“Where the hell did you come from, Cassidy?” he murmurs, and I wonder briefly if this man is a mind-reader, because I’d just been thinking the same thing. Then he kisses me again, and I forget all about speaking.
His hands slide lower, from my waist down over the curve of my ass. I slide one leg around the back of his thigh and arch my body up against his, while my hands slide down those strong, thick shoulders and over his chest.
God, I can feel every inch of his muscle through the shirt he’s wearing, as starkly as if he were already half-naked.
He tilts his head, kisses his way along my jawline and then catches the lower edge of my earlobe, worrying it between his teeth, just for a second, before his tongue traces the curve after. The sensation makes my breath catch, my body sing with want.
“You are goddamn intoxicating, you know that?” he murmurs against my ear, his breath hot enough to make my head spin all over again. “More potent than the whiskey.”
I laugh, but it’s faint, breathy. It’s hard to catch a full breath with this man’s strong arms around me, protective and possessive at once. “Look who’s talking,” I murmur, and he pulls back just far enough to meet my gaze again, his blazing hot.
“You don’t want to get mixed up with me, Cassidy,” he says, suddenly sounding far more sober than I feel. My heart skips a beat. But I can’t tear my gaze from those deep, soulful eyes. I couldn’t make my legs work to walk away from him if I wanted to—and I really, really don’t want to.
“Try me,” I reply, lifting my chin, meeting his challenge with one of my own.
His lip curves in a half smirk. Deadly and dangerous all at once. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he replies. Then his mouth comes down on mine, harder this time, insistent, and my lip spart beneath his, let him take what he wants.
When we part again, my chest heaves. His hands have reached my thighs now, then my ass. He grips me hard, and I gasp at the feeling. He crushes me against him, and I can feel the hard jut of his cock, straining against his jeans. The way he’s standing, towering over me, it digs into my belly, stretching the whole length from my waist to under my chest, and it makes me desperate to see him without any clothing on. To touch that cock with my bare hands.
“Fuck,” I breathe, and his eyes flash with amusement.
“Don’t tempt me.” His gaze drips over my body again, and I shiver, feeling every place that he looks at as if it were his hands roaming over me now, touching every inch of me. “I’d love to keep you all night, Cassidy. Make you scream my name…”
I search his gaze, challenging. “What are we waiting for then?” I ask him. Simple, straightforward. It’s blunter than I’ve ever been with a guy before. But something tells me Lark will appreciate it.
To judge by the way that infuriating half-smirk of his widens, I’m right.
I don’t even notice him flag it down, but before long, a taxi is pulling up beside us.
“Last chance,” he says, eyebrow arched. “I can take you home. Or, I bring you back to mine, and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk straight tomorrow.” He says the latter in a whisper, leaning in to catch my earlobe between his teeth again, biting down until the faint spark of pain makes me gasp.
“Yours,” I breathe.
We slide into the back of taxi—or rather, Lark slides in, and then he pulls me inside and shuts the door behind us both. I’m tempted to straddle him, but he makes me put on my belt instead, and in a guilty flash I remember his brother, the accident.
I’m about to say something, but Lark cuts me off by kissing me again. At the same time, his hand inches up the smooth plane of my thigh, toward the edge of my dress.
Our lips part, and he smirks at me, one eye on the driver. “How quiet can you be?” he murmurs softly.
I bite my lower lip in response.
Then his fingers slide higher. Up, up, up the smooth expanse of my thighs until he reaches the crease where my leg meets my hip bone. He traces it with his forefinger, his eyes on me all the while. I glance at the driver again, nervous, but the man’s attention is on the road, at least.
“Ah, ah.” Lark lifts an eyebrow. “Look at me.”
My gaze jumps back to his, and my breath catches again.
His finger slides beneath my panties.
He spreads his hand to cup my pussy in his palm, the rough, calloused heel of his hand like striking a match over my bare-shaven mound. My hips buck up off the seat and into his palm, eager to grind against him, but he draws back a little, smirking.
“So eager.” He leans in to kiss the edge of my jawline. “Let me guess. You’re already wet for me, too.” His breath is searing hot, his words so low I can barely hear him over the rumble of the cab, the faint tinny sound of the radio playing in the driver’s area.
I bite my lower lip, my eyes fluttering shut, as Lark’s fingers glide over my mound until he reaches my pussy lips. His thumb grazes my clit, enough to make me jump again. I hadn’t realized how turned on I was until now, but I can feel my clit, pulsing and heavy between my thighs, swollen with desire.
Then his fingers slide between my pussy lips, and I inhale sharply through my nose, trying as hard as I can not to make any sounds. Slowly, slow enough to feel like torture, albeit an impossibly enjoyable kind, Lark presses the tip of his forefinger inside me.
I try to shift closer to him, but with his free hand, he pins me against the seat, lifting one eyebrow as if to tease me. He knows what he’s doing, the bastard.
He leans in again. “I love watching you squirm.” His smile widens, and he adds a second finger inside me, my pussy stretching around his thick fingers, little shockwaves of pleasure firing through my system. “God, you’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs, almost to himself.
I lean against him, surrendering, letting him take the lead. I forget where we are, so much so that when he starts to stroke me, in and out, his fingers curling slowly inside me, I gasp aloud.
Lark kisses me to muffle the sound, and I can feel him grinning against my mouth. “Shh,” he breathes, and I have to bite my lower lip, hard, to keep quiet when he begins to move his fingers faster, thrusting in and out of me.
My heartbeat picks up. I can hear the noise of the road under us and the music the driver’s playing, but it’s all distant, out of focus. The only thing I can focus on right now; the only thing I can see clearly, is Lark. Those eyes of his fixed on me, like he’s hungry too, lapping up my reactions.
I twist against him, my hips rising off the seat to thrust against his hand in tiny, quick motions.
In response, he presses the heel of his hand down, until it connects with my clit. I gasp again, and clamp my lips together, hard, to prevent any other sound from emerging.
It gets harder and harder to stay quiet, though, as he strokes me toward a climax. His fingers glide in and out of my tight pussy easily now, I’m so fucking soaked. And his heel stays right where it is, pressed to my clit, so that with every stroke it sends fireworks through my veins, sets off sparks behind my eyelids.
Right as I near the peak, Lark must sense it, because he bends close again, his face inches from mine. “Come for me, Cassidy,” he whispers, and then his lips collide with mine, his tongue parting mine.
I cry out, faint enough that it’s muffled by his mouth, by this kiss. And the orgasm hits me full force, my whole body shaking from it. All the while, he continues to stroke me, pushing his fingers into me again and again.