Page 166 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

“Hush.” He steps away from me, and I feel his absence like a loss. Once again, I picture what I must look like to anyone watching. Legs parted, skirt flipped up, ass on display. A fresh burst of heat assaults my core.

“Stand up.”

I lift myself up.

“Turn around.”

I turn to face him, my knees trembling.

“You wore panties,” he says. “You asked me if I was going to punish you. What did you think your punishment would be?”

Are we having an academic discussion here when I want him to take me? Argh. I bite back my growl of frustration. “I thought you'd spank my ass.”

“Interesting. It sounds like you want that.” He steps close to me. “If you want it so badly, Dixie,” he breathes into my ear. “Then it’s hardly a punishment, is it?”

He moves away from me, opens the rear driver’s side door, and sits inside. The interior light comes on, and I glance down at him.

He’s rock-hard. I can see the bulge of his shaft, straining against the fabric of his trousers. A fresh wave of lust washes over me. I want to see him. I want to feel him inside me, stretching my muscles, ramming into me. I want him to put his hand over my mouth, stifling my cries.

And I want Eric to walk in on us. I want him to take in the scene, and then I want him to unzip his fly, free his cock, and tell me to wrap my pretty little lips around it. I don’t know where my desires are coming from, but tonight, I’m in their thrall.

I try to follow Hunter into the car, but he shakes his head. “If you want to come inside, you need to take off your clothes.”

“What?” I squeak.

“You heard me.” His voice is implacable. “Take them off, fold them neatly, place them on the trunk, and then, you can join me inside.”

Oh, God. There was a tiny part of me that thought this roleplay would be stilted and awkward, but it’s not. Hunter’s taking my fantasy and running with it, and it’s so hot. It’s so much better than I thought it could be. Than I hoped it could be.

I pull my t-shirt over my head, shivering as I undress. The air is a little chilly. Hunter is watching me from inside the car. Eric is out there in the darkness. I think.

Does he like what he sees? Does Hunter?

I fold my t-shirt and place it on the trunk. Now, the skirt. With shaking fingers, I undo the clasp at the waistband and lower the zipper. The skirt falls to the ground in a puddle of fabric. I bend to pick it up, fold it in half, and place it over my t-shirt.

“Good girl.” Hunter’s voice is a warm caress. “Take off your panties for me, Dixie.”

I slide them down my hips. I’m completely naked now. Hunter’s gaze slides over me, slow and thorough, and the heat in his eyes almost makes me combust.

Is Eric touching himself now? Is he fisting his cock? I hope so. I want him to be so overcome with need that he can’t stop himself.

“You can come inside now.” Hunter pats his lap. “But first, tell me. Are you wet?”

“Yes,” I whisper. My body is one giant quivering bundle of arousal.

“Show me.”

I hesitate. Surely he doesn’t want me to?—

“Dixie.” Hunter’s voice hardens. “I don’t like repeating myself.”

Oh. My. God. That tone, that hard edge in his voice—it’s turning me on.

I should bristle at him and tell him to jump in the lake, but instead, I’m following his orders, and I don’t understand why.

If anyone else talked to me this way, I would snarl at them in unvarnished fury.

I don’t understand what’s different about Hunter.

Don’t you? You wanted this roleplay. He’s listened to your fantasy, and he’s making it come true.

I take a deep, steadying breath. Very slowly, very deliberately, I part my folds.

I’m bathed in the moonlight, visible to anyone who turns down the lane, and I’m going to put on a show for them.

I slide a finger into my slippery wetness.

This is a first for me; I’ve never touched myself when someone’s watching.

I never realized how hot it could be. My muscles clench around me, and I brush my finger over my clit, almost jumping at the contact.

“Dixie.” Hunter’s voice is a warning.

“Sorry.” I hold my finger out to him. It’s coated with my juices, glistening in the moonlight.

Hunter beckons me closer. His hand closes over my wrist, and he opens his mouth and sucks in my finger, his tongue curling around it, lapping at my juices, tasting my wetness, and oh God, yes. I want his tongue somewhere else, I want him to stick his head between my legs, I want, I want?—

He frees my finger and pats his lap. “Sit,” he invites, his voice tight with tension. His cock strains against the fabric of his trousers, and I want to grind against it, rub myself against his hard length, and make myself come as he watches.

I position myself on Hunter’s lap. A long-dormant memory stirs to life, of me straddling William this way, the night of senior prom.

Not now, Dixie.

Hunter’s fingers grip my hips. “Fuck, yes,” he hisses as I brush against his erection.

“God, you’re beautiful, Dixie. You should see yourself.

” He moves his hands up my body, sliding over my waist, my chest, and then he squeezes my breasts together and bends his head toward my nipples.

His mouth dances from one engorged nub to the other, sucking, biting, lavishing each overstimulated nipple with attention.

I close my eyes, throw my head back, and surrender to the sensations that rampage my body.

The door is ajar, and the overhead light is still on.

Anyone turning into the lane will not see Hunter, but they will be able to see me through the rear window.

Grinding on his lap, shamelessly gripped by passion.

Utterly naked.

Totally exposed.

I’m a slave to sensation, and for once in my life, I don’t regret it. I let myself surrender to my need. I let myself feel.

“Open your eyes, Dixie,” Hunter orders. His fingers are tugging at my nipples now, soft touches alternating with harder ones. “No hiding.”

My eyes flutter open.

Then I see it.

A car is coming down the drive, its bright headlights blinding me. It’s quite close, only a few feet away.

What if it isn’t Eric? What if it’s a stranger? I stiffen in horror. “Hunter, someone’s coming.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t sound like he cares. He rolls my nipple between his fingers and nips it with his teeth. I writhe in response, and he growls, a noise of intense male satisfaction. “That’s right, Dixie. Grind your tight little ass against my cock.”

I obey, shamelessly rubbing myself against him. My clit grazes against his fly. There’s not enough contact to get me off, but it doesn’t mean I can’t try. But my attention isn’t wholly on Hunter, not any longer. I’m intensely aware of the other car.

The headlights dim. The engine turns off, and silence once again returns to the clearing. It’s so quiet that I can hear the car door open and then shut again.

Someone’s gotten out. He—Eric?—starts to walk toward us, a flashlight in his hand.

It’s happening. It’s really happening.

My heart hammers loudly in my chest. I’m coiled tight with anticipation. “No, no,” Hunter chides, though there’s an undertone of amusement to his voice. “This won’t do. Eyes on me, Dixie. Cup your breasts together.”

I bite my lip and squeeze my boobs together with my hands. They might as well be on a platter. I lean toward Hunter, offering them to him. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He raises an eyebrow. “You can do better than that, Dixie. Tell me what you’d like me to do.”

My cheeks flame. Tell me, he says, as if that’s easy to do. As if I’m so used to asking for what I want in bed.

Don’t chicken out now, Dix.

“I want you to put your mouth on my nipples,” I whisper.

The flashlight is bobbing to and fro. The man—it’s a man, I can see his shape in the darkness—approaches closer. He’s close enough now that he can see me clearly. He can see what I’m doing. He can see the way my breasts are pressed together.

Hunter chuckles, low and dark. “Okay,” he says.

I expect him to suck my nipples into his mouth, but he doesn’t. Not right away. Instead, he dips his fingers into my soaked pussy, two fingers this time. Pleasure spikes through me, and I shiver, helpless to resist. My pussy clenches around him. I whimper. It feels so good.

Then Hunter slides his fingers out. He slowly, methodically wipes them on my swollen nipples, coating them with my juices. Then, only then, does he suck them into his mouth.

I forget to breathe.

The man outside nears our car. His flashlight focuses on the pile of neatly folded clothes on the trunk. It stays there for a long time.

He picks up my panties.

Oh God, this is actually happening.

He walks around. His flashlight shines into the car.

I still can’t see his face. Still don’t know for certain it’s Eric, and that paints an additional layer of forbidden lust over me.

It has to be him. I have to assume it is—Hunter seems perfectly calm and in control, and he would have a different reaction if he thought this wasn’t his friend, right? I hope so. It’s probably Eric.

The door opens, and the man sticks his head inside.

It’s Eric.

Relief fills me. Relief, coupled with a fresh slick of arousal.

Eric stares at me for a long moment. What does he see?

I’m naked. I’m still cupping my breasts, and Hunter’s still sucking my nipples.

My face is flushed, my skin covered with goosebumps.

I’m sitting on Hunter’s lap, grinding against his hard erection, rubbing my clit frantically against his thickness in a futile effort to climax, and, oh God, I’ve just noticed that my juices are staining Hunter’s pants.

There’s a big, wet patch where I’ve been rubbing against him.

Eric takes it all in. Then a small smile cracks his face. “Miss,” he says. “Are these your panties?”

A full-body shiver runs through me. This is my fantasy brought to life, and I’m so wound up that if either of them so much as breathes on my clit, I will explode. “Yes,” I whisper. “They are.”