The city glowed below us in the distance; so far away it almost looked harmless. We sat in silence, the hum of the car long since faded. The night was thick with tension, not from the world outside, but from the one simmering quietly inside me.
I didn't know what came over me when I told him to get in the backseat. I just… wanted, no, I needed him to.
I stared out the tinted window, jaw tight. I hated the way my body ached, hated that I could want something so badly and still feel nothing inside.
I snapped.
"Undo your belt," I said, voice low.
There was no hesitation. I heard the faint shift of leather, the snap of metal, the sound of his zipper sliding down as he undid his fly. My heart beat faster, not from nerves, but anticipation.
Power, that heady, addictive feeling that came from knowing I had control over every breath in this car.
"Bring it out." I ordered. "Show me."
The silence grew heavier as he pulled himself free. I looked down at his exposed cock, he was thick and straining already. I wanted it. There was nothing soft or sweet about the hunger curling through me, I wasn't looking for romance or tenderness.
I was looking to burn.
I reached out, wrapping my fingers around him slowly, deliberately. He was warm in my hand, the pulse of arousal unmistakable as he twitched and hardened further under my touch. I stroked him with slow precision, watching the tight line of his jaw as he struggled to stay still.
His eyes were staring ahead, hot and locked, but he didn't move. Didn't make a sound.
Good.
I stroked him some more and he continued to twitch in my hand until he began to leak. I lifted one leg over his lap and straddled him, the hem of my dress sliding up as I adjusted myself over him.
My panties were already damp, clinging to me like something that needed to be peeled off at once, I shifted them aside. I was ready.
I sank down on him slowly, the stretch was sharp and aching, but I welcomed it, I wanted to feel it. I took him in completely and my breath caught at the fullness. I watched his head tip back slightly as I settled over him.
I braced myself against his shoulder before moving my hips, he felt so good inside. I began bouncing on him, and his hardness impaled my pussy again and again.
He tried to touch me.
"No," I hissed, grabbing his wrists and pushing them down onto the seat beside him. "You don't touch unless I say so."
He nodded once, his hands flexing where I pinned them. I continued to move my hips, slowly at first, then faster, setting a punishing rhythm as the tension inside me exploded.
My fingers tangled in his hair, gripping hard, my thighs tightening around his. I rode him like he belonged to me, because he did.
The friction was perfect, maddening. Every movement sent sparks lacing up my spine. I was soaked, and he was thick and hard inside me, every inch of him filling me in a way I'd only imagined.
He tried again to touch, his hands twitching.
"Keep them down," I snapped, slapping his cheek, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to remind him who I was.
I leaned in, breathing heavily against his neck as I ground down harder, his breath caught, his muscles straining beneath me.
"Fuck.... you feel so good." I moaned.
I rode him harder and faster and my moans became louder, more shameless.
"I'm going to..." he began, voice gravelly and low. I felt him throb inside me.
"Don't you dare pull out."
He didn't, he couldn't. My body clenched around him as a sharp and violent climax ripped through me, I cried out, biting into his shoulder to muffle the sound.
He followed seconds later, groaning as he released into me, hands still fisted and unmoving, his body shuddering with restraint.
I collapsed against him, breathing hard, my cheek pressed to his chest. The beat of his heart thundered beneath my ear.
The car was thick with heat and the scent of sex. My heartbeat didn't slow, my body hummed like a live wire, even as I lay against Elias's chest, catching my breath.
His skin was hot beneath mine, his chest rising and falling with steady control, like none of it had shaken him. But I knew better.
I pulled away from him slowly, the stickiness between us tugging as I sat back, legs still straddling his lap. The interior light was dim, bathing us in a golden glow that made the sweat on his temple shimmer.
He didn't speak. Of course he didn't.
His hands were still obediently flat beside him, his knuckles white from restraint. His cock was still hard. The veins along its length twitched as if it hadn't had enough.
Neither had I.
I took a moment to breathe, my fingers brushing back the damp hair clinging to my face. I closed my eyes, I told myself it was enough, that I had what I wanted.
But the ache didn't fade, and I was still angry.
At Gideon, at the years I'd lost. At everything and everyone. Maybe I wanted to punish something, or maybe I just wanted to forget.
"Still hard," I murmured, dragging a finger along his stomach. "Didn't come enough, did you?"
His lips parted slightly, but no sound escaped, just a breath. Good, I didn't want words.
I leaned forward and pressed my mouth to his neck, my breath hot against his skin. His eyes met mine and I stared into their dark depths, I could see a storm brewing inside.
I sat up again, shifting just enough to guide him back inside me. The pressure made me bite my lip. I was sore and stretched, but I didn't care. I wanted to feel it all again. The pain, the power, the pleasure.
I began to move, slow and grinding, dragging my hips in deep, deliberate circles.
He groaned just once, low and strained. His hands twitched.
"Don't," I said sharply.
He stilled, his wrists pressing harder into the leather beneath him.
I placed my hands on his chest and leaned forward, finding his throat with one hand, my fingers wrapping lightly around it.
My eyes stayed locked on his, and maybe I wanted to know what was going on in his head. The expression that flickered in his eyes was half desperation and half surrender, it was like fuel.
I rode him harder now, the rhythm punishing and rough. My breath came in ragged gasps as I choked him just a little more, his skin tightened beneath my palm.
Still, he didn't touch me or speak. He didn't need to.
I slapped his cheek again, harder this time, not out of cruelty, but because I could. Because I was allowed to, because he was mine to use.
The release crashed over me again, hot and uncontrollable. My body shook as I gripped his shoulders, gasping into the crook of his neck. And he was right there with me, the tension in him breaking as his own climax overtook him.
I collapsed onto him again, breathing hard, sweat slicking my back.
Silence reigned. I didn't speak, neither did he. The silence wasn't awkward, It was charged.
I slid off him slowly, smoothing my dress back down my thighs with a calm that didn't match the wild storm still churning inside me. I sat back, turned toward the window, and crossed my legs as
if nothing had happened though my body continued to tremble.
"I'd like to head back now." I said, my voice quiet.