Free Bad Boy's Last Race by Dallas Cole Page A

skin. He lavishes attention on my nipple with his mouth, sending a fresh frisson of pleasure straight to my core.
    I shudder and press him closer to me. His touch, his mouth, is like a warm summer beach, all freedom and gentle waves . . . Being with Jagger is nothing like my life was with Tyler. The cold prison cell that I always felt locked inside whenever Tyler deigned to show me some affection. I just want to bask in Jagger’s glow forever.
    Jagger slips one hand between my legs and teases a slow, torturous circle over my silken panties. Delight shivers through me. I suck in my breath, catching my lower lip in my teeth, and stifle a moan. Then wonder what I’m stifling for. I can be free, unbidden, with Jagger. No need to hide who I am.
    “Good girl,” Jagger purrs, right in my ear. He catches my earlobe in his teeth and sucks, drawing another deep moan from the fire inside of me. “Look how nice and wet you are. I’m dying to feel that hot pussy around me, dripping on me . . .”
    “Good,” I manage to respond. “Because I want that granite cock of yours inside of it.”
    Jagger’s gaze turns feral, dark in the starlight, as he seizes me by my shoulders. My entire body is clay in his hands, just waiting to be molded by his touch. He spins me around and forces me over the hood of the car. The warm metal radiates through my torso as I brace my arms against the hood; his hands glide over my ass as he pushes up my dress and shoves my panties to one side. I tense, anxious, eager, unable to contain my lust for him. I need him to fuck me now.
    But he’s taking his sweet-ass time.
    “Come the fuck on,” I say, unable to keep from whining. “Just fuck me already.”
    “So impatient. I just want to admire the view.” He grazes his fingertips over the curve of my ass once more. Then, finally, he parts my thighs. The cold night air pricks at my skin. I grit my teeth, waiting . . .
    And then he thrusts into me like a goddamned battering ram.
    “Oh, fuck.” I tense around him, feeling every fucking inch. He eases out and slams back into me, each thrust like an engine working overtime. He works steadily, but his heat radiates through me, each drive full of power . . .
    And it’s so easy to get lost. To feel the heat, feel the delirium like I felt his Firebird roaring beneath me as the high desert road roared past.
    “That’s a good little slut.” I laugh, a dark joy burning in me. There’s a playfulness in his tone that’s turning me on so bad, that’s nothing like when Tyler would say it and mean it.
    Jagger grips my hair in one hand, keeping me pressed against the hood. “Do you like being a slut for me? Like making me so hard?”
    “I fucking love it. I like seeing you so filthy . . . so raw . . .”
    But then words leave me. My orgasm is like an undertow and it’s dragging me under. As filthy as he talks, as goddamned filthy as he fucks, he is everything I never felt with Tyler. Safe . . . secure . . . loved . . . warm. And sexy. Like the sexiest thing on two legs.
    Sure, Jagger has his problems. He comes with his own danger. But isn’t this bliss, this unchained freedom a start?
    Jagger shudders as he comes, his hips digging into my ass, the icing on the fucking cake. “Goddamn.” He bends forward to plant a kiss on the nape of my neck, then between my shoulder blades, then on the small of my back. “I could do that all fucking night.”
    I draw a deep breath, exhausted, but willing for more. “So could I.”
    He eases out of me and slumps next to me on the hood. “We could always go back to my place,” he says. He grins and nestles a kiss on my temple. “It’s a little bit roomier than yours.”
    I smile back. “Good. There’s plenty more I’d like to try.”

    * * *
    I awake to harsh sunlight streaming through the blinds in Jagger’s apartment. His warm body is wrapped around me, far outweighing the scratch of his cheap sheets, and all I want is to nestle into it and—
    Shit. What time is