The Foxe & the Hound

“Do you want to head back?” I ask, and it sounds like an invitation.

His gaze drags down, pausing on my lips for a moment before he trails down my neck and chest. He’s studying my dress—no, he’s studying my body beneath the fabric. His smile is slow to spread, a little haunting…sexual. “No.”

“Can I kiss you?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He wraps his hand around my neck and tugs me closer. Our lips meet over the center console, and at first, it’s harmless, just a little peck. His smile presses against mine. We laugh and his hand gets tangled in my hair even more. He’s holding me there as I kiss him again, and this time, I add heat. My teeth bite down on his bottom lip and his hand tightens. His kiss devours me.

I pull back and our eyes meet. A silent challenge passes between us.

Here? he asks with a tilt of his head.

Now, I say with small smirk.

There are inconveniences about having sex with Adam in a car. When he tugs me over the center console, I lose my heels and my elbow bangs against the steering wheel. My knees barely fit on either side of his hips, and when his hands trail up my inner thighs, I arch my back so hard that I hit the horn. It blares so loud I jump out of my seat, and Adam is laughing and tugging me down again, kissing me. The space is awkward, but Adam isn’t. His hands know exactly how to hike up my dress so my light blue panties are revealed. They’re such a soft, delicate material against his jeans. I grind my hips back and forth as he kisses me, and the sensation is torturous for us both.

One hand falls to my hip, and he’s tilting and timing our movements as if he’s inside me, as if he’s showing me how good it will be in a few minutes. Maybe next time we’ll be fully naked in a bed, with soft candlelight and a sexy playlist in the background, but right now we’re in the cramped space of his front seat and Adam is sliding my panties to the side so his middle finger can sink inside me. My head falls to his shoulder and I pant, actually pant, like I can’t get enough air. The windows are foggy and Texas is too humid for this kind of activity. I’m sweating, and my heart is hammering hard. He slides a second finger inside and I bite down on his earlobe, whispering his name.

“Say it again,” he commands, and I do.

I whisper his name every time he drags his fingers out and sinks them back in slowly. Right when they’re so deep inside of me that I feel like I’m breaking in two, that’s when I say his name.

“Spread your legs,” he says, but he doesn’t wait for me to listen. His hands are on my thighs, spreading me like I’m an elastic band, and maybe my knees are digging into the door and the center console, and maybe he’s ripping my delicate blue panties—the pair I covet every time I find them tucked away in my drawer—but then his fingers are back on me, in me, and I don’t care about bruises or panties. I want what he’s offering.

“I’m so close,” I promise him, and his thumb swirls across my clit.

I’ve had first times with men before. They’re awkward and clunky, like a new pair of shoes you haven’t worn in yet, but this, Adam making me come with his fingers as I arch back and cry out into his silent car—there’s no room for anything but heat and passion. His mouth is on my neck, and the zipper of my dress is tugged down. My bra is blue too, and it belongs to a matching set that was pristine up until a few minutes ago. Adam notices and swears he’ll replace it for me, saying it against my breast as his lips close around my nipple. He could be promising me the Taj Mahal and I wouldn’t notice.

“Who cares. Who cares.”

My fingers are in his hair and when I tug, he swirls his tongue across my nipple. I like the give and take. Maybe he does too.

“I’ll make you come again,” he promises with a heavy breath. “But I need to be inside you.”

I nod because of course he needs to be inside me; this night was never going to end any other way. When he showed up outside my office with sunflowers, he could have just taken me right then against the brick building.

His jeans are unzipped and barely pulled down, just enough for him to position himself beneath me. I push up onto my knees and he brushes across my wetness. A shiver runs down my spine from the sensation and he does it again, and again, coating himself until he’s slick.

My nails are digging into his shoulders. “Adam, stop. You’re killing me.”

He doesn’t stop. He hits my clit and my stomach quivers. I’m going to come again, and he’s not inside me. No! I want to feel myself come around him, so I reach down and position him right beneath me. Before he moves, I sink down. He’s only barely inside, stretching me slowly, but my thighs are burning and my eyes are pinched closed. I can’t focus—I’ve lost track of every sense except for touch. I think I’m begging him for something, but I barely hear my words and I don’t hear his reply. He holds me up, teasing me inch by inch. I don’t think I can wait any longer. Pleasure is already ripping through me and behind my closed lids, I see stars.

“Madeleine?” he asks.

I let out the breath I’ve been holding and the stars lose their shimmer.

“Yeah?”

“Look at me.”

His hands prop up my chin, waiting for me to blink my eyes open. I can’t. Once those light green irises meet mine, he’ll see it all. This is the first date and I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to be straddling his lap, digging my fingers into his shoulders, slowly losing my mind.

He leans forward and presses a kiss to my cheek. It’s so romantic and soft. I want to capture it in a mason jar and preserve it for later, for a month from now when Adam and I have dissolved into nothing. I could pry it open every now and then for old times’ sake and feel just like I do in this exact moment. He’s buried all the way inside me and I’m shaking and finally, our gazes meet and there’s no going back. He moves in me, grinding and rolling his hips in such a deliciously erotic rhythm. I think there are tears brimming in my eyes, but I refuse to acknowledge them. Maybe he sees them too because he pulls my face forward and presses his mouth to mine.

In this position, he saves me the trouble of trying to stay composed. My moans disappear on his lips. My body shatters and he holds me together, whispering against my cheek.

Later, when I’ve safely settled back into the passenger side seat and am trying in vain to straighten my clothes, fix my hair, wipe my mouth, he reaches over and grips my thigh. It’s subtle and reassuring.

“Still hungry?” he asks with a lazy little smirk.

It’s the smirk of a man who’s just successfully seduced a woman, the smirk that will keep me up later tonight as I lie in bed, wide awake and buzzing from the best night of my life.





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE


MADELEINE





“You had sex.”

I drop my muffin. It hits the floor and rolls beneath the table beside ours.

I toss up my hands and glare at Daisy. “You made me lose my muffin.”

“I think you lost something else too.”

R. S. Grey's books