Vengeance to the Max (35 page)

“They are not.”

He sucked one into his mouth, worried it with his teeth before letting go. The night air cooled where he’d licked her.

“They’re bigger. They fill my mouth like cherries and taste as sweet.”

“You don’t have to flatter me. I’m already going to let you have your wicked way with me.”

He stroked her lightly. “Promises, promises. Know what I want you to do now?”

Tell me, tell me
. Her pulse beat a healthy rhythm, her legs were jelly, and she was burning up between the thighs. She put a hand to his chest. “I have one question first.”

His hand was on the move again, back to her skirt and that slit. Her thigh. Of their own volition, her legs parted ever so slightly. His thumb, still not quite close enough, caressed and probed. “What’s your question?”

“If I do everything you say, do I still get an orgasm out of this?”

He sputtered, choked, then started laughing.

“I mean, I have mentioned to you at some point, haven’t I, how much I really like the orgasms you give me?”

“Wouldn’t be half as good if you don’t come, too”—then added without a breath between—“take off your pantyhose.”

She wriggled against him, feeling the give and take of power. “Since your hand’s already up there, why don’t you take them off?”

He continued to smile as he pushed her up and away from him. “I wanna watch.”

She crooked her knees beneath her and let her shoes fall to the floor of the passenger side. Her shirt hung open, the tie dangling between her breasts. “You’re a kinky voyeur.”

“Then be the exhibitionist for me.”

She slipped sideways, landed on her butt next to him on the seat, then put her hands beneath her skirt to find the elastic waistband. Peeling slowly, the black nylon revealed first her lower thighs, her knees, her calves. He leaned back in the seat casually, but his jeans couldn’t hide the effect. She slipped the material from her toes, held her hand up, then let the tights fall to the floor. She’d managed to show him not a centimeter of her pink thong.

Silence reigned for a brief moment. She thought he might reach out to touch her. Instead he patted his lap. “Sit here.”

“Been there, done that. I’ve already been laying in your lap.”

“Thought you were going to do anything I said.”

She shrugged, loving the game. No, not a game. Fun. Without the need to control or the sting of shame. Isn’t that what lovemaking really was? She batted her eyes, coquettish. “Make it more fun.”

“Spread your legs and sit on me.”

It was coarse and exciting. She hiked the skirt, then did as he bid, settling down on him, his erection thick and hard and enticing with only the scrap of lace and his jeans between them. She swallowed. His hands went to her waist, held her tight against the involuntary thrust of his body. They were both victims of the game—the fun—and she loved it.

“Now what?” The steering wheel behind her held her snug against him. She put her hands on his shoulders, took a deep breath to steady herself, and thanked God the Ram had a tall roof.

He sucked in a breath, let it out. Once more, his big hands slid beneath her skirt, up her outer thighs, tensing across her hips, coming to rest cupping her bottom. “You probably think I want these miniscule panties off.”

“They’re not panties, it’s a thong.”

His pupils dilated. She wiggled. He closed his eyes and clamped his lips.

She went wet between her thighs. “Do you want me to take them off for you?”

“Not yet.”

“Oh God.” She closed her eyes, half desire, half disgust.

“Be patient.”

She wasn’t patient; she was hot. She loved to tease, but he was hard. And it was time. She kept the words to herself. Her eyes popped open. Teasing. Was that a good thing? She gripped his chin, tugged so he met her gaze. “Is this making love? Or having sex?”

Everything stilled, time, his hands on her, her heart. “You tell me.” His eyes roamed her face.

Her chest tightened. “Does knowing that I want you really, really bad make you feel powerful, Witt?”

She expected him to say it wasn’t about power, the way Cameron always did. Instead, Witt said, “Yeah. And I like it. A lot.”

Power base equal. Something gave way inside her. “That’s exactly how I feel.” She swallowed. “So yes, we’re making love.”

His fingers dug into her hips. “Guess we are. Changed my mind, I want these damn things off now.”

He tugged on the elastic. Max lifted as he slid the lace down one leg, then the other. She giggled at the awkwardness when she hit her head on the roof.

He put his hand between her legs. “Jesus, you’re wet.”

“I know, and I think that means I’m ready.”

“I’m not.”

He slid a finger over her clitoris, swirled and circled. God, he was right, she was too wet, too ready. A shiver, a shudder, she tried not to come. Her hands on his shoulders clenched into fists. Her body moved against his hand. A little animal sound fell from her lips.

“Do you like it?” he whispered.

“Hello, McFly,” she managed, “Anybody in there?”

“Guess that means yeah. What about this?” He moved inside, first one finger, then two.

“Yeah, I like that, too.” She might detonate before he even got inside her.

“Come.”

Oh God, yes.

His fingers inside her, he used his thumb on her clitoris. “Look at me.” She hadn’t realized her eyes were closed. “Come for me, Max, just for me. That’s what I want.”

Her consciousness spiraled down to the center of her body, where he touched her, where his fingers moved ceaselessly, where she was hot and needy. The pressure built, but part of her held off, to prolong the pleasure, intensify it.

“Come hard, sweetheart.”

She squeezed her lids shut, wrapped her arms around his neck, moved with his hand, and held and held until moisture popped at the corners of her eyes. Her body thrust against his hand. Out of control, out of her mind, exploding against him, whimpering, flashes of red against the black of her eyelids, arms clutching his neck as if he were the only thing real in the world.

She came down to the feel of his hand caressing her back. “You screamed my name,” he murmured.

“Yeah. What did you expect?”

He said nothing, but she knew he feared it would be Cameron’s name.

She eased back and took his hand in hers. “Taste me,” she whispered.

He slipped his index finger in his mouth, licking away her zest.

“That’s what you do to me. No one else.” She licked his middle finger, tasting what he’d shared with her. “Kiss me.” They shared the taste on their tongues. Lips to his, she murmured, “Now I think you better get inside me because I want to hear you scream my name when you come.” She pulled back. “Unless you have something else you want me to do first.”

“Hell no, not now.” He had no pupil left at all, just dark orbs seeing everything inside her as he reached two hands between them. He lifted, shifted, sucked in a breath, then let out a curse.

“Maybe you should have undone your jeans before we started.”

He laughed, a choked sound. “Open the glove compartment.”

She leaned over, stretched, popped open the compartment to find several foil packets. She took one. “Sure of yourself.”

He laughed. “With you, hardly.”

She helped him don the condom without bothering to remind him it wasn’t necessary. She teased him, rolling the latex slowly down his cock, squeezing as she did so. He grabbed her hips.

“Wait.”

He groaned. “What?”

“I’m not supposed to be on top.”

He looked along the cab. “It’s not going to work any other way in here.”

“But we have to—”

He took her face between his hands. “Remember I said being on top’s a state of mind.” With the flat of one hand, he smoothed her hair back. “Are you on top,
really
on top?”

She didn’t want to win, didn’t feel the need to prove anything, wasn’t afraid of what she might lose to him, and didn’t care about maintaining walls. Not this time. Settling against him, she shook her head. “No, I don’t think I am.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Put me inside you.” Then he took her lips fiercely.

It was so easy. He filled her up. He shaped their rhythm.

“Touch yourself.”

He tipped his head to the side and bent to watch her rub herself as his cock slipped in, then out. He kept the beat with his hands guiding her bottom.

“Does it feel good?”

“
Ooh
.” The sound he loved was all she could manage.

She rocked in his lap, keeping her hand still so that she worked herself with the movement of her own body. Strobe lights beat against her eyelids, now closed, and Witt murmured erotic encouragement in her ear, against her hair. Then he slammed their bodies together, thrust up to her heart, and came with her name on his lips. The throb inside her, his warm breath at her throat, the pulse of her clit against her fingers, and the rough cry of her name in his voice sent her spiraling into a starfield.

He held her when she collapsed against him. “Are you crying?” he asked against her hair.

“Of course not. I’m sweating. That was hard work.”

“I love you.”

She smoothed her hands down his arms. “I love you, Witt.”

Those same arms crushed her against him. A moment later, his breath ruffled the wisps of hair at her temples. “Even though you won the bet and everything.” He paused, took a deep breath, and she felt him smile into her hair. “I still want the blowjob.”