he mutters, beating her to the punch and tugging down her zipper. Taryn stops what she’s doing as his palm slides roughly inside her underwear, this expression on his face like he’s trying to prove a point.
“I’ve heard that, yeah.” She whimpers without meaning to as he cups her—just lightly, no pressure at all. Nick hums his agreement into her neck. He opens her up real slowly, sliding two clever fingers forward to investigate.
“Jesus, Falvey,” he murmurs when he feels how wet she is. Taryn’s surprised too. It usually takes her a while to get ready. With Pete especially she was self-conscious about it, like she couldn’t always quiet her mind down enough for her body to do what she needed it to do.
That is…not so much a problem right now. God, the way Nick’s spreading the slickness around between her legs, sucking at her throat like he’s aiming to put a mark there. He rubs hard at her clit and dips inside her—first one finger, then two, working them deep and dragging them out again until she whines. “That’s it,” he says when she gives in and starts to rock. His free hand starts working the buttons on her flannel. Taryn braces one shaky arm against the door.
“Thought getting naked in the car offended your delicate sensibilities,” she teases as his knuckles trail up and down her bare stomach, her muscles jumping under his touch. “Huh?”
Nick raises his eyebrows, twisting his fingers inside. “For me, not you,” he tells her, tugging down the satiny purple cup of her bra and lowering his mouth to her nipple. “For you I like it fine.”
Taryn grins. “No fair,” she complains, sliding her own hands down inside the collar of his T-shirt. His upper back is smooth and warm. He’s stupidly good with his tongue, is a thing Taryn remembers from the night in his kitchen. He licks at the tip of one breast until she’s squirming on his fingers, then tugs hard enough that she yelps.
“Shh,” Nick chides, even though there’s nobody around to hear them. Taryn hasn’t seen another living soul since they left the bar. It’s kind of a rush, truthfully, the idea that what they’re doing is illicit, that they could get caught any second by God knows who. She’s still got her arms in the sleeves of her flannel, her bra bunched crooked and messy underneath her breasts. The next time he curls his fingers, he rubs up against something electric and good inside her, and she muffles her cry against his neck.
“Yeah?” he asks, boosting her with his free hand to find the angle again. Taryn nods and presses her face into his throat, concentrating. Her palms slide even farther down the back his shirt until she’s draped over him completely, sacked out how Caitlin and the boys get when it’s bedtime. Night of the fire notwithstanding, he’s still unfamiliar enough that she’s going to have to think herself into it a little, close her eyes and coach the orgasm along. He’s got such good hands; Taryn’s sure that if she can just stay here and private for a second she’s definitely going to be able to—
Yeah, Nick isn’t having it. “Don’t get shy now,” he says quietly, nudging his cheek at hers. When that doesn’t work he makes a fist in her hair and tugs, not letting go until she’s sitting all the way up on him, no place to hide anywhere. “There.” His fingers keep moving over that electric place inside, insistent.
Taryn bites her lip. “M’not shy,” she protests, working hard to keep her voice steady as he brings their foreheads together. She wants to turn her head.
It’s no use. Nick holds her right where she is like he’s setting up to watch the whole production, so close she practically goes cross-eyed trying to read his expression. “Come on,” he murmurs, scissoring his fingers inside her. “Let me see.”
“Oh my God,” Taryn gasps before she can stop herself, cringing when she hears how desperate she sounds. She squeezes her eyes shut to hide from the
“I’ve heard that, yeah.” She whimpers without meaning to as he cups her—just lightly, no pressure at all. Nick hums his agreement into her neck. He opens her up real slowly, sliding two clever fingers forward to investigate.
“Jesus, Falvey,” he murmurs when he feels how wet she is. Taryn’s surprised too. It usually takes her a while to get ready. With Pete especially she was self-conscious about it, like she couldn’t always quiet her mind down enough for her body to do what she needed it to do.
That is…not so much a problem right now. God, the way Nick’s spreading the slickness around between her legs, sucking at her throat like he’s aiming to put a mark there. He rubs hard at her clit and dips inside her—first one finger, then two, working them deep and dragging them out again until she whines. “That’s it,” he says when she gives in and starts to rock. His free hand starts working the buttons on her flannel. Taryn braces one shaky arm against the door.
“Thought getting naked in the car offended your delicate sensibilities,” she teases as his knuckles trail up and down her bare stomach, her muscles jumping under his touch. “Huh?”
Nick raises his eyebrows, twisting his fingers inside. “For me, not you,” he tells her, tugging down the satiny purple cup of her bra and lowering his mouth to her nipple. “For you I like it fine.”
Taryn grins. “No fair,” she complains, sliding her own hands down inside the collar of his T-shirt. His upper back is smooth and warm. He’s stupidly good with his tongue, is a thing Taryn remembers from the night in his kitchen. He licks at the tip of one breast until she’s squirming on his fingers, then tugs hard enough that she yelps.
“Shh,” Nick chides, even though there’s nobody around to hear them. Taryn hasn’t seen another living soul since they left the bar. It’s kind of a rush, truthfully, the idea that what they’re doing is illicit, that they could get caught any second by God knows who. She’s still got her arms in the sleeves of her flannel, her bra bunched crooked and messy underneath her breasts. The next time he curls his fingers, he rubs up against something electric and good inside her, and she muffles her cry against his neck.
“Yeah?” he asks, boosting her with his free hand to find the angle again. Taryn nods and presses her face into his throat, concentrating. Her palms slide even farther down the back his shirt until she’s draped over him completely, sacked out how Caitlin and the boys get when it’s bedtime. Night of the fire notwithstanding, he’s still unfamiliar enough that she’s going to have to think herself into it a little, close her eyes and coach the orgasm along. He’s got such good hands; Taryn’s sure that if she can just stay here and private for a second she’s definitely going to be able to—
Yeah, Nick isn’t having it. “Don’t get shy now,” he says quietly, nudging his cheek at hers. When that doesn’t work he makes a fist in her hair and tugs, not letting go until she’s sitting all the way up on him, no place to hide anywhere. “There.” His fingers keep moving over that electric place inside, insistent.
Taryn bites her lip. “M’not shy,” she protests, working hard to keep her voice steady as he brings their foreheads together. She wants to turn her head.
It’s no use. Nick holds her right where she is like he’s setting up to watch the whole production, so close she practically goes cross-eyed trying to read his expression. “Come on,” he murmurs, scissoring his fingers inside her. “Let me see.”
“Oh my God,” Taryn gasps before she can stop herself, cringing when she hears how desperate she sounds. She squeezes her eyes shut to hide from the
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