Bound To His Bride

…It’s getting me wetter.

Heat blooms through me, my cheeks going crimson as I bite my lip between my teeth.

No, stop that.

But my body doesn’t listen. My nipples don’t get any less hard, digging through my cotton tank top into his muscled back. My thighs don’t clench any less tightly together, with my pussy grinding right against his shoulder, heat blooming between my legs. The forbidden fire roaring inside of me doesn’t die down a single bit at my lame attempts at telling myself to stop it. Because mad or not, six months away from Colm? From the most gorgeous, hottest, filthiest absolute sex-god of a man on freaking earth?

Well, to say I’m “on edge” is the understatement of the century. And with those muscles rippling against me, and those huge, powerful hands gripping me so tight and possessively, it’s everything I can do not to freaking moan as we reach the bottom of the stairwell.

Colm kicks the back door to the apartment building open and strides into the junky parking lot behind the place. The air is cool, what with me just wearing a tank top and freaking panties, and when he sets me down, I shiver before my eyes focus on what he’s stopped in front of.

He’s still got it.

I mean, I don’t know why Colm wouldn’t still have his jet black and chrome 72’ Mustang. But with him disappearing, I guess I sort of wrote the car off too.

I shiver runs through me as my eyes drink in the sensual black lines, glinting in the dim overhead lights of the parking lot. I have a lot of memories of this car. Of road trips taken, of course. And picnics and cold beer we had laying in each other’s arms on a blanket in its shadow on summer days. But there are other ones that come to mind. Like the feel of that sleek, polished hood against my back, my legs spread and my moans screaming into the night sky as Colm plunges his thick, gorgeous cock in and out of me.

Like clawing at the trunk, one foot up on the fender and pleasure rippling through me as Colm grips my hip tight and pulls my hair, yanking me back onto every inch of his big cock as the orgasm shatters through me.

Like riding him for what felt like hours in the backseat.

Like seeing the smudged print of my own bare foot on the inside of the windshield and blushing at the memory, and wondering which time it was from.

“Abby.”

I blink, shaking the filthy memories from my head and hopefully the blush from my cheeks as I turn to him.

“You still have the Mustang.” It’s half a question, held a statement. Colm nods.

“Yup.”

His eyes slide over me, and I blush fiercely as I feel him looking right through my thoughts.

“And you still have the memories of this car,” he growls lowly.

“I do not.”

Colm snorts, shaking his head as he unlocks the passenger side.

“Forgotten them in six months?”

“Yup.”

I brush past him, sliding into the car and dropping into the soft leather seat. Colm eyes me, his jaw rippling and a flash of blue fire sparking in those eyes before he shakes his head and closes the door. I watch him walk around to the driver’s side, slipping in and bringing the engine to life with a ferocious rumble.

The car roars, and I can feel the familiar clench in the pit of my stomach, the thrill that an engine like that can do to you. Or maybe it’s just this particular car. Maybe my brain has hardwired the sound, feel, smell, and rumble of this car to pleasure.

Colm shoves the Mustang into gear, and we pull away.

“You were wild once, Abby Jennings,” he purrs quietly.

“Yeah, and you were around once,” I spit back.

Colm’s brow furrows, his eyes narrowing at the road as his hands clench the wheel a little tighter. Streetlights flick past the car, and the engine roars a little harder as he guns us into the night.

“You leaving—”

“Me leaving was survival,” I mutter.

“I know, Abby,” he growls back. “And it made me see what I had to do.”

“Oh, disappear?”

I glare at him in the dim light of the dashboard, crossing my arms petulantly over my chest.

“You couldn’t be near me.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, beautiful. Not with what I had to do. It’d have been too dangerous for them to think anything but that you’d left me.”

“Well, I did,” I snap.

His jaw tightens.

“And who’s them? The Lucretas?”

Colm nods.

“And what exactly has you suddenly back?”

My anger’s fading. I want to stay mad at him, but it’s getting harder and harder to do the longer I’m next to him like this. Maybe it’s the car, and the memories it brings with it. But mostly, I know it’s him.

“You,” Colm says quietly. He turns briefly, his eyes flickering and smoldering with heat. “It was always you, angel.”