Honor
Page 52

 Jay Crownover

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“You just have that kind of cash on you?”
He looked down at me and I could see the humor burning in his melted gaze. “Sure. I’m paying cash for the car.”
“Why won’t you just let the poor guy do his job, then?”
When he smiled down at me all his teeth were showing and all the temptation that was this particular devil was flashed at me. “Because I’m not spending that kind of money on a car without seeing how we both fit in the backseat.”
Obviously he wasn’t talking about leg room, so I blushed but couldn’t deny that his silky and seductive words had my pulse kicking.
The salesman came back over and said his manager agreed to take the forty grand as a deposit as long as Nassir agreed to fill out a waiver that had all his information on it, like car theft was really something Nassir wanted to add to his laundry list of criminal activity. He already had his hands full with extortion, racketeering, prostitution, money laundering, illegal gambling and fighting, and whatever else he had his fingers in that he wasn’t telling me about.
We walked out to the front of the showroom and the still-anxious sales guy brought the fancy SUV around to the front of the building. He climbed out of the driver’s side while Nassir guided me around to the passenger side and helped me climb into the seat. Nassir’s fingers skated up my bare thigh and up under the hem of my skirt. I narrowed my eyes at him and crossed my legs, trapping his wandering hand before he could give the already overtaxed salesman something to really freak out over.
Nassir chuckled under his breath and leaned forward to kiss me as he wiggled his hand free. He shut the door and I saw the salesman frantically gesturing as he explained something to his manager. Nassir looked bored and exasperated but I was starting to think that was his default expression when he was dealing with anyone that wasn’t me. He had a bunch of different ways of looking at me but none of them would ever be classified as bored, and that was just one more thing that made me feel more certain that I was supposed to be right next to him for as long as I could be.
He climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled out of the lot. The leather interior was really nice and so were all the high-tech gadgets and knobs on the dash. I rubbed my fingers over the leather and looked at him out of the corner of my eye. “It’s nice. Do you like it?”
He lifted his shoulder and let it fall as he guided the big vehicle out of the Hill and back toward the city. “It’s fine. Bigger than I’m used to, but it handles fine. The leather is the same color as your eyes.”
I jolted a little and turned all the way in my seat to look at him. “What?”
“The interior is the exact same color as your eyes. That gray looks like a rain cloud building in the sky.”
I could only blink at him in surprise. It was when I least expected it that he always flashed me those parts of him that I wanted to snatch up and protect like they were a wounded bird not ready for flight yet.
I reached out a hand and put it on his thigh and squeezed. “You can find a spot to try out that backseat anytime now.”
He put a hand over mine and laced our fingers together. “I would’ve pulled over on the street in front of the dealership if I wasn’t worried about your aversion to having other people know what we're up to.”
I bit my lip and unbuckled my seat belt so I could get to my knees in the seat. I put a hand on his shoulder for balance, took the hand he already had wrapped around mine, and put it between my legs, where I dragged our knuckles up my quivering thigh until I hit the sweet spot. I heard him groan softly when his hands encountered nothing but warm and willing flesh. I was already damp, and when he felt that, he untangled our hands and kept exploring on his own. I had no idea how he kept the SUV straight on the road as he used his fingers to spread my folds open and slip inside my opening.
“Nothing on underneath that short-ass skirt?” He asked the obvious question as he continued to probe and spread wetness around while purposely avoiding that special spot he knew how to manipulate like a pro.
I was trying to stop myself from wantonly gyrating against his hand since we were still moving; while the windows might be tinted, they weren’t dark enough to hide what we were doing in the front seat.
I gasped as he twisted his wrist and started to pump his fingers in and out of my now soaked opening.
“I pranced around in a G-string for most of my life. Having the option to go without is nice, and now that I never know when you’re going to pounce, it seems silly to add that extra step when all I want is you, as deep as you can get, as fast as possible.”
“Fuck.” My words must have made his search for whatever spot he was looking for easier because the next thing I knew, the Range Rover was wheeling into a parking lot in front of what looked like an abandoned grocery store on the fringe of the city and there was no more talk of my underwear or lack thereof. There were a couple cars scattered around the lot but privacy suddenly didn’t seem like such a big deal as Nassir wrenched his hand away from my needy center and pulled to a screeching stop.
Without a word he kicked open the door on his side of the car and climbed down to the asphalt. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it on the seat next to me. With his eyes hot on my own, I hiked up the edge of my skirt and used my own fingers to take up where he had left off. I rocked back at the first brush of my own fingers over flesh he had already worked up and sensitized with his rough caress. He growled at me and rolled up the sleeves of his linen shirt and continued to watch me as my eyes dipped to half-mast and my head fell back to thump against the window.
I knew how to touch myself, how to move my body to offer any man watching a show he wouldn’t forget, but I couldn’t remember a time where manipulating myself, touching myself with others’ eyes on me, had ever felt this powerful, this dynamic and important. I wasn’t even sure how much he could see since I was still dressed, and even though my skirt was short, it still kept the good stuff covered up and I hadn’t pulled the material all the way to my waist . . . yet.
I stroked my fingers over my aching clit, which Nassir had purposely left abandoned and reaching for his touch. I hummed in satisfaction and panted when his eyes switched from that candied bronze color to straight golden fire. I whispered his name and imagined it was his thick fingers touching me, pretended it was his hands squeezing my breasts through the thin material of my tank top.