Page 87 of The Puck Contract

I laugh, my hands finding his waist, pulling him closer despite the awkward angle over the center console. "My hair is all yours to mess up."

He takes the invitation literally, fingers threading through my carefully styled hair, gripping and tugging just this side of painful. The sensation shoots straight to my dick, which is already painfully hard beneath my dress pants.

"I hated seeing him touch you," Mateo says against my throat, teeth scraping over my pulse point. "Hated that he knows parts of you I don't yet."

I slide my hand to the nape of his neck, pulling him back to meet my eyes, the center console between us like the world's most inconvenient chastity belt. "He doesn't. Julian never knew me. Not really."

Mateo studies my face, searching for truth. Whatever he finds there must satisfy him because he kisses me again, softer this time but no less hungry.

"Come here," I say, reclining my seat and patting my lap.

He doesn't need a second invitation. With surprising grace, he maneuvers over the console, straddling me. Thesteering wheel presses into his back, forcing him closer to my chest. My hands find his hips automatically, steadying him in the cramped space.

"Better," he says, rolling his hips in a deliberate grind.

The weight of him in my lap, the heat of him through our clothes—it's almost too much. My cock throbs against the confines of my pants, desperate for more friction. Mateo seems to sense this, adjusting his position to increase the pressure right where I need it.

The city continues around us, muted behind tinted windows. A couple walks past, oblivious to what's happening just feet away.

I slide my hands up his thighs to his waist, untucking his shirt to find skin, warm and alive under my touch.

"There’s so much I want to show you," I say against his throat, feeling his pulse jump under my lips. "Things you haven’t experienced before."

His body tenses momentarily, but curiosity wins out over apprehension. "Here? Now?"

I glance around at our surroundings—the secluded parking spot, the privacy of tinted windows, the late hour. "Not ideal, but perfect for an introduction."

He shifts in my lap, rolling his hips again in a way that makes my vision blur at the edges. "What kind of introduction?"

Instead of answering, I reach between us, undoing his belt with practiced ease. The button of his pants follows, then the zipper, each metallic sound amplified in the quiet car. His eyes widen when I reach for the glove compartment, producing a small bottle of lube.

"You just happen to have that in your car?" The disbelief in his voice is undercut by the naked want in his eyes.

"Boy scout," I say, uncapping the bottle. "Always prepared."

He narrows his eyes, but can't maintain the expression when my hand slides into his open pants, wrapping around his hard length. His head falls back, exposing the long line of his throat as I stroke him slowly, the weight and feel of him already so familiar.

"Lift up," I say, and he complies immediately, rising on his knees as much as the space allows.

I tug his pants and boxers down just enough to expose him, his cock springing free in the dim light filtering through the windows. The position is awkward, requiring him to brace himself against the roof of the car, but the vulnerability of it—pants around his thighs, exposed and open—sends another surge of blood to my aching dick.

"You're fucking gorgeous."

He flushes, the color visible even in the low light.

I stroke him with my slicked hand, watching his face as pleasure overtakes embarrassment. When he's fully hard and leaking, I let my fingers drift lower, past his balls to the sensitive skin behind them. His whole body jerks at the contact.

"Cold," he says with a breathless laugh when I pause.

"It'll warm up."

My fingers find his hole, circling the tight ring of muscle without pushing in. Just the contact has him tensing, thighs trembling with the effort to maintain his position. I watch his face carefully, gauging his reaction as I increase the pressure slightly.

"Weird," he breaths out, shifting his weight. "But... good weird."

I continue the circular motion, adding more lube, letting him adjust to the sensation. His cock remains hard against his stomach, a bead of precome gathering at the tip. I lean forward, keeping my fingers in place, and lick it away. The taste of him, salty and intimate, makes my own cock throb in sympathy.

"Fuck," he gasps, hips jerking forward at the contact.

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