Ignoring the way my heart thumps harder over the idea is impossible. “Probably a good investment.”
“Empty can?”
“Probably a barrel.”
A.D. slides his hand onto my leg in a way that’s actually becoming my favorite. “So, you do want kids?”
“I’m from a family of seven. Of course, I want kids.”
“How many?”
“How many can you give me?”
My flirtatious challenge receives a hungry groan and an even hungrier leg squeeze. “How many can you fucking handle?”
“Again, I’m from a family of seven, so I’m gonna go with at least that many.”
His smile softens on a small nod. “Al told me how you pitched in the most to help raise everyone once your dad died.”
“Mom worked three jobs. It was either learn to do that or let my siblings die and that was so not an option.”
“That feeling you had about them,” he starts slowly, “is the same feeling I have about you.”
Letting his proclamation properly sit on my shoulder, I quietly cave, “Fine. I’ll send you my resumé and…work on letting you care for me a little more.”
“A lot more.”
“Don’t push it, Peanut Butter.”
“How about I touch it instead, Tiny Toes?” His fingers casually stroke my thigh stealing a needy whimper from me. “Show you my appreciation for letting me care for you.”
Parting my legs a bit wider allows for his soft touches to travel further inward. I expect A.D. to dive straight into the new territory and roughly tug away the material stopping him from exploring where he wants, but he keeps his actions tame. Unusually gentle as though trying to use them to echo his spoken sentiments. Light strokes on top of my shorts are equal parts thoughtful and maddening. Neediness doesn’t take long to build, and my mouth doesn’t hesitate to announce it in the form of airy moans. My knee knocks into the door during my attempt to open further, to give him the encouragement he needs to take me in the way that I’m primed and ready for, yet he maintains the unwanted distance.
The spine-tingling teasing.
He gingerly bunches the fabric of my shorts and uses it to feather my clit.
I rock my hips into the delicate swipes that are being taken, wordlessly imploring he abandons this tender taunting that’s causing my breath to repeatedly hitch until I’m left with no choice but to vocalize it. “Please, Auran…”
“For Dragons Sake, my name sounds perfect falling from your lips.”
His purred proclamation hoods my eyes more.
Makes it difficult to observe the partial shift his other hand is trying not to do.
“Please, Auran…” I beg louder and headier. “Touch me.”
Keeping my eyes open becomes a lost battle the instant one-digit sneaks to the other side of my soaking wet thong to deliver exactly what I’m asking for. A.D. groans so intensely it physically shakes the entire car, and the unnecessary added vibration shatters the tiny bit of restraint I was previously willing to hold on to. One hand pulls my panties completely out of the way while the other assists in shoving him in deeper. Moans seep from us in tandem and grow exponentially resounding when he curls his finger upward, drenching the inches that my pussy is desperate to milk.
The new position has me completely seated on my Fated Mate’s finger like it’s his cock, which prompts him to command, “Ride me, Tiny Toes.”
His words swell my sopping wet muscles, and obeying his instructions only tightens them more. Small strokes call to my hips to rock forward. Push against his palm. To clamp onto his forearm and thrust into the sharpening movements. Hisses of approval threaten to drag my stare his direction; however, the accelerating pumping prevents my focus from floating elsewhere. A.D.’s increased speed effortlessly sparks my own. I abandon all care or concerns for who can possibly see me through my window and how desperate I look each time I propel myself into his touches. I brazenly grind against his palm again and again and again, each brush building an undeniable burn between my thighs. Efforts to catch my breath are attached to the clawing of his forearm while harder bucks are accompanied by my head thumping wildly against the headrest.
Orgasmic prickles begin at the base of my feet causing my toes to curl during a whimpered, “So close.”
“For Dragons Sake, don’t you dare fucking come.”
Hating the statement not only for being a demand rather than a request leads to my defiant side returning with a lecherous vengeance. Both hands tangle around his arm and force him to reach the deepest depths he can go. Each additional nudge is met by an urgent lurch forward. Juices are sloppily smeared around his wrist, on my bunched over clothing, and up to where my nails are carving memories into his arm.
“Fuckin’ D, Ana,” he grumbles in unhappiness yet never stops thrusting the digit. “Hold the fuck on. We’re almost home.” Winding my hips harder around for additional friction to my clit prompts him to add, “I wanna properly see my Fated Mate come for the first time.”
It’s unfortunately too late to slow things down.
White-hot currents pull me under, robbing me of my ability to act or think or do anything other than drown in the newfound ecstasy. Heavy pants of a broken version of A.D.’s full name are given to the same rapid pulsing that’s coming from my pussy. Pulling at his arm quickly transposes into pulling at my own hair. Pounding at the window. Pushing down on my leg to literally stop from floating out of the seat. Euphoric sensations swim freely throughout my system, snaking around every nerve ending and savagely squeezing them to the point I’m sensually suffocating.
And I keep suffocating.
And I keep sinking in the heavenly sea until my body sags lifelessly against the seat.
Once the pounding in my heart, as well as my lady parts, finally starts to subside, I release a heavy breath of unexpected exhaustion.
Holy. Fuck.
I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.
Damn sure not from a finger instead of a dick.
“Fated Mate,” A.D. calls to me, voice gruff and gravelly.
Small ounces of guilt for denying him his one request keeps my eyes from opening.
Shit.
He really wasn’t being an asshole.
He just wanted to be able to watch me come instead of just hearing it.
But this is really his fucking fault.
He started it!
He could’ve moved his hand at any time and left me on edge until we got home.
And fuck me for loving the fact that his home is my home, too.