Monroe's eyes are wild as they follow me. I round the hood, watching her, knowing her heart is racing as she waits for what's about to happen. The moment I'm next to her again, I tear her blouse off. She shrieks again, trying to cover up her chest as her panicked eyes watch the passing cars.
"Are you crazy?" she demands, panicking.
"Yes." I nod. "And you fucking love it."
I flatten her back against the hood of the car and spread her legs. I make quick work of getting rid of her panties as horns blare at us from passing cars. But there's no way for someone else to stop here. No one's going to bother us.
By now, Monroe's moaning. I part her legs and bury my mouth between them, sucking and drinking from her dripping pussy like it's a tap.
"Alaric, stop it!" she hisses through gritted teeth.
"Your pussy doesn't want me to stop," I hiss against her wet lips. "Your pussy wants to come."
She groans, but at the next moment, her body twists in pure pleasure as my mouth returns to her center. I suck on her sensitive clit until she's banging her little fists against the hood of the car. She wants this. She's desperate for it. She's not even denying it anymore.
"Come on my tongue," I demand. "I want to feel you letting go in front of all these cars, all the people watching. Fucking give in, Monroe."
"No!" She twists and turns beneath me, but I don't let her get away. And then my tongue hits a spot that's like a switch. Her body stops flailing, and she arches her hips into my mouth. I smirk against her skin, licking at her center until she's whimpering for help that isn't going to come.
"You love it," I grunt. "You love everyone watching us. You loved it with the Lombardis too, didn't you?"
"N-No."
Her telltale stutter is a tell, and she knows it, flushing deeply as I continue licking orgasm after orgasm out of her body. She's crying, whimpering, and mewling like a kitten as I tire her body out. At first, she still twists and turns after each one, but I can tell she's wrung out when she just lies back and moans my name over and over again.
The cacophony of the horns blaring melts into nothing as I pick Monroe up and place her back in the car. I put her seat belt on and cover her with my jacket while I drive us home. She's so far gone she keeps falling asleep on me. I should feel guilty about what I did to her, but I fucking don't. I loved every second of it.
And I know my sugar did, too, even though it will take her a while to admit it.
Once we get home, I carry her to bed and get in beside her, telling myself it's just so I can make sure she's not going to try to run or do something equally stupid.
But as I lie in bed next to Monroe, I find my thoughts circling back to what Ida said.
That I shouldn't marry her unless I love her.
On some level, I agree with her. I always thought if a woman could force me into getting married, she'd have to mean a lot to me. Perhaps even enough for the l-word. So why am I not fighting this marriage with Monroe harder? It was my idea in the first place.
Maybe, deep down, I've already accepted my feelings for Monroe.
But I'll be damned before I admit them out loud.