Page 29 of Wicked Temptations
“Move,” he said, voice flat.
I lifted myself up, bracing against the ceiling, and the drag of his cock leaving my body sent a shiver through me. It left me feeling empty. Hollow and used and instantly missing the weight and stretch of him.
He was already fumbling with his pants, pulling them up in the confined space. I tried to do the same, but my legs were shaking. The burn in my thighs was immediate and brutal, muscles screaming from the strain of riding him in such an awkward position.
“Fuck.” The word slipped out as I tried to maneuver in the backseat, my pants still around my knees, cum dripping down my thigh.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I grabbed something to clean up with—fast food napkins shoved in the door pocket. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing. I wiped myself down as best I could, trying to ignore the way Jude was watching me with his dark, unreadable eyes.
Getting my pants back up was a nightmare. The space was too small. My legs wouldn’t cooperate. Every movement reminded me of what we’d just done, of how thoroughly he’d fucked me, of how I was going to be feeling this for days.
Good.I wanted to feel it. I wanted a reminder every time I sat down or climbed stairs or tried to sleep.
“Going to be sore?” His voice held a smug edge.
I shot him a look. “What do you think?”
“Think you’re going to remember this every time you move tomorrow.” He zipped up his pants, already looking put together while I was still a mess. “I think you’re going to remember me inside you while you’re trying to work. Gonna think about it when I kick your ass across the park.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“Yeah, well.” I finally got my pants fastened and collapsed back against the seat, breathing hard. “At least I’ll have something to look forward to.”
The words came out before I could stop them. They were too honest and revealing, and I tensed, waiting for him to mock me, to throw it back in my face.
Instead, he went quiet.
I opened my mouth to say something—anything—to break the tension. Or make it worse.
Nothing came out.
With the silence between us stretching on, Jude reached for the door handle.
His hand stayed on the metal, fingers tight around it, and for a moment I allowed myself to think he might turn back and say something to make this more than just another quick fuck in a dark place.
Then he pushed the door open and climbed out. His tactical pants hung low on his hips, the belt not quite fastened yet, and his tank top had ridden up enough to show a strip of pale skin above his waistband. The way he moved was dangerous, even outside of the show. He may have been smaller than me, but every one of his muscles knew exactly what it was supposed to do and how it was meant to ripple.
God, even his ass looked good in those pants.
He turned, leaned back in through the open door, one arm braced on the roof. His eyes met mine, and my heart did something stupid.
Ithoped.
He looked down at the seat. At the fogged windows. Anywhere but at me.
“Thanks for the fuck.”
Then he was gone, slamming the door behind him, leaving me alone in a car that reeked of sweat and sex and was filled with all the things I couldn’t say.
Chapter 9
Jude
Mycockwasalreadystraining against my boxers before I even opened my eyes.
I stared at the ceiling, willing it away. It didn’t listen. It never did, and I couldn’t blame it, not when I’d spent half the night replaying what happened in Ash’s car.
