Page 4 of Riot (Mayhem 2)

I barely have time to squeal in surprise when he wraps his hands around my waist and effortlessly lifts me onto it. He steps between my knees, buries his fingers in my hair, and pulls me to his mouth again, kissing me like I’ve wanted to be kissed all night. My hands are fumbling with the button of his jeans before my mind even processes what they’re doing, and his are sliding up my thighs to push my dress up to my hips. Before I can finish with his button, he finishes the job for me and reaches into his zipper, pulling himself out. A second later, his hard length is begging entry between my legs, and I want him so badly that I’m surprised I manage to say what I say next.

“Condom,” I pant, my breath leaving in a wintery swirl.

“Lie back,” he breathlessly orders, fishing a condom from his pocket and tearing it open. I watch him roll the rubber on, involuntarily tightening my thighs around his hips in anticipation of what’s to come. His fingers lift to smooth over the thin fabric covering my pert nipples, and then he applies pressure, urging me to lie down.

I can’t believe we’re doing this here, in the middle of a damn parking lot, on some stranger’s truck, but if I don’t get him inside me soon, I’m pretty sure I’m going to do something humiliating like cry and beg for him to fuck me.

And wouldn’t he just love that.

I lie back against the hard metal, fisting Joel’s crisp T-shirt in my hand and tugging him closer. With my hand in his shirt, my legs curled around his hips, and his fingers gripping my waist, he eases inside me in a single long thrust. I feel every inch of him drive its way inside me as the moan that escapes my lips penetrates the night sky.

He’s thrusting in and out of me at an overwhelming pace when I hear a group of people talking. I quickly push myself up to search for the sound, and Joel stops moving, but the group continues walking and never sees us. He starts moving inside me again, slower now, but my mind remains elsewhere until he tugs the top of my strapless dress down under my breasts, exposing my already firm nipples to the icy air. They’re extra pink from the cold, and when he caresses them with the warm pads of his thumbs, I have to bite my lip between my teeth to keep from whimpering. It feels so good that, when he removes one of his hands, I almost beg him to keep touching me. Instead, he circles his arm behind my back to hold me in place as he leans forward and closes his burning hot lips around a chilled pink tip. My head falls back and my fingers weave into his stiff hair, silently demanding that he never stop what he’s doing with his tongue regardless of who might see us.

His hips never break pace as he teases one nipple and then the other, frying every neuron in my brain. With his spikes and stubble pricking my palm, I urge him to take his fill, pulsing around him and feeling like I’m about to shatter into pieces. His tongue flicks over the pink peak he’s holding between his lips, and I reflexively squeeze tighter all around him. It’s like my body is trying to draw him in and force him out all at once, which means it’s just as confused as the rest of me.

“Joel,” I moan, tightening and untightening and bursting apart and coming back together. I haven’t tumbled over the edge yet, but God, I’m close. I’m so, so, so close.

Joel stands up straight and strokes my swollen clit with the rough pad of his thumb. I’m playing with my still-moist nipples when he lifts his thumb to his mouth and runs his tongue over it.

“I’m already soaked,” I pant, frustration cutting into my voice because I’m teetering on the precipice and desperately need him to just push me over. If sex in public was more my thing, I’d already be there, but it’s hard to relax when the sane part of me—no matter how small that part may be—is nervous about getting caught and possibly arrested.

“I know” is all he says. With his ice-blue eyes locked on mine, he lowers his thumb and circles it over my moist nub again. One . . . two . . . oh . . . God . . . three . . . four times. My hips jerk, and he lifts his hand to his mouth again. He slowly curls his tongue around his damp thumbprint and licks every bit of me off of it.

The sight of him—this unbelievably hot fucking rock star who could have had any girl he wanted tonight—savoring the taste of me . . . it ignites a white-hot fire that erupts from my core and floods every cell in my body. My eyes roll back, my fingers tunnel into my own hair since there’s nothing else to hold on to, and my legs tremble violently. Joel suddenly thrusts every inch of himself into me, pinning my knees against his hips and pushing into me like he wants to make me fit him, only him, and no other man ever again.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growls, his husky voice making the fire inside me blaze hotter until I’m melting all around him.

A white cloud of gasped curse words swirls from my lips toward a blanket of burning stars, and Joel throbs inside me as he sends up a cloud to match. He pumps into me until he has nothing left to give, and then he rests both hands on the truck bed to hold himself up, his head hanging and his shoulders rising and falling with each panting breath he takes. When he’s gathered enough strength, he lifts his chin to give me a self-satisfied smile that makes me tighten around him all over again. His eyes close and he makes a sound that makes me do it yet again. Each time I tighten, he moves inside me involuntarily, and if he doesn’t pull out soon, I’m hoping he has a second condom in his pocket, because we’re definitely going to need it.

I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or relieved when he slowly pulls out of me and slides onto the truck bed, but when he collapses onto his back beside me, his arm pressed tight against mine, I’m nothing but content.