Icing on the Cake (Close to Home) by Karla Doyle

Especially with his name attached. In and out, he finger-fucked her. And hump the air in the space between her legs—yeah, he did that too.
    Below him, her head turned side to side. Her palms smacked and squeaked against the metal. Her panting turned to moaning, loud and long and fucking glorious in his ears.
    But those weren’t the only sounds in the night. Voices registered on his radar. He’d parked way out, on the far side of the lot, but he wasn’t taking chances. This view, this woman and her sexy sounds—all his.
    He folded his body over top of her. Took possession of her parted lips and let her moans vibrate against his tongue while she rode his hands to the goddamn stars.
    “Mmm…good kiss.”
    “Told you your mouth belongs to me tonight.”
    She laughed against his lips. “Other way around, lawman.” She locked her arms around his neck. Dug her nails into the back of his head and sucked his tongue into her hot mouth. Worked it like a fucking blowjob.
    He wouldn’t have thought his dick could get any harder, but it did. Hard as granite and feral with need, that’s how she’d made him. “In the car. Now.” He pulled her up with him and bullied her toward the passenger door.
    “How romantic,” she said, reaching for the handle.
    He caught her arm and pinned her against the side of the car. “You don’t want romantic. You want raw. A fuck so hard you feel it with every step tomorrow. With every breath. And you want it from me.”
    She stared up at him, tongue skating hungrily across her lips.
    “Get in this car and that’s what happens next.” He pressed her palm to his cock. “And I do mean next .”
     

Chapter Seven
     
    “Well, are you going to open the door for me?” She raised one eyebrow while squeezing the thick, hard bulge beneath her palm. “Or is that too romantic?”
    A sexy smile slowly slid into place on the lips that had kissed her to the melting point mere minutes ago. “Not at all.” He extracted keys from his pocket, reached to his side, unlocked and opened the door. He stepped back and nodded at the opening. Clearly daring her to get in—and prove she wanted what he’d promised.
    She wanted. So much her heartbeat was doing a techno dance in her chest and achy need tugged low in her abdomen, despite the toe-curling orgasm he’d just delivered. She leaned into him, grabbing fistfuls of his jacket and bringing his face down to meet hers. She brushed a kiss across his mouth. Light, teasing.
    The moment he tried to take control, she pulled back. “Don’t forget my shoes.” She breathed the demand against his lips, then slipped inside the car.
    He moved around the front of the Mustang like a big, predatory animal. Confident, strong. Dominant. A man more than willing to play and listen, but who would never truly give up control. Not during sex. Not in the rest of his life either. She’d witnessed that quality plenty since meeting him yesterday afternoon. And it made him more tempting than any of the other men she’d hooked up with.
    Whatever his other reasons for maintaining control, she knew one for sure—because he gave a shit about the people in his life. He took charge and took care of them. Protected them, even from themselves. The way he’d done with her. Several times.
    Getting caught up in that would be so easy. Also a huge mistake. Even if she wanted an involvement, it couldn’t be Curtis. Too much danger in a cop’s world. Bullets and knives, criminals and assholes at every turn. So, despite his far-too-tempting comment about one night together not being enough, her answer had to stand true. One night was the limit.
    “I like these,” he said, depositing the stilettos on her lap as he filled his side of the car with his big frame and even bigger presence. “Put them back on.”
    “Ooh, are we going to role-play ‘dirty cop fucks a call girl’? I like that one.”
    “I don’t role-play.” The look he gave her while bringing the car rumbling to life