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“Oh, I’ll make you, all right.”

His voice wrapped around my throat like silk.

In one fluid motion, he hoisted my thighs over his shoulders.

I sucked in a sharp breath, legs wobbling dangerously, as his gaze burned into mine.

My limbs turned syrupy, as though my body didn’t belong to me anymore.

A soft, strangled gasp spilled from my lips as he lowered his mouth, not where I ached for him, but along my inner thigh.

My muscles tensed and twitched, hands tugging at his hair in reprimand and plea alike. He held my hips firm while his hot mouth scorched me through my pants, and for an embarrassing moment, I cursed myself for not having worn a skirt.

With every whispered command, every filthy phrase, every word of praise, he was unveiling a version of myself that both intrigued and alarmed me.

He varied the pressure, keeping me on my toes, until—

“Ahh—”

He bit down on the inside of my thigh, short-circuiting my nerves, before returning to a barely-there graze of lips that left me aching for more.

With every touch, my body grew loud, and despite my best efforts to hold back, so did I.

Please.

I didn’t know if I thought it or said it, but his thumbs hooked into the waistband of my pants. I lifted my hips, and fabric hissed off me as his warm palms whispered over my thighs, calluses kicking up more goosebumps.

My boots hit the floor with a thunk, and my pants followed.

He caressed the inside of my knees, then my calves, before he froze.

The protest on the tip of my tongue died as my eyes flicked open to find him staring at my underwear, as if burning to tear it off me.

A gasp hitched in my throat.

I wasn’t sure I was even breathing anymore.

Then, with a gentleness that belied his hunger, he pressed a kiss over my panties, straight to the aching core underneath.

My thighs jolted, and the warm, deliberate pressure dragged a throaty moan from my parted lips. My fingers fisted in his hair as I fought the urge to hold him down, to press him harder against me, to rock against his mouth.

He chuckled, and the vibration was nearly as devastating as the kiss. It rumbled through me, a jolt of pure sensation that coiled deep in my pussy. Then, he dragged his teeth over me, and my hips bucked so violently, his fingers dug into my flesh to hold me steady, leaving bruises I shouldn’t crave half as much.

I’d never understood the phrase “fucking someone with your eyes,” but I got it then as his turned molten, devouring every single reaction and making it impossible to look away.

I shifted on the leather seat, the underwear rubbing unpleasantly against my clit. I wanted it off. I wanted skin on skin. I wanted—

Goddamn it.

Marshalling my last forces, my lungs dragged in air like they’d forgotten how—in clumsy, stuttering gasps.

“P-please,” I strangled out.

His lips tugged into an approving smile.

“Good girl.”

I choked on a breathy, tortured whimper as my hips arched into him in a jerky motion as desperate as it was transparent.