Of the Knowledge of Good and Evil by Micah Persell Page B

where they were. Maybe it was the desire he had to crawl atop her, part her legs, and drive himself home that made him remember that they were out in public.
    With more strength than he thought he had, he pulled from Dahlia’s kiss, forced his hand to release her hair, and glanced up and over the dashboard to find two very amused guards watching them from the gate.
    “What?” Dahlia asked from her propped up position on the seat. “Why’re we stopping?”
    Jericho returned his attention to her again, and smiled at what he saw. Her lips were kiss-swollen, her hair was mussed from his hand, and somehow he’d managed to raise her shirt over her bra without realizing it.
    She looked delectable, confused, and frustrated.
    “We have an audience,” he said and nodded his head toward the guards.
    Her expression didn’t change, and he realized she wasn’t thinking clearly enough to care. He leaned down and gave her one brief kiss — anything more would try his control — and pulled her shirt down. “Scooch up,” he told her gently. When she didn’t move at all, he chuckled and helped her sit up and turn around. He shut her door and jogged around the hood to his side of the truck, the movements of his body causing a rather insistent body part to rub painfully. He pointedly ignored the guards and slid into the driver’s seat.
    As soon as the door was closed, Dahlia scooted over to him, her hand falling directly to the crotch of his pants where she closed her hand over his length.
    He hissed in a breath through his clenched teeth. He had to get them somewhere private. Now. He started the car with a violent crank of the key and reversed so quickly he spit up chunks of asphalt.
    He left the facility like a man possessed while Dahlia leaned in further and bit down on his neck, sucking hard. Her hand moved up and down his length rigorously, and Jericho thought briefly that there was a very real possibility he was going to crash the car. He made it about half a mile down the road before finding an abandoned neighborhood to pull off into.
    The car was barely in park before Jericho lost control. Dahlia let out a quick squeak as Jericho turned on her, launching them back into the bench and cramming his hips between her legs.
    “God, Dahlia,” he knew he was being too rough, just like the last time. It had never been this way with Emily. He couldn’t figure out why he had no control over his actions, why he mauled Dahlia whenever he got the opportunity.
    But, thank God, she didn’t seem to mind. She gave him an answering moan and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and sifted her fingers through his hair. “You’re back,” she whispered against his lips. “Thank God.”
    Yep, she liked it. The quarters were cramped, but Jericho didn’t care. His boots hit against the driver’s side window with percussive thumps, and already their heavy breathing was fogging up the interior of the car, making the air thick.
    He’d never done anything like this in a car before, and he vowed right there and then to do it repeatedly in the future. But only with Dahlia.
    She was nibbling on his lower lip, her hands traveling from his hair to trail over his shoulders, down his biceps, skittering over to his lower back and then down to his ass, where she grabbed him hard, her finger tips digging into the flesh through his pants.
    His hips kicked forward, thrusting into the heated center between her legs. She moaned and arched her back. “God, yes,” she muttered, biting down on his lip harder.
    A harsh noise sounded from the back of his throat, and his thrust again. And again. He was spiraling out of control, and he quickly realized he had about one and half more thrusts before orgasm.
    He pulled his lip from her teeth and looked at her anxiously. She needed more than he could give her if he didn’t quit moving. He groaned and pulled his erection from its favorite place. He needed an idea. God, he hated not knowing what he was doing. She