Page 23 of Unlocked Dive

“It doesn’t matter,” he whispers, close enough to drown in. “You can have me any way you want.”

11

Echo

Byrd kisses like he can’t believe I’m real, savor on his tongue like syrup and smoke.

I’m greedy by comparison, sucking at his lips and teeth, hungry to harness all the things he holds hidden. Everything coalesces, urgent at the edges of my skin—the shift-surge of his thighs under mine, the euphoric torture of his zipper through my sweats, the half-moon bite of his fingernails on my shoulders crushing me into his hard heat.

Does he want to crawl inside me the way I want to do to him?

I drag my hands from the gorgeous wreck of his hair, fumbling at his jeans in the not-space between us. He sucks in a breath, breaking free of my mouth, and stops me with a hand on my wrist.

“Wait.” His voice is ravaged. “Stop.”

“No.” After weeks of torment, I’m ready to climb him right here in the car—fuck lube, fuck condoms, all I can think about is getting his cock in my hands, in my mouth,everywhere.

“Echo.” He drops his forehead to mine, breathing hard, and my name from his lips spells divinity and damnation.

All my life, I’ve been able to reach out andtake. Skill. Admiration. Desire. Everything I ever wanted, effortlessly mine. The tremor of his fingers digs into my scars, and I won’t survive if he rejects me now.

“Byrd…please.”I want to be myself again, not this messy, hollow thing. “Isn’t it killing you not to touch me?”

It’s killing me.

“I am touching you.” He knocks his head gently against mine and strokes his thumb along my thigh.

“Not enough.”

A choked laugh escapes him, and he pulls back, searching my face. I’m too far gone to show him anything but the raw bones of my need, rattling at the edge of connection. How much he sees, I have no idea, but he releases my wrist, and his next words send anticipation lurching giddily up my spine.

“Put your arms behind you and grab the steering wheel.”

I give his button one last tug and do as he demands.

“If you let go, I’ll stop,” he warns. “And whatever you do, don’t lean on the horn.”

He grips my neck then, his thumb heavy against the pulse point under my jaw, and skims his other hand down my chest, skating over the bare skin at my hip. When his fingers slip behind the elastic of my sweats, I make a sound embarrassingly close to a whimper, and his mouth quirks.

“Is this better?” he asks.

“Not enough.”

He drags his knuckles over the head of my cock, and my hips buck, straining for contact.

“How about this?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Baardwijk.” I’m clutching the steering wheel at my back hard enough to feel every stitch in the leather. “Just put me out of my misery.”

And then he wraps his fingers around me, andohfuckyesohjesusfuckinggod,I’d fall into him if he wasn’t holding me in place. I might anyway.I’m wound so fucking tight, the whole thing’s gonna be over in, like, thirty fucking seconds, and I don’t even care.

His hand is warm and calloused-rough, and he’s done teasing. He jacks me firm and steady, squeezing the base of my cock and twisting his palm over my crown on the upstroke to gather the precum leaking from the tip and smear it down the sensitive underside.

His eyes are locked on my face, full of wonder and hunger finally unleashed, drawing me up and over into rapture. I’m completely unmoored, babbling a nonsensical string of curses and ragged pleas, and my balls are tight and aching. As he increases the pace, I fly past all my salacious fantasies. The head of my cock swells, and I’m thrusting into his hand and…and…

When I come,hemakes a sound so primal, I feel it on the back of my skin. Like it’s not just me coating his fingers and coming apart.

Holy fucking shit.