I nod, unable to meet his eyes. "I know it's ridiculous at my age, but I just never found the right person, never felt like this with anyone else, and I…"
"Christine." My name on his lips stops my rambling. "Look at me."
I force myself to meet his gaze, expecting to see disappointment or, worse, pity. Instead, I find nothing but heat and a fierce kind of possessiveness.
"You're giving me a gift," he says, his fingers still buried inside me. "The most precious gift anyone has ever given me. Are you sure you want this? With me? Like this?"
"I'm sure," I say, and I've never been more certain of anything in my life. "I'm just... I'm afraid I'll be bad at it. That I won't know what to do, how to please you."
A smile, soft and surprisingly tender, curves his lips. "No one is born knowing how to do this, sweetheart. It's something we learn together." His thumb circles my clit, making me gasp. "And I'll teach you everything. Even if we have to practice a thousand times."
The promise in his voice, the heat in his eyes, makes me giggle despite the tension coiling in my belly. "I hope so."
"Get in the back," he commands suddenly, his fingers withdrawing from me with a slick sound that should be embarrassing but is somehow incredibly erotic.
I don't hesitate. Awkwardly shuffling with my jeans around my thighs, I climb between the seats into the back of the truck cab. Marc follows, and reaches forward to push the front seats as far up as they'll go, creating more space for us.
The moment he turns back to me, I see it—the hunger, the need, the barely leashed control. He's like a predator, and I'm his willing prey.
He strips off his suit jacket first, then his tie, fingers working the buttons of his shirt with an urgency that makes my pulse race. When he pulls the shirt off, I can't help the small gasp that escapes me.
He's magnificent. Broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, every inch covered in hard muscle and scattered with scars that speak of battles I can't imagine. A dusting of dark hair covers his chest, trailing down to disappear beneath the waistband of his pants.
"Your turn," he says, and there's a challenge in his voice.
I reach for the hem of my sweater with hands that aren't entirely steady. The blue fabric slides over my head, leaving me in nothing but my bra and the jeans still bunched around my thighs. I should feel exposed, vulnerable, but the way Marc is looking at me makes me feel powerful instead.
"Perfect," he growls, and then he's on me.
His lips are softer than I expected, but there's nothing soft about the way he kisses. All heat and hunger and demand. His tonguesweeps into my mouth, claiming me from the inside out, and I yield to him completely, my arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.
One large hand cradles the back of my head while the other slides down my back, unhooking my bra with a dexterity that would be impressive if I had the capacity to think about anything other than the way his chest feels pressed against mine.
When he pulls back to remove my bra completely, the cool air makes my nipples tighten. Marc groans, a sound of pure appreciation, before his mouth descends to capture one stiff nipple between his lips.
I arch against him, desperate for more, for everything he can give me.
"So responsive," he murmurs against my skin, his tongue swirling around in a way that makes me whimper. "So perfect for me."
His hands are everywhere, learning my body with a thoroughness that borders on worship. He traces the curve of my waist, the softness of my belly, the fullness of my hips like he's memorizing every inch of me.
"Marc," I gasp when his teeth graze the sensitive underside of my breast. "Please."
"Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you need."
"You," I say, beyond embarrassment now. "All of you. I can't wait anymore."
His amber eyes lock on mine, searching for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he nods once, reaching for the button of his pants.
"I need you to be sure," he says, "This is your first time. It should be special, not in the back of a truck in a gas station parking lot."
The consideration, the care he's taking with me, makes my heart squeeze in my chest. But I don't want to wait. I don’t want to second-guess this perfect moment of connection.
"It's already special," I tell him honestly. "Because it's with you. Because I've never wanted anyone the way I want you right now." I reach for him, my hand brushing the impressive bulge straining against his pants. "I want you to claim me, Marc. Make me yours."
Something flashes in his eyes at the word "claim". Something wild and primitive that should frighten me but instead makes excitement curl low in my belly.
"Mine," he growls.
