" Nails scraping down his chest, yanking on his belt. His cock hard and pulsing in anticipation.
"How much longer?" Fingers stroking. Hands in his boxers. The mind-numbing pleasure of her palm in his shaft.
Time didn't matter. The need to have her was fierce and intense, demanding instant satisfaction. He wanted her. Here. Now. Hidden by blacked-out windows in the dead of night.
With rough hands, he shoved her skirt over her hips. Red silk panties. Teasing. Tantalizing.
"Tear them off." Her urgency pleased him, called to the animal frenzy of his lust.
"Law? Indecent exposure?"
"Fuck it."
Her panties rendered with a soft whimper, fluttered to the floor. Soft and dark her secrets beckoned. He parted her folds and sank a thick finger deep inside her wet center. She gasped, arched against him. He gave her another finger, his free hand in her hair, holding her still, baring her neck for the heated slide of his lips.
A third finger. Gentle strokes. Hungry kisses. His thumb stroked over her swollen nub. A guttural groan and she came, her inner walls tightening around him.
Dazed, languid, she collapsed forward against his chest. He hissed in a breath when the down between her legs brushed against his cock. "

― Sara Desai , The Singles Table (Marriage Game, #3)