I realized with a dim astonishment that if the storm hadn’t worsened, I would have gladly ridden Dean on those steps without a care in the world. The chemistry between us was that primal, demanded that much raw, insatiable hunger.

Dean tore my bra off and pressed his face between my breasts with a low growl that sent vibrations through me. He sat up straight in the seat, bending me backward, and then took my breast into his mouth with a look both savage and grateful. His wet tongue swirled around my nipple—feather-light, then gradually increasing in pressure until he was pulling on it with his lips and I was close to sobbing.

The rhythmic pulsing matched the one between my legs, had my head dropping back and keening cries falling from my lips. He’d trapped me still so I couldn’t rock back and forth along that thick cock of his, but if I had freedom of movement, I would have come. He wouldn’t stop either, kept me pinned down and exposed to his fingers and tongue, lapping at my nipples, stroking each peak with light, teasing circles.

I threaded my fingers through his thick hair and tugged his head back—harder than I intended, but the satisfied curl to his lip made me do it again. His nostrils flared and his next kiss had a bite to it I wanted more of. I managed to work my hand down the flexing ridges of his stomach to his shorts-clad cock. My hand bore down, stroked the impressive length as he used both thumbs to stroke my nipples.

We shared a fraught, open-mouthed moan. He bared his teeth. Hissed out a breath. His hands settled on my hips, but then he spun me around roughly on his lap. One hand wrapped in my hair. The other landed back on my nipple and pinched. Hard. Harder. I cried out, spine arching, and I was treated to Dean groaning my name in my ear.

A bolt of lightning crackled overhead followed by a steady, rolling thunder. Rain continued to fall like sharp stones, bouncing off the windshield, making the back seat feel like a cozy cabin in the middle of a summer storm. The air inside was as steamy as a tropical jungle. Our skin was slick with the combination of sweat and rain, mouths open, panting breath fogging up the windows. Maybe if this spontaneous hookup was happening in a regular old bed with the lights on there would have been time and space for nerves or adjustments.

But it was happening in the back seat of a car—technically in public—and I was positive that was the reason for our desperate, frenzied movements, like we might literally die without the other person.