Without warning, Whit slips his hand between us, his fingers finding my clit. He rubs it in maddening circles, making me breathless, my entire body going still for a few mindless seconds before the orgasm washes over me, making me shudder over and over again.
My pussy milks his cock, squeezing and releasing, and he groans, jabbing inside of me before he calls out my name. I clutch him to me as he trembles and quakes, his semen filling me completely.
He hangs over me for a few moments once the shaking subsides, and I stroke his back, wishing he was naked. Without a word, he withdraws, pulling his softening cock from my body, his cum leaking out of me, coating the inside of my thighs, my ass. Most likely dripping onto the tablecloth.
“Messy girl,” he says, reminding me of seventeen-year-old Whit. The boy I fell for so hard. “Look at you.”
I reach between my legs, coating my fingers in his cum before I bring them to my lips and suck, my gaze never straying from his.
His eyes light up as he shoves his cock beneath his boxers, zipping himself up and putting everything back together. “Dirty little whore.”
“You like it,” I say, not taking offense to his name-calling.
He says and means it with affection. I’m no one’s dirty little whore.
Just Whit’s.
After he helps me get dressed, he retrieves my coat from whoever took it and slips it over my body, tucking me close to his side as we exit the building, my stupid journal clutched in his hand. The cold wind slams into us and I’m grateful his car approaches within seconds of us going outside. He opens the back door for me and I climb inside, giddy as he climbs in after me, his fingers diving beneath my skirt to stroke my ass.
The moment the car pulls away from the curb, he lunges toward me, pulling me into his arms, kissing me as if this is the last time we’ll ever be together. I return the kiss with equal, enthusiastic fervor, drinking from his perfect lips, my hands reaching for whatever part of him I can touch. He’s just as eager, just as greedy as he tugs the front of my dress down, his mouth finding my nipple yet again.
“You’re coming back to my hotel with me,” he growls against my skin, just before he bites it.
I squeal, immediately wishing he’d do it again. “Okay,” I say breathlessly.
“I’m going to fuck you all night.” He reaches between my legs, fingers delving beneath my panties and finding nothing but wet flesh. “Fuck you raw. Fuck you until you beg me to stop.”
Warmth pools low in my belly at the thought and I bring his mouth to mine once more, kissing him with all the pent-up emotion I’ve saved for him the last year and a half.
“I’d fuck you in the back of this car, but we’re not too far from the hotel and traffic’s light,” he says, sounding amused once he shifts away from my seeking mouth. “So greedy, Savage.”
“You’re just as greedy, Lancaster,” I remind him, stroking my hand over the unmistakable ridge of his erection.
He grins, and it is a sight to see. The boy he once was only grinned for me like this near the end, when we spent the week at his family’s estate. Before everything was ruined.
Frowning, I drop my hand away from his trousers, the memories coming back, one after another. Dousing me in sadness.
Wariness.
His grin is gone, replaced by a questioning look. “What’s wrong?”
I look away from him, staring out the car window as the city lights rush by us. “Nothing.”
He slides across the seat, his hands settling on my shoulders, featherlight. Almost as if he’s afraid to touch me. “You’re lying.”
I dip my head, sucking in a breath when I feel his mouth brush against my nape. So gentle. So sweet. And Whit is never gentle or sweet. “This feels like a lie.”
He goes still. “What does?”
“This. Everything between us. The moment earlier, in the restaurant. How you and Monty set me up. Yet I don’t know what you want from me.”
His hands remain on my shoulders, keeping me in place. Not like I can escape him, considering we’re in a moving car. “I just want—you.”
“For the night?” I glance over my shoulder, startled by how close his face is to mine. “One last fuck before you move on to your future bride?”
He scowls. “I don’t have a future bride. I told you, it’s over between Leticia and me. There’s no one else.”
“I’m sure your mother found someone for you.” I look away, resuming my study of the city at night. Looking into his ice blue eyes is disconcerting. I should be mad at him. And Monty. They both deceived me, and I don’t like it. I trusted Monty with my entire life, and he still put this together, despite his knowing how I felt about Whit and our relationship. How fucked up it was.
How fucked up it still is. I see him after more than a year, after his complete betrayal, and here I am, a willing participant in our sexual games.
I’m addicted to him, and I suppose I can find solace in the fact that he’s addicted to me as well, but I don’t. All it does is confirm to me that we’re both a complete mess. Together, we don’t make any sense.
I’m tempted to say it out loud, but I keep my mouth shut.
“My mother stays completely out of my personal life,” Whit says, interrupting my thoughts.
“Really.” I sound full of doubt, because I am.
“Yes.” He leans in, his mouth brushing against the shell of my ear. “I can be with whoever I want. Neither of them can tell me what to do.”
My heart hammers in my chest, threatening to burst from my skin. I want to ask if he wants to be with me, but I’m too scared. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him last, and I’m not about to look like a needy little thing, begging him to take me back. As if I ever had him in the first place.
“You’re not going to ask me what I want, are you.” He drifts his lips along my ear, tickling me. “Afraid?”
“I’m mad at you.”
“You’re mad at me, hmmm.” He doesn’t sound like he believes me. I suck in a breath when he slips his hand inside the front of my dress, palming my breast. “Your body doesn’t feel like it’s mad at me.”
“My body is a liar, just like you.” I close my eyes when he circles his finger around my nipple again and again. Back and forth.
“Look at me, Summer.”
I keep my head bent, concentrating on keeping my breathing even, but it’s no use.
“Look at me,” he demands.
I turn to face him, fully expecting him to be angry. Full of hatred, all of those furious emotions aimed straight at me.
But he’s watching me with—tenderness in his gaze. As if I’m the best thing he’s ever seen. “Come back to my hotel room with me. Let me explain.”
“Explain what? What else do you need to explain? Haven’t we talked enough?” I cry, frustration rippling through me, making me curl my hands into fists where they rest on top of my knees.
Whit reaches for me, gently prying my fingers apart so he can interlock his fingers with mine. His touch is a comfort when it absolutely shouldn’t be. “You’re going to make me say this in the car, aren’t you?”
“Please don’t say anything,” I whisper as I study him, all the blood roaring in my ears, making me feel dizzy. My gaze drops to his mouth, staring, entranced with how red his lips are. They’re swollen too. From our kisses. From everything he does to me. Unable to stop myself, I reach for him, settling my hand over the front of his trousers. His cock is huge. Hard and thick. I stroke him and he hisses in a breath. Thrusts his hips up as I continue to rub him.