“Try me,” I reply, lifting my chin, meeting his challenge with one of my own.
His lip curves in a half smirk. Deadly and dangerous all at once. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he replies. Then his mouth comes down on mine, harder this time, insistent, and my lip spart beneath his, let him take what he wants.
When we part again, my chest heaves. His hands have reached my thighs now, then my ass. He grips me hard, and I gasp at the feeling. He crushes me against him, and I can feel the hard jut of his cock, straining against his jeans. The way he’s standing, towering over me, it digs into my belly, stretching the whole length from my waist to under my chest, and it makes me desperate to see him without any clothing on. To touch that cock with my bare hands.
“Fuck,” I breathe, and his eyes flash with amusement.
“Don’t tempt me.” His gaze drips over my body again, and I shiver, feeling every place that he looks at as if it were his hands roaming over me now, touching every inch of me. “I’d love to keep you all night, Cassidy. Make you scream my name…”
I search his gaze, challenging. “What are we waiting for then?” I ask him. Simple, straightforward. It’s blunter than I’ve ever been with a guy before. But something tells me Lark will appreciate it.
To judge by the way that infuriating half-smirk of his widens, I’m right.
I don’t even notice him flag it down, but before long, a taxi is pulling up beside us.
“Last chance,” he says, eyebrow arched. “I can take you home. Or, I bring you back to mine, and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk straight tomorrow.” He says the latter in a whisper, leaning in to catch my earlobe between his teeth again, biting down until the faint spark of pain makes me gasp.
“Yours,” I breathe.
We slide into the back of taxi—or rather, Lark slides in, and then he pulls me inside and shuts the door behind us both. I’m tempted to straddle him, but he makes me put on my belt instead, and in a guilty flash I remember his brother, the accident.
I’m about to say something, but Lark cuts me off by kissing me again. At the same time, his hand inches up the smooth plane of my thigh, toward the edge of my dress.
Our lips part, and he smirks at me, one eye on the driver. “How quiet can you be?” he murmurs softly.
I bite my lower lip in response.
Then his fingers slide higher. Up, up, up the smooth expanse of my thighs until he reaches the crease where my leg meets my hip bone. He traces it with his forefinger, his eyes on me all the while. I glance at the driver again, nervous, but the man’s attention is on the road, at least.
“Ah, ah.” Lark lifts an eyebrow. “Look at me.”
My gaze jumps back to his, and my breath catches again.
His finger slides beneath my panties.
He spreads his hand to cup my pussy in his palm, the rough, calloused heel of his hand like striking a match over my bare-shaven mound. My hips buck up off the seat and into his palm, eager to grind against him, but he draws back a little, smirking.
“So eager.” He leans in to kiss the edge of my jawline. “Let me guess. You’re already wet for me, too.” His breath is searing hot, his words so low I can barely hear him over the rumble of the cab, the faint tinny sound of the radio playing in the driver’s area.
I bite my lower lip, my eyes fluttering shut, as Lark’s fingers glide over my mound until he reaches my pussy lips. His thumb grazes my clit, enough to make me jump again. I hadn’t realized how turned on I was until now, but I can feel my clit, pulsing and heavy between my thighs, swollen with desire.
Then his fingers slide between my pussy lips, and I inhale sharply through my nose, trying as hard as I can not to make any sounds. Slowly, slow enough to feel like torture, albeit an impossibly enjoyable kind, Lark presses the tip of his forefinger inside me.
I try to shift closer to him, but with his free hand, he pins me against the seat, lifting one eyebrow as if to tease me. He knows what he’s doing, the bastard.
He leans in again. “I love watching you squirm.” His smile widens, and he adds a second finger inside me, my pussy stretching around his thick fingers, little shockwaves of pleasure firing through my system. “God, you’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs, almost to himself.
I lean against him, surrendering, letting him take the lead. I forget where we are, so much so that when he starts to stroke me, in and out, his fingers curling slowly inside me, I gasp aloud.