Terms of Desire: Tempt Me Twice, Part One

by Lauren Hawkeye

  Terms of Desire

  Tempt Me Twice, Part One

  by Lauren Hawkeye

  Copyright 2012 by Lauren Hawkeye

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  Terms of Desire

  I wanted to fuck in the heat.

  We’d been driving for hours, my husband and I, driving along the highway that stretched, a skinny black ribbon, for as far as the eye could see. The smell of road tar gone gooey under the burn of the blistering sun snuck through the vents of our aging Ford Crown Vic and clung to the insides of my nostrils. The frigid air pouring out of the dash at the same time created humps all over the lightly tanned skin of my bare arms.

  I wanted to be out there, in that heat. I wanted to feel the rays of the sun soothe away the goose bumps, wanted to breathe blistering mouthfuls of air that seared my lungs, even as steam rose sinuously from the asphalt.

  And even more than that, I wanted to feel the slickness of sweat dripping down my temples, the salt stinging my eyes as I was pressed back against metal that reddened my skin. I wanted to wiggle my toes out of my sandals and open my legs wide as a hard cock entered the welcoming wetness of my cunt.

  I wanted the heat.

  What I didn’t want was to spend another minute cooped up inside the fucking car, rubbing my temples against the headache that the stale air had wrought. I didn’t want Austin to ask me, for the millionth time, what was wrong.

  I simply didn’t have an answer. There was no one thing that was wrong with me, and yet nothing was quite right, either.

  I sighed. Propping my feet up on the dash, I toyed with the end of the band aide that was plastered to my knee and turned to my husband.

  “How much longer?” From the corner of my eye I saw Austin huff out an impatient breath, one that he tried to conceal. I knew that the slight whine in my voice turned the innocent question into the adult version of “are we there yet?”

  As always, he was infinitely patient with me. He patted me on the knee, his fingers lingering on the soft skin just behind the curve.

  “Just over the next hill, sweetie.” Blowing my blue black bangs out of my eyes, I scowled sideways at him, not appreciating the tease as I once would have.

  I’d never been good on long car rides. I’d never been good at sitting still, period, and why I had ever thought that the long drive from the Albertan Rockies to Bandit Creek, Montana might be fun, I didn’t know.

  I cast a sidelong glance at my handsome husband, whose tanned Adam’s apple bobbed as he hummed along with the radio. I did know, actually. We hadn’t had a lot of time to spend together lately, and when Austin had broached the idea of the road trip I’d overlooked the fine details in my excitement. I had thought that maybe, just maybe, three days inhabiting each other’s space would help to strengthen the bond between us, the one that had begun to crumble under the stress of late nights at work and a wavering sex life.

  “Callie!” Austin’s voice was sharp, and I realized that I had been drumming my fingers on the dash board in impatience.

  “Sorry,” I muttered and sat back, willing myself to hold still, to look through the clear glass of the window at the scenery, anything to keep myself from driving us both crazy. Despite my supreme effort, within a minute I was fidgeting with the soft strings that edged the hem of my cutoff jeans. I twined one around my pinky finger until it began to cut off my circulation, leaving the soft tip white.

  A loud sigh from the driver’s seat told me that I was doing it again.

  “I’m sorry!” I exclaimed again, irritation coloring my words. “I’m just so goddamn bored!”

  There was another sigh, which was followed by a slightly weary smile. I knew that I was being a brat. But the light upward curve of Austin’s full mouth reminded me that he loved me anyways—brat, bitch, neither or both.

  “Give me your hand.” He held out his own, palm up.

  “Why?” He scowled, as he always did when I defied him. I often thought that, for someone who didn’t care to be questioned, he had sure married the wrong woman.

  “Just do it, Callie.” A slight edge knifed its way through the husky tenor of his voice, chastising me, and so I did as I was told. Keeping one hand on the wheel, Austin clamped my wrist tightly in a ring made by his forefinger and thumb and brought it up to his lips, where he brushed a series of light kisses over the transparent skin.

  Ooh. That got my attention. I turned in my seat, the belt digging into the sides of my breasts, to cast my whiskey shaded gaze over him. A shiver trickled down my spine as I watched the stiff bristles of his goatee rub over my skin, painting it pink.

  Eagerly I reached over with my other hand, placed my palm flat on the hardness of his thigh. He hitched in a breath, looked at me narrowly as he replaced the lips that were dancing over my skin with the moist warmth of his tongue.

  “Not while I’m driving, Callie. It’s not safe.” I hesitated, weighing consequences. Austin truly didn’t like it when I didn’t listen to him, but here he was, showing more interest in me than he had in a long time.

  “Austin…” My voice trailed out on a whisper as my entire body responded to his seemingly innocent caress. I could feel my nipples tighten, little tingles of nerves jolting through their pale pink curves. The tingles buzzed low in my belly, too, slipping stealthily from my abdomen to my pussy, trailing wetness along with them, wetness and warmth.

  I breathed deeply, savoring the sensation, and allowed my fingers to stroke up the quivering flesh of Austin’s leg. His muscles jerked beneath my fingers, and through half slit lids I watched as the outline of his cock appeared, lengthening and thickening right before my eyes. I studied the bulge, its length and girth clearly evident through the thin cloth of his khaki shorts. I licked my lips and wondered what he would do if I released his zip, released it so that the wetness of my mouth could close over the head that I knew would be slick and hot.

  I liked the idea. Moving my hand to his waist, I popped the button at the top of his shorts, began to ease down the metal rasp. Even as he shook his head sharply, he groaned, a sexy little noise that came from deep in his throat, and a flush of triumph began to spread over me, starting at my toes.

  This was more sexual activity than we had had in months.

  Grinning, I caught my tongue between my teeth and slipped my hand into the slit of his well-worn cotton boxers. My knuckles grazed the base of his shaft, combed the springy hair that cushioned it, and another noise issued from him, one that sounded like it was emanating from his very soul.

  Gritting his teeth, whether in pleasure or exasperation I wasn’t sure, he closed his eyes, just for a second. But in that second the car began to drift over the yellow dotted line that divided the highway, taking us straight into the path of oncoming traffic.

  My alarmed shriek sounded at the same time as the nasal horn of the oncoming semi- truck. Austin cursed loudly, flinging my arm away from him and wrenching the steering wheel to the right, hard.

  We squealed to a stop on the dusty gravel shoulder, each of us breathing hard. Bending forward to twine his fingers tightly into the length of my ponytail, he tugged my head close to his own.

  My skin thrilled to his touch, even as my heart sank at his words.

  “Callie, you could have killed us both with that idiot move.” His breath misted damply over
my cheek, and I closed my eyes. “When I told you no, it wasn’t to be mean. It’s for the safety of us both—you included.”

  It seemed like Austin was always saying no. Even though his words made complete sense to me, rejection singed my skin.

  “I’m sorry.” My voice was small, and as I spoke I realized that it was the third time that I had apologized in the past ten minutes. Part of me, the stubborn, argumentative part, sat on my shoulder sassily and informed me that there was no need for me to apologize for wanting to a) fuck the husband that I’d barely touched in months, or b) get out of the damn car.

  I knew that he wouldn’t agree to either point.

  Austin let loose with another of those sighs and rubbed my shoulder. I wanted to lean into the touch and purr, but I was still smarting from the combination of my actions and his words. “Let’s just save that for when I’m not driving, okay?” It was hard to stay mad when I knew that he was every bit as frustrated as I was.

  “Okay.” I tried my best to keep the quiver out of my voice; tears would only serve to turn this into yet another big thing that stood between us. “Okay.”

  He patted me again, and offered up the smile that I knew so well. “Sleep, Callie. It will settle you down. We’ll be there soon. Another half hour or so.”

  I didn’t reply, and instead sat back in the scratchy seat. Cracking open the window a sliver, I took a moment to enjoy the tumultuous stream of air that whipped into the car, drying the dampness that lingered on my forehead and sending my bangs into a frantic dance.

  Pursing my lips, I leaned back and closed my eyes. I knew that sleeping in the car would make me queasy, but it was better than teasing Austin into steering us to a crumpled death on the highway.

  ***

  The neon lights of the Esso station caused a sharp pain to shoot through my abdomen, reminding me that I’d had to pee since our near accident. I hadn’t mentioned it to Austin, since I knew that he would insist upon swooping the car over to the side of the road, where I would be obliged to make a pit stop.

  He would argue that no one would see or care, and then I would no longer be uncomfortable. Being female, that argument just didn’t work for me.

  No way could I have relieved myself while my rear end shone whitely in the sun, a beacon for catcalls and whistles from passersby. I was pretty sure that Austin followed my train of thought though, as I bolted from the car before it had even come to a complete stop. His throaty chuckle chased me as I made a beeline for the dingy gray door that was marked with the universally recognized female stick figure.

  I didn’t bother with the tissue seat cover, choosing instead to hover over the dubious porcelain. A checklist on the wall assured me that Colin had cleaned the restroom mere hours before, but since I spied a molding mandarin orange peeking out from behind the waste basket, I suspected that Colin had perhaps been not quite as thorough as he might have been.

  With relief now flooding my system, I rinsed the slimy soap off of my fingers, wrapped tissue around my hand and reached for the handle of the door. A wall mounted vending machine to my left offered the dubious delights of flavored condoms, an assortment of tropical flavors. For fun, I twisted a quarter into the slot, shaking my head when I was awarded a guava rubber in its bright green wrapper. Guava flavored condoms? Who had thought up that?

  The heat as I left the tiny bathroom almost knocked me off of my feet, even though I had been expecting it, but at least the air didn’t reek of old urine as it had inside. I picked my way carefully over the rough stones that dotted the chunky pavement, cursing when one worked its way into my rubber flip flop, and shielded my eyes against the glare of the sun as I looked for Austin.

  I didn’t see him, couldn’t pick out his rangy build or floppy blonde hair by our Crown Vic, or anywhere else, for that matter. But something about the man at the next pump over caught my attention, and I tipped down my tortoiseshell sunglasses to get a better look.

  The man at pump number two was hot. Hot and then some. I could feel my mouth drop open a bit as I watched the muscles under tasty looking tanned skin bunch as he tightened the cap to his gas tank.

  When he leaned over to check the air in his tires I dropped my purse into the dirt. His ass was tight, tight and hard looking, and for the first time in a very long time I found myself wondering what it would be like to touch someone other than my husband.

  “Callie.” I jumped, startled, at the touch of a hand on my arm. It was Austin, of course it was Austin, and concern shot out of his grey eyes, eyes that I knew and loved and, God help me, was still attracted to, as he handed me my purse, now coated with a fine layer of dust. “Are you okay? You look flushed.”

  “I…” I tried to casually turn my glance back to Mr. Sexy at pump two, so riveted had I become, but he was no longer there, though his truck was. “I’m fine.” I offered my husband, the man that I had forsaken all others for, a bright smile and shook my head to clear it of forbidden images.

  Like the one where I slid my tongue over the muscle of the strange man’s hard butt.

  “Well, good thing you are, because the car’s not.” Austin rubbed the back of his neck with his palm, which made half of the hair on his head stick straight up. Frustration was apparent in every line of his body.

  “What are you talking about?” The battered blue vehicle looked fine to me, sitting still and silent where we had left it ten minutes earlier.

  “The heat gauge is going crazy,” Austin informed me, and I could feel anger emanating from him. I trembled as he fixed his eyes on me, and wanted to apologize, even though I knew that he wasn’t upset with me.

  “I think we have a radiator leak.” He smirked a bit when I raised an eyebrow blankly. “It means that the rad fluid is leaking out. See that neon green stuff under the car? Rad fluid cools the engine. Otherwise it overheats and can cause some serious damage.”

  “I see,” I replied cautiously, because the explanation was simple enough. “What do we do now?” We moved to the hunk of junk vehicle that I had had since my teens, and Austin popped the lid. The inner workings were a smelly, dirty mess to my eyes, but I could concur that it was, indeed, hot under the hood.

  “I’ll go call AMA,” he replied, grimacing. And I knew what the grimace was for. We weren’t anywhere near an urban destination, and heaven knew how long it would take to get a truck here. Which meant that we’d be no better off than we had been in the car, trapped alone with the frustration of not being able to reach one another.

  “You folks having car trouble?” I looked up, startled, to see Mr. Sexy crossing the macadam towards us. He looked even better up close, shoulders broad and arms well defined, legs long, hips narrow. The hair on his head was thick and dark, so brown that it was almost black, and startlingly dark eyes peered cautiously at us out of a leanly angled face.

  Well, I say us, but really I thought that they were looking at me. Taking my measure. Drinking me in.

  “Looks that way.” I was grateful that Austin spoke, for my tongue had become immobilized in my mouth. I stepped backwards, out of the way as the men had a short, testosterone filled conversation that was difficult for me to follow.

  But that was okay. I was completely entertained by the spiky edges of the black tattoo that peeked out the shirt sleeve of the man’s button down shirt.

  “Excuse me.” I realized that I was in the way after all when I blinked my way out of my reverie and found that same shirt inches in front of my nose. I looked up, way up, to meet the amused stare of the stranger.

  “Sorry,” I muttered and looked down at my toes, which was easier than looking at him, because something in those licorice black eyes had my nipples tingling beneath the clinging cotton of my ribbed tank. Though he had asked me nicely, I felt that if I hadn’t moved, he would have simply picked me up and moved me bodily out of the way.

  For some reason, the thought sent a shiver rolling over my skin.

  “It’s no bother.” After grabbing a black case from the back of his
truck, he leaned over the mysterious innards of our car, and as my eyes, which seemed to have developed a will of their own, returned to the hard planes of his body I realized that we were alone. Austin must have gone to the rest room.

  My heart skipped a beat, then began to pump double time. I was drawn to this man with the same intensity with which I had wanted Austin when we first met, a need so painful that I ached.

  At the same time, something in those dark eyes scared the hell out of me.

  “What’s your name?” I hadn’t meant to ask, but something in me was desperate to possess something, anything of this man before he drove away, though the something that I knew I’d prefer even more shocked my sense of propriety. I was sure that he was going to find me rude, but he simply grinned, a slow, predatory curve of his lips, and removed a cap from a big black thing under the hood.

  “Brave little one, aren’t you? My name is Liam. Liam Fraser.” Watching those long fingers as they nimbly nipped at a small cardboard box had heat suffusing my chest and cheeks, and I wished desperately for a bottle of cool water.

  As he began to pour a chunky grey stream into the opening he had revealed by what I assumed was the engine, I caught sight of the label on the box. “Is that pepper?” I was slightly horrified, certain that our vehicle was being wrecked.

  “Indeed.” He chuckled; I imagined he’d seen that reaction before. “See that puddle of neon fluid?” He gestured to the same pool that Austin had shown me only minutes before. When I nodded, he continued. “Contrary to how it may look, that’s not a lot of rad fluid, compared to how much is actually in the car. That means you only have a small leak. Pepper is small enough to be able to still flow through the engine, but big enough to clog the leak. And it doesn’t dissolve like a lot of other powders would. Easiest and cheapest stop gap there is, until you can get it fixed.”

  I heard him, was amazed by his knowledge, even as I imagined sliding one of those long fingers into my mouth.

  What was the matter with me?

  “And what is your name, pet?” I watched, fascinated, as he finished pouring, closed the box and set it aside. The softness of his words did nothing to belie the strength behind him, and my stomach did a slow, uneasy turn.