How could I have done such a careless, stupid thing? And what I could do to make sure it happened again?
~~ ~~ ~~
It was late when I went along the walkway for a soda from the machine. When I got back, the room was dark. It had been dark when I left. Sitting there with the TV all evening, I guess I just hadn’t noticed. I closed the door before I saw Ryan’s silhouette. He stood in the middle of the room.
He didn’t move as I looked at him. I didn’t move either. The night air was alive, like something was about to happen, and I couldn’t decide if it would be something good or something very bad. Somehow I seemed to be losing track of which was which.
He stepped toward me. My breath caught. Still, neither of us spoke. Feeling him near was making my pulse hammer. After a moment, I said, “What do you want?”
There was a long, heavy pause that seemed to stretch into the night.
He said, “What I want is to taste you.” The rich smell of his soft leather jacket was warm and close. Behind it, the man scent. Dark with a hint of something bitter, like cinnamon. Strong and uniquely him.
He lifted my chin on the knuckle of his bent finger. The scent of his body, so hard, so close, made me gulp air, and with it came the hot, dark, musky taste of him. Liquid currents of energy pulsed urgently in my core. My knees shook and my stomach vibrated.
His strong hands stroked down my body. He bent to kiss behind my ear, then down the side of my neck. His fingers lightly caressed my throat. He held my face in his hands and looked into my eyes. My tongue slipped between my tightly pressed lips. My own heat was so strong that my panties were soaked and my thighs clenched.
He lifted my dress off my shoulder and kissed me from there to my throat. I bent my neck to follow his mouth as he kissed all around it again, stroking the top of my breast first with his hand, then with his lips. I held his head and pulled him to me. My breath sang in a long sigh as he squeezed my breast and his warm breath fanned my neck and my ear.
He blew in my ear and kissed it and I wriggled in uncontrollable shudders from head to toe. His voice melted deep and low, tipped into my ear and echoed through my core as he whispered, rasping, almost inaudible, “You know what I want.”
My whole body felt like it was wrapped around his voice. I wanted to say that I didn’t know. But I couldn’t speak. And it would have been a lie. Although I couldn’t articulate it, I knew.
My breath was in the wrong place to make words. All that I could do was crane and wrap my ear, my neck, all of me around his words. Lean in to coax him, plead and hope for more.
“I’m going to lick you. Suck you,” he told me, “caress you with my lips. My tongue. My breath. I’m going to make you rock, shudder and tremble till I find the trigger.” I moaned. “Until I find the rhythm that makes you lift up and fly inside.” I clutched his head tighter to me as I trembled.
With his sarcastic leer he said, “May I?”
And still I couldn’t speak.
My body shook and I held him, pulled him so tight to me that, when I nodded, I didn’t know whether he could tell. I tried to nod more, but still I couldn’t think about anything but his hand, his long, strong fingers as they slid slowly over my stomach. I wanted to pull them down to encourage him, but I couldn’t let go of his head. He might have stopped breathing on my neck. Blowing softly in my ear. Breathing my name.
Again I tried to speak, but a long, faltering, “Mmmm…” was all the sound I could make. I tried to nod, but still my nod was lost in my body’s helpless writhing around all the parts of him that touched me.
Desperately, I pulled his head to hold him in front of my eyes. But when I saw Ryan’s face, the scar over his eyebrow, the glow in his dark eyes, it was like I saw him for the first time. I just had to look.
His hand pressed on my stomach. My tongue squeezed between my lips. His fingers made the tiniest movement and I let out a moan. It was hard to keep my head from tipping back. But I didn’t want to lose sight of him. His fingers squeezed. Just a little. Just enough. Nearly too much. My lips parted and I made a “puh” sound. Before it was gone, I lifted my tongue. “P-l.” And it wasn’t too hard to make an “ee” sound with my throat. Then, as my moan stretched on, I let my head tip back in triumph. I exposed my throat and my mouth found the “ss.”
There.
“Puh-l-eeeeease!”
I’d said it. Now I felt that I’d earned a prize.
The heat of his hips was so near to my pelvis that I felt it as I jerked toward him. I tilted my head. Waiting for me I found the hard glint in his eye. His eyebrow was raised. Questioning. Did he want confirmation? Did he really think I could go through that, do that all again?
This time I managed a nod. His teeth flashed as his grin split hard. His fingers tightened outside my dress and began to slip down. My body surged wherever he touched me. When his hand slid over my hips and down to my thigh, my leg lifted. He pulled me against him.
The cotton of my dress rustled and the thin, wet fabric of my panties was in the way, too. But I felt him. Even through the heavy folds on the front of his jeans, the throb of his massive ridge signaled to my aching lips as I pushed against him.
Contact was like an unbearable itch, a howling need. I ground against him, winding my soft, aching lips against the buzz of his shaft. Helpless moans rose in my throat and bubbled to hungry, angry, needy growls.
Slowly, too slowly, he opened the buttons of my dress. Each one, as it sprang free and let more cool air in to fan my trembling hot skin, was a new contact. His fingers, his flesh against mine. Like circuits were made. Like millions of minute chemical switches were all flipping in waves. All of them turning to “on.”
When at last Ryan stroked my bare ribs and his fingers found the tops of my panties, I crooked my leg around him. Let go of his neck and grabbed the hard, round cheeks of his clenching ass. He was getting ready to taste, to lick and suck, to make a feast of me. I had to have his lips, his mouth on mine, first. I wanted it all at once. I wanted him on me and all over me and in me and kissing me, all at the same time.
That was so silly it made me giggle. Then his finger touched my wet panties. Right above my hood. The whole of my body shook and my giggle melted into a rasping sigh. All of me pressed against the nearest parts of him.
He gripped my mound. A finger strayed down and I trembled. The wet gauze of my panties scratched against the ache of my yearning lips. My mouth found his and took it. Our breath seemed to communicate, speak, to blend and weave together. Our bodies wound around each other and I coiled my arms under his jacket so I could feel the girth and the strength of his muscled back.
Feeling the strength of him made my breath flutter and he kissed me deeper. He unhooked my bra from the back and I could press the weight of my breasts, the sore hardness of my nipples, against his shirt and feel the heat of his huge, firm body beneath.
Then he drew my panties down.
I fell onto the bed as he slipped them over my feet. And he spread my legs, stroking the tops and the insides of my thighs, flicking over my mound, often grazing my hood. Pulling to drag my lips apart. His breath fanned my fluttering stomach and then up along my soft inner thighs. Slowly rising. Approaching until he deliberately, slowly blew, all the way from my ass to my mound. Each part made a different part of my body shudder.
Then his lips—his strong, mobile lips—clamped on me. My eyes screwed tight shut and my thighs closed around his head. My legs felt the scratch of his hair as my pussy thickened at the heat of his breath.
He hoisted my legs up until the backs of them lay against the soft leather of his jacket. I wanted to feel his skin, but having my thighs slung over his shoulders would have to do for now.
From my core and flashing all through my stomach and out to my nipples, currents and waves babbled and burst through me. My neck and chest were prickly hot. My mouth opened and shut as my throat stretched and bent, wide and calling with longing.
I clawed for his hair, but I could ha
rdly reach down. My pelvis tipped and my back arced as he nuzzled and sucked, sipped and licked, drawing long, fast, fluttering strokes all over the drenched and flinching mess of desperation on, in, and around my pussy. His lips drew and coaxed as his tongue trilled and flicked and his breath called me on, upward, around and around.
My body thrummed like an engine, like a machine in flight, winding and whirring, lifting and soaring. Then swooping fast for the most breathless dive, to burst back up, to blast upward, higher, higher to an impossible crest.
And there a waterfall spilled and plunged over a drop, impossibly high and impossibly far.
As I panted, stretched, gathered, and drew in to recover, I felt him breathe my name all the way through me.
In my core, from between my thighs, from within my walls, there came the shudder of a dam as it cracked, shook, then split and bulged. The quake echoed deep inside me. His tongue reached in. So far. So deep. His lip pressed at the base of my clit. I felt as though all of me was shrinking into his mouth, while his breath, his lips, and his tongue played me like a song.
The dam gave one last shake and then broke. It burst and spilled through me, stretched and racked my body all the way out to my arms and legs. My fingers clawed and my toes curled in.
My buttocks and thighs tensed and flexed. I had no control. I felt like he licked off my skin and my insides all opened and exposed themselves for him to consume. He shook me like a dog with a bone, like a flag in a wind, like a tiny harbor in a low, crashing thunderstorm.
Trembling and helpless, I let him take whatever he wanted. And all that he wanted was to hold and enfold me, to cradle me while I moaned and sighed. My lip quivered and everything I saw was wrapped in a soft, unreal glow.
His voice was a low whisper, “You make me feel a way that I just haven’t felt before,” he said.
“How is it usually?” I murmured.
He said, “You don’t want to know.“ and his smile was lethal.
“I do.” I told him as I turned. Then, “Show me.”
“Really?” he was at his most sarcastic.
“Really.” I put my nose in front of his.
He flipped me over.
“OH!”
My face was down in the pillows. He pushed me down as his fingers seized my trembling pussy.
I heard him yank his jeans open as he drug my ass into the air. I yelped as he slapped my cheeks, two, three times. Hard.
The sharp sting made me twitch. And it made me hot. My knees shook as he lumbered up behind me. His fingers dove into my pussy. He slathered them around and they came out dripping. He raised his hand to my nose. Quivering all over, I sniffed the tips of his fingers.
The scent made me hotter. I licked his fingers and sucked them. The weight of his hot, hard cock pressed my sore lips and I twitched helplessly as he ground against my clit.
My face shoved into the pillows as the end of his hard cock parted me, split me. No way was I ready for the thickness of it. Or the length. As he sawed into me, my neck stretched and my mouth opened wide.
Slowly at first, he filled me, stretched me. My eyes watered. Then he slid all the way up and his thighs slapped against mine. He gripped me by my hips and pulled me harder as he slammed in.
My groans and gasps were hot and wet into the pillow. I had to bite my arm. My fingers clawed and clenched, my toes curled and stretched. I bounced on my elbows and knees as he cannoned into me.
The hard ridges of the underside of his long, cruelly curved weapon dragged against the top of my pussy, vibrating my clit as his shaft scraped the soft spot high inside me.
I rasped his name as my thighs shook and I came. From my pussy out through my whole, shaking body I came. In streams like exploding lava I came, as his balls slapped against my mound and his thighs pumped him harder and impossibly high inside me.
His cock pulsed and swelled as I crested again and his hot spray blasted inside me in bolts, time and again.
My ass cheeks were red and sore as he slammed in, more and more. He slapped my ass and he still thrashed and pumped and spurted inside me.
My face was red and wet. My nipples were like bullets. The sheet, the whole bed seemed to be drenched and he reeked of sweat.
I would go through anything to see him grin like that again.
Chapter Thirteen
Ryan
AS SHE DRIFTED AWAY to sleep, Haley snuggled against me. Drowsily she said, “Ryan? Stay with me?”
“Soon, maybe. Not tonight.”
“Why not tonight?” Her eyebrows arched, but her voice trailed away.
“Something I have to do,” I whispered. I hoped that she was too sleepy to ask what it was. I didn’t want to wake her. And I didn’t want to tell her.
Cradling her in the moonlit darkness of the cheap motel room, I didn’t want to move or to ever let her go. If I could have just stayed there, that would have been perfect. It doesn’t work that way, though.
When I was sure she was asleep—when her breathing had settled into a deeper pattern—I moved her gently onto the bed and covered her. Then I took my place on the couch.
There were three things I had to do that night.
The weapon I’d brought from my apartment—I had to clean it and make certain it was ready and in good working order.
My most important task was the most urgent. I had to keep watch over the slave girl. My Haley. Well, she wasn’t “my” Haley, and she probably never would be, but I wanted to think of her that way, and I was determined to keep her safe. To be sure of that, I had to avoid sleeping too soundly. I didn’t think there was too much chance that Gregor had tailed me back here, but better safe than sorry. So, I’d taken precautions.
On the cement landing outside, I had scattered sand, so that anyone who came in the night would make a noise and I would hear them. Up against the inside of the door to the room, I put two glasses. If the door opened, they would make a noise, they’d make the door awkward to move, and they would startle anyone trying to get in.
All of that would be useless if I was sound asleep. So I had to make sure that I wouldn’t be. Strong coffee on the way back, plus a few cans of caffeine drinks would help, although this time I thought a strong motivation was likely to get the job done.
The third thing, the one I had all night for, was that I needed to make a plan. A plan that was bulletproof, with fallbacks, and it had to be something I really could see through to completion. Come what may. The price could be high.
The little sofa faced the big, rectangular window. A wash of dim blue light filled the glass, with red neon flashes and the reflected flickers of traffic. Haley lay on her side, her knees drawn up, breathing deep and regularly. She seemed to trust me. I was determined to give her nothing but good reason to go on doing that.
What I felt for her was so unfamiliar, I was afraid to damage or break it.
While we were holed up here, hiding from the cops and from Gregor, she was still kind of a prisoner. She was staying now, it seemed, of her own free will, and that was good. But it still was only partly her choice. There was no way for us to have any kind of a relationship while that was how things were.
Hell, I’d never had anything that you’d call a “relationship” before. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been with the same girl twice. It was pretty much a rule with me. Had been for some time. So long, I wasn’t sure I could remember why.
The idea of a relationship of any kind was virgin territory. I didn’t even know where the thought came from. All that I knew was that, if there was anything going on between the slave girl and me, I really didn’t want to fuck it up.
Dirty Driver: Dark Crime Romance Page 12