Page 19 of Crushing Clover

It would sound creepy or shitty coming from almost any other man, but from him, it only made me roll my eyes.

With a wry smile, he took both of my hands in his.

“What are you doing?”

He shoved my hands inside his T-shirt and grimaced at how cold they were.

“Jeez, woman! You’re freezing.”

I opened my mouth to say something silly and suggestive, but shyness won out.

“Huh. Dirty girl. I saw what crossed your mind.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You were going to proposition me as a way to warm up.”

“I was not!”

“I’m used to women throwing themselves at me, remember? I can always tell.” He moved my hands on his chest so that my fingers glided over the hard muscles under his shirt.

“My hands aren’t even that cold anymore,” I pointed out.

“Good. Are you going to warm mine up next?”

“I’m not going to like this at all, am I?”

“I don’t know. Let’s find out together.”

He moved his seat back and dragged me sideways onto his lap. It was an awkward, tight fit, and I sat still, the stick shift digging into the back of my knee.

“There. That’s better.”

“You’re going to use me as a blanket?”

He slid a frigid hand between my knees and brushed his icy fingertips up the inside of my thigh. My breath caught, and I fought the urge to snap my legs closed.

“Spread your knees for me, gorgeous.” The way he was looking at me made me feel a little lightheaded.

“That’s a good girl,” he said as I complied.

He pushed up my dress, and when he asked me to straddle him, I cooperated.

It would have been awkward enough to post on TikTok, but we eventually managed.

He slipped his fingers into the leg hole of my underwear, and I gasped at his frigid touch.

“Cold?” His little smirk made me bite my lip.

I nodded, fighting my urge to push away his hand. He traced his fingers over my skin, leaving a chill trail.

“I wonder where I could warm these up?” he asked innocently, sweeping his fingers over the seam of my sex, making me gasp and shudder.

His index finger bumped over my clit as he toyed at my entrance with his two middle fingers. “What do you think about this?”

I shivered, but there was no denying the heat stirring inside me. I’d been denied relief too many times to be turned off by a bit of cold. For that matter, the coldness of his fingers felt…interesting. Each touch sent a thrill of anticipation through me.

“Such a horny girl. Did going to the kink shop with me turn you on?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Maybe a little, sir .”

My breath caught as he swirled his finger, tracing a tiny circuit over my clit hood.

I tried to slow down my growing arousal, but damn him, he knew what he was doing.

“But sir, we can’t do this here. It’s not even dark out. We’ll get arrested.”

“For this?” He snorted. “The beach is almost deserted, and who could blame me for wanting to touch you?”

I whimpered as he worked two icy fingers into my core. Compared to the heat that had flared to life inside me, his fingers felt like a popsicle. I wrapped my hands around his wrist but didn’t try to push him away, even though my back arched.

Fuck, why did this feel so fucking good? The cold was both horribly weird and amazing. He leaned in and licked my neck, then bit my shoulder as he stroked deep inside me.

I writhed against his fingers, helpless, desperate for more even though I knew he’d stop at the worst possible moment.

But hope was there, goading me into trying to finish before he withdrew his fingers.

He shifted me higher, until I was arched painfully backward over the steering wheel.

If anyone looked over, they’d see the top of my head hovering over the dash.

He buried his face in my cleavage, not seeming to care that the hoodie he’d lent me was in the way.

Somehow, he found my nipples and bit them, hurting them even more than my back ached at the angle.

He pumped his fingers into me in a merciless rhythm.

My gasping moans filled the cab of the truck, mingling with his curses, and I went from praying no one could hear me, to not caring if the world did.

“Are you going to come for me, Clover?”

I bit my lip and shook my head. No sense in warning him that my orgasm was imminent. I tried my damnedest not to give myself away, but it had been too long since I’d had satisfaction, and I felt possessed.

“My poor girl. You have such a needy pussy. I can feel you squeezing my fingers.” He groaned. “Do you want to come?”

Fuck yes, I wanted to come. The tension inside me was wound so tight, making my body strain for the threatening orgasm, bowing me back over the steering wheel until my forehead touched the glass. The sun blinded me, and I shut my eyes.

Without warning, he pulled his fingers from me, and I wailed in mindless protest. I needed his fingers back immediately . Could a woman die from orgasm denial? Because I felt like I was pretty damned close.

“Please! Oh, please!”

He smacked my pussy, shocking the hell out of me, then he did it again. The sting turned into a mindless, weird sort of pleasure. Helpless, I found myself rising to meet each smack. The truck horn went off a few times, but I was too far gone to care.

“You’re not supposed to be enjoying this, you little pervert,” he mocked.

I practically begged for his next smack with the buck of my hips.

“You want more?”

I was breathing hard, trembling at the strain of being so fucking close to coming. The mindless haze of need made it impossible to think.

“Do you want me to smack you again, or do you want my fingers inside you?”

I wanted to answer him, but all I could do was sob and writhe, and hope he could figure it out because I sure as hell didn’t know what I needed other than a screaming orgasm.

He gave me a few more smacks, and I could feel my wetness coating his hand, but I was too mindless to be embarrassed.

“Please,” I kept begging, barely coherent. I hung on the edge of a precipice I was desperate to fall over. He was going to let me come. It was too late to go back now. He wasn’t cruel like Saint, and that asshole wasn’t here to stop us.

When he pulled his fingers away again, my whine of disbelief and desperation rang in my ears.

If we had been trying not to bring attention to the truck, we would have failed miserably, but luckily no one seemed to be around to hear us.

I slid down to sit on his lap and seized his wrist again, bringing his hand back to where I needed it.

He leaned close to my ear, whispering like he was telling me a secret. “You didn’t tell me what you want, sweet thing. It’s not fair that you’re making me guess.”

“Please, let me come,” I forced out between sobs. “Please, sir. I need your fingers.” I expected him to laugh in my face, but instead he shoved his hand into the waistband of my panties so fast it made my breath catch.

“Good girl. Is this what you want?” He pushed two fingers back into me, the digits feeling even colder than they’d been when he’d pulled them out.

I opened my mouth to thank him, but he added a third finger to my pussy, stuffing me too full, then slid his thumb over my clit with the perfect amount of friction and pressure.

I choked on my words. My hips bucked—ears ringing, teeth clenched, hurtling toward the edge with such violent velocity that I couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. My orgasm hung just inches past the edge of the precipice, and the first contraction of it hit hard, frozen in time, my heart seizing.

When the first spasm let go, and the next hit, it was so violent that I shrieked, fully aware I had probably broken both of our eardrums, but it was too good, too perfect.

I couldn’t help the sounds I made or the way I choked on my own tongue.

I couldn’t care about how I looked, or even that we were in a public place.

I’d ugly cried before, but I’d never had an ugly orgasm until that moment.

By the time I collapsed on top of his big body, I felt like half of my brain cells had been liquified and ended up in my panties. At least they’d died for a good cause.

“Holy shit,” Rush mumbled, chuckling slightly.

At first, I assumed he was making fun of me, but when he didn’t follow that up with a cutting observation, I pulled myself together enough to sit back and look at him. His hand was still on my pussy, holding me there with two of his fingers hooked into me like I was his prized bowling ball.

“Sorry,” I breathed.

“I’m not.” His mouth tipped up in a devastating smile. “I know Saint likes orgasm denial, but sometimes he takes things too far.”

I would have replied with sarcasm if I’d been able to, but all I could do was stare at him and try not to drool on myself. My entire body felt like an overcooked noodle.

With obvious reluctance, he withdrew his fingers, then moved me back into my own seat, making me grumble in disapproval.

He reached for the glove compartment and opened it. After grabbing a few restaurant napkins and grimacing at me in amusement, he leaned in and kissed me with an appreciative groan.

“You’re so hot when you come,” he said. “But don’t tell Saint, or it’s going to start shit.” His blue eyes twinkled, and I bit my lip, suddenly embarrassed. “He’s not above me in the pecking order, but he likes things done his way.”

“I doubt that was hot for you. I probably looked like I was having an exorcism performed on me.”

“If that’s what an exorcism is like, I regret my chosen vocation.” He sucked his fingers clean. It felt like a compliment.

His lips twisted in a self-deprecating smile, but I couldn’t understand why until he unzipped his pants and started to clean off his cock and underwear with the napkins I’d assumed were for his fingers.

“Look what you did, woman.”

“Oh, my god!” I stifled a laugh. “Did you seriously—”

“If you’re hoping I’m embarrassed that I enjoyed getting you off, you’re going to be very disappointed.”

“Oh, I’m not laughing. I just can’t believe I was that…inspiring.”

“You’d think I get laid enough that this couldn’t scientifically happen.” He chuckled and kept wiping. “This hasn’t happened to me since I was what? Fourteen?”

I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, but I was blushing hotly and had enough presence of mind to realize I was staring.

“Thank you for taking pity on me. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could live without an orgasm.”

“Anytime you can’t handle it anymore, let me know, and we’ll figure it out. I wouldn’t recommend telling me in front of Saint. He might lose his mind.”

I nodded, glad to have a second ally in the house.

“He hates me.”

“Sometimes, I think he forgets that you’re not really her.

I thought it was fun for about twelve hours, but it’s not healthy for us, and it’s not fair to you.

” He grimaced and zipped his jeans. “I’m going to have to be careful about taking you to kink shops.

I put that posture collar on you, and it nearly sent me over the edge, right there in front of Denny. ”

I wiggled my feet, shy about how his praise made me feel. “How much of today is a secret from Saint?”

He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know. Most of it? Well, he knew we were going shopping for kink gear, and he’ll probably notice all the sand, even though he won’t like that I took you to the beach.” He shrugged. “Let’s settle for not telling him about the orgasm.”

“Either one?” I couldn’t help but tease.

“Yeah, he doesn’t need to know about mine either.”

I leaned back against the seat, and he buckled me into my seatbelt, then did the same for himself.

“Yes, sir,” I said dreamily.

“You’re going to have to shake off your afterglow or he’s going to know what happened as soon as he sees you.”

“I’ll try, but I’m not great at acting.”

He grabbed my chin and turned my face toward him again. I was expecting a kiss, but instead he put his fingers between my lips and forced my teeth apart, then stuffed the napkins he’d cleaned up with into my mouth.

Ew.

His cum didn’t taste horrible, but the fact that it was cold made me try to spit it out. He was ready, and pushed the wad back in. It was already wet and was quickly becoming more sodden.

“Be a good girl and keep that in your mouth until we get home.”

The look of pure malice I gave him only made him grin. Why were men the absolute worst?

I was about to yank it out anyway, not caring in the moment whether he thought I was a good girl or not.

“Keep that in your mouth the entire way home and maybe you’ll get another orgasm tomorrow.”

Evil prick.

His self-satisfied expression told me he’d already guessed my decision. He didn’t bother keeping an eye on me as he got us back on the road toward the house.

If I was lucky, we’d get in a fender bender, and I would choke.

Needing to explain my death to the police would serve him right.