Page 35

Tess
2009
I don’t knowwhat happened.
One second, I’m so mad I could’ve happily killed him with my bare hands. The next, he dragging across the console and onto his lap, maneuvering me until I’m straddling him, wedged between his enormous frame and the steering wheel.
And I’m letting him.
The kitten, squeezed between us, lets out a yowl and he pulls it free. Sets it gently on the seat he just yanked me out of. As soon as my hands are empty, I lift them. Wrap my arms around his neck. Thread my fingers through his hair. Open my mouth and invite him in when his tongue licks its way past my parted lips. He kisses me until I’m shaking. Until I’m dizzy and glad I’m not standing. Until it’s not enough. Until I want more.
Need more.
Like he’s reading my mind, Declan suddenly tears his mouth away from mine, his hands sliding down my waist to land heavily on my hips to press me against him.
Oh. My. God.
He’s rock hard.
Staring down at me, his dark blue gaze is almost black. His jawline tense and ticking with every breath. I get the feeling he’s trying to scare me. That he wants me to say no. Fight him off.
I should be fighting him.
Kicking his ass.
Screaming my head off.
This is Declan Gilroy and he is no less of a giant, festering asshole now than he was twelve hours ago. He’s a user. A taker. He hurt my friend. Got inside her head and broke the one good thing in her life. Ruined it for sport.
Just because he could.
But I’m the worst kind of friend because fighting Declan Gilroy is the last thing I want to do, right now.
I have no idea what I’m doing but I do it anyway. Shifting my hips under his hands, I rock myself against the hot, rigid length of cock, pressed into the juncture of my thighs.
“Fuuuck,” he groans, his fingers digging to my hips. His gaze goes dull, his lids slipping to half-mast. I think he’s going to stop me. The look on his face says he wants to. Knows he should.
But he doesn’t.
Because just like me, Declan knows this is wrong. He just doesn’t care.
Instead of stopping me, he uses his grip on my hips to tilt them forward. “Again,” he growls at me, his gaze dipping low, settling on my breasts. “Do it again.”
I do what he says. Rock my hips in his hands and he guides me, grinding my pussy against the hard, swollen length of his cock, the angle and pressure of it grazing my clit. Setting me on fire.
“Ohmygod.” I moan it, the heat and pressure of him between my legs turning the tone and cadence of my voice into something I don’t recognize. Something needy. Powerless. Obedient.
“Again.” His fingers dig into my hips, urging me to comply. To be a good little girl.
I do it again.
And again.
And again.
Until my fingers are gripped around the headrest behind him, hanging on for dear life and I’m moaning uncontrollably, his erection, each stroke I give myself adding to the almost unbearable throb building and swelling at the center of me.
“You shouldn’t run around without a bra on, Tesla,” Declan says, scolding me through gritted teeth. “I’ve been staring at your tits for the past thirty minutes.” His hips lift off the seat to meet the pump and thrust of mine, even as his hands shift, move lower to grip my ass, his fingers slipping below my cheeks, lifting and pulling to spread my pussy wider from behind. “Wondering what they taste like.”