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My jaw tightens. “Anyone?”

“Fine. To you.”

“And?” My thumb is itching to stroke her, to feel if she is as wet and hot as I crave her to be. “Are you in a habit of going out without underwear?”

“My panties were wet and uncomfortable. And I thought we were going for a walk, not dicing with death in a sports car.”

I smile. “You made a choice right before you got into the car with me. You knew this would happen. But you got into the car anyway. So what shall I do with you now?”

Her breath shudders out, and her nipples tighten harder. “Why are you bothering to ask? You seem to think you know what I’m feeling and thinking.”

“I’m only going with the evidence before me.” I’m unable to hold back any longer, and my thumb grazes her clit.

A small sound jerks from her, and her hips twitch upward, seeking more of my touch.

“Is this what you want?” I ask, my voice thick with the lust ripping through my insides. “Shall I give you the release you’re so desperate for?” My touch is firmer this time, and I watch her try and stifle a moan.

“You think I’m desperate just because of what you overheard at the party?” she taunts, but she’s still squirming and she’s no longer fighting to get free.

“Are you always this stubborn?”

“Only when I’m dealing with insufferable bastards,” she replies.

I lower my head and suck one nipple into my mouth. I bite with a lack of gentleness that makes her cry out. She starts to struggle, and I soothe the ache with the tip of my tongue while my thumb continues to flick over her clit. Her cry morphs into a moan and her gasp washes over my ear. I roll her nipple in my mouth, warming her, teasing and sucking until I earn another moan.

When I transfer my attention to her other nipple, I dip my finger lower into her pussy and am rewarded with another jerk of her hips. I test her hole, feel its tight wetness and groan.

Need claws through me. I want to devour this woman with a hunger and possessiveness that is almost alien to me.

I look up and see the stark hunger burning in her green eyes, and I know I have her. I release her wrists and seize her nape. Freeing her nipple, I kiss my way up her throat, her jaw, then capture her mouth with mine. Unlike her attitude, her kiss is surprisingly timid. She barely parts her mouth to let me in, and her tongue is almost hesitant in seeking my own.

The idea that she isn’t used to kissing fires my blood, makes me want her even more. I flick my tongue against hers and she shudders. Angling her face to suit my needs, I go deeper, harder, and slide one finger inside her. Her pussy is slick and hot and so damn intoxicating, I can barely think straight to slide out and back in again.

She makes a sound—a cross between a whimper and a growl—that sets me off. I press her backward until she’s flat on her back against the hot hood and the running engine vibrates through her body. I prop myself up so as not to crush her and finger-fuck her pussy while feasting on her delectable mouth. Against her naked thigh, my cock is throbbing with an urgency that could become an embarrassment very soon.

But contrary to my decision when she got into the car, I decide not to fuck her. My needs are too great and too specific to be satisfied with a quick fuck in near-freezing temperatures. Fucking her right here, right now, would barely scratch the surface of my problem. And I don’t have any condoms with me. The reminder cools my temperature a little, lending me the focus I need to pleasure her.

Her frantic noises alert me that she needs to breathe, so I release her mouth but latch on to her breasts again. Her eyes roll shut, and she bucks against my finger as her breath pants out. As I slide another finger inside, her eyes pop open.

She raises her head, and her gaze meets mine. Whatever she reads in my face makes her wilder. I lift my mouth from one tight nipple.

“Are you ready to come, baby?” I slur, almost as intoxicated with what I’m doing to her as she is with receiving it.

Her face twists in a sexy grimace, and she nods frantically. I increase the piston of my fingers and return my thumb to her clit. Her hands fly up to my shoulders and dig in as her hips lift off the hood to meet my thrusts.

I cup one breast and squeeze her nipple, unwilling to lower my head because I’m hungry to see her face when she falls off the edge into ecstasy.

“Oh God!” Her nails dig in harder, and her back arches off the hood as her insides begin to clench around my fingers.

She’s so tight I have to twist my fingers to go deeper. The recollection that she hasn’t been fucked in months slashes across my mind, nearly pushing me into abandoning my resolve not to fuck her.

Color rushes up her chest and neck, and I curl my fingers, stroking her sweet spot. I watch her explode, her moans guttural and deliciously helpless as she thrashes on the hood. I continue to tease her clit and finger-fuck her until her legs start to close.

“Stop. Please.” She sounds nothing like the mouthy Brooklyn girl intent on driving me nuts with her stubborn streak. She’s pliant and soft in a way that really isn’t safe for me to be around. Because this is how I like my women. In a position where I can bend them to my will, get them to agree to almost anything I want from them.

But I’m unable to move. Unable to stop watching Keely come down from her sensual high. I continue to slide in and out of her. She moans and moves her fingers from my shoulders to my hair. Her eyes open, and she looks at me. She seems to want to fight it, but then her legs fall open again and her breathing changes. I stroke her pleasure until she’s panting again, then remove my fingers. I silence her groan of protest by placing my soaked fingers against her mouth.

“Lick,” I instruct harshly.