The Mech Who Loved Me(96)

Ava grabbed a handful of her skirts, yanking them, inch by inch, out of the way. It bared her stockings to the cool night air, and his hands. She shivered as metal raked over her skin, his thumbs stroking up her inner thighs and catching beneath her garters.

"Wider," he whispered, kissing the line of her jaw as he shoved her knees further apart.

She'd never felt so exposed in her life.

"Now show me," he demanded, in a tone that brooked no denials.

Ava stared into his eyes as she slid her hand lower, searching for her clit beneath her skirts. Kincaid's eyes glittered, and his chest heaved in a breath. "That's it."

She felt the first tentative touch, and arched her head back, closing her eyes.

"Merciful heavens," he breathed, fluffing her skirts away so he could see. "Look at you, all pink and glistening."

He'd kissed her there, but it was one thing to remember that-quite another to have him staring at her so blatantly. Ava shuddered as she stroked herself. A sweet, familiar tension began to form. It always took longer than this, but there was something about the moment, about him watching her, that ignited the pleasure within her.

"That's it." He captured her wrist and drew her hand to his mouth, sucking her wet fingers. She felt the pull of his mouth all the way through her womb.

Ava stared, unable to look away. "Kincaid."

"Liam," he demanded, reaching between them and undoing the buttons on his breeches. "Now touch me, Ava. I want to feel your wet little pussy on my cock."

Touch him- Then his other hand caught her bottom, and pushed her against him.

Ava grabbed on to the seat behind him, her breasts in his face. Oh my goodness! A large, brutish instrument butted against her, sliding over her clit. She chanced a look down. She'd seen penises in books, and she'd felt his erection behind the safety of his trousers-a monstrous thing-but she'd never seen an aroused cock in the flesh.

Her wetness gleamed on the slick purple head of his cock, the slit weeping. "Ride me," Kincaid dared her. "Use my cock in place of your fingers. Show me what it felt like when you fucked yourself with your fingers, and thought of me."

It was wicked, and wet, and delicious, and so, so tempting.... Ava rose and fell against him, grinding her hips in a rhythm he coaxed from her, one hand on her bottom, the other on her waist. She could feel their breath heating the carriage space, sense need tightening within each of them. Her corset seemed too tight, her clothes confining. Heat bloomed all along her skin. Need, hot and fierce. 

She just wanted him inside her.

Here.

Now.

She was all hot and shivery and so close to orgasm she had to grip the carriage seat behind him and bite her lip to stop herself.

Somehow their positioning changed. She could feel the tip of him pressing insistently between her thighs. Ava paused to hold him there, her thighs quivering, and her... her pussy, he'd called it, begging to take him all the way.

Kincaid's lip curled up. "Ava. Jaysus. Not here."

"Yes," she gasped, rubbing against him. She didn't want to give him a chance to say no. Not again. She wanted to fill herself with his body. To claim him, even as she surrendered herself to him. "Aren't you the one always telling me to be naughty?"

"I had a plan," he rasped, rocking her against him so his erection rode over the swell of her clitoris. "It did not include taking you in the carriage."

Sensation speared through her. Ava cupped the back of his broad neck and arched her spine, shamelessly riding him. "I would not... be averse to that."

After all, did she not want adventure? Did she not wish to take one trembling step outside her usual boundaries? And it didn't matter where she was, when she was with Kincaid, she was utterly, perfectly safe. This was her body. Her choice. And she wanted to be his.

"Damn you, kitten." He was breathing hard. His cock breached her, wet and slick and slippery, and impossibly wide.

Kincaid's hand rested on her waist, his breath coming harshly. "Fuck. Ava." Their eyes met in the shadowy twilight, and then curling his fist in the gathering of fabric around her waist, he pushed her down, even as he thrust up.

Gone, her virginity, in a single thrust.

Gone, her innocence, and with it, a piece of her heart.

Ava froze, her body locking around him. It seemed too much for her; he was too wide, too long, a battering ram inside her. And the rocking of the carriage forced her to take everything in a single sharp glide.

"Ava, Ava," he breathed, no, he begged, his hands urging her to stay there, his body still with pent-up violence, as if pressure wanted to burst through his skin. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"It had to hurt a little," she said, swallowing, and beginning to shift. "It's...." Fine was not the word. It was an intense feeling. Not quite pleasure. Not quite pain. Ava met his eyes and begged him to help her make sense of it.