She was so excited, she didn’t comment on his meticulous planning of the details of her life. She held on to the wheel and stared out the front window, grinning. Learning to drive had been a much more liberating experience than she’d imagined. Or was she just euphoric because Ian had been the one to patiently instruct her?
“You see, it’s not so hard,” he said as rain began to fall rapidly on the windshield in fat drops. “Turn on your wipers and lights. It’s really starting to come down. Here,” he said, pointing to the respective controls. “Good. We’ll just try one other thing before the storm hits full force. I want you to back out of the spot and turn the car to the left. That’s correct,” he said as she began to go in reverse. “Use your mirrors. No . . . no, the other way, Francesca.” She fumbled, confused as to how to move the wheel while going backward to get the desired result. Meaning to brake, she hit the accelerator hard at the same moment that she twisted the wheel in the other direction. When the car lurched, she slammed down on the brake, with the result that the car swung around on the wet pavement in a complete circle.
Electricity seemed to spark in her veins at the unexpected, abrupt exhilaration of movement . . . of losing control.
She whooped.
The vehicle came to a brain-rattling halt, causing her hair to fling forward onto the wheel when the seat belt caught her. She experienced a sudden, strange kinship with the car—as if it were alive and had just revealed a rebellious streak. She snorted with laughter.
“Francesca,” Ian said sharply.
She ceased her laughter and looked over at him wide-eyed. He looked stunned and a little ruffled. “I’m really sorry, Ian.”
“Put the car in park,” he said briskly. Was he angry with her? He hated disorder, despised when she lost control. She followed his instructions quickly, feeling a little breathless and dizzy, not sure if her reaction came from the car whipping around in a tight circle or the glint in Ian’s eyes just now.
“I told you this was a bad idea,” she muttered, turning the key in the ignition so as not to cause any further unintentional havoc.
“It wasn’t a bad idea,” he said, his mouth set in a hard line. Her breath froze in her lungs when he reached for her, his fingers furrowing into her hair, turning her face toward him. The next thing she knew, he’d leaned over and captured her mouth. The adrenaline rush that had gone through her when the car spun around on the wet pavement was nothing compared to the surge of excitement at Ian’s unexpected kiss. She melted against his heat, his taste inundating her, the demanding thrusts of his tongue overpowering her senses. He applied a suction so precise, liquid surged between her thighs as if he’d somehow conjured it with his mouth. She was panting by the time he lifted his head a moment later.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said roughly.
“I . . . I what?” she asked, still bewildered and stunned by his kiss.
He smiled and stroked her cheek softly. “Get into the backseat and take off your jeans and panties. I have to taste you. Now.”
She stared at him openmouthed and then looked out the car window anxiously.
“No one is around. Even if someone did pass by or someone studied the museum surveillance, the windows are tinted. Now do as I say,” he said gently. “I’ll join you there in a moment.”
She unbuckled her seat belt, her breathing still erratic, and opened the driver’s-side door. A steady rain had started to fall, so she slammed the door shut quickly and dashed for the rear. She felt extremely awkward and excited when she got into the plush interior of the rear of the cab. Ian was still sitting in the passenger seat, his head lowered. She wondered if he was tapping his fingers on his cell phone, and felt sure that he was.
Slowly, she began to unbuckle her belt and unfasten her button fly.
When she’d removed her jeans and panties, she sat there feeling foolish. He didn’t move. Her pussy tingled against the taut, smooth seat. She shifted restlessly, wincing at the pleasurable friction of her sensitive tissue against cool leather. What was Ian doing? She opened her mouth to tell him she’d removed her jeans, but he abruptly whipped off his seat belt.
She didn’t think she drew a breath until he joined her a moment later in the shadowed interior of the cab. He slammed the door closed. With him on the seat with her, the space suddenly felt smaller and more intimate. In the distance, thunder rumbled and rain pitter-pattered on the roof.
He glanced over at her, wiping his hand over his slightly rain-dampened, dark hair.
“You know what I want,” he said quietly. “Lie back and make your pussy available to me.”
His deep voice echoed around her head in the ensuing silence. Her sex throbbed and prickled with excitement. She couldn’t help but recall the pure, distilled pleasure he’d given her last night with his mouth. She did her best to find a position to accommodate him. For once, he wasn’t instructing her. He just watched as she leaned against the door and spread her thighs as wide as she could, given the barrier of the backseat. Her heart was pounding against her breastbone by the time she settled. Her anticipation was so sharp, it pressed down uncomfortably on her chest. He sat unmoving, his gaze glued between her thighs.
Suddenly he sat forward and pushed on her outer knee, sending her sandal-covered foot to the floorboard of the car, spreading her wider. The vision of his dark head lowering between her legs was so exciting, she bit off a moan before he ever touched her.
She whimpered when he placed his entire open mouth over her outer sex. It felt hot and wet and unbearably exciting. He moved his lips erotically against her clit, applying a taut pressure, and then parted her labia with his sleek tongue. He shifted, burying his face more intimately in her sex, lashing at her clit more forcefully than he had last night, rubbing it, circling it, pressing it so ruthlessly that she screamed and bucked her hips.