“The only time I've begged for anything from you was during a moment of weakness and a moment of alcohol-induced stupidity. And my reason for hating you goes much deeper than that.”
He coughs out a fake laugh, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Moment of weakness, my ass. If I felt between your legs right now, you'd be drenched, wouldn't you? You can lie to me all damn day, but your body will always give you away, princess.”
“Even if I was, you wouldn't do anything about it. You don't go back for seconds. Tag ’em and bag ’em, right?”
“Good lord, it's like you’re this genius little book rat but when it comes to actual common sense, your mind can't comprehend anything over frat house knowledge.”
“That's not true,” I defend weakly.
“Then kiss me,” he demands. “Kiss me and I’ll prove you have as much willpower as a peanut.”
I snort, rolling my eyes. “You're pathetic. You really think I'm going to lower myself to your standards and play your stupid little game?”
He leans over the center console and cups my cheek as he nuzzles his nose in the crook of my neck, pressing his lips just under my ear. His touch sends electricity down my spine and momentarily paralyzes my vocal cords. His lips move, and I can feel his warm touch all over my neck and shoulders. My eyes flutter closed as my head falls back, giving him all the access he needs.
“Tell me to stop,” he demands, pressing his lips harder against my skin. He nips with his teeth, and I hold back a moan.
“Push me away,” he challenges, pressing his lips against the shell of my ear.
Damn him. Damn him and his perfect, soft lips and his perfect, warm hands touching my face. I want to stop him. I want to have the upper hand, but he's so right. I have zero willpower when it comes to him. Even the thoughts in my mind start to disappear.
“Your skin tastes like warm honey,” he whispers against my collarbone. “I could kiss this neck for hours.”
His hand palms my breast and squeezes with force, and having no self-control to stop him, I arch my back against his hand and moan.
“I knew you were hungry, princess. But goddamn, you're a starving little vixen, aren't you?”
My body shudders by the way his words tickle my neck. His hot breath against my skin makes it impossible to form words. My throat squeezes tight, releasing a deep moan that teases him just right.
“Fuck, Viola,” he growls, bringing his mouth over mine but not quite touching. “Say it,” he whispers. “Say you want me just as much as I want you.”
The earnest way his words come out make me want to believe he's being genuine. I feel completely vulnerable in his arms, but I don't know if that's enough to trust him.
“You aren't the boss of me,” I spit back my earlier words at him with a sly grin.
“If we weren't parked off the road on a busy street, I’d bend your ass over so fast, you wouldn't even have time to brace yourself.”
I tick the corner of my lips up, wanting to push his boundaries. I move closer to him, letting my lips rest against his. “So improvise.”
He presses his lips to mine in a heated rush of need and desire. My body gives in, and I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer.
“Sit back,” he says, breaking the kiss. I do as I'm told and watch him climb into the back seat of his Challenger. Once he adjusts himself, I watch as he undoes his dress slacks and pulls them down to his ankles. I notice the large bulge in his boxer shorts and memories of last night send an ache between my legs. “Saddle up, princess.”
My brows shoot up in surprise. “Here? Right now?”
“Tinted windows,” he says as if that's a good enough reason. “What? You worried someone will see you not being a perfect saint?”
“Don't be an asshole,” I say, crawling to the back. “And I'm not a perfect saint.” I begin to unbutton my jeans and pull them down and off. I straddle his lap and feel his erection against my panties.
“Prove it then.” He leans back with his arms behind his head, and his lips in a crooked smile.
“Fuck you in the back seat of your Challenger to prove what? That I don't have standards?”
He grabs the outside of my bare thighs and rubs himself against my core. The pressure adds to the desperate ache that's already there. “That you're actually a bad girl hidden behind the dorky glasses and Harry Potter T-shirts.”
“Do you just have to push every damn button of mine?” I widen my legs, falling harder against him. I rotate my hips and feel him growing harder underneath me.
“Don't fuck with me, princess,” he warns, bringing his hips up to rub against my pussy again, his fingers digging into my skin. I start grinding against him faster, his head falling back against the seat with a throaty groan.
“And why's that?” I whisper with confidence. “You going to—”
He slides a finger under the fabric of my panties and moves them to the side. He rubs his thumb over my clit that's already sensitive and aching. He adds just the right amount of pressure to make my body sing.
My hands rest on his shoulders and squeeze as he slides a finger inside. I grind my hips down and feel him go deeper. “You want to tell me again how I’m not the boss of you?”
I want to slap that smug look right off his face, but instead, I lean down and kiss him. At least I can shut him up for now.
He slides a second finger in, moving faster and pressing deeper. He swallows my moans with his mouth and kisses me with absolute ferocity.
“Don’t forget my rules, Viola,” he warns as my body tightens to a crescendo.
I release a harsh breath, resting my forehead against his as the buildup slows, then releases. I grit my teeth, and say, “One.”
He smiles. “That’s my good girl.”
I shake my head at him, narrowing my eyes. “You’re such an egotistical asshole.”
“Whatever keeps the fire burning,” he quips, his fingers sinking deep inside again. “You think it’d be this good if we didn’t hate each other so much?”
I grind against his hand, feeling the pressure build up again.
“Everyone has their own ways of getting off, princess. And pissing you off, seeing that look of distaste on your face, only makes me harder.”
“So you’re saying hate-fucking is some kind of fetish of yours?”
“Just with you, Viola.” He smiles, pulling me closer and pressing his mouth to mine. “Only you.”
I count to three before I can no longer take it and demand he fucks me. He has me reach behind to grab a condom out of his center console.
“Condoms in your car? Really?” I ask as I hand it to him. “Could you be any more cliché?
“Could you be any more desperate to ride it?” he counters, a sly smirk on his face, having zero shame.
I roll my eyes, pinching my lips together to hold in an amused chuckle. Why is it even the most crass things he says makes me melt like a pathetic love-sick puppy?
Sitting back, I watch him lower his shorts and roll the condom over his massive hard-on. He grabs my hips and positions my body over him, sliding in slowly. He looks up at me, watching for my reaction. My eyes flutter closed as the sensation takes over my body, and everything turns white. God, the way he makes me feel is indescribable. I hate him and his cocky attitude. The way he knows how to get exactly what he wants, even when I’m fighting it inside.