CAINE
If Grace doesn't stop grinding onto my cock, I'm going to end up claiming her in the truck—which is not how I wanted it to happen.
But rational thought is long gone as I nip and suck at her neck, wondering why her skin's as sweet as she smells.
"If you keep—mm—doing that, I'm going to—ahh." Her hips wiggle as my fingers slide under her shirt and the tight band of her bra. One flick of her areola has her groaning and shoving her hips down even harder, and it takes everything in me not to rip off her panties and bury myself inside her right now.
I drag my mouth across her throat, sucking hard enough to leave my mark. Possessive instincts surge, chaotic and unrestrained, as I feel her pulse thudding beneath my lips.
Mine.
Saying she isn't leaves my mouth tasting sour, and the sweetness of her skin finally erases the repetitive denials of today.
