The Pegasus Marshal's Mate (U.S. Marshal Shifters 2)

Martin touched her almost reverently, moving his thumb over the clipped curls of her mound. He dipped his fingers between her lower lips and then tasted her, sucking his fingers clean.

Tiffani started to cramp up again, wanting more touch, fuller touch.

It only took them a moment to roll the condom onto the length of him. Then Tiffani slid down slowly, taking every inch of his cock inside herself.

It was something more than pleasure. It was pure ecstasy.

What would it have been like if they had come here during this place’s heyday, back when it was a real drive-in and not just a teenage make out spot?

More cars would have been around. People would have been able to see their windows steam up. The rolling, flickering colors of the movie would have made shadows and rainbows on her back and on Martin’s face as she looked down at him.

She touched his lips. He was so... hers. In every possible way, he was hers.

He was what she had imagined a man should be long before she had grown realistic, let alone disillusioned. But he wasn’t too good to be true, not with how real and solid he was underneath her and inside of her.

She moved too suddenly and her hip knocked against the seatbelt clasp.

“Ow!”

Martin shot up, inadvertently pushing the steering wheel into the small of her back yet again.

“What is it? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She rubbed her hip. “I just hit part of the seatbelt.” She decided to skip the also ouch-worthy collision he’d caused himself. “There’s just not a lot of room.”

“If I’d known I was going to meet you, I would have shelled out for a personal limousine,” Martin said with breathtaking, ridiculous sincerity. “Just for a sprawling backseat. Should we move into the backseat, is that how this works?”

“This was the position I’d been thinking about,” Tiffani said doubtfully. “But I’ve never done this before either.”

“Movies had me convinced this would be more practical.”

She laughed and then had an idea. “Here, I know what we could do.”

She climbed back into the passenger seat—which of course meant that she had to lift herself up off of him.

“I don’t like this plan,” Martin said.

She grinned. “You’ll like it soon enough. Promise.”

She scooped her panties up and slipped them back on.

“Now I really don’t like this plan.”

“Give it time,” Tiffani said. “And I’m leaving the skirt off, at least.”

She turned sideways and bent down, her mouth just an inch from his cock. She removed the condom and let out a warm breath against his sensitive skin before she took him in her mouth.

She’d been expecting some kind of follow-up about him starting to come around on the plan, but she got nothing but groans of pleasure. She had made him inarticulate.

She was probably entitled to a little smugness about that.

Tiffani had always been neutral on blowjobs, neither enjoying them nor resenting them. They were just something you did, usually while keeping your fingers crossed the guy would want to do you the same favor. But this? She couldn’t get enough of it.

It had been incredible to lose herself right along with Martin, both of them abandoned to the same pleasure, but she loved this just as much. She loved knowing with hot, passionate certainty that she was making him come apart at the seams. She could tease. She could fulfill every fantasy. Take away every worry he had.

Not bad. Not bad at all.

And Martin did reciprocate, of course—he was nothing if not a perfect gentleman—which let them make use of the backseat after all.