Page 43 of Hell Bent (Portland Devils #5)

THE AWKWARD STUFF

Sebastian

I had no idea what we were doing here. I put the car in Park and asked, “Are we getting out?”

“What?” she said. “No. Of course we’re not getting out. It’s the middle of the night, it’s freezing, and it’s a golf course!” She was unfastening her seatbelt, though, and saying, “Turn off the car and turn on some music.”

I said, “You realize there’s a morals clause in my contract.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, “because kissing your girlfriend in a car is totally shocking. Take off—oh, wait. Don’t.

” She turned in her seat, shoved a hand into her mass of dark hair, and smiled at me out of those big brown eyes.

A princess with an old-fashioned face, putting her hand on my cheek, leaning over the console, and pressing her lips to mine.

Hungrily, because she had her tongue in my mouth right away.

I had a hand in her hair myself, was holding her head, kissing her better. Her lips. Her neck. Except that I had to stop, because she had both hands in my hair now and was kissing my neck, then licking her way up to my ear and whispering, “Music. ”

“Uh …” I managed to say.

“Sebastian. Music.” Pulling back to look at me sternly, even as her hand found the edge of my T-shirt and shoved her way up, and I was already breathing harder, even as I was gasping and saying, “Wow, that’s cold.

” Picking up my phone, managing the music somehow as her hands were all over my chest, and her mouth was on me.

Not messing around. Going right to one of my nipples and sucking it, and that was it.

I was all the way hard, and I was breathing that way, too.

I tried to move and realized my seatbelt was still fastened. My hand went to the button, and she?—

She took hold of my hand and said, “No.”

“What?” I was trying to think, but it wasn’t easy.

“No,” she said. “I can’t wait until we get home. I can’t be quiet. I can’t have you be quiet. I’m going to tease you right here. Fastened into your seatbelt.”

I said, “I’m not—” Trying to explain that this wasn’t how I rolled, but she wasn’t listening.

Her hand was outside my jeans now, and I was shifting.

Not much, because of that seatbelt, but she’d leaned all the way down now, was breathing on me, right through my jeans.

The warmth hit me, my hand was in her hair, pulling a little, and I was thinking, Shit. Shit. I can’t.

Her hand on my belt, pulling the leather tongue loose, than yanking it hard so the fastening released, and I was sucking in a breath.

Her fingers on the metal snap, and the pop as it let go.

My zipper being lowered. Too slowly. I shifted again, my hands around her head, urging her, and she wasn’t saying anything you might think.

About her limits. How far she was willing to go.

What kind of care she needed from me. She was just …

Oh, God. My legs out in front of me, straightening exactly as much as I could do it.

Lying back in the seat, starting to breathe hard.

And her hands and mouth all over me, as far as she could get them without taking my clothes off.

I was twisting under her, held too tight by the belt, as Bruce Springsteen sang in his dark voice about what he’d like to do to that girl.

My head was swimming, and this was happening too fast. I said, gasping the words out, “Alix. Stop.” And pulled her hair to make it happen.

Her head came up, but her hand was still on me, and that was … that was … “What?” she asked. “You know you need this.”

“I … can’t …” I had no idea what I was trying to say. “It’s too?—”

She stilled completely. All of her hanging there, trembling. “Sebastian. What? What doesn’t work?” Her hand on my face now, stroking. Her mouth kissing my cheek, my forehead, my lips. “Tell me what you want,” she whispered in my ear. “If you want it different—tell me, and I’ll do it.”

I said, “Back seat.” I was crazy. This was such a bad idea.

This was— But somehow, I was pulling that seatbelt off, sliding the seat forward.

Saying, “I’ll come around.” And doing it, opening her door, pulling her out, then pulling her into the back.

Saying, “Wait,” and hitting the door locks again.

Realizing that despite the cold, she’d come out tonight in a skirt.

One I hadn’t seen before. It was black leather.

Black leather.

How had I missed that? And her low boots?

And her bare legs? I had her ankles in my hands, was swinging her feet up into my lap, and I was unzipping those boots and pulling them off.

Then running my greedy hands up her calves, to the deliciously smooth, soft place that was her thighs, pulling her up by her ankles until she was on her back.

Oh, yeah.

The leather skirt was on the tighter side, though, and that wasn’t going to work.

I said, “Turn over,” and she did. That was a hard rush all its own, because I was finding the zipper.

Not at the top. This skirt zipped from the bottom.

Holy shit. I was pulling it up, feeling it catch against the tongue at the top, then working that open.

She was naked under there.

Holy, holy, holy shit. She said, still sprawled half on her stomach, her legs still across my lap, “Sebastian. I can’t be … I can’t be naked.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said, hearing the hoarseness in my voice. “You can.” My hands under her outer sweater now, pulling it off, then yanking up the thinner one underneath, the wine-colored one, pulling it right over her head.

Naked here, too. I said, “Oh, baby.” Helplessly.

“Oh, damn. I need to … I need …” My hand on her bottom, smoothing over it, then doing it again.

“This ass of yours.” Both hands there now, and I had one knee on the carpeted floor, was halfway over her, pulling her hair away from her neck so I could kiss her there.

And she was shuddering in that way she did.

Shuddering and, I was sure, cold. Which wasn’t good at all.

I said, “How flexible are you?”

“Pretty … flexible,” she said. On a gasp, because my hand was gripping that ass now, doing my best not to bruise but wanting to have, and take, and own.

“Right,” I managed to say. “Right. Come up here. Over me.” I was fully dressed, and she was completely naked.

Probably unfair, but it didn’t feel that way.

It felt like the only way this could be.

She scooted around and so did I, until I was lying along the back seat, one knee bent and the other foot on the floor.

And then I pulled her over me. “Nose to tail,” I said, “because that’s where I need you to be.

And if you want to get busy while you’re down there, go for it. ”

“This was supposed to be …” she started to say, then gasped, because I had her hips in my hands and had pulled he r straight down over my mouth.

One of her feet on the floor, too, and the rest of us jammed so awkwardly in here.

And I didn’t care, because she was rocking over me, calling out already.

Then saying, “Oh. Oh, I’m supposed to …” And going right back, yes, what she was supposed to do.

Can I help it if I like a woman on her knees or held tight while I’m buried down her throat?

Alix

He was such a hard man to dominate.

I’d always been decisive. Tough, even. Strong.

It’s hard to remember that when you’re stark naked in the back of a car, and he’s got both hips in his hands and is giving it to you so good, you can hardly remember what you’re supposed to be doing.

I’d think of it, try to put some effort in, but then he’d shift the angle, and …

Oh, my God. His finger was sliding inside me, and he was pressing that spot, the one that’s not supposed to be there.

It was the ribbed condom all over again, but then there was his mouth.

I forgot what I was doing again. I knew my butt was right up in the air, that if somebody came by this lonely spot, they could see it.

The thought was a chill, but mostly, I’m afraid, it was a thrill.

I had one hand holding me up over Sebastian, one foot on the floor, awkward as you can imagine, and I was kissing along the length of him, trying to focus. Trying to …

His mouth left me, and I wanted it back. I wanted it back. He still had that finger inside me and his thumb running over all my slickness, but he was talking now. I tried to concentrate, but it wasn’t easy. I could feel him in the arches of my feet. How was that even possible?

He said, “I should want to make you come like this. But right now—all I want to do is to fuck you.” His hand rubbing over my bottom again, the way he’d done enough times that I was coming to realize he loved it.

“I want to spank this,” he said, “and I can’t, because of that bruising.

So I’m afraid I’m going to have to—” His hands still moving on me.

That shouldn’t turn me on. It should not. It doesn’t work too well to talk to yourself in your stern voice, though, when all you want to hear is his stern voice, telling you, “I’m going to have to get a little … inventive here.”

I said, “Uh …” on a gasp. “Lube?”

“Mm.” He was kissing my belly now, then edging around so he was out from under me and I was, somehow, on the floor. On my knees. He said, “Oh, yeah. But hang on.” And opening the car door.

“Sebastian!” It was probably a squeak. “I’m naked!”

“Yeah,” he said, “and, sorry, but that’s turning me on like crazy.” He was standing outside the door, facing in, saying, “Come get on this seat again. Facing away from me. Hands on the seat. I’m too tall for cars, but I need this, so sorry, baby. You’re going to get it good.”

Electric shocks running up my stimulated body, my hair around my face, and no control at all. This was not what I’d planned.

I got on the seat. I turned around. And just like that, he was pulling my hips back again, and this time, he was plunging home.

I gasped, he did it some more, and I was calling out, rocking under him, my hands trying to get purchase on the leather seat and failing.

Sliding back and forth as he plunged deep.

As he said, growling out the words, “Am I … hurting you?”

“No,” I said. “No.” My position completely helpless. I couldn’t even hold on, and if anybody came by …

I’m afraid that just the suggestion of that, of somebody driving by this isolated spot, seeing what Sebastian was doing to me, and stopping to watch, kicked my arousal into that extra gear.

He had a rough hand sliding around in front, too, even as his other hand wrapped around my thigh and held me tight.

Taken hard. Taken over.

This was not what I’d …

I lost my thought. I lost my words. I lost my mind. I was wailing. Spasming. Sebastian was swearing, pumping into me, filling me deep. And, finally, letting go. I heard a rough, throaty “Arrrrr,” and that was it. I was coming again, feeling all the heat and stickiness inside me, and even that …

I can’t remember what else I thought. I just remember the feel of my forehead sliding back and forth against the leather, of my hands that tried to grip and failed, of my body wracked by it, melting my bones. Melting my will. Melting my mind.

Gone.

Sebastian

I had my two hands on the seat, was over Alix, panting. Gasping. Still inside her.

Standing up. In a parking spot. In public.

Sanity returned, and I was in the car, closing the door, gathering Alix up, pulling her close. The chill of her naked body, skin fine as porcelain. My lips on her temple, her cheek, my hands shaking a little on her, my voice not one bit steady, asking, “Are you all right?”

“I …” Her eyes had been closed, and now, she opened them.

My heart twisted, and I was holding her tighter, thinking desperately, What did you do?

You’ve hurt her. “I’m fine,” she said, and smiled.

Tremulously. “But that wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

I thought you’d like that. I read you’d like it. I was trying to be … ”

I kissed her temple again, rubbed my hands over her arms, her thighs. I needed to turn the heat on. “I know you’re tough,” I tried to say. “I like that you’re tough. But I can’t?—”

“You were scared.” She was sitting back now, too much shrewdness in that voice, in the dark eyes I couldn’t quite see. “You felt powerless, and it scared you.”

Now I was the one who wanted to twist away. I wanted to say, No. I wanted to say, I don’t like that, that’s all. Instead, I said, “Probably.”

“Sebastian.” Her hand on my face, her voice tender. “It’s OK. I’m glad you told me. But you know—you don’t always have to be controlled. You don’t always have to be in charge.”

Well, this was uncomfortable. My feet were literally shifting on the floor. “I’m not … comfortable otherwise,” I tried to explain, feeling as if I had a layer of skin missing. And I’d thought trying to achieve a 69 position on the back seat of a car had been awkward.

“I get it,” she said, and yawned. “And I’m naked on a golf course and it’s the middle of the night. Want to go home and get some sleep?”

I should talk more. We should be diving into this or something. Instead, I just said, “Yeah. I do. And Alix?”

“Yes?” She turned her face to me, and then she did something more. She rubbed her cheek over my chest.

I held her a little closer. “Thanks for coming to meet me,” I said, my throat tightening. “It was good.”

I didn’t say ‘Happy Birthday,’ you’ll notice, because she still hadn’t told me.

But I hadn’t forgotten.