Illicit by Madeline Pryce

“You know what I think?”
    He could barely speak he was so turned on. His hands tightened on her flesh. He’d play her game. For now. “What?”
    “I think,” she let out the sound a woman makes right before she orgasms. Breathy. Low. Normally followed by “Oh, Peter,” and a “Yes, God, I’m coming”. Her voice hardened against his ear. “I think you should go fuck yourself, you arrogant prick. No one owns me.” Her hands came between them and she pushed off his chest, trying to remove herself from his lap.
    The conniving little bitch. God, he loved it.
    He might have laughed if he weren’t moments away from bending her over the seat. Before she could move an inch, he tightened his hands around her thighs and held her in place. Eva needed another lesson. He smashed his lips against hers, taking her mouth in a deliberately rough kiss. Her moan was immediate. The sound gripped his cock, stroked it. The hands that had been trying to push him away now ran up flannel stretched tight over muscles in his chest. Her palm stalled over the pounding beat of his heart. She fisted the fabric, yanked him closer.
    Yes.
    She belonged to him. No one else. The hand he had up her skirt curved inward. A rumbling noise of approval vibrated through him. He tore his mouth from hers, stared into her eyes. “This,” he plunged two fingers into her sex. She gasped, and he leaned in close to taste the sweetness of the sound. “Is mine, Eva, and I’m going to prove it.”
    Curving his fingers, he found the hard knot of her G-spot and coaxed a ripple of pleasure from her. Pressing against her clit with this thumb, he thrust in and out of her channel. She’d sing for him, he’d make damn sure of it.
    “I’m not yours,” she said on a keening cry. Her words didn’t stop her from moving her hips against him.
    “Wrong answer.” It took him one second to unzip his pants, another to position himself at her entrance and plunge home.
    She cried out, a sound of shock, pain and pleasure. Her nails bit into his shoulder, the sharp bite just enough to keep him from coming on the spot. She was hot and tight. He gripped her slender waist, forced her body down as he thrust up. Jolts of pleasure tightened his stomach, propelled him forward for another taste of heaven.
    He pressed his mouth against her neck and devoured. His teeth closed around skin, and he bit down. Above him, Eva pressed a palm flat against the headrest and rocked. He slammed his eyes closed, willed his climax away. She rode his cock, every jerk of her hips coming quicker and quicker.
    “Harder,” she moaned.
    No. He was in control, not her. The flesh beneath his teeth broke, hot blood spilling into his mouth. The copper stung his tongue, spurred his appetite for more. He gripped her hip, stopped her damn writhing, and pounded into her body with the ruthless abandon of a wild animal. Harder. Harder. Harder. Every thrust sent his cock deeper into her gripping channel. Tight vaginal muscles squeezed, let go, squeezed, the sensations drawing unnamed pleasure from deep inside of him.
    Nothing should be this good.
    A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, the bite of salt adding to the scents of sex. He gripped the back of Eva’s neck, found her hair damp. What he wouldn’t give to have her naked, sweaty, his body sliding over hers. Not going to happen in a damned pick-up truck. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have her naked. He pushed at her coat, managed to get the wool off her shoulders and onto the floorboard. The dress, still smelling of death and grief, gave no resistance, not when he unzipped and pushed the material down around her waist.
    He cupped the weight of her breast before thumbing her nipple. His tongue found hers, stroked, pushed in and then out, mimicking the frenzied pace of their hips working in tandem. Her body tightened. The erotic sounds she made grew more desperate, more demanding. She was close, so damn close. His need to spill inside her drew