“Well, it doesn’t matter. Because we don’t speak often.” She blew out a long breath and shook her head. “And I have no idea why I dumped all that on you now. That’s not what we’re about.”
“It’s not, huh?”
Her lips turned upward. “No, we’re about sex. And fun. And right now, this ride is fun.”
He didn’t argue.
Silence fell around them, the night sky cloaking them in darkness and the familiar sound of the horse’s hooves clicked against the pavement. Time passed in easy silence. Yes, he was aware of her in a base sexual sense, but something else hit him too. A feeling of rightness, making him uncomfortable. He preferred raw desire to this softness, this warmth. He didn’t know what to do with the unexpected emotions she brought out in him without even trying.
“I’d love to ride a horse one day,” she mused out loud.
A different, more wicked idea took hold. “How about you ride me instead?”
Her eyes opened wide, need reflected in the chocolate orbs. She ran her tongue over her lips, and a jolt of desire licked at him, heightening his need.
“I want that too, but not here.”
He agreed. Exhibitionism had its place. This wasn’t one of them. He’d only meant it as a tease. And it had worked. Her voice dropped, a slight tremor shook her frame, and her nipples puckered through the silk top.
“But I have to admit, sex in a horse-drawn carriage would be scandalous.” She grinned, her smile infectious.
“There are other things we can do though.” She slid her hand over the bulge in his pants, and his cock, already thick and ready, sprung to further life.
He hissed out a long breath. “Fuck.”
“We already decided that wasn’t possible in this carriage, but other things are. The way I see it, the driver’s up there … and there’s a blanket right here.” She pulled it over his lap. Her eyes held a wealth of passion in their depths, and when she licked her lips, he knew what she intended.
He covered her small hand with his and stilled all motion. “No more.”
She blinked at his dominant tone.
Good. Because it was time for him to take charge.
SEVEN
Amanda had operated on autopilot tonight, letting her desire take her where she needed to go. And she wasn’t just talking sexual desire. She’d boarded the plane to New York, better judgment be damned, landed, and headed straight for the club. One look at Decklan and she knew why she’d come. To experience the way she felt when he was near. The stomach-churning excitement, the heightened sense of awareness he inspired. All her senses were engaged.
Sight. She couldn’t stop staring at him, his tanned, handsome face, white teeth when he deigned to smile, strong jaw, and the integrity she felt he possessed deep inside. Hearing. His deep voice caused ripples of awareness throughout her body, drawing her into his orbit, making her wet with his husky commands. Smell. Every inhale made her more aware of him as a potent male, and his musky scent that was pure Decklan turned her insides to mush. Taste. The memory of his kiss kept her tossing and turning in her bed at night, her nipples hard and begging for his touch and her pussy so wet she’d have to make herself come with her own hands before she could find any respite in sleep.
And touch. Oh God, when he touched her, cupped her neck in his strong hand, she melted, willing to be at his beck and call, even if it meant divulging personal secrets. She shivered at how much she’d revealed to him about her insecurities, but he wasn’t using them against her. No, he seemed to embrace the things about her she’d been taught to hate.
The way he waited patiently for her to respond to his command, knowing with certainty she would, allowed her to give over. Although she wanted to touch him further, to outline that hard, thick cock with her hands, gauge his length, and ultimately taste him, she stopped all motion and lifted her hand.
“Good girl,” he said in a panty-melting voice. “Now hand me your underwear.”
She blinked, certain she hadn’t heard him correctly.
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“Give me your panties.” He held out his hand.
She swallowed hard, her sex swelling at the command. “I’m not wearing any.”
He let out a shuddering groan. At least she wasn’t alone in this whirlpool of need.
“Spread your legs.”
She did as he commanded, sliding her thighs apart. At least she’d worn a flirty skirt that hit above the knee, protecting her rear end from the carriage seat.