by Harloe Rae
Raven bumps her shoulder into mine. “Sounds like a fairytale waiting to happen.”
“Ah, good one,” I chuckle. “More like an epic disaster.”
“Meh, could be worse.” Her hair whips in the wind, sending flowers and citrus into the air. My fingers itch to tuck the strands behind her ear, but she beats me to it.
I scratch my temple, ready to change the subject. “So . . . did you sell all the Dirty Mechanics?”
“Nah, I saved the rest. There’s new flavors for tomorrow.”
Something deep inside me warms at hearing that. Maybe she wants me to have them. Or I’m being an idiot. Yeah, probably the latter.
“So, there’s a chance I could have another?”
“I’d say so. You’re the inspiration, after all. No one else got the significance.”
“They didn’t figure out I was the grease monkey you were referring to?”
“Nope. Everyone else thought it was a weird flavor and didn’t even give it a chance. But they don’t know the real meaning.”
A tremor rolls through me as I process Raven’s words. My gaze sears into her for a reason beyond the baking skills and flawless features. As I dig underneath those surface layers, real beauty stares back at me. Raven’s blue eyes gleam with sincerity, like an open book, and I want to read every page.
But I won’t.
“Their loss and my gain,” I say while patting my stomach.
Raven watches me as though she sees the truth buried within me. She doesn’t call me out on it. After that, our conversation dies off, but random chatter passes between us. Watching the race takes most of our concentration, but I’m very aware of her next to me. The metal shakes beneath us each time the cars zoom past for another lap. As the temperature drops with the setting sun, Raven slides closer and closer. I fight the urge to wrap my arm around her. This isn’t a date and giving mixed signals will only cause trouble. I already screwed up earlier by acting like a sentimental weirdo. I’ve got to lock this shit down and be done, black licorice cupcakes be damned.
While Raven is busy chatting with Delilah and Addy, Shane nudges me. “You’re the worst wingman ever,” he grumbles.
“Huh?” I question, shaking off the fog in my brain.
“You’re like a massive roadblock in the middle of us. Mitch and I couldn’t talk to the girls if we tried. It’s like we’re not even here.”
“Oh, chill. The night is young. And if you really want her, go sit down next to her.”
Shane sighs. “The race is almost over so it’d be odd if I switched seats now.”
And he wonders why she hasn’t noticed him? “Dude, stop being a pansy and make it happen.”
“Easy for you to say,” he complains.
“Uh, huh. Sure is,” I tell him and roll my eyes.
“It’s true. You barely have to try. Me? I’m not sure Addy knows my name.”
I rub my forehead, feeling a headache approaching. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll talk to her later.”
“But we’re leaving soon.”
“And you don’t think we’re heading somewhere after this?”
Shane just blinks at me.
“With them,” I clarify while hooking my thumb at the girls. There’s no way I’m ready to say goodnight to Raven. I’ve got plans to keep.
“Oh. Oh!” His expression brightens. “Awesome. Where should we take them?”
I groan. “Seriously. Is this your first time?”
“Don’t be a dick. I don’t want to screw it up, okay? You know what to do so help me out, man.”
Fuck, he’s right. I’m off-kilter and taking shit out on him. “All right, whatever. Let’s go to Boomers. Girls love to dance, especially those girls.” I hook my thumb toward them.
Shane’s head bobbles so fast I’m worried his neck will snap. “Great idea. Yeah, let’s do that. Are you going to ask Raven?”
“Ask me what?” she questions, leaning forward.
“We were thinking about going to the bar after this. Would you all wanna come with?” Shane responds.
Raven glances at me before turning to her friends. They murmur quietly, Delilah’s harsh tone most audible. She doesn’t sound super happy about the idea, no fucking surprise. She’s had a vendetta against me since I pulled her pigtails in first grade. It’s about damn time to get over it. After a few moments, Raven twists toward us again.
“Addy says there’s a club nearby with a live band and a huge dancefloor. That’s where we’re going,” she tells us with no room for discussion. “Wanna come along?”
“It’s Cyclone,” Addison says, looking directly at Shane.
I elbow him and mutter, “See? She knows you exist.”
He hisses under his breath, “Be cool, dude. Don’t blow it.”
“You’re a moron.”
Shane grumbles at me before glancing at Addy. She’s already staring, at him and it’s one of those serendipitous moments from the movies. Cue the cheesy music.
Raven taps my shoulder before murmuring, “I hope you’ll join us.”
I peek at her from the corner of my eye. Her blue gaze sparkles in the stadium floodlights. When did my mouth go dry? Not sure I could deny her anything.
My head bobs casually, playing it cool. “Yeah, Princess. I’ll be there.”
BACKSEAT
Raven
FLASHING STROBE LIGHTS blind me as we enter Cyclone, causing me to stumble forward into Delilah. I blink and keep walking, trying to clear the splotches from my vision. The party is already in full swing with people crammed in wall to wall. Pretty sure the room is beyond maximum capacity, but those rules never seem to apply in a scene like this. The band hasn’t started playing, but the booming of heavy bass is vibrating through the floor, making my legs tremble. This is the type of scene Addy described, which had me sold on the place.
When a popular hip-hop song begins blasting through the speakers, my hips shimmy automatically. It’s one of those melodies I can’t help moving to, but my parched throat is screaming for relief. When Delilah tugs me toward the dance floor, I pull away. She whips around with a questioning look, knowing I love this beat. I make the motion for a drink. She pouts, but nods in understanding.
Trey whistles at her and shouts, “Go ahead. I’ll stay with Raven.”
Delilah’s gaze bounces between us before finding whatever permission she’s looking for. She uses two fingers to point from her to Trey, signaling that she’s watching him. I laugh and shake my head. So ridiculous.
Addy and Delilah disappear into the gyrating throng as we make our way to the bar. Trey’s hand rests at the small of my back, guiding me without being pushy. Easily enough, I wiggle my way between two occupied stools to reach the counter.
I gesture for him to come closer too so he can hear me. “What would you like?”
“You,” he replies instantly.
I roll my eyes. “Be serious.”
His hands go to my hips before dragging me toward him. “I am, Princess. But for now, I’ll settle for a beer. Whatever’s on tap.” Heat ripples along my nape with his words.
We get our drinks, and I take a hearty gulp. The cool liquid is instantly absorbed into my system. I eagerly swallow more.
“Damn,” Trey coughs. “Never thought I’d be jealous of a straw.”
I peek up at him while finishing my cocktail, making sure to suck down every drop. “So delicious,” I say before licking my lips.
“Fuck, Raven. You’re so sexy,” he breathes along my neck.
Trey’s fingers dig into my waist, and I squirm as sparklers crackle along every inch of me. He rolls forward, and his hardness presses against my ass. I push back, wanting more.
“You’re teasing me, Princess,” he groans.
I look at him over my shoulder. “Only fair after that alley kiss.”
He smirks. “Oh, you wanna play?”
My lower belly flips as I imagine what that involves. “Game on, Trey.”
“Let’s dance.”
A sliver of disappointment takes root that we’re not sneaking off to the bathroom, or somewhere equally illicit. Then again, there’s plenty of time for dirty shenanigans later. Trey tugs on my belt loop and steers me ahead of him, seemingly happy to have me lead the way. I glance around, trying to spot Delilah or Addy, but it’s impossible to find anyone in a crowd this size. I stop in a pocket of space near a pillar and turn to face Trey. With an arched brow, I silently ask him to choose what happens next.
He doesn’t disappoint.
Trey whips me around and draws me back so we’re aligned from shoulder to hip. He doesn’t hesitate before grinding slowly, matching the music’s rhythm perfectly. His arms wrap around me as he controls our movements, and I get lost in his guidance. Trey’s fingers slide under the hem of my shirt, seeking the smooth skin underneath. I shudder while his touch lights me on fire, the flames rising in my veins. I lean against Trey’s broad chest and my palms slide down his outer thighs. His erotic energy soaks into me with every pass, and intoxicated flutters go wild in my stomach. We press closer as his thumbs play along my ribs, exploring each groove with care.
When Trey rocks into me, it becomes very obvious how wrong I was to doubt this being the best idea ever. What we’re doing is more seductive than anything I’ve experienced, and this is just the warm-up. The unsatisfying fumbles I’ve had in the sack are a weak comparison, but pretty sure this would be hard to top regardless.
“How’re you feeling, Princess?” Trey murmurs against my temple.
“Mhmmm,” I mumble.
“Did you know I watched you dancing at Boomers after our little chat?”
“What? Why?” I ask, suppressing the lust weighing down my limbs.
“Isn’t it obvious?” He punctuates his question with a slow thrust.
Trey is giving me a fairly impressive hint and I can’t deny the thrill shooting through me. His actions might be questionable to some, but I’m well aware of the score between us. I’ve never had a one-night-stand or fuck buddy, but am beginning to understand the benefits. Specifically, Trey’s intentions. I deserve at least one exceptional encounter to reflect on later in life, meaningless or not. When Trey nibbles up my neck, I give myself permission to let go.
“Still looking for that truce?” he whispers before sucking on my earlobe.
I arch to give him more room and say, “Uh, huh.”
Trey kisses along the sensitive skin of my nape. “I want more of your goodies.”
A giggle bursts from me. “You make everything filthy.”
“Just wait. You have no idea how dirty it can get. Ready to find out?”
The last tendrils of hesitation fall away as I straighten against him. “Yeah, let’s go.” The attempt to hide my eagerness is an epic fail. Trey doesn’t call me out on it. With a hand on my arm, he silently directs me from the havoc of Cyclone. I greedily gulp in fresh air once we leave the building. It’s still balmy outside, even though it’s almost midnight. That’s one nice thing about summer humidity—never worrying about being cold. We’re rushing through the parking lot. I’m glad he’s in a hurry too.
My voice is overly breathy when I ask, “Where are we going?”
“My truck.” Trey presses his key fob, and lights flash from a secluded corner. I smile while figuring he planned this. He opens the rear passenger door and hoists me up without effort. The bite of new leather and spicy aftershave flood my nostrils. The combination is frigging yummy. But the scent fades after I take in the rest of the vehicle.
“Holy shit,” I curse. “Your backseat is huge. This is bigger than my couch.”
He chuckles from behind me. “Fit for a princess.”
“Don’t be a jackhole.”
“A what?”
I settle into the seat and glare at him. “You know what I mean. It’s just a random term I came up with. You’re staring like I’m Christmas dinner so my thoughts are a little jumbled.”
“Hmm,” Trey purrs, and his brown eyes spark with desire. He moves toward me, crowding my space, until our lips almost touch. “I’m gonna eat you up.”
A hitch catches in my throat before he seals the gap. In a flurry, we become a tangle of wandering hands and gliding tongues. My mouth opens, accepting more of him, while my palms settle on his biceps. Trey flexes, and I moan as the muscles bunch under my touch. He lifts me against his chest, arms banding around my back until I’m straddling him. Our faces tilt just right as we search for a deeper connection. He licks across my bottom lip before sucking me in, breaking away with a gasp. The heat in his gaze sets fire to my skin, and all I want is to feel him against me.
Trey urges me down on the center console and my back lowers to the hard leather. I blink up at the sunroof and wiggle around, trying to balance without slipping off the edge. This position gives him prime access to my lower half that’s not resting on the short surface. My ass settles directly into his grip, which works fine with me. He reaches for the button of my jeans, not wasting time. The sound of the zipper lowering causes goosebumps to awaken on my flesh. When I shift slightly, Trey takes advantage, stripping me of the denim and cotton barriers. I feel my legs twitch as his fingers dance along them, slowly moving back up. He kisses my calf and knee before working toward my inner thigh. His gentle touch has electricity buzzing straight to my core. I squirm eagerly.
“Your skin is like velvet,” Trey says through another soft peck. “Thought I’d be racing through this part but you feel too good.” My lids slide shut as his lazy exploration continues.
“Keep going,” I urge. “Please.”
He nears my mound and says, “I intend to enjoy every drop of you.”
His hands clamp around my hips and pull up, delivering me to him on a platter. He jerks me closer, diving in without warning, and a startled gasp escapes me. My eyes fly open as his tongue traces my center in a languid drag. Stars explode on the edge of my vision when he begins circling my clit, the pressure exactly what I need. My body twitches as he goes faster, and the climb to release feels like warp speed.
Between swirls, Trey hums, “You’re so fucking responsive. That does something to me, Princess. I love how you tremble.”
I moan quietly and shift against him, seeking more.
“What do you need, Raven? Tell me.”
Vocalizing my pleasure has never been a strength of mine, but I groan softly to appease him. Trey shakes his head. “Not good enough. Doesn’t this feel good, baby?” The tip of his tongue zigzags up my slit before he flicks my bundle of nerves.
I nod and arch my back. “Uh, huh. So good.”
“So, say it. I wanna hear you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and bury the apprehension. It helps that he can’t see me. “I’ve never felt anything like this. You’re making me so wet,” tumbles from my lips.
“Hell yeah, I am. You’re dripping on my chin,” he growls.
“That sounds . . . messy,” I pant.
“Uh, huh. But I like getting dirty, Princess. This tells me how much you’re loving my mouth.” He licks me especially slow for emphasis. “Doesn’t hurt that you taste better than a cupcake.”
I do? That seems—
My musing is interrupted when Trey proves his words. His tongue attacks in swift strikes as he really starts eating me out. Each hit is a zap to my system, shocking me from top to bottom. He grips my ass and lifts me higher, leaving only my shoulder blades on the console. Trey’s mouth latches onto my cleft, and I clench everywhere from the suction. I’m completely at his mercy as my climax nears.
“Oh, oh, wow. Holy shit. Yes, that. More, please more,” I beg. My hands flail in frantic circles, desperate to reach him, but not able to. I settle for scratching along my scalp, heightening the full-body sensations further.
“That’s better, Princess. Your words turn me on,” he says roughly. Trey dips closer until his broad shoulders spread my legs wide. The noises he’s making are filthy, considering his current position. Trey sounds like this is the best meal
of his life, but I’m too far gone to be embarrassed. When his finger suddenly enters the equation, it’s game over. As the tip rounds my opening and presses in, the pressure I’d been holding bursts free.
Spasms jolt through me as tingles race from my core. The intensity of this orgasm makes my eyes water as I quake helplessly in his hold. Trey doesn’t let up, riding the waves with me, and forces every ounce of pleasure out. I’ve been reduced to a trembling mass of Jell-O, and I’ve never felt better.
My heavy breathing fills the truck as I drift back to reality. I’m snapped from the lull as cotton slips up my legs. I sit up on my elbows and watch while Trey tugs my panties in place.
“Wh-what are you doing?” I clear the gravel from my throat. “Aren’t we going to . . .” I let my sentence trail off, the implication hanging.
Trey shakes his head. “Nah. I’ve got another idea.”
I pause for a second, wariness slinking in. But then, I consider the fact he’s getting me dressed and what the hell could be so bad about that?
“Okay . . . ?” Hesitation laces my voice.
“Don’t look so scared, Princess. I’m not into anything that kinky.” Trey’s intense expression makes me squirm all over again.
He sprawls out along the seat with his back propped against the door. His legs are stretched out wide and he pats the space between them, like a cutout made for me. I scoot off the console and maneuver into the place he’s designated.
Trey places my hands on his thighs. “Just touch me,” he says while dragging them higher.
My startled gaze snaps to his face. He’s totally at ease. His move seems out of character, though, and has suspicion churning in my gut. Trey’s default setting is vulgar so I I’d be prepared for bold suggestions. It’s just that this isn’t one.
He’s passing up sex for a hand job?
I choose not to question him and release the air trapped in my lungs. Trey guides me closer to the impressive bulge tenting his pants, my pulse rising with every deliberate inch.
Trey breaks the tense silence. “You nervous?”
“No, why?”
“You’re shaking.”
I take another deep breath, pushing away the residual doubt. “I wasn’t expecting . . . this. I’m not sure what you’re planning.”