Page 69 of Blood Debt

I kiss her, drawing it out—testing, teasing, waiting to see when she’ll pull away.

She doesn’t. Not even when I do.

I lean back just slightly, giving her a chance to breathe, to hesitate.

But instead—she grabs the front of my shirt, fists curling tight into the fabric, and pulls me back in.

Her mouth crashes into mine this time.

Hungrier.

And now I’m the one stunned.

She kisses like she’s making a decision. Like something broke open inside her, and there’s no going back.

I groan low in my throat, one hand sliding to her hip, the other behind her neck.

“Careful,” I whisper into her mouth. “You keep doing that, and we’ll need to get a room.”

Her lips curl against mine. “Why?” She nips my bottom lip gently before whispering back, “We have the car. We don’t need a room.”

My pulse spikes.

I pull back just enough to look at her face.

She’s flushed. Eyes half-lidded. Breath shallow. That stubborn little smirk curling at her mouth like she knows exactly what she’s doing.

****

The car is quiet, windows rolled up, engine off, the world outside sealed away in shadow and fogged glass.

She's in the passenger seat—barely breathing, lips red, skin flushed.

I reach across the console and take her face in both hands, kissing her hard. She kisses me back like she’s starving for it. Her fingers are already tugging at my shirt, pulling it up, slipping under to touch skin.

I help her.

The fabric comes off fast—over my head, tossed somewhere into the back seat. She’s stripping out of her top now too, wriggling in the tight space, laughter in her breath, nerves on fire.

I reach for the waistband of her skirt, sliding it down her hips, watching it pool around her thighs. She’s wearing nothing underneath.

Fuck.

I press my mouth to hers again, tongue deep, while I tug down my zipper. My cock is already hard, thick, and pulsing, heavy in my hand as I free it.

She climbs over the console, one knee on either side of me, and settles into my lap.

Her skin is hot, her mouth still on mine. I groan when her bare pussy drags against the length of me.

"You're soaked," I mutter against her lips, gripping her ass and rolling her hips forward. Her clit brushes the head of my cock, and she gasps into my mouth.

I don’t push in. I tease—grinding her over the length of me, letting her feel it. Letting her squirm.

She moans.

Her breath fans across my neck. She tastes like heat and sin. Her hips jerk forward, trying to line me up, trying to take what she wants. I hold her still.

"Say please," I whisper into her ear, voice low.