On My Knees (Stark International Trilogy 2)

Frankly, the lady might enjoy that. But since the most keen punishment would be to not touch me at all, I shake my head.

“Then do as I said. Take out my cock, and then fuck me. Slide that sweet cunt onto my cock, and ride me.”

His raw words are like a sensual tease, and my body clenches in response, so sensitive now that even the brush of clothing over my skin seems like an erotic exploration.

I want this—oh, dear god, I just want to do as he says, losing myself in the knowledge that surrendering to his demands will make the pleasure that much sweeter.

But even so, I continue to hesitate. “We’re in the garage.”

“And no one’s around. And we’re in the backseat of a car with tinted windows.” He lifts a shoulder. “But you’re still in control, baby. You want to stop, we stop. Anytime, no questions asked.”

My mouth has gone suddenly dry, and I lick my lips.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, as if in response to my hesitation.

“You know I do.”

I can see on his face that my answer pleases him. “Then trust me to take you far and keep you safe.”

I swallow, but I nod. “I don’t want to stop.”

The corner of his mouth curves up. But all he says is “Then fuck me.”

I maneuver my position in the backseat so that I am straddling his legs, most of my weight at his knees. I lean forward and stroke his erection through his jeans, then revel in a surge of feminine satisfaction when he tilts his head back and moans with pleasure.

I unfasten his jeans. They have a button fly, and I maneuver my fingers over each button slowly and methodically, enjoying this moment of power. He’s wearing boxer briefs, and I reach into the fly and ease him free. And then, because I just can’t resist, I slide off him and onto the floorboards, spreading his knees as I do.

I glance at his face just once and then bend forward and run my tongue along the length of his cock. He tastes earthy and male, and I’m tempted to suck him off, but I’m selfish, too, and my cunt is throbbing with need, practically begging to be filled.

I circle his cock with one hand as I tease the crown with my tongue. But I slip the other between my own legs, unsurprised to find that I’m so wet my thighs are creamy.

“Now,” he demands. “I want to be inside you now.”

Since I want exactly the same thing, I don’t hesitate. I rise up and straddle him again, this time easing forward so that I am over his hips. I hold his cock steady, my eyes on his as I gyrate my hips, teasing him before lowering myself so hard and so fast that the tip of his cock hits my cervix and I feel the denim of his jeans rub against my ass.

One of his hands is on my lower back to balance me, but the other is between our bodies, and he’s touching me, stroking and teasing my clit as I hold on to his shoulders and lift and lower myself, the sensation building and building, and all the more exciting because we’re in a car and we’re clothed and there’s something that just feels so wicked about that.

He leans forward and closes his mouth over my breast, teasing me through the cotton of my shirt and the lace of my bra, and that extra sensation tips the scales. Suddenly, it’s all too much, and everything that has been building inside of me begins to spiral, wild and out of control.

“Please,” I beg as the climax rises up, ready to sweep me away. “Jackson, please come with me.”

And then I’m reaching up, my hands pressed against the roof of the car, because the explosion is too strong, and I have to hold on to something to keep from shooting off into space as every atom in my body goes absolutely nuclear.

“Oh my god,” I murmur when I finally collapse back onto him, my head bent down to tuck against his shoulder. “I’m completely shattered.”

“Completely?”

There is humor in his question, and I gather enough strength to pull back so that I can face him. “That’s just a figure of speech.” I lean forward so that my lips brush his ear, and as I do I slip my hand down to where our bodies are still joined and tease the base of his penis with the edge of my finger. “I want more,” I whisper. “Lots more.”

“Then that works out exceptionally well. Because more is exactly what you’re going to get.”

He shifts me off him, then nods toward the front seat. “Get your things. We’re taking my car. Except your panties,” he adds. “Leave those here.”

“Jackson!” My protest, however, is only for form, and I eagerly grab my tote. Then remember that I’d thrown my keys across the car, and they’d disappeared into some crevice or other. It takes a moment to find them, but as soon as I do, I lock my car and join him in the Porsche.