“Listen,” he whispers with a nostalgic grin. Sitting up, he turns the volume knob, bringing into focus the swoon-worthy notes of an orchestra belting out a hopeful sadness from his stereo.
It’s not until I hear the soft, emotional crooning of Etta James singing “A Sunday Kind Of Love” that I realize the connection he wants me to make. Five years ago back in April, Cameron asked me to dance at the Better Lives Gala in the Gordon House Ballroom. It was an Etta James song, “Anything To Say You’re Mine.” It also happened to be one of the last times I saw him before he moved to North Carolina. And though this song is not the same one we danced to that night, the sentiment still rings true.
“Come over here,“ he says, his voice sounding unjarred in the open air of the night as he opens his door.
“What?“
“Just do something I tell you for once,” he begs, as he turns the music up even higher. Without hesitating he climbs from his seat and comes around to the passenger side. Opening my door, he looks down at me still lying there.
“I’m comfy,” I say.
“Come dance with me.”
With a confused breath, I sit and look up at him in the dark. Taking my hand, he leads me out of my seat, closing the door behind me. The ocean is much louder now, the waves clapping in on themselves just over the sound of the gravel under our shoes where he leads me to his side of the car. Taking me by the waist, he holds a hand up to me. For a second, I don’t budge, but then he whispers in a chuckle. “Just do something I tell you for once, Pratt.”
Reaching up and resting my hand in his, my mind goes blank much like it did five years ago. Right before I can say them, my words get stuck in my throat. “I told you... you can’t not be in control.”
“Can, too,” he counters, teasing.
But I’m too far gone for words. Training my eyes to the black ocean, I feel myself turn into a puddle of nostalgic desire in his arms. These feelings have built over half a lifetime, and only now do they come rushing back to me in warm waves. When he pulls me closer, he rests his chin on top of my hair, and I’m suddenly so small and safe, completely surrounded by this man. The edgy scent of sea salt and driftwood cradles us as we slowly move in delicate circles, in the almost-presence of Etta James.
“I can give up control if I want,” he finally purrs, breaking the silence. His words are warm and minty against my neck. Pressing his lips to my forehead, he takes his hand off my waist to tuck a piece a hair behind my ear. “I’m actually very good at it.”
Pulling my attention from the dark oceanside, I look up at him and shake my head. “I don’t know if I believe you.”
“Maybe,” he says, calculated and cool. “Just maybe I haven’t been around a person that I want to lose control with. You ever consider that?”
My chest tightens as his words hit me heavy like a brick. Is he coming on to me? Yes, we tried the casual thing the other night. But this feels different. His words hold a different temperature tonight. Something fuller. There’s a little more weight to them in the salty air on Tybee. “I don’t believe you,” I say again. And this, I think, is my silent plea for him to prove me wrong. I can feel it in the depth of my bones.
He looks down, staring into me like he’s reading me, searching through my scribbled pages for all our past memories. It’s as if he wants to understand me entirely tonight. "What are you thinking?"
Shaking my head, I feel my cheeks grow hot under his gaze. If he really wanted to know what I’m thinking, he’d be sorely disappointed at my hypocrisy. Because I’m thinking how much I want him right now. How turned on I’m growing at his words and his cocky mannerisms. How much I'd give to be with him if he'd have me. Clearing my throat, I open my mouth to speak. “I'm thinking I still don't buy it.”
And it’s as if on cue that Etta James wails the last line of her song. Following suit, Cameron lets my hand down to my side and slides his fingers around back of my neck, pulling me to him. My eyes find his, and I wonder if he's thinking the exact thing I am. How intriguing the situation is. How we're not anything close to the little kids we once were with each other. When I open my mouth to ask him, in return, what he's thinking, he intercepts my words with his lips, pressing them to mine.
His kiss takes my breath away as his lips crash into mine, all of his arrogant cockiness cracking like a shell and falling to his feet. This kiss has stripped him bare. And I don't ever want him to recover.
Letting go of myself, I dissolve in his embrace. Reaching out, I cup his cheek in my hand and rub my fingers against his stubbled jaw, wondering what it would be like to feel him against my thighs again. As if answering my non-verbal question, he kisses me harder, and I feel an urgency building within me. There is nothing but sweet heat and fire between my legs, a primal need for him to take me without warning. Plunging his tongue into my mouth, he surprises me, and I can’t help but moan at the taste of him. He’s tingly, cool peppermint, and in this moment, I want to test his earlier claim of losing control.
When he slides his hands up the back of my sweater, he presses me against the side of his Lexus, bending me down to kiss me further and harder, like he’s getting a better grip on me. I fall into his trance, a steamy meditation of our passions becoming fluid between us. By the way he nips at my lips, I can tell he wants to devour me in any way that I'll let him. But tonight, I have my mind set on something else. Pushing him off me, I create a chasm, our bodies separating, causing him to grunt when he realizes what I'm doing.
Without even thinking, I tug at the hemline of his dress shirt and start unbuttoning it from the bottom up. My fingers grow nervous as a Ray Charles
tune swells from inside the car. Reaching up, Cameron tucks my hair behind my ear and studies my face as I continue to work on his buttons, my breath heavy from our kiss. “You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he tells me.
Meeting me at his shirt, he helps me unbutton up to his collar. Once I get a glimpse of his chest under his shirt, I can’t stop myself. Placing my palm on him, I feel the energy of his skin, the ripple of his muscles underneath my touch. Without thinking, I lean into him and plant a kiss overtop his heart.
“Sweetheart,” he says at my sentiment, his voice threaded with melancholy.
“Get in,” I tell him, opening the driver side door.
Furrowing his brow in what must be confusion, he blinks at me. “I thought we were—”
“Just get in,” I whisper.
He climbs into the reclined driver’s seat and lies back as if he's not sure what's about to happen. As if he can’t tell how bad I want him right now. With a deep, centering breath, I gather my dress and hoist myself up into the SUV, straddling his lap with an awkward laugh. Shutting the car door behind us, I peel off my cardigan, tossing it into the passenger seat. Am I seriously about to have car sex for the first time? I ask myself this at least five times as I place my palms on Cameron’s stomach just to feel his divine muscles again. But suddenly, he links his hands around my neck and pulls me down, meeting my lips with his.
“This is incredibly sexy,” he purrs into my mouth before letting me taste him again.
As we continue to kiss, Cameron slides his hands under my dress and up my bare thighs. His hands are warm and full of life against me, like they’ve craved me for years and are finally getting what they want. And now that he’s being polite, my mind wavers on how exactly and to what degree I want to enjoy him tonight. “Touch me,” I whisper through our kiss, feeling myself grow bold.
“Yes, ma’am,” he hums, moving his hands further up me, massaging my thighs under my dress. Slipping his hand into my panties, he slides a single finger inside me, causing me to soar. I drop my forehead to his shoulder in pleasure and want to melt into him.
“I love how wet you are,” he whispers into my ear, pushing my hair back with his free hand.
“I can't help it with you.”
“Good. I love that I turn you on so easily.” And under me, I feel the length of him grow hard against my thigh.
“God,” he groans, dropping his head back against the seat. “Take ‘em off for me,” he growls in agony.
Nodding, I suddenly start to panic. How in the hell am I supposed to take them off in such a cramped space? I’ve never had car sex before. I don’t know how to do this.
But without hesitation and as if he hears my internal dialogue, Cameron lifts my dress to my tummy and slides his hands down my waist and around my behind, taking with them my pink lace panties. Sitting up with them now stretched at my knees, I’ll have to slide them off one leg at a time. “Why is it that girls have to remove this stuff completely when guys can just pull their peters out and get busy?” I ask, bumping my head on the ledge of the moon roof as I fight to get free.
Cameron grins and pushes himself up on his elbows with a chuckle to watch me. “Not my fault dicks were made that way. Easy access is smart marketing.”
I grumble and try squatting at a different angle. How do they make this stuff look so easy in the movies? You have to be an actual gymnast to pull off this type of thing!
“Have you ever done this before?” Cameron’s question catches me completely off guard, and I’m suddenly self-conscious, aware that he’s watching my every move.
Shaking my head, I furrow my brow at the mocking tone he’d used. I haven’t done this in a car before, but I don’t want him knowing that. So I stretch the truth. “Wasn’t wearing panties at the time,” I lie as I finally get one leg out and shift my weight to the other side of his lap. Right as I lean back and am able to pull my second leg out, my ass accidentally taps the horn of the steering wheel, causing me to shriek out into the night.
“Shhh,” Cameron howls in laughter.
I throw my palm over my mouth, my breath now heavy with adrenaline and fear that not only have I screwed this sex up royally, but I’ve also just tripled our percentage of being caught in the act of car sex! What was I honestly thinking?
Cameron can’t stop laughing, his dimples full blown, the most beautiful things I’ve seen on him tonight. And as idiotic as I’ve made this situation, I love that, even through my stupidity, I still somehow manage to make him smile.“Come here,” he purrs with a smirk. “I want to feel how wet you are.”
Laying back on the seat again, he pulls on one of my wrists, leading me back to him for another hot kiss. I still feel the length of him beneath me, teasing me, letting me know he’s ready. And this causes my core to ache in unimaginable ways. Suddenly, I need more from him.
Breaking away from our kiss, I sit up and pull my hair to one side of my face as it falls over my shoulder. Unbuttoning his chinos with desperate fingers, I watch him grin at me as he realizes exactly what I want tonight. “You have a condom?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he drawls, his voice lilting at its edges. “In my wallet,” he points.
Reaching over to the cubby where his wallet lies, I pull out the silver wrapper and, in the darkness of his car, tear it open. As I pull the rubber from the wrapper, I feel him lift up beneath me and push his boxer briefs down with both hands. This causes his dick to spring up at me under my dress. Gathering my dress, I pull the fabric off of him and stare at his shaft in the dark, slowly running my hand up and down him to feel every inch of him. He’s bigger than I remember, and he shudders at my touch, his breath heavy with pleasure as I feel how turned on he is. Placing the condom on him, I roll it down.
Looking around the parking lot, I make sure there’s no other vehicles, no strangers or passersby. And I can't take the emptiness anymore, the lack of him inside me. Once I’m sure we’re still alone, I hover above him and plant my hands on either side of him. Slowly lowering myself on top of him, the pressure builds as I sink lower and lower, letting him fill me. My breaths are shallow at first, and he doesn't say anything as I settle myself onto him. But the heaviness of his breath matches mine, letting everything flow between us, all the memories, the feelings that may or may not be there. Every thought I’ve ever had about him for the last twenty-nine years comes rushing back to me in a weird, primal fog that fuzzes my brain.
With his hands on my thighs, he rubs me like he can't get enough of my touch as I rock my hips side to side, feeling the fullness of him inside me in a million different warm ways. When I pick up the motion, Cameron growls at me, his tone playful and unintentionally dark. “God, I forgot how good and tight you feel around me,” he says, latching onto my ass for more leverage.
“Yeah,” I mindlessly agree. And suddenly, I’m completely aware that the windows are fogging up around us. My breath heavy and chest heaving with a weird sort of emotion, I can't put words to what I'm feeling in the moment, but a deep down piece of me grows melancholy that I've missed out on the past five years of his life.
I can't help but moan into the car as I ride him in different rhythms, our pleasure sounds filling the space between us like soft, haunting wind chimes moved by the grace of wind. But by the strength of his grip on me, I can tell it won't take long for him to come tonight.
My breath drawing in around me, I start to bounce quicker on him, no longer teasing him, desperate for the sweet release that only he can bring me right now as we move in tandem. “I'm gonna come,” I squeak, not able to give it my full attention, hoping he’s on the same course to his own elation. And then it happens. I’ve never come so quick or so fully with someone before as I reach my peak, calling his name into his chest as I continue to ride him, almost not being able to take the sensations of it any longer. Everything is heightened in unbearable ways.
“Good, sweetheart.” His breathy moan in the closed space of the car tells me he isn’t far behind me. When he clutches onto my back, I start bouncing harder for him as his grip becomes stronger. And suddenly, a guttural groan escapes his chest letting me know he’s come.
As I collapse on top of him, his length still inside me and both of us exhausted, he wraps his arms around my back and pulls me further up his chest causing him to slip out of me. I feel Cameron reach down and pull his condom off, tying it, dropping it in the floorboard as he sighs at me with a grin so full that I haven't seen in him.
Planting his lips to mine in a soft and delicate show of affection, he brushes my hair out of my face. “Completely worth the wait,” he says, rubbing the back of his finger down my cheek. After a few minutes of rest, he whispers over to me. “How was it for you?”
Finally sitting up and still perched on him with his arms around me, I lean back and pull my dress down to cover my bare skin. As I consider how to answer his question, I reach up to the fogged window beside me, extend a fingertip, and draw two dots with a smile underneath them.
With a chuckle, he kisses my shoulder. “You’re golden, sweetheart.”
Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of a neon white light over the top of the window, and my heart pounds like a drum against my ribcage. Someone is here. “Shit,” I say rolling off of Cameron. Completely frantic, I throw myself over the middle part of the car and into the passenger seat, trying to straighten my dress. “It’s the cops,” I say, my voice fiery with fear.
Looking over, Cameron shakes his head. “It’s not. You’re overreacting.” Without any ounce of concern, he returns his seat to the inclined position and, painstakingly slow, buttons his shirt back up like he’s no longer racing the timer.
The white headlights wash over us as I scramble to situate myself on the leather seat and look casual as can be. “It is, too! Put your pecker in and act normal,” I whisper-shout, suddenly realizing that Cameron's fly is still wide open. “Shit. Where are my panties?” I panic.
Fluffing my hair, I pull my dress back down with a hurried swat as a nervous hiccup escapes me. You’ve got to be kidding me. Cameron grabs my panties from the floorboard and tosses them into my lap. I quickly shove them behind my back as the officer raps on the window with a thick knuckle. “Hold yourself together, Pratt,” he lilts under his breath, and with a can-do-no wrong grin, Cameron rolls the fogged window down, smiley face and all, and tips his head at
the guy. “Evening, sir.”
Peering in, the man tips his head back at us. “How's it going tonight, folks?”
I swallow a crescendoing hiccup and keep my face forward, hoping he won’t notice me. Hoping he won't hear that we just had sex.
“You both realize it's after dark? There’s a no loitering sign behind you,” he says, ducking his head into our view. He points at the blue sign stabbed into the gravel a few yards from us.
“Oh, of course. We were admiring the stars,” Cameron says, nodding up to the moon roof that's still open.
The officer bobs his head as if he almost doesn't believe us. Pulling his flashlight up, the bright light hits my face, and through my squint, I try to look casual. Smiling, I repress another hiccup that surfaces from my nerves.
He ducks down a litte lower, eyeing me. “You okay, ma'am?”
“Yes, sir. Lovely night tonight.”
The man's surveys the front of the Lexus as best he can without sticking his entire head in the window. I'm not sure what he's looking for. Proof of us getting off on each other? A stupid deal going down?
“You’ve got ten more minutes with the stars,” he says, annunciating the words like he never believed the line.
“Yes, sir,” we both accidentally say in unison. We sound totally guilty.
With one last scan of curious, skeptical eyes, the officer leaves us and hops back in his cruiser, the headlights racing out of the lot and down Butler Avenue.
Cameron sighs, the weight of his uncertainty and torture finally escaping him. “Lovely night tonight?” He scoffs and inhales, looking over at me.
“What? I panicked.”
“Yeah, yeah. You ready for another round then?”
“Shut up,” I squeak before another hiccup slips out of me.
“You almost got us in trouble with those,” he says, starting up the car. Backing us out of the parking lot, the gravel spits beneath his tires. “We’ll have to do that again. At your place this time. I’m not as limber as I used to be.”
Whiskey Heart: An Alpha Billionaire Friends to Lovers Romance Page 7