Donovan had to reel himself in as he drove away from the club, Marin next to him, the subtle scent of her arousal perfuming the air. The woman was temptation personified. She had no idea how far to the edge she’d already driven him tonight. Seeing her dancing with Lane, his hands and mouth on her—Donovan had wanted to claim Marin right there like some chest-pounding caveman. But Lane had looked up while he’d mouthed Marin’s throat, catching Donovan’s attention. Lane had told him all he needed to know with that look. Come and get her, doc. She’s mighty sweet. Lane had become part of the game.
And though Donovan wasn’t on board with sharing Marin with anyone, the interplay had turned him the hell on. Because it meant Marin was all in. She was willing to dance along those boundaries, push the limits, test him. She was a fucking vixen wrapped in the trappings of a virgin. Her responses were so purely sensual, so hungry, that he had to keep himself from wanting to rush into trying every damn thing with her. Her shame instinct was there, but once she was turned on, all those shackles broke away. She’d shivered at the thought of Lane watching them fuck. Not fear. Curiosity. She’d spent a life eating white bread and now a lavish feast was spread before her and she wanted a taste of it all.
He wanted to give it to her.
Starting tonight. He reached over and rested his hand on her knee, stroking the delicate skin with his fingertips. “You’re quiet over there. You okay?”
She peered over at him. “I’m good. I guess I’m just not sure if we’re still in role-playing mode or not.”
He kept his eyes on the city streets. “Who said I was playing a role? Everything I said to you in there was one hundred percent true. That was me saying whatever I wanted to say, doing what I wanted to do to you, what I’ve thought about doing to you all day.”
“Oh, well . . . oh.”
He glanced over at her with a half-smile. “That make you nervous?”
She considered him, the sharp therapist still there despite the hum of lust. “No. Well, yes, but in a good way.”
He let his hand slide toward her inner thigh and pulled gently. “Spread your legs for me.”
Her teeth dragged along her lip, but she let him guide her knees apart. He wrapped his fingers around the hem of her dress and eased the fabric up. He couldn’t see much in the dark car, but her scent hit his nose and went straight to his cock. “You’re still soaked, aren’t you? I can smell how turned on you are.”
She groaned in what distinctly sounded like embarrassment. “Jesus, West, way to make a girl feel self-conscious.”
She tried to clamp her knees back together, but he squeezed her thigh and kept her in place. “Don’t you dare. It’s sexy as fuck. It’s got me hard as iron.” He took her hand and placed it on his erection to prove his point. “If I wasn’t driving, I’d bury my face between your thighs and lick up every bit of it, wear that scent like goddamned cologne.”
A soft expelled breath hit his ears. He moved her hand away from him, worried he wouldn’t have the restraint not to pull over to the side of the road and fuck her right there in the car. He placed her hand back on her own thigh, dragging it up and down, making her fingers glide along her own skin. “Lift your dress to your waist and touch yourself for me.”
Her arms tensed beneath his fingers. “What?”
He sent her a look. “Recline the seat, keep your legs spread, and show me how you get yourself off.”
Anxiety flickered in her gaze, and she glanced at the road before them. He’d taken a back way, gotten them out of the French Quarter and was now heading back out to The Grove on a quiet state highway.
“Donovan, I can’t—”
“The windows are tinted and it’s nighttime. No one will see you but me. And I want to see.” He couldn’t tell in the dark, but he had a feeling her blushing problem had returned with a vengeance. “Are you blushing, Marin?”
“You know I am.”
“All the more reason to do this.” He placed his hand high on her thigh and stroked as he rolled up to a stop sign. “Own it. You are a beautiful woman who knows how to give herself pleasure. That’s hot as hell. After I caught you getting yourself off in the lab that night, I couldn’t get the image out of my mind. That sight of you so turned on, fingers rubbing between your legs, so needy and desperate to come. I only saw you from the back but man, did I imagine what it might’ve looked like from other angles. Now I want the privilege of seeing it in person.”
Her eyes were wide, but he could tell the nerves weren’t going to be a match for the desire swirling there. “Are you going to do the same for me one day then?”
He smiled. “That something you want to see?”
“You have no idea,” she said in a rush and then winced like she hadn’t meant for that to slip out.
“Sneak over one morning before work, and I’ll give you whatever kind of show you want.” He reached over and hit the button to recline her seat. “But you’re going to show me first.”
She bit her lip. “Maybe I should’ve had that second drink.”
He shook his head. “No. You’re going to do this for me stone-cold sober. Show me how you like to touch yourself.”
For a moment, he thought she’d call a time-out or use the safe word. This was past her comfort zone. Hell, she’d hardly been able to talk about masturbation with him that night by the fountain. But after a few long seconds, she leaned back against the seat and lifted her dress the rest of the way.
The dark hair of her mound in the ambient glow of the streetlights was a sharp contrast to the pale skin, giving him more of a view than he’d hoped for, and when she spread her knees, the slick pink lips of her shaved pussy came into view.
Fuck. He’d felt that smooth skin when he’d played with her in the bar, but seeing it was an entirely different thing. She’d shaved for tonight. He didn’t have a preference so much on whether a woman went smooth or not. But God, it did something to him to think of her preparing for him. He couldn’t resist reaching out and dragging a fingertip over her newly exposed skin. “Trying a new look?”