. He doesn’t turn around. Not when I close the door, not when I lock it, and not even when I clear my throat. We were so hot and heavy in the truck. He was talking endlessly, and now he’s quiet and distant. I don’t like it. I take a step toward him but stop when he slowly reaches into his pocket and pulls out my phone. He waves it in the air, tosses it on the bed, and then turns around to face me. I can’t make sense of the sudden change in mood, but it’s freaking me out. I’ve spent the entire day forcing myself to open up to him, to trust in the way he makes me feel, and to let this happen. I want it to happen, but all my old insecurities flare up and start to eat me alive.