Free Thor (Recherché #1) by LP Lovell

looks completely unaffected, totally calm. I’m thinking this is very one sided.

    He leads me outside and opens the passenger door of his Aston Martin, which is parked at the curb. I slide into the leather seat. He gets in the driver’s side and has barely closed the door before he grabs a handful of my hair and yanks me towards him. His lips slam over mine so hard I physically can’t breathe.
    “I can’t stop thinking about you.” He groans against my mouth. My lips part on a ragged breath and he thrusts his tongue inside my mouth. His hands are everywhere, bushing over my breast, caressing my throat, pulling my hair. He kisses me until all I can feel is him, all I want is him. And then he releases me and I fall back against the seat, heart pounding frantically.
    The engine starts and he slams his foot on the accelerator. The car lurches forward, tyres squealing as he pulls away. I’m clutching the seat so hard I can feel my nails bending against the leather. Oh my god. What is this? How does he do this to me? The heavy rumble from the powerful engine isn’t helping my situation at all. I squeeze my thighs together in an attempt to relieve some pressure. My head falls back against the seat and I feel like a feral animal. I bite the inside of my cheek and twist my head to look at him. He looks calm. I want him to feel as unhinged as I feel. I want him to want me the way I want him. Without really thinking it through I allow my thighs to fall apart. Tentatively I trail my fingers from the inside of my knee, closing my eyes as I bring them higher. The car jerks on the road slightly, and I know without looking that he’s focused on me. I brush my fingertip over my underwear and it’s soaked through. My breathe hitches when I apply more pressure. Even through the thin layer of lace I feel like one touch could set off an explosion of epic proportions. A tremor rips through my body and then I’m thrown sideways against the door. Tyres squeal in protest and he slams the handbrake on, sliding the car clean across the road and bumping up a curb, Metal crunches underneath the car and then he’s slamming to a halt in a dark alleyway.
    “Fucking shit, Poppy!” He growls. Hands span my waist and I’m dragged across the centre console as if I weigh nothing more than a doll. He pulls me into his lap until I’m straddling him, my body trapped between his and the steering wheel. His hands shove underneath my skirt, tearing my underwear clean off me. I can’t clearly make out his face in the dim light, but everything about him is bristling with something that borders on dangerous. I hear the lowering of a zip and he bucks beneath me.
    His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise. His breaths are laboured and desperate as he manoeuvres me, forcing my body down onto his cock. I gasp as he fills me to the hilt.
    “Oh god.” I moan. I slide back up but he catches me, forcing me over him again. His hand moves, gripping my jaw and forcing my head back. I feel the trickle of breath over my neck before he speaks.
    “I control this, Poppy. I control you.” His voice is guttural and strained. I lean back and brace my forearms against the steering wheel, rolling my hips. Holy shit . His teeth snap together audibly and he throws his head back against the headrest. I grind over him again and it feels so fucking good that my vision actually flashes with spots. I move over him like that, watching the way the muscles in his neck strain, the way his jaw quivers. His fingers remain around my throat and with every drive of my hips they tighten and my head swims.
    “Fuck!” He yanks me upright and slams his lips against mine. It’s all tongue and teeth, aggression and want. He thrusts up beneath me and I gasp, throwing my arms around his neck. His face drops to my throat and teeth brush my skin as we fuck each other. I cling to him like he’s a raft in a stormy sea. His arms come around my back, constricting and bowing my body against