Page 219 of Filthy Promises

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his hands coming up to cup them reverently. “Even more perfect now.”

My pregnancy has made my breasts impossibly sensitive, and the gentlest brush of his thumbs across my nipples sends sparks shooting straight to my core. I arch into his touch and grind my hips against the hardness straining beneath his tuxedo pants.

“I need more,” I gasp.

Without a word, Vince reclines across the seat, positioning himself so his head rests against the door. The improvised positioning gives me just enough room to move up his body.

“Come here,” he growls, his hands guiding my thighs to either side of his head.

I brace myself against the roof of the car as he uses both hands to hike my dress up around my waist. My panties are soaked through already—embarrassingly so—but Vince’s groan of appreciation as he pulls them aside washes away any self-consciousness.

“Fucking dripping,” he snarls as he rakes a thumb through my pussy and then sucks on it. “And so fucking sweet.”

I grab his jaw. “Stop talking and put that mouth to better use, big shot.”

His eyes flash with approval as he pulls me down onto his face. The first swipe of his tongue has me gasping, my free hand clutching at the headrest for support. The second, third, and fourth dissolve me into pure sensation.

He’s insatiable. Relentless. I blur and come apart and melt in every direction.

I rock against him shamelessly, grinding my hips howIwant, howIneed. It’s dirty and desperate and so far from anything we’ve done before.

And I’m the one in control.

“That’s it,” Vince encourages between licks. “Take what you need. Use me.Soakme, Rowan.”

His words push me higher, closer to the edge. My thighs begin to shake as he focuses his attention on my clit, circling it with the flat of his tongue before sucking it between his lips.

“Oh, God—Vince—” I’m careening toward orgasm, my body tightening, coiling like a spring.

When he slides two fingers inside me, curling them to hit that perfect spot within, I shatter. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over me, and I cry out his name, not caring if anyone might hear.

But it’s not enough. I want more. Need more.

Before I’ve fully recovered, I’m moving down his body, fumbling with his zipper, desperate to feel him inside me. Vince helps,lifting his hips to work his pants down just enough to free his erection.

“Condom?” I ask automatically, then remember, with a breathless laugh, that’s how we got here in the first place.

“I think that ship has sailed,” Vince chuckles.

I position myself over him, one hand braced on his chest for balance. The head of his cock nudges against my entrance, and I close my eyes at the sensation.

“Look at me,” Vince commands softly.

I do, our gazes locking as I sink down onto him inch by exquisite inch. The stretch is divine, my body still sensitive from my first orgasm.

“So perfect,” he groans, his hands finding my hips. “You’re fucking perfect, Rowan.”

Once he’s fully seated inside me, I pause to adjust to the fullness, to the awkwardness of my pregnant belly between us. But Vince’s reverent expression—like I’m a goddamn fertility goddess rather than a sweaty mess—gives me the confidence to move.

I start slowly. My palms press against his chest, feeling the thunder of his heart beneath my fingers.

“You feel so good,” I tell him, picking up speed. “So deep like this.”

“That’s it,” he encourages. “That’s my good little slut. Take your pleasure. Show me what you need.”

I shift around until he’s hitting exactly where I need him with every thrust. “Right there,” I gasp. “Don’t stop.”

“Never.” His hips rise to crash against mine. “I’m yours, Rowan. All yours.”

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