Shoot Out (The Baltimore Banners Book 7) by Lisa B. Kamps

Please." A soft whimper, filled with desperate need. Mat clenched his jaw and tightened his fist once more, tugging her hair, a little harder this time. Her hips bucked, once, twice, reaching. Then she screamed his name, a throaty rasp as she rode her fingers, her hips dropping down, over and over in time to each breathy moan.
    And fuck, he wasn't going to last much longer. He held his breath, stroking his cock faster, harder. He couldn't—he wanted—
    He threw his head back, his jaw clenched, searching for control. Fuck. He didn't want control. He wanted to let go. Here. Now. With Nicole watching. "Nicole, I'm going to cum."   
    Her hand was suddenly on his, her slick fingers wrapping around his and pulling them away. Mat groaned, a sound that was almost a growl. And then her mouth was on him, her hot mouth, sucking. And shit, he hadn't meant for her—
    "Fuck!" His orgasm ripped through him, tearing a howling groan from his lips. His hand was still fisted in Nicole's hair as her head bobbed in his lap. He held her in place, thrusting his hips up. Harder, faster, deeper, her sweet little moans and moist sucking sounds drawing his climax out.
    He fell back against the seat, his lungs bursting with each breath he struggled to pull in. His body and his mind were both limp, completely spent. Time slowed, stilled. Seconds, minutes, he had no idea. He only knew he couldn't move even if he wanted to.
    He felt Nicole stir, felt her shift as she eased her hair from his fist. Reality slammed into him, freezing the air in his lungs and the blood in his veins. Holy hell, what had he just done?
    Mat bolted upright, his hands reaching for Nicole, an apology on his lips as he helped her sit up. But she shook her hair out and fixed him with a shy smile.
    "Nicole, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"
    "I'm not." She leaned forward and pressed a shy kiss against his mouth. He moaned and reached for her, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue inside. He took his time, teasing, tasting, enjoying each touch of their tongues, each little whimper.
    He gentled the kiss, slowly ending it. Then he eased Nicole away from him, watching her for any signs that he'd crossed some line, that he'd accidentally hurt her. But she just sat there, stretched across the console as she curled against him, that same shy smile on her face.
    "I—I didn't hurt you, did I?"
    "No." Her smile broadened, just a tiny bit. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
    Mat laughed, he couldn't help it. He shook his head, turning serious once more. "No, you didn't hurt me. Are you sure you're okay? I've never—I mean, I haven't—" He cleared his throat and forced himself to meet her eyes. "I've never done anything like this before so this, uh, was a first for me."
    The shy smile on her face changed, growing, becoming brighter. She pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat then looked up at him, her eyes sparkling in the faint light.
    "Good. This was a first for me, too."

Chapter Eight
     
    Nicole read the email for the third time, hoping the words would somehow miraculously change. But the message was the same, no matter how many times she blinked or squinted or tilted her head.
    The message was always the same.
    Thank you for your interest, blah blah blah.
    Admire your work, blah blah blah.
    Not interested at this time, blah blah blah.
    She closed the email then backed out of the program before disconnecting from the internet. Disappointment surged through her. The short email hadn't been worth the hassle of trying to get connected, of waiting for the ancient dial-up to actually work. She should have waited and used the wi-fi at the hospital, or taken the bus to the coffee shop or even to the library. Any of those things would have saved her time instead of fighting with the old system. But it was all she had, and that just barely since it was always a crapshoot whether or not or her mother remembered to pay the phone bill with the money Nicole gave her.
    Just