Not Until You: Part II by Roni Loren Page A

purse on my knees, blocking the view. Foster’s fingertip dragged across the damp satin, finding my hot button through the thin fabric and circling around it.
    My muscles tensed like I’d been Tasered, and my fingernails curled into the leather of my purse. Pike’s hand cupped my neck and squeezed, letting me know that even if he was carrying on a mundane conversation, he knew exactly what Foster was doing to me and how my body was responding.
    Foster stroked me through the fabric once, twice—knowing exactly where to touch. I tried not to squirm in the seat. My body was near detonation already after what had happened on the dance floor. I hadn’t been touched like this by anyone other than myself in years. And, God, how many times had I fantasized about this very guy being the one to do it? I wasn’t going to be able to hold it together.
    And apparently he didn’t want me to, because before I could even catch another breath, he was moving aside the fabric. The pad of his finger brushed embarrassingly slippery skin and dipped lower, finding my entrance. He slipped one long finger inside. I did gasp this time, unable to hold it back, but Pike conveniently coughed over the sound.
    Foster moved his finger back to my clitoris, gliding over me with the exact amount of pressure that offered pleasure but not release. I had to fight hard not to make a sound, while Foster continued his calm conversation. “Can you take a left? It’s the longer way, but I don’t want to get caught in that overnight construction.”
    “No problem,” the cabbie said.
    “And do you mind turning up this song?” Pike asked. “I love this band.”
    The music filled the cab, and Foster’s teasing touches turned purposeful. I curled my lips inward, a moan building in my throat. Oh, God. If he didn’t stop, I was going to climax right here in the cab. Loudly, if my lungs had anything to do with it.
    He leaned close to me, his words barely audible against my ear. “Come for me, Cela. Let’s scratch something off that Never Have I Ever list of yours.”
    His finger dipped inside me again, his thumb strumming my clit, and everything went white behind my eyes.
Oh, God, oh, God
. I turned my head, my lips parting, as the orgasm crashed over me. I wasn’t going to be able to stay quiet. But before a sound could slip past, a hot mouth was on me, my cry swallowed by Pike’s kiss.
    My mind went blank, and inhibition dropped from me like a snapped anchor. I tumbled into the moment, the touch, the kiss. My body fluttered around Foster’s fingers, begging for more, for the real thing. And I poured that need into the kiss with Pike.
    “Hotel’s right around the corner,” the cabbie said, clearing his throat and yanking me from my slow drift back down to earth. “Do you need to go through the lobby entrance or are you heading to their wine bar?”
    “The lobby,” Foster said, tracing his fingers along my inner thigh again.
    Pike eased away from our kiss, his gaze hooded. “The next one’s mine.”
    My brain and body were buzzing in some lust-laced haze when I turned to face forward, and everything was hot, flush. Foster’s hand was back in his lap, but the bulge in his jeans was prominent. After a few breaths to return my breathing to normal, I demurely straightened my dress, then reached out and squeezed Foster’s knee in silent thanks—almost afraid to look at him because I knew I’d lose my stoic facade.
    He lowered his head next to mine as the car rounded a corner and nuzzled the shell of my ear, sending a hot ripple down my left side. “That was beautiful, angel. I love feeling your fear slip from you as you let your desire take over. There’s nothing sexier than a woman who knows what she wants and has the guts to ask for it.”
    I closed my eyes, letting the warm honey of his voice slide over me.
    “The Hotel St. Mark,” the driver announced.
    “We’re going to make this very good for you, Cela,” Foster promised, and then Pike