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I try not to stare, but I’m only human. Andreas is magnetic, and I can’t seem to help it.
He looks at me with a small smile and opens the door for me. “I’m trying very hard to be a gentleman, but if you keep looking at me that way, we’re not going to leave this house,” he whispers.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I’m reminded of the heat that’s built between us since the first time I saw him. Finding my apartment broken into last night was like a splash of cold water, but hearing him talk to me with that commanding tone was enough to make me sweat.
I walk faster and out into the hot late August air, and he follows behind me to his car. Andreas opens the passenger side door for me, his hand lingering at the small of my back as he guides me into the seat. I shiver despite the warmth suffocating us.
The interior smells like black leather and pine, profoundly masculine and sexy. He walks around the car and slides behind the steering wheel. He rests his arm on the back of my seat while he looks over his shoulder and backs out, and something about the concentration on his face makes me flush. The car is silent, and he takes his right hand from behind me and rests it on my thigh, halfway between my knee and my groin.
My skin breaks out in goosebumps from the touch. He makes circles with his thumb, tracing a dangerous circle closer and closer to my inner thigh. I hold back a gasp and steal a glance at his profile. He’s driving, and his sunglasses hide my view of his eyes.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Shh. Just relax.”
My heart pounds and my clit pulses in anticipation as he grazes underneath the leg of my shorts, caressing the panty line underneath. I feel my legs open against my will, allowing him better access. I turn away from him and look out the window, hopelessly trying to distract myself from the overwhelming sensations brewing in my body.
I realize a pool of arousal has leaked onto my panties, and I’m almost too embarrassed for him to continue. I don’t stop him, though. His hand disappears completely under my shorts, and he cups my aching pussy tenderly.
“You’re fucking soaked for me, aren’t you Alana?” he whispers.
I don’t want to look at him, but he squeezes my sensitive skin and my head whips toward him.
“I asked you a question, Alana. You’re fucking soaked for me, aren’t you?”
He quiets and rubs from my clit all the way down my slit. It’s a punishingly slow rhythm, and it’s only intensifying the ache in my core.
“Yes,” I gasp as he pinches my clit between his pointer finger and thumb, “Yes, I’m so fucking soaked for you.”
“Good girl,” he growls and continues to tease me through the damp fabric.
I need more pressure, and I grind my hips against his hand.
“If you want something, ask for it,” he says, still not taking his eyes off the road.
“Please,” I mutter.
He laughs darkly, then stills his hand against me. “Please what?”
“Please touch me,” I pant wantonly. He has easily driven me wild, and I need more. I need him to slide his hand underneath my panties and touch my bare skin.
His hand begins the slow assault once more, and he asks, “Touch you where? Be specific.”
“Touch my pussy,” I beg quietly, blushing intensely in the harsh light of the morning.
“Say it again.”
35
Chapter Thirty Five
Andreas
“Say it again.”
My hand rubs along the wet spot in her panties, and I press into her a little harder. She groans from deep in her throat, and the sound alone almost makes me pull over on the side of the highway to bend her over the hood of my car.
“Please make me come, Andreas. Please.”
