As soon as Preston hangs up the phone, his gaze snaps to mine like a snake striking its prey. His lips slowly pull into a smile. "Hello, sweet Ella," he purrs.

I bite my lip and swallow, focusing out the window. I can't look at him right now. My head is spinning, my body tense, aching for something, anything. I cross my legs, trying not to shift uncomfortably. We head down 5^th Avenue and the back of the car suddenly feels entirely too small, the air thick and toxic.

I jump when Preston's hand brushes over my thigh. My skin heats instantly and flames of desire lick at me, hitting me straight between my legs. I sit rigidly until I hear the low rumble of his laughter.

"Relax, sweet Ella. I'm not going to bite." He clicks his teeth as he pats my leg.

That's the problem. For once, I wish he would bite me. I'm so tightly wound, I can't take it.

"Come here," he says. He crooks a finger at me, smirking, and I reluctantly slide across the back seat to be closer to him. I focus on my fingers tangling in my lap, refusing to look at him because, when it comes to Preston, a look is enough to seduce.

His fingertips brush over my cheek, so gently…too gently. I slowly turn to face him and his dark eyes lock with mine. For a moment, I want to sink into their bottomless depths. His lips are so close, his eyes promising such dirty things. And I want them right now. I want everything Preston has to offer because he's sex and sin, want and need all wrapped up in that pretty, rugged package.

"Do you want me, Ella?" he asks, slowly tilting his head to the side.

I nod, and he lifts a brow, prompting me to speak. "Yes," I say.

A smirk flickers across his face before his mouth is on my neck, trailing chaste and gentle kisses along the side of my throat. Closing my eyes, I sit, barely moving a muscle as a trembling breath slips past my lips. The kisses cease and he sits up, brushing his index finger over my bottom lip before he slips it inside my mouth. I close my lips around him and caress his finger with my tongue. His eyes swirl, a threat and a promise lingering within their dark depths. I suck harder and his free hand grabs at me, his fingers roughly threading through the tangled strands of my hair. He yanks my head back and uses the tip of his tongue to trace a line over my throat. His teeth nip along my jawline. I'm panting, my body trembling beneath his touch. Suddenly, he drags me from my seat and into his lap until I’m straddling him.

"Undress me," he says.

Without thought, I shove his jacket over his shoulders, scrambling to undo the buttons of the shirt beneath it. He watches me. His cool calm conflicting wildly with my impatience. I spread my legs wider, allowing the skirt of my dress to ride higher up my thighs, and I can’t help but to push against him. His crotch hardens against me, and my stomach tenses with desire. I tear his shirt open and glide my hands over his chest. The smooth, hot skin of his body winds my coiled muscles even tighter. He's too much. Too perfectly masculine. And I want him. I know this is a game, and I know I'm going to lose, but at this exact moment, I don't care. I slam my lips over his. I know this is not submission, this is not close to lying down and taking what they give me, but I'm done with that. I have allowed Tobias to taunt me like some pet, but Preston is a different animal. Altogether less tame, far more unpredictable, but driven by instinct. I yank at his belt, shoving his pants down before I thrust my hand beneath the elastic of his boxers. I moan against his lips when my fingers wrap around his red hot, silky flesh, hard and willing in my hand.

"You're so fucking sweet, Ella," he murmurs against my lips. His fingers encircle my own, guiding my hand up and down his length. That ache flares, settling right between my legs. I roll my hips and my pussy brushes against his hand still wrapped around mine. My lips part, then pull into a small smile at that tiny stroke of relief. Preston's lips dance over my jaw, placing hot, wet kisses on my skin, but other than that, he doesn’t touch me. And it's driving me insane. I grab his free hand and shove it between my legs.

Huffing a small laugh, he bites the side of my neck. "You're so wet, Ella," he groans tightening our combined grip on his cock. "How much do you want my fingers in your pussy?"

I grip a handful of his hair, tugging his head back. "Too much."

He grins. His eyes drop to my lips. "Make me come," he whispers, leaning in and nipping at my bottom lip. "Make me come for you, sweet Ella." His hand moves harder, faster, and I feel his cock swell in my grasp. His expression tightens and a long, deep groan slips from his lips. It's so primal, so masculine. Each muscle in his body tenses as our pace picks up. I bite my lip, staring at his dick in our hands before my eyes flick to his.

"Come for me, Preston," I say, and his lips part, his chest heaving as his face goes slack. He throws his head back against the seat, groaning as stream after stream of thick, white come spurts over his stomach, dripping down the defined landscape of his abs.

He glances down, his chest heaving as he drags one finger through the sticky mess on his stomach. Smiling, he holds that finger to my face. And like the obedient little toy I am, I open my lips and allow him to slide his come-covered finger inside my mouth, then I suck the salty taste from his finger. His eyes close and his nostrils flare. "You make this hard," he mumbles beneath his breath.

He pulls a pack of tissues from some side compartment in the car, takes one out, and cleans himself up before he yanks his pants up and buckles his belt. I've never felt so completely unhinged and desperate. There is a bone deep longing for him to touch me that feels as though it's incinerating me from the inside out. His gaze drops to the buttons of his shirt as he carefully fastens them, one at a time. And I sit here, waiting, even though I know I've already been dismissed. "Preston..."

He looks up with a wry smile. I close my eyes, breathing in the scent of his cologne. "Please," I breathe.

"Sweet Ella," he says on a groan. "I do love to hear you beg." He pulls me close and presses his lips to my forehead. "And I love the feel of your tight little pussy coming on my hand." I open my eyes, meeting his dark gaze. "But that's not today's game."

"What?"

"Did you forget that fact?"

I swallow hard, shame quickly over shadowing my desperation. "No."

"Good,” he says as he takes my chin in his hand, stroking his fingers over my jaw. The gentle caresses grow more forceful and imprisoning. “Don't ever forget that, because the second you do..." He leans in, bringing his lips to my ear. "You've already lost."