Page 31 of Twisted Control

I open my mouth—ready to say absolutely not—but he’s already reaching for his belt. The quiet metallic click of it unbuckling makes my pulse spike.

He frees himself, hard and thick and ready, and my brain completely short-circuits. The sight of him does something to me. Heat floods between my thighs so fast it’s embarrassing. I know I should be shutting this down right now. I should be yanking my skirt back down, demanding he drive me home, and pretending this whole teasing game never happened.

But I can’t look away.

I watch, mesmerized, as he pulls a condom from his wallet, tears it open, and rolls it on with practiced efficiency.

Then his voice drops into a bossy, commanding tone that melts my brain. “Get over here.”

Before common sense can catch up, I’m already climbing across the console, heart hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat. I hike my skirt up around my waist and straddle him, knees sinking into the leather on either side of his hips.

The second I sink down onto him, we both groan.

“Fuck,” Drew hisses, his fingers digging hard into my waist.

I bite my lip and start moving, slow and deep at first, savoring the thick stretch of him inside me. Then I roll my hips faster, riding him harder, taking him as deep as the cramped car will allow. The whole vehicle rocks as I move. Every time headlights flash across us, my pulse spikes with a dangerous thrill. The windows are fogging up fast, but not fast enough to hide what we’re doing.

Our breathing is ragged and loud, louder than the traffic rushing past just feet away.

“Fuck, Grace,” Drew groans, voice wrecked. One hand slides up my back and fists in my hair, tugging just hard enough to make me gasp. “Look at you.”

I moan, bracing one hand on the roof of the car and the other on his shoulder, riding him like I’m trying to ruin us both. The angle is perfect—his cock hits that spot inside me over and over, sending sharp, electric pleasure shooting up my spine with every downward slam.

The car creaks. My skirt is bunched uselessly around my waist. My bare thighs slap against his lap with every frantic movement.

I don’t even care how desperate I look anymore.

I just want more.

Drew sits up straighter, he fists my hair and yanks me down, crashing his mouth against mine in a filthy, open-mouthed kiss.

I moan into his mouth and kiss him back just as desperately while I keep riding him hard. I don’t slow down for a second.

He groans low and rough against my tongue, the sound vibrating straight through me. God, I love when he makes that noise.

“Oh my God,” I gasp into his mouth, trembling.

The orgasm crashes through me in powerful, shuddering waves, so intense my vision whites out for a second. I clench hard around him, a broken, shameless moan tearing from my throat as I bury my face in his neck, hips stuttering helplessly against him.

Drew curses, voice wrecked. He thrusts up into me once, twice, then groans long and deep as he comes hard, pulsing inside me. His arms lock tight around my waist like he’s trying to pull me even closer.

For a long moment, the only sounds are our ragged breathing and the distant whoosh of cars speeding past on the main road. The windows are completely fogged up.

Then everything softens.

I melt into him, cheek pressed against the warm skin of his neck, breathing in that clean, masculine scent that’s becoming way too familiar. For a few dangerous seconds, I feel…safe. Like nothing in the world can touch me while I’m wrapped up in his arms like this.

It feels way too good.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to my hair. His voice is impossibly gentle. But then his words click.

Perfect? I’m literally straddling my bodyguard in the front seat of his car on the side of the road, skirt shoved up around my waist, underwear God-knows-where, with his cock still inside me. The fogged-up windows and the constant whoosh of passing cars suddenly feel glaringly loud.

Reality crashes back in.

I stiffen and pull away fast, scrambling over the console on shaky legs. I drop into the passenger seat and yank my skirt down, cheeks burning. Drew quietly takes care of the condom, wipes up with some tissues, and pulls back onto the road.

A few seconds later, his hand settles warmly on my thigh.