Free Running Wilde by Tonya Burrows Page B

tasted like champagne, sweet and crisp, with just a kick of the tart at the end. He had liked it, drank it in, and got lust-drunk off it as she’d hiked up the skirt of her sinful blue dress and straddled his hips…
    He learned later it wasn’t just champagne but the natural taste of her. He’d gotten a sip back at the truck stop but not enough to slake the lust that seeing her again had reawakened in him.
    She’d given him a blowjob right there on the beach, and the orgasm had been spectacular. The kind that rocked worlds and shifted foundations. Then, knowing Cam would be with Eva, he’d taken her up to his room, hung the Do Not Disturb sign, and returned the orgasmic favor.
    Several times, in many creative positions.
    Remembering it, and all the nights they’d spent together in the weeks after that first time, hardened him to the point of pain. He shifted in his seat to lessen the pressure and did his damnedest to forget the way she’d used her soft mouth to wring every drop of pleasure out of him.
    The air inside the car had grown charged in the last several minutes of silence, heated with the memories. And he didn’t think they were just his memories because her breathing had quickened enough to tell him their minds were on the exact same track.
    He didn’t know who moved first, or if they moved at the same time. He shoved his seat back. She crawled over the center console and straddled his hips much like she had that night on the beach. There was an edge of desperation in the way she took his mouth and more than a bite of anger.
    And he was okay with that, because hell if he wasn’t pissed off, too. She shouldn’t still crank his engine after everything, and he hated that she did, hated more that he didn’t have the willpower or the good sense to throw on the brakes.
    She yanked at his shirt, her hands cool as they slid up his stomach. He cupped her breasts through her shirt and wished they had the time and space to both get naked. She had the most magnificent breasts, round and heavy, with little pink nipples, soft as flower petals even when his mouth coaxed them out to stand at attention. He missed her breasts. Wanted to see them, put his mouth on them again. He traced one hand down the front of her until he found the edge of her shirt and nudged it up. She caught his wrist and instead guided his hand down between her legs.
    Okay, he got the hint. No indulgent foreplay allowed. This was going to be a fast fuck to pop the cork on the tension that had been bubbling between them. Nothing more.
    He pushed down her leggings, dipped his fingers inside, and found her wet. She moaned and threw her head back. Rocked her hips and rode his fingers like he wanted her to ride him. He fumbled at his own pants with his free hand. Wanting—no, goddammit, needing to bury himself inside her with an intensity that would have scared the shit out of him had he been thinking clearly.
    “Condom,” she demanded.
    “In my bag.”
    She reached over him and found the bag in the backseat. A second later, she had a condom out and was rolling it on him. There was no foreplay. She positioned the head of his cock at her entrance and took him all the way inside. He groaned and tried to hold her still to savor the connection, but she started moving. It was hot, hard sex, all slapping bodies and clawing nails and nipping teeth. She grabbed a handful of his hair, yanked his head back, and all but attacked his mouth.
    “Fuck,” he ground out between his teeth when she broke the kiss. He was so close to coming, his balls ached with the need to release, but a thirty second bang-and-come wasn’t what he wanted from her. Not after all this time. Not after all he’d gone through to find her again.
    He dug his fingers into her hips. “Fuck, vixen, slow down.”
    “No.” She shoved his hands away and shifted positions, sliding her feet against the seat on either side of his hips. The move put more space between them while simultaneously