We could debate why the right guy was also the guy who’d killed my old boyfriend some other time when Massimo’s hands weren’t getting greedy.
They snaked up the front of my shirt, teasing over the skin of my belly, making a shiver course through me at the sensation.
It seemed to spur him on because his hands moved upward, teasing across the band of my bra for a moment before closing over the swells.
On an impatient growl muffled by my lips, his hands slipped up then down under the cups. The sensation of his hands on my skin made my lips rip from his as a moan escaped me.
“We can’t do this here,” he mumbled even as his fingers and thumbs found my nipples and started to roll them.
“Yes, we can.”
We had to.
I didn’t have enough time to waste going back to his hotel.
I couldn’t claim to be someone who indulged in public sex, but this wasn’t exactly public, either. There was a brick wall to one side and Traveler’s truck to the other, giving us at least a fair amount of privacy. Which we didn’t even need because I’d never seen anyone in the small lot before.
“This isn’t how it should be,” he insisted.
“It’s exactly how it should be,” I objected as my own hands started to roam, sliding down his chest until my fingers found the buckle to his belt.
He’d given up on the jeans on the second trip to the coffee shop. It was like he couldn’t stand being in anything but his usual clothes. But he also knew he had to blend in, so he’d started to pair his slacks with simple button-ups, ones he sometimes didn’t even tuck in.
I had to be honest, I missed the suits. He just wore them so well.
“You deserve a bed,” he insisted even as one of his hands left my breast to blaze a path downward even as my own hands undid his belt and worked at his button and zipper.
I wasn’t going to lie, I wanted a bed with him. I also wanted a shower. A couch. The floor. The backseat of a car. Anywhere.
And, for the moment, anywhere was going to be a secluded parking lot on my very short lunch break.
Finally having his pants unfastened, my hand slipped inside and curled around his straining cock, cutting off any other objections as a savage curse escaped him.
His own hand slid under the waistband of my pants and panties, slipping between my thighs, and starting to work my clit in steady side-to-side motions.
My hand started to stroke him too, slowly at first, feeling oddly clumsy and inexperienced thanks to the years without touching any man. But then gaining in momentum as the need for release spread through my system.
“Massimo, please,” I whimpered, needing more.
Needing him.
But he wasn’t quite ready to give me that.
His fingers did shift, though, two of them moving downward to slip inside me as his thumb kept working my clit.
My walls tightened around him as his fingers started to thrust, tentatively at first, then harder and faster as my whimpers became low moans, spurring him on.
“Fuck,” he growled, his hand suddenly leaving me. “I need to taste you,” he added before I could object.
There wasn’t even a second of hesitation before his hands were grabbing the waistbands of my pants and panties and dragging them down my legs.
He barely had the patience to let me get one ankle out before he was dropping down, grabbing my leg, and throwing it over his shoulder as his lips closed around my aching clit.
I swear my vision went white for a second at the long-lost sensation, at his expert lips and tongue as they worked me, as they drove me up, as they selflessly gave.
“Massi, I…” I whimpered, but then the wave of pleasure stole my voice, stole my breath, left me helpless but to allow the waves to crash through me over and over.
I might have collapsed from the impact of it if Massimo hadn’t been quick, getting to his feet, and wrapping an arm around my lower back.