Page 82 of Under Pressure

My sex life hasn’t been all that experimental. I doubt the same can be said about Beck’s.

“You’re overthinking,” he murmurs, knuckling my chin. “If you’re not comfortable, we can head right to bingo or go for a drive. I’ll even take you to Blank Page and let you choose another nasty concoction for me to drink.”

I snort, touching his wrist. “No. I’m just realizing that you’ve got to be very well versed in sex, and all of my experiences are very boring.”

“All you’re doing right now is getting me excited to help you branch out, baby.”

“And is that what you were doing when you jerked off in the shower, right in front of me?”

My cheeks heat at the memory, and my nipples poke through my bra, rubbing in a very distracting way. I shift in my seat, refusing to press my thighs together. It’s hot in here, but it has nothing to do with the thermostat or the summer heat outside.

Beck’s eyes twinkle as he takes my chin and brings me in for another kiss. I melt into it, welcoming the furious rush of blood to my head. A sigh hits his mouth when he coaxes my lips apart and strokes my tongue with his. I unbuckle my seat belt without giving the action a second thought.

He smiles into the kiss, then releases me. “Go on. Climb back so I can stare at your ass.”

“Jesus Christ,” I sputter.

His chuckle fills the car as I listen to his demand. Refusing to think too hard about how easy it was for me to make that choice, I crawl over the console and half barrel roll into the back seat.

I’ve barely caught my breath when he joins me, slightly out of breath with a wicked grin on his face. His giant body looks almost comical sitting back here. The wide spread of his long legs is incredibly enticing, though. He’s made areallycomfortable chair.

“Keep it up and I’m going to start thinking that you’re staring at my crotch.”

“You wish,” I taunt, staying still on my own seat.

“I do. I very much wish.” He smooths his veiny hands down his thighs. “You wanna sit on me, Quinny?”

“I won’t crush you?”

His fingers wrap around my wrist and tug. “Don’t insult me.”

With a quick scootch, he settles into the middle seat and helps me onto his lap. It’s like how we sat on my bed, but still different. Somehow, this feels more intimate. The fact that we’re both completely clothed doesn’t change anything. He’s looking up at me now, his eyes gooey with warmth, adoration. It’s like he can see all of me from one look. All of my hidden insecurities and hopes and dreams. My scars and the pain I feel when Iremember how far I’ve come from the girl who was forced to raise her little sister while her mom stayed busy chasing highs.

Beck pushes my hair from where it drapes over my cheeks and guides it over my shoulders. His fingers follow the strands to the middle of my back, smoothing them. It’s a soothing gesture, and I blink twice, willing the burn in my eyes to subside before he notices.

The ferocity that works through his features has my stomach dropping. I look at the window, but he’s ready for me to pull back. The first press of his lips to my neck pulls a strangled moan from the depths of my chest. My heart gallops, and I clutch his bicep, feeling the hard, thick muscle there.

“Stay with me, Quinn,” he whispers, dragging his mouth up beneath my jaw. “I’ve got you.”

I shudder, nodding. My cheek meets his temple, and I arch for him, opening myself for more of what he’s doing. It feels so, so good, and his words settle every fear and doubt in my mind. It’s just us, just this. That’s all I need to know right now.

It’s so easy to rock my hips forward. The first brush of our bodies sends lightning zipping beneath my skin. He fists my shirt, tugging it up to my waist as he pants against my throat. I repeat the motion and turn my face into his hair, shivering.

“Can I touch you?” he pleads.

“Yes.”

I expect him to reach into my jeans or grip my ass. He does neither.

My breath whooshes out of me when he pushes his face into my chest and wraps both of his arms around my back in a python grip. He pinches my shirt between his teeth and tugs at it before finally reaching around my stomach to push it up and over my breasts.

“Told you I had plans to worship these tits, baby.” His tongue curves around the swell of the right one, tracing the edge of my bra. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

It’s impossible to speak. I thread my fingers through his hairand hold him in place, my skin burning beneath his lips. Each time he sucks at me, I jerk in his lap, drawing throaty sounds out of the both of us. But then he finds my nipple, and I grind down as hard as I can, pleasure throbbing between my legs.

“That’s good?” he asks softly, grazing his teeth across the aching tip. “I love your tattoos. They’re beautiful.”

The twin skeleton hands underneath my tits are tugging on the wishbone between the heavy mounds. It was the first tattoo I ever got. There was no rhyme or reason behind the design, but suddenly, it feels a thousand times more special.