Page 90 of The Pucking Coach's Daughter
“Turn around.”
I do. Carter’s expression is different. Hotter, darker. He drinks me in, his gaze roving from my unbuttoned jeans to my V-neck t-shirt. It exposes too much cleavage, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“Now get on your knees.”
I meet his gaze. His blue eyes burn, and I reach up and push the hood off his head. His blade flicks out and nicks my collarbone. I gasp at the tiny cut. It doesn’t hurt so much as it’s surprising, and we both look down at the blood that wells up.
“You wanted to know this,” he says. “Now fucking kneel.”
I don’t know why I’m listening to him. Maybe there’s already the slightest bit of trust there, but?—
He unbuttons his jeans and shoves them down enough to free his erection. I lick my lips in anticipation.
“Suck,” he says softly. He runs the blade down the side of my face.
I try not to flinch, but when I inch away from the tip, he grips my hair with his other hand. I open my mouth and take him in, sucking and licking around the head. Getting my bearings, then bobbing deeper. He groans above me, both hands now on my head. The metal handle of his knife touches my scalp.
Lust flares through me. I reach up and use my hand to aid my mouth, twisting around the base of his shaft and slipping to his balls when I push him deeper. Almost to my throat.
He pulls out suddenly, yanking me up and turning me around. He bends me over the hood of the car beside us and drags my pants down. I shiver with anticipation. He doesn’t make me wait long, shifting behind me and pressing close.
His dick slips through my arousal, and he lines up at my entrance.
I gasp when he thrusts inside. He moves fast, and a prick of pain on my ass distracts me. I cry out and slap my hand over my mouth.
“Shameful girl.” He pulls my hand away from my mouth. “Don’t hide your beautiful voice from me.”
He changes angles. But there’s this pain that accompanies each thrust that my muddled mind can’t seem to figure out.
He leans over me, covering my back with his torso, and cups my breasts through my shirt and bra. The knife clatters on the hood above my head, and I focus for a minute on the blade.
There’s blood on the tip.
I make a noise low in my throat as he plays with my breasts and fucks me. Every thrust sends my hips into the car. The whole thing rocks with the force.
My hand creeps down between my legs, and I rub my clit.
“Fuck, you feel good like this.”
Car headlights swing across the garage.
I freeze, but he doesn’t stop. He fucks me with just as much vigor—maybe more—while the car gets closer and closer. It’s driving down, searching for a parking spot.
Before it reaches us, it turns into one.
I let out a breath—but then their voices drift toward us.
They’re out of the car. Of course they are, they have to get out of the parking garage. My mind is so focused on them, I barely notice that Carter’s pulled out. He spins me around and sits me on the hood, immediately sinking back in.
He stretches me so deliciously, my core clenches around the invasion automatically. I’m going to leave a wet spot on the hood of the car, but that’s just a fleeting thought.
Pleasure has me in its grip.
He leans in and bites the top of my breast. I cry out again, doing nothing to smother the sound. He bites and sucks at my chest, finally taking one of my sensitive nipples into his mouth. His fingers land on my clit and rub.
Harder than he has before.
Harder than I do.