When he pushed inside I melted, one hand coming up to twist into his hair. The other slid lower, catching on his thigh and squeezing it. Puck groaned and guided it higher, toward the bulge of his cock. I caught it and squeezed. Puck shifted, lowering his butt so that I could reach more easily.

Sliding my fingers up and down, I started jacking him through the jeans. A part of me was vaguely aware that he was using sex to distract me, but I didn’t care. I just loved the way he shuddered under my touch.

Finally Puck pulled away from my mouth, leaning his head back against the headrest. I looked up at him, still working his cock, and he met my gaze. Then I licked my lips. He groaned.

“Suck me off.”

Nodding, I held his eyes as my hands fumbled with his fly. Impatiently, he shoved them out of the way, lifting his hips long enough to shift his jeans. Then his hand—still on the back of my neck—pushed me toward him.

This was where I should’ve stopped to make a spirited, well-thought-out argument about whether a woman could or should be owned. Unfortunately I was way too turned on. My nipples had hardened and the space between my legs clenched.

I pulled out his dick slowly, then leaned over and licked the underside of the head. Puck groaned, raising his other hand to tangle his fingers in my hair.

“Inside.”

My mouth opened and I obeyed, pressing the bottom of my tongue against his length. My hand found his shaft, working it as my head started to bob, Puck’s hands guiding me and setting the rhythm.

Men had held me this way before—bad men. I knew how easy it was to lose control of the situation. Normally just thinking about it was enough to scare me. Now it turned me on in a big, unhealthy way that I decided I really shouldn’t think about. Nothing good could come from facing my own fucked-uppedness.

Puck had been right about one thing—we’d crossed a bridge somewhere along the way and things were different now.

His breathing came faster and I found his hands tightening, growing rougher. He wasn’t hurting me, but he wasn’t giving me much in the way of control, either. Strangely, there was something liberating about that—I didn’t have to debate how I was doing or whether it was a mistake. We were past that point. All that mattered now was the taste of Puck in my mouth, the slick length of his cock between my fingers.

He was close. I could tell from the way the ridges in his cock hardened, and the catch in his breath every time I drew him back into my mouth. My tongue was getting sore but I kept going, mindless in my determination to get him off.

Maybe then he’d get me off.

I certainly wanted it. My legs shifted restlessly under the flowing cotton skirt London had given me that morning. We’d gone and picked up my car, so I had my own clothing in the back, but there hadn’t been any reason to change.

Too bad we were twisted across uncomfortable truck seats, because I wanted to reach down under my skirt, touch myself while I touched him.

Not exactly practical under the circumstances.

“Becca, you’re so fucking hot,” Puck groaned. “When I think of all the shit I’m going to do to you . . .”

That should’ve scared me. Instead—when his hand pushed my head down just a little harder—I found myself sucking him even deeper. The tip of his cock reached the back of my throat. I started to gag and he loosened his grip immediately.

This caught me off guard.

Not the fact that I’d gagged, but that he’d given me a little too much, realized it, and let me go. He hadn’t hurt me for real. I didn’t start to panic and I wasn’t even scared he’d push it too far. Hell, I was still turned on.

Holy shit.

I started to laugh, which is a damned awkward thing to do while you’re giving a blow job. I caught myself and refocused, but a weird kind of giddy glee kept threatening to overtake me.

A man pushed his dick into my mouth until I gagged and it wasn’t scary!

More giggles broke free in awkward little bursts. Finally Puck tugged on my hair, pulling my mouth free.

“It’s creepy as fuck when you laugh at my dick like that. You wanna share the joke?”

I pushed myself up, looking at his face. Poor Puck. I smiled at him.

“You didn’t scare me.”

“Huh?”

“Just now—you shoved your dick too hard down my throat, you had your hands on my head and everything. Then I gagged and you let me go.”

“Not exactly my goal to kill you,” he replied, obviously confused.

“But here’s the thing—I wasn’t scared when you did it. I knew you wouldn’t hurt me. That’s a first for me.”

Shock covered his face.

“You tellin’ me you’ve been afraid every time we’ve fucked?”

I shook my head quickly. “No, but it’s the first time a man’s ever stuck his cock down my throat and held my head that I haven’t been afraid I’d die.”

Abruptly my smile faded.

“Wow, that sounds so fucked up when I say it out loud.”

Puck nodded slowly, his eyes still wary. The truck rocked as a semi blew past.

“Shit,” I said, pulling myself up. “I think that guy saw us.”

“So?”

“He’ll think I was giving you head!”

“You were giving me head.”

Jesus, the man was impossible. I glared at him and he sighed.

“Okay, the fact that me fucking you isn’t scary is great. Having said that, my dick’s still stickin’ out and I’m starting to wonder if I should put it away.”