Page 96 of Speed Crush

She looks over her shoulder, her raven hair falling around her beautiful face that's wearing a sexy pout.

"Ahh, I love the way your cock grinds against my clit. " My growl is guttural, primal. My hands tighten on her hips like I’m anchoring myself to reality—because this woman, this sexy, stunning, brilliant woman—is everything I’ve ever wanted.

Deeper and harder I pound. My jaw locks, breath caught, focusing just on her wet tightness around me.

The city disappears. It’s just her—soaked, flushed, welcoming. And me—slamming into her slow and punishing, watching our reflection blur with heat and movement.

I swear, I’ve never wanted anything more than to stay buried inside her forever.

"Say it, June. Say you love being taken like this. Say you love how filthy I get when it’s just us."

She pants through a grin, breath hot against the glass. “I do. I love it. I love how wild you get for me.”

Then she moans again—head dropping, voice husky. “And if you keep doing that thing with your hips, I might just tell you my filthiest fantasy next.”"

I groan, barely holding back. “Tell me.”

She shifts under me, breath hitching as she pushes back harder against my cock.

“I want you to keep me like this. Pressed to a window. Somewhere new every time. Tokyo. Monaco. Silverstone.”

Her voice goes low, full of need.

“Let the world think I’m your quiet little girlfriend in the paddock—when really, I’m yours like this. Bent over glass. Shaking. Coming so hard I forget my name.”

“I promise,” I rasp, every word a vow in her skin. I pull her up against me, her back flush to my chest, and kiss her neck, her shoulder, and back.

Then I start again.

My fingers slide back between her legs, circling her clit with more pressure now, more urgent purpose. My other hand rolls her nipple between my fingers, tugging harder—just the way she craves it. The sensory overload makes her cry out, her body arching into my hands, into everything.

“I love how your little body responds to me,” I groan, my fingers working her clit faster now—relentless, rhythmic, precise.

I watch her reflection as she bounces on my cock, frantic and desperate, chasing after every thrust that's pushing her higher, every slick circle of my fingers dragging a louder cry from her throat.

“I love how greedy your body gets when I give you just the right pressure?”

I pinch other her nipple again, twisting just enough to make her panting louder.

“Every twitch. Every sound. Every time your pussy pulses against my cock, you're perfect for me.”

My chest is hammering, not from the race anymore—but from what I feel.

“And I promise to love you, June Kennedy.” My voice cracks a little, but I don’t care. “So tell me, Songbird—will you marry me?”

She freezes for a split second—mid-gasp, mid-moan. She’s trembling like her brain is catching up to what I just said. Then she lets out a choked sound, half laugh, half sob, her body still shaking around me. Her hands slide up the glass like she’s bracing herself against the weight of it—of the moment, of the question, of me.

When she turns her head just enough to meet my eyes in the reflection, there’s something raw and stunned there—like I just gave her the one thing she never thought she was allowed to want.

Her lips part, breath catching. "You mean it? Here, like this?"

I pound into her slow and hard. “Yes. There’s no version of my future that doesn’t have you in it. And I want the world to know—like I know right now—you’re mine. Forever.”

Her whole body jolts against me, a strangled moan spilling from her lips. Her thighs tremble, her back arches harder, and I feel the flutter of her walls clutching around me.

"Yes, yes, YES! Noah! To your proposal, and ... to this!"

She shudders violently, a cry breaking loose as her climax tears through her—hot, fast, and completely overwhelming. Her legs quake, fingers scrabbling at the glass as she gasps, “Noah—Noah—” like my name is the only thing tethering her to earth.