I check Ms. Kitty on my wrist. It’s eight minutes to seven p.m. on the west coast, which makes it almost ten p.m. in Miami.
In eight hours, the FBI will raid S?ren’s hideout. With any luck, in eight hours S?ren will be in the custody of the United States government. In eight hours, I’ll be able to breathe again.
Connor and I stare at each other. I feel every single throbbing beat of my heart.
“So what’re we going to do for the next eight hours, jarhead?”
Connor downs his glass of champagne in one gulp. He looks at me, licks his lips, and growls, “Everything.”
Then his mouth is against mine.
Even if I wanted to protest, I couldn’t, because the man tastes better than a thousand-dollar glass of champagne.
Twenty-Five
Tabby
“I can’t drive with you doing that, princess,” Connor says, breathing raggedly, his hand fisted in my hair.
His hard cock is in my mouth.
I’ve just unzipped his pants and gorged myself on it, because I couldn’t stand one more second of rubbing the pulsing length of it through the fabric as Connor tried to kiss me and concentrate on the road at the same time.
“Then pull over,” I mutter, and take him all the way to the base. I fondle the heavy, velvet warmth of his balls, and he sucks in a breath.
The Hummer zigzags. A horn sounds. Someone yells a curse.
I slowly draw up, savoring him like a lollipop, my other hand curled around his girth, stroking my thumb up and down the thick vein on the underside of his erection. I slide my tongue over the slit in the head. Connor moans softly. His big hand spreads out to cradle my skull as he flexes his pelvis, wanting more.
“You like my mouth,” I whisper, feeling powerful.
“Princess,” he pants, driving so erratically, the car is swerving all over the place, “I love your mouth.”
I falter for a second. There’s that word again. But it only gives me a moment’s pause before I go back to worshipping his cock.
When I fumble with my zipper and slide my hand into my pants so I can stroke myself while I suck on him, Connor almost drives off the road.
“Fuck,” he says between gritted teeth, straightening the wheel. The car slows down and turns. My fingers are already slick with my own wetness. I rub my clit, making circles in tandem with the circles I’m making with my tongue. It feels so good, I moan and rock against my hand.
After a few more turns, the truck slows to a stop. Connor turns off the engine, pulls my head up with both hands, and kisses me so hard, it takes my breath away.
When he breaks the kiss, he demands, “You want my cock or my mouth first?
“Decisions, decisions.” I slowly stroke my hand up and down. “Are we back at the hotel already?”
“Yes. Answer the damn question.”
When I take too long to answer because I’m preoccupied with stroking him, Connor puts his mouth against my ear.
“You can’t decide, I’ll decide for you. You’re getting my cock. From behind. I’m gonna get you on your hands and knees and fuck you until you come, and then I’m gonna fuck you some more, until we both come. And then I’m gonna fuck you again.”
I thrill to his words, and to the look in his eyes, hungrier than a starving animal. I whisper, “Yes to all that. And Connor…”
“What?”
“Make it rough.”
There’s an electric pause. He licks his lips, and his voice gets all rumbly. “Rough leaves marks, sweetheart.”
Without hesitation, I say, “I want your marks. I want my skin to show where your hands were, where your teeth were, how I make you lose control. I want to be able to look in the mirror tomorrow and see everywhere you touched me.”
For a moment, Connor closes his eyes. He mutters, “Could you be any more perfect?”
One of his hands grips my head to hold it in place while he ravages my mouth. With his other hand, he pinches my hard nipple through my shirt. When I squirm in pleasure, he releases my nipple, slides his hand into my pants, and pinches my swollen clit.
My whole body jerks. I gasp into his mouth. He laughs against my lips, a low and satisfied sound, and then slides a finger deep inside me.
I say his name, my voice husky with need. My hips start a rhythm in tandem with the press and slide of Connor’s big finger. His thumb goes to work on my clit, circling round and round. I groan. My eyes slide shut. I arch my back, opening my legs wider for him.
Connor bites my jaw. His hot breath fans down my neck. When he rubs his cheek against mine, his stubble is scratchy against my skin. “You like my fingers, Tabby? You like my tongue and my hard cock? You like it when I tell you how much I love your mouth and your pussy?”
I whimper.