“You have some clout,” Elle notes as we take our seats, both of us on the same side of the metal car, causing it to tip back and sway a bit.
“Does that bother you?”
She considers this for a moment, staring out into the forest that surrounds the grounds of the fair. I take her hand, toying with her fingers. “No. I think it’s amazing how you all clearly have each other’s backs. Protect each other. I never had that with my family. They’re greedy and cutthroat and dangerous.”
That piques my interest as I stare into her profile.
“Your parents?” She mentioned her mother a couple weeks back.
“My parents. My sister. All of them.” Her head flies back in my direction. “But I don’t want to talk about that, Landon. Not yet. I want you to make me feel good on this ride. The way you said you would.”
Fucking hell.
The car we’re sitting in jerks, the ride starting to move, only to stop again as they allow people into the next car. I lean in, knowing we’re bathed in shadows, and press my lips to hers. “I’d love nothing more than to make you feel good.” Forever. There’s that word again. Do I mean it, or have I been so emotionally dead for so long that I’m latching on to the first woman who forces me to breathe again?
I can’t decide if it matters or if I even care because in the next second, my mouth engulfs hers, pushing her into the unforgiving back of the car, causing it to rock even more. Only neither of us is at risk of breaking anything tonight.
She’s wearing jeans, and I shove her hips forward, thrusting her legs open wide. “Undo your button and zipper for me. Show me what color your panties are.”
Her breath audibly catches, her eyes wild on mine before they fling every which way, scouring the darkening night for anyone who might catch us.
“Do it,” I demand. Give me your trust, Elle, and I’ll give you all the pleasure in the world.
She slouches down farther, undoing her jeans but not lowering them.
I glance down, pushing aside the top flaps of denim. “Black.” My favorite.
My fingers toy with the lacy top, fingering the skimpy material, rubbing it between my thumb and pointer finger.
“I hate that you’re Stella’s teacher.”
“I could likely get fired for this. It’s a private school, and they have strict rules. Especially when it comes to the Abbot-Fritzes, I imagine.”
I shake my head. “I’d never let that happen. If I had to speak to the school, I would.”
“If you do, I’ll castrate you in your sleep.”
I chuckle. So fiery.
My hand flies into her hair, cradling the back of her head as my mouth dives back in, kissing her like I mean it. Like this is our moment, and I refuse to squander it.
“Does that mean you’ll touch my balls?”
She laughs. “Your jokes are getting better.”
“It’s you.”
It is. I’m smiling and quipping jokes for the first time in years. Hell, I have a living, breathing, beating heart for the first time in years.
“All my siblings love you,” I mumble into her lips. “Stella loves you. You’re not getting fired.”
“Good to know,” she rasps into my mouth, her hand clutching my bicep, her nails digging in, pleading. Adrenaline heats my blood. We’re actually doing this. Right here. Out in the open. On a ride where anyone—if they looked closely enough—might be able to see us.
The ride moves, casting us higher and higher into the air that’s growing darker and darker by the moment. From up here, all we can do is peer down at the lights. At the sounds. At the fun.
My lips trickle along her jaw as I take a deep inhale, licking her soft, sensitive skin before blowing cool air on it. She shudders and shakes, a whole-body tremble I feel everywhere against me.
“You’re under my skin.” She says it like a warning.
I cup her face in my hand, forcing her eyes to mine. “Under your skin is my new home.”
Another tremble as my lips fall back on her neck, and she reaches out, gripping my shirt in her fist. My hand slides between her lacy panties and her skin, heading south until I find her bare pussy lips. She’s so soft, I take a second just to stroke her like that. She whimpers into me, and I go lower, bypassing her clit to drive her crazy while finding her wet opening and delving a finger in, fighting her constricting jeans.
“Always so wet for me, Elle,” I murmur against her.
“Landon.”
My name. It sets me on fire. “I’m going to finger you until you come. But can I sneak out again tonight and fuck you in your bed after Stella has gone to sleep?” I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in over a week, and I regret nothing of it.
“Yes.” A hum. A moan. A plea.
A thrill shoots through me as I twist my hand as best as I can, two fingers diving into her hot, wet channel, my thumb rubbing her clit. She moans, her head falling back, and I stare at her, watching her face, enraptured by her pleasure.
I fuck her like this. The wet sound caught between us, my fingers coated as she grows hungry and sexy, desperate and needy. Grinding, rolling her gorgeous hips into my hand. My lips feast on her neck, the top of her chest over her shirt. I can’t reach her tits, but I want them. I want them so bad. I can fit one entirely in my mouth and God, you have no idea how hard that makes me.
To the point where I’m grinding against her side, finger fucking her with smooth, fast-paced strokes. Hitting her spot. I feel it every time I do. She whimpers and moans and jerks and claws, and I try to stifle her sounds but watch her like this because it’s everything, and I find it nearly impossible to choose between that and my lips on hers.
The Ferris wheel goes around, our car on the descent as air whooshes past us, the fair so close, but so distant. “Elle,” I whisper in her ear. “Tonight when I come over, you’re going to sit on my face. I’ll hold you down on top of me, my tongue in your delicious pussy. My finger in your ass.”
She trembles, my fingers picking up their pace, fighting so hard against the sturdy fabric of her jeans.
“I want you to ride me after that. I want to watch your beautiful tits bounce. Your eyes staring down at me, euphoric in pleasure.”
“Landon.” She’s clutching the fabric of my shirt now, balling it up in her fist. My girl loves dirty talk. Her head on my shoulder, her legs scissored open in the car as we glide around and around, my stomach swooping with the motion of the ride. “I’m…”
She cries out, and my lips descend upon hers, muffling her every sound, swallowing them down for my own. To keep. To cherish. She comes so hard, all over my fingers, the sensation making my cock leak in my jeans.
Her body loses tone, and I slip my hand from her pussy, past her panties, and out of her jeans. I lick my fingers clean—holy hell, I wish I had eaten her out—and I zip and button her up.
“You are my vixen. My demon. The woman I refuse to let go of now that I’ve caught you.”
“Then don’t,” she rasps, her voice hoarse. Shaking with aftershocks or fear. I do not know which. “Don’t let go, Landon. I don’t know what this is, but I want it. But I feel like I should keep my distance.”
“I can’t let you do that. Not anymore.” The alpha, the fierce protector inside of me, won’t have it.