It feels like I’m fucking his mouth, and he’s fucking mine right back.
The trouble is this damn console in the middle. The steering wheel by his arm.
I break the kiss, eyeing the back seat. It’s roomy enough, and I like his BMW even more now.
He sees my glance and doesn’t hesitate. “Go.”
“Yes, sir,” I tease and nearly vault up, scrambling between the seats, diving onto the leather, stretching out and kicking his cap from the seat to the floor. He’s right there with me, following me and reaching for the bottom of my shirt. Sitting up, I whip it over my head.
“Fuck. Yes,” he says, then takes off his. I’m in jeans, he’s in shorts, and this is heaven.
We slam together again. Side to side, we make out like crazy as he takes over, plundering my mouth with his wicked tongue, kissing me ruthlessly, and jerking me close so our chests touch.
And then, holy fuck, I nearly come through my clothes when our cocks align.
“Deck,” I moan, feeling both utterly helpless and completely horny at the same time.
He growls against my lips, then devours me again as he grinds his erection against mine.
Pushing.
Pressing.
Giving.
Taking.
My entire body is short-circuiting from the intensity, from the sheer volume of pleasure annihilating me.
His strong arm snakes around me, his big hand covering my ass. He hauls me even closer, sending a spike of ball-tightening arousal all the way down to my toes.
His other hand travels up my chest, stopping at my left pec, where he flicks my nipple piercing.
“Ahhh,” I gasp, breaking the kiss since I need a moment to let the pleasure radiate.
“I have wanted to do that since I first saw it.”
“Do it again,” I beg, desperate.
Declan does, and desire pummels me in a blissfully beautiful wave. Then he scoots down, kissing my chest as he goes, till his lips make contact with my nipple, and he tugs on the barbell with his teeth.
Another bolt of lust crashes into me. Another feral moan spills from my lips.
My cock aches, and I can feel another drop of pre-come on the tip. I’m not far off.
I want release so badly.
Want his as well.
I have no clue where this is going. How far we’re taking a kiss that’s already sped past kissing.
But I also know I don’t want to have sex in the back of a car.
And I don’t want to blow him on the side of a road either.
Back in high school, I messed around with girls in cars before I learned I only wanted to mess around with guys.
And I don’t want this to feel one bit like confusion.
Because it’s not.
It’s clarity.
It’s intensity, and it’s everything I’ve wanted, and then it’s even better when he slides me under him.
He pushes up, then stares down at me, lust scorching his irises.
Then, he tilts his hips and grinds down hard on my cock.
“Oh God,” I grunt, my dick thumping against my jeans. I wrap my hands around his big biceps and blurt the truth. “You need to stop, or I’m going to come in my pants. I’m that turned on.”
He releases a sharp, hot breath. Then another. But he listens, moves off me, and mutters, “Wow . . . you are just . . . wow.”
As I swing my legs to the floor and sit up to rest my head against the seatback, a wild grin plays on my lips.
I’m wow.
Holy shit.
He’s wow.
I drag a hand through my hair, trying to calm down, to cool off. I glance up at the windows. They’re covered in steam. “Dude, your car is like a sauna.”
“So am I,” he says.
“Me too. I’m going to jerk it so hard tonight when I get back to my room.”
He spreads a hand across my abs. “To me?”
I laugh. “Yes, dickhead. To you.”
“Mmm. Your hand on your cock. I would love to see that.”
“Maybe I’ll show you,” I tease, pushing up.
My gaze catches the digital display on the clock. It’s close to midnight.
I flashback to a few nights ago. Coach in the elevator. The mango rice. His midnight snack.
An alarm rings in my head, and I sit bolt upright. “We need to go. Fisher usually comes back with his mango rice in a few minutes, and I don’t want to run into him.”
Declan frowns in confusion, and I explain as we grab our shirts and yank them on.
We climb into the front seats, and Declan wipes the steam from the window before he turns the ignition and peels outta there.
I comb my fingers through my hair, but when I flip the visor to check out the mirror, my face is whisker burned. “We can’t walk in together like this. Not tonight.”
“I know. I’ll drop you off a block away so no one sees you get out of my car. Then I’ll park, and you’ll go in first. Put your cap on,” he says, pointing to the floor.