heer fine lace of my designer underwear. Slowly he
eases two fingers passed my panties and inside me. I groan and flex my
hips toward his hand.
“Please,” I whisper.
“Oh, Mrs. Grey. You’re so ready,” he says, sliding his fingers in and out,
tortuously slowly. “Do car chases turn you on?”
“You turn me on.”
He smiles a wolfish grin and withdraws his fingers suddenly, lea一ving me
wanting. He scoops his arm under my knees and, taking me by surprise, he
lifts me and swings me around to face the windshield.
“Place your legs either side of mine,” he orders, putting his legs together in
the middle of the footwell. I do as I’m told, placing my feet on the floor on
either side of his. He runs his hands down my thighs, then back, pulling up my
skirt.
“Hands on my knees, baby. Lean forward. Lift that glorious ass in the air.
Mind your head.”
Shit! We really are going to do this, in a public parking lot. I quickly scan the
area in front of us and see no one—but feel a thrill coursing through me. I’m
in a public lot! This is so hot! Christian shifts beneath me, and I hear the
telltale sound of his zipper. Putting one arm around my waist and with his
other hand tugging my lacy panties sideways, he impales me in one swift
move.
“Ah!” I cry out, grinding down on him, and his breath hisses through his teeth.
His arm snakes around me up to my neck and he grasps me under my chin.
His hand spreads across my neck, pulling me back and tilting my head to
one side so he can kiss my throat. His other hand grips my hip and together
we start to move.
I push up with my feet, and he tilts himself into me—in and out. The sensation
is . . . I groan loudly. It’s so deep this way. My left hand curls around the hand
brake, my right hand braced against my door. His teeth graze my earlobe
and he tugs—it’s almost painful. He bucks again and again into me. I rise
and fall, and as we establish a rhythm, he moves his hand around beneath
my skirt to the apex of my thighs, and his fingers gently tease my clit
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