Slow Ride (Fast Track #5)(53)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“Good.” He reached out and took a piece of her popcorn. “Now can we ditch this movie and go home?”

She glanced at the screen. “It’s almost over.”

“I’ll let you pick what position you want to be f**ked in.”

Tuesday felt a kick of lust between her legs. Her choice? She never got a choice, mostly because he controlled what they were doing, and she liked it. But the idea of being the one calling the shots for once held a certain appeal. “Done.”

“Put your seat belt on.” He was already backing the car up, turning the radio off to kill the sound of the movie. “So what’s your position pick?”

She made a sound in the back of her throat. “I’m running through all of them in my head.” It was an arousing little exercise, picturing all the ways he could enter her. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Ladies’ choice isn’t going to happen very often, so you’d better pick wisely.”

But the truth was, Tuesday knew no matter which position she picked, it was going to be damn satisfying.

“I’ll just show you,” she told him.

He didn’t answer, but his erection was answer enough.

CHAPTER TWELVE

BACK at her place, Tuesday let Diesel push her up against the wall in her entryway, his hands on her waist, head bent over her as he slid his tongue across the top her breast. That was the wonderful thing about warm weather clothes—easy access.

It was amazing how hot he could get her with so very little effort. That was the beauty and the mystery of attraction . . . when you clicked with someone, the sexual sparks were lit as easily as dry kindling.

He pulled down the front of her sundress and her bra and pulled her nipple into his mouth. Tuesday felt the echo of the movement deep inside her womb and she held on to his shoulders for support. Part of her just wanted him to lift her dress and pound into her. Right now. Two steps from the door. Against the wall, hard.

If she wanted it, he would give it to her.

But that would still be him, in control, driving her pleasure.

What she wanted was for him to lose control. To completely and totally give in to his desire, his passion. He never lost that edge, never gave up any of his power during sex, and that was what she wanted.

Tuesday picked her position.

“Let’s go to the bed,” she told him, trying to gently pull his head away from her breast.

“Not yet.” He went to the other breast, sucking and tugging at her nipple.

Despite the sharp kick of desire that brought her, Tuesday stood her ground. “You said it was my choice.”

“We’re not ready for sex yet. This is called foreplay, sweetheart.” He looked at her with hooded, dark eyes, his beard tickling her cle**age.

Tuesday yanked harder on his head. “No. Now.”

There was a pause where his eyes narrowed, then he spoke, his voice low and tight, filled with lust. “Well, alright then. If you want to be in bed, we’ll go to bed.” With a fake gallant gesture, he moved his arm in a swirl. “After you.”

Feeling confident with her plan, Tuesday walked past him breezily, her br**sts still popping out of her sundress. “Thanks.”

Her bedroom wasn’t as tidy as Diesel’s but it wasn’t a disaster either. There were only a few discarded clothing choices on the chair, so she bent over to grab them and toss them on the floor. “Sit down.”

“Where? The chair?” He gave her a look that was both lascivious and satisfied. “You’re going to ride me on the chair? I like that idea, babe.”

Let him think that’s what she had in mind. “Take off your clothes.”

To encourage him to do the same, she pulled the straps of her dress off her shoulders and shoved it down past her waist. Stepping out of it, she raked her hair back off her face and waited for him to strip off his T-shirt and jeans. He had the most incredible body. She loved looking at him, touching him, scratching her nails down his stomach and back. He shoved his briefs down.

Don’t even get her started on that penis. It was a work of art. Sculpted for pleasure, just for her. As he sat down in the chair, Tuesday thought about another woman putting her hands on Diesel, of another woman sliding herself down onto that fantastic erection, and she knew that what she was feeling wasn’t just attraction. She was in love with this man, and she only wanted him with her. Ever.

He was in the chair, looking tense and turned on, his erection straining upward.

He expected her to climb onto him.

That wasn’t her plan.

Dropping to her knees in front of him, Tuesday bent over, her mouth open.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, stopping her forward motion with a sharp grip on her hair.

Looking up at him from under her lashes, she gave him a sly shrug. “This is the position I’ve chosen.”

His eyes widened in shock, then he shook his head. “Doesn’t count.”

“Oh, yes, it does. You didn’t define the terms.”

This was what she wanted to do. He never let her suck him because he had to direct and control their sex. Every time she had tried to reach for him, he moved her away. He flipped her over on her back, pulled her up for a kiss . . . anything that kept her off his cock. Because for a man like Diesel, he was not prepared to let go of himself completely.

Today she was going to suck him until he did.

One hand on the bottom of his shaft, she enclosed him with her mouth.

“Tuesday.” It was half groan, half protest.

She ignored him and took him fully into her. When she pulled back off, she made sure to leave a nice slick trail behind her, which made the next downward motion smooth and effortless.

His hands were on his thighs, balled into fists. He was tense, his breath short and clipped. He was containing himself.

Not for long. She found a nice, slow rhythm, her hand gripping his c**k tightly, following behind her mouth as she stroked up and down on him.

With her free hand, she cupped his balls, enjoying that for the first time, she had all of him in her hold. She picked up the pace. His breathing increased, short, urgent pants that whistled through his clenched teeth. His fists opened and his fingers dug into his thighs. Tuesday thought he tasted delicious, her own body responding to the thrusting parody, her inner thighs soaking wet with desire. But she didn’t even think of conceding, of climbing onto him. This was her choice and this was his turn.

Without warning, his hands went into her hair and he took over the rhythm for her. He pounded her mouth down onto his cock, his groans bursting out with satisfying volume.