Now, that was a sight to make his balls tighten.
When she was fully seated on him, she dug her nails into his shoulders and focused on his eyes, her pu**y pulsing around him. She didn’t move at all, just looked at him.
“Feel that?”
He nodded.
“Oh, God, Mick, that feels so good. I could stay here just like this and feel you inside me.”
He squeezed her flesh. “I’m not going anywhere, honey.”
He liked that she wasn’t in any hurry to show him her great prowess in the sack. Every woman that ever took him to bed seemed to want to impress him with how good they were, but there’d always been a remoteness about them, like f**king was a performance or an audition.
With Tara, she was in it with him, sharing it with him. He liked that she made eye contact with him. She wasn’t pleasuring just him; she pleasured herself, too. She dragged her clit against him and paused, her eyes drifting closed, her lips opening as she let out a low moan.
There was nothing that turned him on more than a woman out for her own pleasure. Because she wasn’t here trying to score points in her own game to land him. In fact, he was pretty damn sure that was the last thing on Tara’s mind.
She dug her nails into his arms and lifted, then slid down on him again, every slow inch an agony of sweet sensation. He didn’t know where to look—down at where they were joined or at her face, her ragged pleasure there for him to see.
He reached down and stroked her clit, felt how wet she was, knew this wasn’t a performance for her at all, knew it from the way her pu**y squeezed his c**k every time she moved, knew it from the way her eyes got hazy and her lids half closed, knew it from the sounds she made and the way the car smelled like sex. No, she was in it to win the game for herself, and he was part of the team.
He lifted into her, stroked her with both his c**k and his fingers, needing to feel her come apart around him. Her ni**les dangled just out of reach of his mouth. He rectified that by pulling her toward him, flicking his tongue over one, then the other, before taking one between his lips and sucking.
Tara pressed herself further into his mouth. “Yes, Mick, yes. Suck it. Harder.”
He did, and she pushed against him, lifting and dropping down on him, then rocking toward him and riding him faster.
“That’s going to make me come.”
Exactly where he wanted her—in the red zone and headed for the goal line. He left one nipple and went for the other, sucking it hard like she wanted. She shrieked as she came, her pu**y clamping down on his dick like a vise. He held tight to her as he jettisoned a hard come into her, jamming his feet into the floorboards and shuddering while his orgasm rocked him.
Touchdown, point after, game winner. He laid his head between her br**sts, feeling her heart pound.
“You made me sweat all over my good suit,” she murmured.
He smiled. “Uh ... sorry?”
She laughed and leaned back to smile down at him. “You aren’t sorry at all.”
“No, I’m not.”
They disentangled and righted their clothing while Tara made a decent attempt to climb over into her seat. “This is not my finest moment. I can’t believe we had sex in your car. I’m hardly sixteen anymore.”
“So?” He buckled his pants. “There’s nothing wrong with acting like it once in a while.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I should know better.”
“So you’re supposed to act like a stuffy grown-up all the time?”
She reached down for her shoes and shrugged. “I have a kid. And yes, I should. You’re a bad influence on me.”
He pulled her toward him and kissed her, making sure she understood just what kind of influence he was. When he finished, her lips were swollen, her eyes dazed. “I like to think I’m a good influence on you.”
They drove back to the restaurant and to Tara’s car. She reached for the door handle and paused.
“Thank you again for an ... interesting night, Mick. But I’m going to have to be up-front and tell you we can’t have any kind of relationship.”
He wasn’t buying it. “Because you don’t like me.”
She looked out the window instead of at him. “That’s not it.”
“Because you’re embarrassed to be seen with me.”
“That’s not it, either.”
“Because you’re ashamed of your son.”
She snapped her gaze to his. “Of course not.”
“Then I want to meet him.”
“Oh, hell no.”
He arched a brow. “So there’s either something wrong with me or with him. Which is it?”
She rubbed her temple. “Neither. I don’t know. You confuse me.”
His lips quirked. “Good confuse or bad confuse?”
She blew out a breath. “I don’t know. You just confuse me.”
He wasn’t going to give her an opportunity to walk away this time. “I’ll call you.”
She waved her hand and opened the car door. “Yeah, you do that.”
“Good night, Tara.”
She slammed the door shut and got into her car. Mick waited until she left, then followed her through the fog, making sure she made it to the highway safely.
It wasn’t until he made the turn to go back to his place that he realized he only had her office number, not her personal one. And he didn’t know where she lived.
He could fix that, though.
Tara was someone he wanted to know better. And she could put up whatever defensive line she wanted, but Mick wasn’t the kind of guy to back down from a good defense.
It was time to shore up his offense.
FIVE
“HOW WAS FOOTBALL CAMP?”
“Fine.”
“Did you learn any new plays?”
Shrug.
“Meet any new friends?”
“Mom, I’m not six years old. It was fine, okay?”
Nathan took his cereal bowl to the sink and dropped it in there.
“In the dishwasher, please. I’m not your maid.”
“Whatever. I have to go get ready for practice.”
He rinsed his bowl and threw it in the dishwasher, then huffed out of the kitchen and into his room, where he slammed the door shut.
Delightful.
Tara let out a long sigh. Why didn’t parenthood come with a manual? There were no guidelines for dealing with a teenager, and she had no parents or siblings to go to for help.