"Things." He swallowed, the rise and fall of his Adam's apple painfully obvious, shifting his attention back to the road and increasing his speed. He had to be going close to seventy and if Pete Underwood did happen to catch us there'd be all kinds of hell to pay. "Touch yourself."
"What?" I would have laughed if I thought he was joking but the set of his jaw made me think that wasn't the case. "Seriously?"
"You weren't shy a few minutes ago when you were all but giving me a handjob." He flicked a gaze my direction which was nothing short of scorching. "I want to watch you touch yourself. I want you as worked up as I am. I need you that way because ten seconds after I park this car I'm going to be inside you."
"Ten seconds, hmm?" I shifted until I was able to spread my legs a little bit wider, giving me space to slide my hand between my thighs. I sucked in a breath when my fingertips brushed over the already wet folds of my cunt, exhaling on a shaky laugh. "It's going to take longer than ten seconds to get me off, Mr. Hansom."
"Fuck." Taking one hand off the wheel, he reached over and grabbed my wrist, pushing my hand tight against my core. "You've got about two minutes to get on my level. And then we'll see how long it takes to get you off."
"Oh, yes, sir." I meant it as a joke but if the way he tightened his grip was a hint, I'd have to remember to be more... not submissive... demure, perhaps. Clearly, it did things to him, things which would no doubt turn out to be very, very good for me as well.
I closed my eyes and tipped my head back against the window, concentrating on the slick warmth of my outer lips, my inner muscles clenching at the first press of a fingertip to my clit. Even with his limpet like grip on my wrist, it was only a matter of seconds before I all but forgot he was there. As badly as I wanted to slip a finger deep in my pussy, I held back, focusing all my attention on my clit, driving myself up to an orgasm with nearly the same speed as Abraham was driving the car.
I was five seconds, probably less, away from coming when he tugged on my wrist, pulling my hand away from my cunt with an intensity which bordered on vicious. I gasped, gripping the back of the seat with my free hand and opening my eyes to glare at him. "Bastard. I was so close. I am so close. I can practically taste it."
"Great idea." He lifted my hand to his mouth, sucking my fingers clean, the swirl of his tongue over each digit only tightening the knot of arousal deep in my core. "You taste amazing, by the way. Just in case you want to know."
"What I want is to come so hard I see goddamn stars." I bit out the words, digging my nails in to the upholstery. "Or go blind. Or both."
Apparently, orgasm denial made me cranky.
"I think I can arrange that." He jerked the wheel and I realized, with no small degree of shock, we were finally at the bar. He jerked the wheel hard again, sending the car fishtailing for a few scary, exhilarating seconds before slamming on the brakes, coming to a screeching halt parallel to the building. He threw the gear shift in to park, killed the engine, and yanked me over with such smooth precision it was arousing all on its own.
I fumbled with his belt buckle, swallowing back something which felt suspiciously like a sob. I would have been embarrassed at how obviously I wanted-hell, needed-him if it wasn't for the fact his hands were shaking as he pushed my dress up to my hips. When I finally managed to undo the button of his slacks and tear down the zipper, I muttered, "Thank God."
"Not yet." He wrapped one arm around my waist, arching toward me as he pulled his cock free, the head and barbell piercing already wet with precum. "In thirty seconds."
Before I could make a comment about his ego, he twisted his hips and pulled me down, sinking the entire length of his cock inside me in one smooth motion.
It might have been the angle. Or the piercing. Or the simple fact I was still teetering on the edge of orgasm.
Whatever the reason, when the tiny barbell scraped over my G-spot, I got my wish.
I came so hard I saw stars, the edges of my vision going white hot before I closed my eyes and tipped my head back on a strangled whimper.
"Jesus." My ears were still ringing but I thought I caught a hint of reverence in his voice. "Jesus, Jeannie. Do that again."
It was a struggle but I managed to lift my head and open my eyes, forcing myself to smirk even though my reply was low and hoarse. "Why don't you make me?"
"Yeah." He pushed my arms behind my back, clasping my wrists in one hand, effectively handcuffing me, while wiggling his other hand up my dress and pressing his thumb to my clit. "Why don't I?"
Normally, being on top would have given me most, if not all, of the power. That was, after all, one of the highlights of the position. But the combination of my bound arms and his thumb on the most sensitive part of my body-at the moment, anyway-produced the exact opposite feeling.
He controlled the pace-slow, torturous, even as I struggled and strained for more. He controlled the depth of his thrusts-deep enough to tease but too shallow for his piercing to make contact with my G-spot again. He controlled the kiss-long, liquid, seductive enough there was no way to hold back a moan.
Abraham controlled everything-his body and mine.
And I wanted to hate him for it.
But I didn't.
Instead, I wanted more.
"Please." I might have whispered it. At least I thought I did. Breaking the kiss but not moving away, I pressed my forehead to his, struggling to breathe. My only consolation for my weakness was his breathing was as wrecked as mine. "Abraham, please."
"Please, what?" He twisted his hips, the barbell barely scraping over my G-spot, pressing his thumb just a little harder against my clit. "Don't be shy now, Jeannie Jackson. It doesn't suit you."
He was right but I'd never begged for an orgasm in my life. It was more difficult-more humbling-than I would have imagined. Still, given the choice between a little submissiveness or not reaching the pinnacle of what I already knew would be a monster orgasm, I'd take the blow to my pride any day. Swallowing hard, I rasped out, "Please make me come."
"Fuck." I wouldn't have thought it possible but deep inside me, his cock grew even harder. He tightened his grip on my wrists, shoving me tighter against him. He bit my lower lip, not deep enough to draw blood but hard enough the already oversensitive skin began to throb and ache. "What do I get?"
"Anything." The wrong thing to say. I knew it but I was too desperate, too far gone, for playing it safe. "Damn it, Abraham, please."
His only response was to arch upward, finally giving me the full length of his cock, twisting my clit between his thumb and forefinger at the same time.
If I saw stars before, this time I saw the entirety of the universe, my entire body going rigid as the orgasm finally, finally, crashed through me. Some part of me registered the frantic jerks and thrusts of his hips, the sudden blossoming of warmth inside me as he found his own release. The larger part of me was struggling to remember the basics such as breathing.
When he let go of my wrists, I slumped forward, resting my chin on his shoulder and closing my eyes as a sudden wave of exhaustion swamped me. He eased his other hand from between our bodies only to rest his palm on my thigh, the knowledge of why his fingers were so wet bringing a flush to my cheeks. He slid his hand up my back, palming the nape of my neck, the tips of his fingers mussing the low bun I'd pulled my hair in to that morning. After long minutes, he laughed low in his throat.
"What's so funny?" My voice sounded thick and slurred even in my own ears and I shifted, turning my face in to the curve of his neck. "Hmm?"
"I keep thinking I'm going to show you things. Surprise you." He pulled the rubber band from my hair, sighing when the somewhat sweaty locks tumbled around my shoulders. "And then you...."
"Then I what?" I straightened, blowing a loose strand of hair out of my face so I could see him clearly. "Then I what?"
"I don't know." He brushed his lips over mine, light, almost sweet. If you could ignore the fact we'd just fucked in a car in front of a closed bar in broad daylight. "You just... I don't know." He sighed again, shifting his gaze to the back door. "Want to go inside, get a few drinks, get naked, and see what happens?"
"I think we both know what'll happen with a lack of clothes and an abundance of alcohol."
He lifted a brow. "So is that a ‘no'?"
I managed a throaty laugh. "I didn't say that, did I?"
CHAPTER TWELVE
An hour later, we'd lost the few clothes we'd stumbled in to the building with and were on our way to being well and truly lit. Abraham had gone upstairs long enough to get two or three overstuffed quilts and had thrown them down on the floor behind the bar. I'd pulled the open bottle of Don Julio off the shelf and he'd retrieved a second unopened one from the stockroom. It sat off to the side, still unopened, with the now empty bottle on the blanket between us along with a bag of tortilla chips and a jar of salsa.