Page 45 of Twisted Control

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” she says. “Credits are rolling.”

I blink, still half-asleep, as the lights come up. “Wait—did I miss the big twist?”

“It was the doctor,” she says, clearly amused. “Come on.”

We step out into the cool night air. The hoodie still swallows her, sleeves bunched at her wrists, and under the streetlights she looks stupidly pretty.

My gaze drops to her mouth before I can stop myself.

“What?” she asks, catching me staring.

That should be my cue to walk away.

Instead, I grab her waist and back her hard against the car. She gasps my name right before I kiss her—deep, desperate, like I’ve been starving for it all day. My hands slide under her thighs and lift her up, pressing her against the door. She moans softly into my mouth, legs wrapping around my waist, fingers twisting in my shirt like she wants me closer.

For a few dangerous seconds I lose myself in her—the taste of her, the little sounds she makes, the way she rocks against me like she can’t help it.

Then reality slams back in.

I tear my mouth away and set her down abruptly. She stumbles, breathing hard.

“Get in the car,” I growl.

The second we’re both inside, the air turns electric. I pull out of the lot with every intention of driving her straight home.

I last ninety fucking seconds.

Instead, I swerve into an empty parking lot to the dark, deserted far side. I slam the car into park and kill the engine.

“Get over here,” I say, voice low and rough.

Grace doesn’t hesitate for even a second. She climbs over the console, straddling my lap, her mouth crashing into mine.

The kiss is pure fire—hungry, messy, and desperate. Hands everywhere. She moans into my mouth as I grip her ass under the hoodie, pulling her tighter against me while she grinds down hard on my lap. We’re devouring each other, panting between kisses, windows already fogging up.

I slide my hand under her tennis skirt and I feel the little shorts underneath. Thank fuck. At least there’s a barrier. I can stop this right now. I can still be good⁠—

But Grace has other plans.

She breaks the kiss just long enough to yank the skirt and shorts down her thighs in one frantic movement, kicking them off. The sight of her bare destroys whatever was left of my control.

I shove my trousers down just enough and grab a condom from the console, tear it open with my teeth, and roll it on in record time.

The second I’m done, Grace sinks down onto me in one smooth, greedy stroke.

“Fuck,” I groan, the sound torn out of me.

The feeling of her is pure heaven. She lets out a broken moan, head falling back, and starts riding me like she’s been dying for it all day.

I grip her hips hard, thrusting up into her, the car rocking with every wild movement. Her moans getting louder.

This is reckless. This is stupid.

And right now, I don’t fucking care.

She rides me like she’s possessed. Wild, frantic, hips rolling and grinding like she can’t get me deep enough. I grip her waist hard, guiding her, feeling every tight, slick inch of her squeezing around me.

Her pace starts to falter, but she doesn’t stop. She chases it with short, desperate bursts until she shatters, clenching violently around my cock with a moan that goes straight to my head. The second she starts to slow, I take over, thrusting up into her hard and fast, chasing my own release.