This wouldn’t be the first limousine they’ve defiled.
She’s always sorry about it — there’s enough small-town upbringing left in her for that, at least — but god knows this won’t be the last time, either.
Raleigh catches her eye with a smirk across the limo, stretches out a tattooed arm and slips two fingertips against the switch for the partition, and even with the bassy thump of hip hop music thrumming through the speakers, Carmen is distinctly aware of the soft whir that sounds its ascent. She tears her gaze away from Raleigh just long enough to watch the glass lift slowly into place against the ceiling, cutting them off with a final sort of quiet from their unlucky driver.
She feels an ease of relief that it’s not Hank today.
“You’re gonna get me in trouble,” she accuses her co-passenger, before he can even open his beautiful mouth.
Raleigh’s lips part to a grin, clearly pleased she’s deciphered his very subtle intentions. “Are we teenagers now? Is Fiona gonna ground us?”
“She’ll do worse than that if we miss another charity event.”
If Carmen is also aware of the way his muscles shift beneath the ink when he runs a thumb suggestively across his lower lip — well, she’s only human.
“Who said anything about missing?” In one smooth motion, he slips across the open space to sit beside her, letting his legs fall open into a comfortable sprawl when he settles, so that his knee bumps hers; and even through the denim of his artfully distressed jeans, she can feel his body heat. He lifts a finger to brush an errant curl of hair back over her shoulder, baring the skin there to his darkened gaze.
It’s getting harder to remember why this is such a bad idea. She only just recalls the sharpened edges to Fiona’s tone when she’d pinned them both with that threatening glare. “She specifically requested that we not be late.”
His eyes make another lazy pass down her body. “She didn’t see how good you look in this dress.” He reaches out to follow the path of his gaze, trailing his touch over her shoulder and the tanned slope of her arm. His fingers are temptingly warm, lifting goosebumps in their wake, rough where they’ve worn to calluses against the frets of his guitar. A tug of heat sinks from the contact to simmer in the pit of her stomach.
Damn him, this’ll be another lecture from Fiona.
“If we’re late…” she begins, but her voice fades into a breath caught in her throat when Raleigh drops his lips in a reassuring kiss to the span of her knuckles.
“I’ll get you there in time.” And he smirks against her fingers, promise in the husky murmur of his voice. His other hand has found its way between her knees, curling an easy grip around her thigh, where his thumb strokes languidly against her skin.
But it’s the look in his eyes that tips her temptation into purpose: his focus centered on her body with unwavering intent, raising slowly from her hips, to her neck, to the shape of her mouth when she drags her bottom lip between her teeth.
“You’d better,” she breathes finally, and has only a moment to mirror the delighted smirk on his face before his mouth is on hers, lips moving desperately against her own. His hand lifts to weave among her hair as he deepens the kiss, urging her to part for him with a brief flick of his tongue.
She gasps his name when they break apart, Raleigh seizing on the opportunity to press himself into the space between her thighs, his hips falling into that delicious fit against her own. They don’t have much time, and he knows it, lingering as long as he dares to devote attention to the smooth arch of her neck. His stubble scrapes the tender nerves there, prompting shivers down her backbone at the contrast when he follows with his lips and tongue.
“Sure you don’t want me to take my time?” he rumbles at her ear, voice fraying to a sinful timbre.
“Ah —!” She barely locks a moan behind her teeth. “Mmn, I think we’ll… need a rain check on that.”
He grins, unfazed, dark eyes lidded as he drinks in the flush of want across her face. “Then I’ll just have to get my fill now.” He steals one last kiss — deliberately indulgent, letting his tongue swipe a taste of her bottom lip — before he’s sliding down onto his knees, catching her by the thighs to coax her legs open around him.
They both watch the hem of her dress slip higher at the motion, the deep emerald satin bunching carelessly around her hips and quickly forgotten there as Raleigh sets his mouth against the bare skin of her thigh. His mouth is even warmer than his hands, rougher when he teases her with the blunt of his teeth, sucking until a mark blooms in deep red beneath her skin.
Carmen slumps against the leather of the seats, clutching clumsy fingers at the cushioning as her breath threads into gasps, flickers of excitement rising through her with each press of Raleigh’s mouth. He forges higher, slipping a thigh over his shoulder, and when her legs fall further open in response, he flashes her a smirk and claims his prize, parting his lips against the delicate lace of her thong.
Her whole body shudders at the heat of his mouth, such tantalizing pressure when his tongue curls over her through the thin material, tasting where she is wet for him. He groans a hungry, searing sound and clenches harder at her thigh, pinning her open so his free hand can nudge her thong to the side and leave her shivering at the cool air that sweeps against her. She hasn’t long to suffer through it, his mouth swift to cover the slick of her arousal, and his lips and tongue and breath meet her skin with a scorching heat that reaves across her nerves, radiating to the very tips of her fingers and toes.
Raleigh is going to eat her alive.
She’s writhing back against the seats when the thought slithers through her frantic mind, an understanding that expands with wildfire intensity throughout her being. His mouth opens to drag the hot flat of his tongue against her, rolling to find every place that makes her squeak and arch beneath his hold, her thighs shaking and tensed around his shoulders.
“Shit — Raleigh, that’s — ohmygod!” Carmen whispers harshly through her teeth, straining to keep the words down, still distantly aware that they are not truly alone, that just a tinted pane of glass secludes them from an accidental witness. The very real possibility thereof should be enough to have her on her best behavior, but Raleigh Carrera has his head between her thighs, and there is very little (rapidly approaching nothing) else that matters.
Raleigh slicks his fingers down the heat between her thighs, the roughened tips of them wet with her arousal when he finds where she parts open and slips in. A tremble clambers up between her shoulders at the fullness of his fingers pushing in, thicker and longer than her own, crooking to reach that devastating intersect of nerves inside of her. The first brush of his fingertips reduces her to shaking limbs and a garbled plea that lurches from her teeth. Sweat gathers hot at the back of her neck and behind her knees, and she bites frantically at her fingers to smother the urgent noises breaking free of her control.
His mouth and tongue never slow against her, forcing bolts of pleasure through her body until they start to reach for something solid, a finality that she can feel at the very tips of her fingers. Her hips are taken by an urgent sway, tensing with each determined pass of his tongue as she chases the sensation, and past the music and the sound of her own pounding heart, she hears him give a moan of encouragement between her thighs.
In the end, he keeps his word. She comes just as the limo turns down Sunset Boulevard, the pink and golden colors of its namesake blurring to a bright kaleidoscope shimmer through the tinted limousine windows. She bites back a torrid gasp, lacquered nails curling to hook into the mess of Raleigh’s hair as the edge crashes over her and sweeps her fully into its embrace. Every nerve lights end-to-end with blinding pleasure, and she lets the rush consume her in the lunacy of climax.
When the blinding swell recedes, she feels her muscles give with disarming abruptness, leaving her in a weak splay of limbs across the seats. Raleigh brushes a kiss to her trembling thigh, muffling a breathless chuckle against her skin before he rises from between her knees. His hands are tender as he tries to slip her thong back into place, and it reminds her, in her post-orgasmic daze, of the same gentle way he reaches out to take her glasses off each night, baring her face to kiss her nose and cheekbones where they rest.
A heady warmth spreads through her chest, lodging in her heart with a squeeze of affection.
“Don’t bother,” she laughs, panting, cupping his face between her hands and drawing him into an exhausted kiss. “I think those might be good and ruined.”
“That’s a shame,” he says, with an unrepentant smirk. He holds her gaze as he drops a hand to palm himself through his jeans, the hard shape of him enough to steal the last remnants of her breath. “I liked that one.”
The slowing of the limousine around them urges her thoughts hastily back together, pulling her from the sudden urge to push him down against the floor and taste him too. She tugs her underwear down her shaky legs, balling the lace up and tossing it with a breathless huff into her clutch purse before straightening her dress. “If one of those paparazzi gets a lucky upskirt shot, I’m taking you down with me.”
Raleigh laughs, the sound still somewhat wrecked as he runs his fingers through the mess she made of his hair. His eyes glimmer with amusement, but a softness hangs there too, loving and undeniably fond as he lifts a hand to straighten the fall of her hair. “As if there’s anywhere else I’d rather be.”
