Page 128 of Eight Count Heat
"We still have quite a way to go before we make it back to campus," I point out, even as she works my zipper down with deft fingers.
"Then I better take my time."
Before I can respond, she's unbuckling her seatbelt and leaning across the center console. My protest dies in my throat as she pulls my cock from my boxer briefs, her touch sending electricity arcing through my system.
"Keep your eyes on the road, Captain," she murmurs. Then her mouth is on me, hot and wet and perfect.
"Fuck," I bite out, hands clenching on the wheel as her tongue traces from base to tip.
The dual challenge of driving safely while Reese Callahan gives me head is the hardest test of control I've ever faced. Her mouth works me with the same devastating focus she brings to everything, finding a rhythm that has me fighting not to close my eyes in pleasure.
I manage to drop one hand from the wheel, tangling my fingers in her hair. Not guiding, just connecting, needing to touch her as she unravels me stroke by stroke.
"You're playing with fire," I warn, voice rough.
She pulls back just long enough to say, "Maybe I want to burn," before taking me deeper than before.
Fuck. The visual alone would be enough to push lesser men over the edge. Reese with her lips stretched around me, blue-green eyes glancing up, watching my reaction through those long lashes. But I've spent years honing my control, and I'll be damned if I come apart this easily.
Two can play this game.
I slide my free hand up the back of her thigh, pushing her dress higher until I can slip beneath the fabric. She's still wearing the underwear I pulled aside in my parents' bathroom, the delicate material now completely soaked through.
She moans around me as my fingers find their target, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure up my spine. I push the fabric aside, finding her slick and swollen and desperate for touch. She shifts in the seat so that her hips are angled towards me, opening her legs to give me better access. Thank god for tinted windows.
"Still with me?" I ask, circling my fingers around her pussy without pushing inside.
Her answer is to take me deeper, swallowing around me in a way that makes the car swerve slightly before I correct course.
"I'll take that as a yes."
I slide two fingers into her, feeling her body clench around them immediately. She's so close already, her heat making her hypersensitive to every touch. It would be easy to push her over the edge right now, but something in me wants to draw this out, to make her work for it the way she's making me work.
So I establish a rhythm counter to hers—slowing my fingers when she speeds up her mouth, pushing deeper when she teaseswith just her tongue. It becomes a silent battle of wills, each of us trying to make the other lose control first.
The road ahead blurs slightly as pleasure coils tighter in my core. I force myself to focus, adding a third finger and curling them to hit the spot that made her fall apart in the bathroom. Her hips buck against my hand, her mouth faltering in its steady rhythm.
Victory, so close I can taste it.
"Fuck, Reese," I groan. "I don't want to think about how you got so fucking good at this." My brain is buzzing with the thoughts of her mouth on me, my fingers in her, the memory of her taste. "Your pussy is so soft and warm...I can't wait to bury my cock so deep in you, you taste me on your tongue."
She shivers hard and then her whole body tenses, her mouth still wrapped around me as she comes apart against my hand. The sight of her, eyes closed, face flushed with pleasure, taking me as deep as she can while her body convulses, is the most erotic goddamn thing I've ever seen.
It's too much. I come with stunning intensity, white-hot pleasure coursing through me. To her credit, Reese doesn't pull away, swallowing everything I give her before finally releasing me with a satisfied smile.
For several minutes, neither of us speaks. The only sounds are our ragged breathing and the hum of the engine as we continue toward campus. Somehow, miraculously, we've remained on the road and within our lane.
Reese sits up, straightening her dress with one hand while the other wipes delicately at the corner of her mouth. In the glow of the dashboard lights, she looks like sin incarnate. Her hair mussed, lips swollen, cheeks flushed with lingering pleasure.
"You're staring," she points out, voice husky from what she's just done.
"Can you blame me?" I tuck myself away, adjusting my clothes one-handed while keeping my eyes on the road.
A small, genuine laugh escapes her. "I suppose not."
I catch her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles before releasing it. "I can't wait to ruin you."
"Promises, promises," she purrs, but there's a new edge in her voice. The temporary relief already fading as her heat surges again. "Gray, I need—"
