Page 94 of Captive of Outlaws

Pulse thrumming, I move to sit in the car, but he grabs my waist before I can get all the way in.

“No.” He shakes his head. “Not like that. On your back.”

Oh.

I nod, and turn, easing myself down so that my head almost hits the opposite door, my legs stretching so that my ankles are dangling out to where Rob stands, watching. I almost feel ridiculous, but the embarrassment doesn’t have time to form, because he leans forward, crouching just enough to reach my hips, and his fingers find the waistband of my jeans. In one swift motion he tears open the button and splits the zipper, then shucks the denim from my legs, leaving me in nothing but my new, lacy bottoms from the waist down.

“There we go,” comes his voice. “So beautiful.”

I find my own voice, despite the thickness in my throat. “Jack has a real eye for style,” I mumble.

A short chuckle. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Rob leans forward, farther into the car, so that I can see him, shaking his head with a smile. “I don’t care what kind of damn panties I’m looking at as long as you’re the one in them, Maren.”

The warm lilt of his voice, slightly rough with desire, all but turns me to liquid. Under the thin cotton of the T-shirt, the peaks of my nipples visibly stiffen, and I watch Rob’s gaze darken, deepen, as he notices.

Yet I still feel the urge to stay grounded, to make a joke. “So this is it?” I say. “This is what I was missing in high school?”

Rob scoffs. “Not hardly, Maren. And would you just relax, please?” He climbs all the way in, his lean arms holding his body just inches above mine, and strokes the top of my head. “Stop trying to control things with that sense of humor. Let go, for once.”

My lips feel stuck together, my whole body clumsy, but I nod. “Mhm.”

“Good.” Rob flashes a wicked grin, and dips a finger under my waistband.

“Ah!”

The sensation zigzags through me like a firebolt—and it must show on my face, because Rob smiles wide.

“Surprise,” he murmurs in my ear. “Knew you’d like that.” He slips his hand deeper, drawing lazy circles, and I arch instinctively toward him, craving more, inviting more, even as my thighs quiver around his hand. His touch is as sure and firm as I am slippery and melting. “Now kiss me.”

I do, of course I do, hard and hungry, pressing my body into his as I feel him cover my lips with his own. His hand withdraws, climbs up to push my T-shirt hem higher and expose my bare chest—because of course I skipped a bra this morning.

“Good Lord,” Rob says, gently skimming my breast with a rough palm. “Now there’s a nice surprise.”

“Just lazy,” I mumble. “Too early for bras.”

“Couldn’t agree more.” He pushes the hem the rest of the way up, exposing me, and descends with his mouth on one nipple and his fingers tight on the other, eliciting a shudder from deep in my throat.

“Knew you’d like that,” he murmurs around my taut flesh, and sucks again, pinching harder as I buck beneath his body. “The way you move, Maren...” He chuckles. “Like it or not, you know how to get a man hard.”

I can tell. I can feel his cock pressing into my hips, strainingat the denim of his jeans, and it sends another electric wave of arousal vibrating through me. My underwear is soaked through, probably soaking onto the leg of his pants the way we’re pinned in here, and I can’t help but roll my hips against him, already needing that release.

“That’s it,” he whispers in my ear. “Grind against me. Get nice and wet.”

With a gasp, I obey. No one’s ever talked to me like that, and I’m not prepared for what those words do to me, the pulsing ache they send to my clit. I arch my back and grind again, and then again, and again, sending wave after wave of sensation rolling up from my hips and through my whole body.

It’s good, so good. But Rob grabs me, stills me.

“Not yet,” he says, strong hands pushing my hips still against the car seat. “I’m going get you to come on my cock, Maren.”

“Yes,” I whisper. The only thing my brain can articulate, the only reality of my body right now: yes. Yes. Please, yes.

I push up to peel off my T-shirt while Rob leans back to unbuckle his jeans. He pushes them away just as I hook my thumbs in my underwear and shimmy it away, but I don’t make it past my right ankle before he’s grabbing my hips again, positioning me.

“You want me, Maren? You want me to fill you?”

“Yes,” I say again. “Please.”

His eyes flash. “Love it when you say please.”

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