Aaron was too aroused to hate himself. That would come later, landing like cement blocks on his shoulders. Right now, he was all about funneling every goddamn, inconvenient ounce of regret into pleasuring Grace. Her thighs were spreading on the seat to accommodate his touch, telling Aaron the need was far from one-sided. Words. He’d spoken more words to her than anyone in his memory, but none of them were adequate. Christ, he didn’t even have a handle on the meaning behind them yet. That understanding could come in fifty years, for all he knew. In this moment, this physical ache for Grace was what he could grasp. So with an invisible iron manacle fashioned around his throat, he dove for the lifeline.
“Yes, I want that,” she whispered, both of them reaching for her seatbelt at once, mouths shoved together without kissing. Just breathing, breathing, panting, promising without words how big and bad they were going to orgasm each other. In that moment, even with lust building to a crescendo beneath his belt, Aaron knew he wouldn’t feel a fraction of that desire ever again, with anyone else. Before Grace and After Grace. Two distinct periods of his life, slicing him right down the middle, severing his heart in the process.
As soon as the metal slid free of its hold, Aaron jerked Grace off the seat and out of the Suburban, frantic for the pressure of her pussy, growling as it dropped onto his hard cock. “Can’t believe I won’t get my fill of this.” He was off balance and hungry and staggering under the atomic blast of need, so Grace’s ass hit the car with more force than intended, but he could only manage a muttered apology before he was dry humping her giving body against the car door, the impact rocking the whole damn Suburban with rusted groans. “How long do you think it would take, huh? Before I could go five minutes without getting hard for your pussy?”
She whimpered under the force of a rough thrust. “I’d never let you find out.”
Good God. Had he once thought this girl fragile? No. Grace was benevolent and seductive and fierce. She was life. She was everything. “Sounds like you’re getting cocky now.” He pressed his forehead to the frigid car window, delivering a merciless pump of his hips. “You should be. That’s a tight, slippery ride you’ve got between your legs, baby. Going to bury my tongue so deep in it, your legs will shake for a fucking week.” She got a little wild at that, grinding into his drives, confirming Aaron’s suspicion that she had a dirty streak. “When you think about me, you think of that. Think of me stroking off somewhere, trying to grip my dick as hard as your pussy grips me when you come.”
“Aaron.” Her head capsized, falling back and bumping the window. “I need you. I need you inside me.”
“Not half as bad as I need it.” Aaron paused in his assault on Grace’s body long enough to open the ancient door and lift her onto the leather seat. Already the windows were fogged up from the heat he’d turned on, creating a sense of total isolation no one would be able to share with them. Aaron rolled the door shut and joined Grace on the cracked leather, taking a moment to savor the way she watched him as they removed their jackets—all wide-eyed anticipation—before he gripped her ankles and flipped her face down on the seat. “Push up. Show me my ride, Grace.”
The rapid rise and fall of her back—that show of nerves and excitement—turned him on to such an extreme level, Aaron had no choice but to unbuckle his belt and lower his fly to ease the confinement of his pulsing cock. And all the while, he watched Grace gain courage, watched as she flattened her palms on either side of her head, hips lifting, back bowing to give that perfect tilt. There was no stopping himself from sliding a hand into his jeans and granting himself a series of brutal strokes, not bothering to hold back his sexually charged grunts, well aware that her breathing got increasingly shallow the longer he kept her waiting in that position.
In reality, only a few seconds passed before Aaron grew impatient to touch, to see every inch of the body his own had become obsessed with giving relief. Releasing his rigid cock, he tucked his fingers beneath the waistband of Grace’s leggings—panties, too—and whooshed both garments down her thighs, leaving them bunched at her knees.
“Oh my God,” she breathed, a tremor moving down her back. “Oh God.”
“We’re not fucking in a sleeping bag this time, are we?” Mesmerized by the smooth, succulent shapes of her sex, her ass, Aaron trailed a thumb downward between her cheeks, unable to stop it from lingering at both entrances, applying light amounts of pressure. “You can’t hide anything from me now.”
Without giving her a warning, Aaron clutched the insides of her thighs, pushing them open. “Please…”
“Baby, you don’t have to beg for a goddamn thing.” Satisfied that her position would give him enough access to taste her the deepest, he slid each of his hands over their own personal ass cheek and squeezed, watching the shadows shift along her flesh, watching the way her feminine lips seemed to strain toward his touch. “If this is my only chance to eat your pussy, I promise, it’s going to be thorough. First, though…”
“First?”
“First.” Aaron pushed the shirt up Grace’s back, exposing the gorgeous curve of her spine, and he trailed his tongue up the entire length, ending at her nape. “Tell me if I’m wrong. But when a girl is hot enough to bend over and show a man both ways to get inside her, she doesn’t mind having her ass slapped.” With his left hand, he gripped her taut backside until she moaned. “Would you agree with that?”
“I…I don’t know. I’ve never—”
Swat. “Now you can say Aaron’s done it.” He released a pent-up breath as Grace whimpered. Fuck, he wasn’t going to recover from this. The way her flesh gave that sweet little reverberation, her bottom lifting in a silent plea for more. That was his Grace, always eager for new experiences, new sensations, greeting everything with open arms and he wanted to give and give and give until she was overflowing. He delivered another slap with his palm, coming up from below, feeling his cock thicken in the loose opening of his jeans. But nothing—nothing—compared to the way his mouth salivated, dying to make a meal of her already glistening pussy.
One more slap of her tight backside was all he could manage before he threw his weight down onto one elbow, shooting forward to bury his tongue in the beckoning flesh, licking through her seam to find that nub. The one begging for ownership, someone to take care of it, rile it up and soothe it down.
Needing more access, more Grace, Aaron used his right hand to push apart her ass cheeks, growling into the separation, laving the pearl at the top of her pussy with his tongue, saying a thankful prayer to the God of cunnilingus when she pressed backward against his mouth. Goddammit, if he had time, even just one more day, he would give this beautiful girl whisker burn between her legs from too much oral. The taste of her was an intoxicant, turning him into a drunk trying to get every last drop of whiskey from a bottle.
“I’m going to—” Grace broke off, her body beginning to shake. “Don’t stop, please, please, please…”
If his tongue wasn’t busy feeding his new addiction, he would have reminded her begging wasn’t necessary. If anyone should be begging, it was him. She was unreserved and unrepentant in getting herself up against his mouth, the kind of reaction he’d only ever fantasized about in a girl. No holding back or pretending he wasn’t fucking great with his tongue. Just all-out, relief-seeking, hip-writhing glory, and he could have mouth-banged her for a month straight without coming up for air. And all that was before she climaxed and her pussy cinched up around his tongue like a designer belt, her breath choking off, her thighs turning to thin, shaking columns of lithe muscle. Grace’s taste was better than the last drop of whiskey, it was the elixir that granted eternal life, and he lapped it up like a greedy motherfucker who would die unless he absorbed every ounce.
He only stopped when her Grace’s hips listed to one side, rebounding off the leather seat. She was sobbing. Sobbing his name, God’s name, and damn if she wasn’t still begging.
No. That was Aaron begging. The word please scraped from his raw throat, echoing off the frosted windows. He made a desperate grab for Grace’s shoulders with one hand, liberating his cock with the other. “Please. Please, I need to fuck what I just tasted.” Folding his legs beneath him, Aaron applied protection taken from his pocket, then braced himself on the roof and front passenger’s seat, very nearly spilling his come when Grace performed a little scoot onto his lap, both of them slick with sweat and her pleasure. “Reach behind your well-spanked ass and slide me home. You’re wet enough this time to take it without three pumps from me to get it in.”
His last few words were slurred, his power of speech compromised by the smooth palm encircling his sensitive erection, the look of praise she sent back over her shoulder. A look that made him want to deliver another spanking, following by round two of his tongue between her legs. But as she sank down with slow devastation onto his thickness, that desire drained along with his will to ever leave the snug perfection of her pussy.
“Oh, fucking Christ, Grace, don’t move. Just…” Aaron breathed through his nose, attempting a mental battle with the swelling in his balls and failing. “Stop clenching, baby.”
“I c-can’t,” she whispered, bracing her hands on the window she faced, leaving behind prints as they slipped down, down. “I think I’m going to—”
“Jesus,” he growled as Grace tightened up around him with her second orgasm. Or maybe just a continuation of the first. Not that it mattered because Aaron was going to die either way. Die trying to make it last. “Fuck it. Go on, baby. Ride it out. I can take it. I need to take it.”
Saying and doing were two different things, though, and Aaron should have known by now to expect the unexpected with Grace. She threw herself back, head falling onto his shoulder, working up and down his hardness with hypnotic lifts and drops of her hips. The husky moans coming out of her were pure fucking decadence, capturing his senses and pulling him down into inescapable fever-lust. He was caught between letting his seed power into her rocking pussy or holding on any way he could, prolonging what would signal the end. The end. No.
Aaron didn’t realize he’d sunken his teeth into Grace’s shoulder until she cried out, throwing a hand back to tunnel fingers through his hair. “Yes,” she urged. “Yes. More.”
Operating on instinct, Aaron surged forward, flattening Grace—facedown—on the seat, bearing down with his starved body. His open mouth traveled over her neck and hair, delivering hot gusts of breath. “Might as well have your name tattooed on my cock because you own it, you fucking own it. Sent to ruin me, weren’t you? Ruin me and then get taken away. I’m going to die without you. I’m going to die.”
He heard the words coming out of his mouth, couldn’t take them back. He didn’t want to. But any kind of response from Grace would obliterate his slim chances of escaping intact come tomorrow morning. When he would leave without her. No, he couldn’t deal with her reassurances or, hell, maybe even a suggestion that it didn’t have to end. God knew it did. He couldn’t keep expanding to let more love for Grace in or he would implode and take her down with him. He wasn’t built for love. Not Grace’s kind.
She opened her mouth to say something, but Aaron slid a palm beneath her face and covered it. Regret lanced his chest, even as the relentless yearning for release, release, release stole his last remainder of sanity. Or he thought it had. Until Grace’s hand covered his, holding on tight with understanding. And that’s when everything—except for stealing every second of pleasure from Grace—slid away into an abyss. His body rolled over her, stomach gliding over the swell of her ass, delivering blow after blow between her legs. Rearing back and pounding into tight innocence he should never have been given and would never have again. They were one person united in the grinding, slapping, and abusing of flesh. Straining, gripping, grunting, Aaron holding on as long as humanly possible. “I might be leaving, but I’m yours. Wherever I am, I’ll be yours, baby, hippie, Grace. My Grace. Your Aaron.”
She turned her face away from Aaron’s covering hand, whispering the word yes, and completion rose like a hot tide around him, robbing the oxygen he’d stored in his lungs, slaying him with the sharp knife of pain due to the magnitude of his orgasm, how long he’d held back. Agony twined with bliss, pressure slowly—too slowly—draining and shattering him under the loss of misery. The gaining of more relief than he’d thought possible. Complete. I’ve never been complete until now.
But the very reason he’d abstained from release rose up like a monster to terrorize him in no time, Grace’s heated body cooling gradually beneath him, in some macabre symbol of his own upcoming death. Because in the morning, he would leave behind the man he’d become, the man Grace saw, and go back to being the person everyone hated. Including him.