Samson reversed his decision to get a new car. He needed his SUV for situations like this. This electric car was not built luxuriously enough for such shenanigans.
Not that he was going to let some tight quarters get in the way of Heaven. He kissed his way up her thighs to the spot between. He wanted to bury his face between her legs but he controlled his greed.
The car was dim, the only light a distant fluorescent bulb in the parking garage, but it cast an oddly romantic glow over her body. She was all these perfect shades of brown here, her black hair trimmed. He used two fingers to open her up and studied the pink revealed. He hadn’t gotten to thoroughly indulge his senses when they’d been together the last time. He probably wouldn’t get to tonight. He didn’t want to fuck her here, in such cramped quarters.
Next time. There has to be a next time.
Basically the exact words he’d thought to himself the first time he’d gone down on her That Night. He rubbed his cheek on her soft inner thigh. This passion and excitement was raw and uncomplicated and utterly untouched by all the other stuff that clouded their relationship. It was like they were new to each other.
“I should tell you, I don’t usually come from oral sex,” she said, and her matter-of-fact words jerked him out of his contemplation of her pretty pussy.
He rubbed two fingers up and down her sex. Her flesh glistened. “You came for me plenty the night we were together.”
“Not while you were . . .” Was her face red? Was Ms. World Weary blushing? “I didn’t come while you were going down on me.”
He thought back to that night, the X-rated memories making him harder. That was true. He’d either been fucking her or playing her with his fingers. “You liked it, though?” His mouth was watering, but he’d go no further if she didn’t want him to.
“I loved it. I just can’t come easily from it, and most men don’t want to stay down there forever.”
The stab of jealousy that ran through him was annoying, so he ignored it. “I’m not most men,” he murmured and licked her swollen clit.
He used his hands to grip her legs and settled in to feast, taking more space for his head and shoulders when she arched. She was silent, but he could tell by the way her thighs trembled and the way she gripped his hair that she enjoyed it.
Samson had no idea how much time had passed, but when he heard her moans, he opened his eyes and left her for a breath of air. Her skin was flushed, turning her face and neck a dark burgundy rose. The lines on her forehead were deep. “You need to come,” he said, his breath coming as fast as hers. He scraped his chin over her clit, delighting in how she jumped.
“I told you, I can’t . . .”
He pressed two fingers deep inside her. He chuckled at the noise she made, though his erection made humor almost impossible. “That Night, you made that noise when I slid inside you. Does this fill you up like my cock did?”
“I think you’re a little bigger,” she purred.
He swallowed, the ego stroke going right to his dick. He pressed a third finger inside her and she gasped, her legs widening. “Perfect.”
He thrust inside her, using his thumb to stimulate her clit. “You can’t come from my tongue, I get that. But you came just fine when I fucked you with my fingers, didn’t you?”
She didn’t respond, so he stopped, lowered his head, and sucked her clit. She cried out.
He came back up. “Didn’t you?”
“Y-yes.”
“Yeah.” His hungry gaze locked on his fingers moving in and out of her body, the sounds of sex filling the car. How would he let her go? Like, ever, but especially tonight?
Rhi tensed and he followed the cues of her body, not letting up until she came with a shudder and a sigh, her fingers relaxing over his arm.
Though his body was clamoring at him, he rested his head against her thigh, exhilarated accomplishment making him smug and happy.
He petted her calf. “Rhi,” he murmured and gave her clit a gentle kiss. “Rhiannon.”
A new tension invaded her limbs. He could feel the instant she transformed from postcoital lethargic to anxious. She sat straight up. “Rhi?” he repeated. “You okay?”
Her hair had escaped its ponytail. She nodded so hard the curls vibrated. “Yes. I—I have to go.” She grabbed her leggings and pulled them on.
“Go?” He frowned. She didn’t sound okay. She sounded freaked out. “Did I do—”
“You didn’t do anything.” She lifted her hips and pulled the pants on over her hips, tugging her shirt and sweatshirt down over the waistband. Then she pulled the sleeves of her sweatshirt down to cover her hands. “You were great. Thanks for, um, everything. I’ll— I’ll see you.”
She clambered out of the back seat, and he followed, blinking at the harsh glare of the parking garage, no longer diffused through the windows. He straightened and touched her arm. “Rhiannon.”
“Don’t call me that.” Her snap was loud and stern. She opened the driver’s-side door with jerky motions.
“I won’t.” He kept his tone as gentle and nonthreatening as he could make it. “Rhi. I’m sorry.”
Her shoulders froze, her face in profile. Her words spilled from her lips too fast, like something was forcing them out involuntarily. “My ex was the last person to call me Rhiannon in bed. Things didn’t end well. Guys I hook up with, they use Claire, if they call me anything at all. I didn’t know how much I’d hate it, but I can’t handle you calling me my full name. Especially when we’re intimate.”
His first instinct was to find this mystery ex-boyfriend and punch him in the face, but that wasn’t helpful right now. He raked his hand through his hair. “I’ll call you whatever you want, even if that’s Claire or some other name you haven’t told me yet. Say no more. I didn’t know it was such a big deal, but I hear you. I’ll be more careful.” He dared to rest his hand on her back. Her muscles slowly unclenched.
She faced him, and he was floored at the sheen of tears in her eyes. Rhi put a lot of stock in appearing tough and strong. She was probably kicking herself for even having this outburst. She wouldn’t like him seeing her cry.
He pulled her in for a tight hug so she could have the illusion of privacy. She rested her face against his shoulder and breathed deeply while he rubbed her back. “I’m sorry. This was an overreaction.”
“No. If it’s important to you, it’s not an overreaction. It’s okay, Rhi.”
At the repetition of her nickname, she relaxed. She pulled away and he gently freed a curl from where it was stuck to her damp lips. He squeezed her shoulders. “Why don’t you go on home. Get some rest?”
Her smile was wobbly, but there. “I will. Thanks for, um. Everything.”
“Thank you.”
Her tone went businesslike and brisk. “I’ll call you about our next meeting.”
He matched her tone with a faint sense of amusement, given where his lips had been a few minutes ago. “Sounds good.” He waved and waited until she’d reversed out of the spot and drove down the ramp before he walked away.
His body was still clamoring for more, but he also felt an odd sense of peace that not even the memory of that drunk calling him a Curse could shake.