Page 36 of Best In Class (Savannah's Best #7)

Dom

W e slide into Luna’s driveway, the Taycan purring low and smooth like it’s damn pleased with itself.

Luna is curled in the passenger seat. She’s kicked off her shoes and she looks…happy. “ No , that’s not what Mr. Jones said,” she argues.

“I was there, Dom, and he never said that.”

I flash my teeth at her. “It was Swiss cheese, too. The holes gave it away.”

“God!” She rolls her eyes.

“And he was dead serious,” I add.

“He was dead something.”

Her hand moves languidly to unbuckle the seatbelt, then she leans back, her head resting against the leather seat.

I turn toward her, drinking in her casual disarray. “That hearse tour was fun. Thank you for taking me.”

She turns to look at me, a mess of soft hair framing mischievous eyes, and lips I’ve tasted too many times to count. But every time, I am grateful.

“Nothing says erotic like haunted churches and moaning sounds,” she says and then stretches on a yawn.

“Tired?” I ask gently.

She shakes her head and then looks around my car. “You know,” she murmurs, “we haven’t done it in a car since high school.”

Her words go straight to my dick.

“The Volvo was roomy.” I adjust my straining pants.

Her laughter is throaty, seductive, sending shivers down my spine. “This is a Porsche, Calder. Time to step up your game.”

My hands freeze on the steering wheel.

“Are you suggesting…?” I begin.

She shrugs one shoulder. “Well, you do love revisiting our teenage sins….”

“Moonbeam.” My hand slides from the wheel to her thigh, tracing circles over the soft fabric of the gray silk she’s wearing. “This won’t be sinning. It’ll be destiny…dressed in German luxury.”

“Well then,” she challenges, “show me what this luxury can do.”

Game on.

We attempt to move her onto me past the gear shift.

It’s a tight fit.

There’s a lot of grunting, limbs failing against windows.

“This is a terrible idea.” Her laughter is breathy and infectious.

“We’re improvising!” I retort, trying to pull her onto my lap without risking spinal injury.

“You’re a grown man with awards and a Porsche. Get it together!” She bursts into giggles.

My Luna is giggling! It’s the best fucking sound in the world.

Finally, nestled into the cramped space, her body straddles mine.

Her dress rides up her thighs as she unbuckles my belt, her hands deftly undoing my zipper.

The warmth of her hand encircles my hardening cock, drawing a startled gasp from me as she begins to tease me with slow, deliberate strokes.

My hands dive under her dress, slipping past her lace panties to caress slick folds.

We lock eyes, intimacy crackling between us. Our movements become synchronized, her hand on me matching the rhythm of my fingers exploring her.

The limited space becomes irrelevant as desire kicks in. Her hips rock against me in tune with our frantic exploration.

“You’re going to break something,” she pants between gasps when I plunge inside her.

“Only my pride,” I murmur against the crook of her neck. “And possibly my back.”

Her moan drowns out her laughter as I thrust upward into her .

The clasp of her pussy pushes every other thought out of my head, except her .

Every detail is amplified in the dark—the taste of sweat on skin, the feel of shifting fabric against bare flesh, and the primal need that guides us both toward climax.

Spent and tangled amidst seatbelts and discarded clothes, we finally come down from our high.

“Well,” she says with a cheeky grin, “we’re definitely not teenagers anymore.”

“Speak for yourself,” I respond, panting. “I think I broke a record.”

“For what? Fastest time to fog up all four windows?”

“For making you fall for me all over again.”

She shakes her head, leaning in to press her lips against mine.

“Next time,” she whispers against my mouth, “we’re doing it in a bed.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure? “ I counter as we struggle to disentangle ourselves from the car. “I’m thinking…a boat. Possibly a construction trailer.”

“God help me.”

When we fall into bed, still suffused with the satisfaction of doing something silly and naughty like having sex in a car, she whispers, “Turns out, even after all these years, car loving didn’t lose its charm.” She nestles against me and adds, “It did give me a crick in the neck, though.”

I laugh and then drift into contented sleep.