Thrill Ride

by Lane Hart

  “God, you feel…so good.” She gasps as she rests her forehead against mine, her hips now moving her sexy body on my lap in a way that makes me wish we were both naked. Removing her hands from mine to thread them back through my hair, she says, “I don’t want you to stop. I should…but I can’t…” she pants as her hips move faster.

  To help her along, I slip my right hand down the back of her panties and nearly blow my load when my fingers delve into her hot little cunt.

  “Take what you need from me tonight, then give me what I need when you’re ready,” I tell her while easing my middle finger deep inside of her wet heat.

  “Okay,” Libby agrees before she kisses me again until her sharp intakes of breath turn into quick little chants. “Ah! Ah! Ahhhh!” she cries, nearly pulling out chunks of my hair when her pussy clamps down around my finger and her body trembles on top of me with her release.

  Once she stops shaking, I remove my hand from her skirt and stick my slick fingers into my mouth to taste her.

  “Mmmm, I knew your honey would be sweet and delicious,” I tell her as I continue to lick those digits clean.

  “Hendrix!” Libby says, either in disbelief or embarrassment, before she covers her face with both of her hands.

  “What?”

  “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “Believe it, baby. And the next time you come for me, it’s going to be with my face between your legs, lapping up your juices with my tongue,” I assure her.

  “God, Hendrix,” she mutters. “I shouldn’t…we shouldn’t…what was I thinking?”

  “Do you at least feel better, other than your ridiculous modesty?”

  “Yes,” she answers with a heavy sigh when she leans forward to cover my mouth with hers. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” I reply. Reaching around her, I tug her skirt back into place and then give her ass a little slap. “Take tomorrow afternoon off and come with me to the lake.”

  “The lake?” she asks with a smile. “Like, on a date?”

  “Yeah. A date. The first of many,” I add, since she’s mentioned several times she thinks I’ll eventually lose interest in her.

  “Jodie does owe me for closing every night for weeks…” Libby trails off.

  “Good. Call her. Tell her she’s working tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Okay,” she agrees with a nod, even though I can see in her eyes she’s still uncertain.

  I won’t give up on trying to convince her to take a chance on me. I may not deserve a good girl like her, but that doesn’t mean I’m backing off anytime soon.

  Time is running out, and if I plan it just right, maybe I can have everything I’ve always wanted and more.

  Chapter 11

  Libby

  “Carter…” I start to say Saturday morning while he’s working on his laptop at the kitchen table.

  “Yeah?” He looks up, pushing the bridge of his glasses up his nose.

  This is the part where I tell him that Hendrix got me off in his truck last night or mention that he’s leaving town soon.

  “Ah, nothing,” I lie.

  “Everything okay, Libby? Anything new with Hendrix that I need to know about?” he asks with a frown, even using my first name familiarly rather than my last.

  “Um, yeah,” I say. “I have a date with him this afternoon.”

  “A date?” Carter repeats with a grin. “Finally!”

  “Yeah. It’s great, right?”

  “Is that why you’ve been chewing off your thumbnail all morning?” he asks, more observant than I thought. “Are you worried about him going too far? You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I can even follow and watch nearby with binoculars if you want me to.”

  “No, no, that’s okay,” I assure him, because I’m secretly hoping for more of last night to happen, even though I shouldn’t. And the last thing I want is Carter watching us through binoculars. I’m not sure, so I won’t ask, but he may even encourage letting Hendrix finger fuck me if it means getting closer and finally catching him. Hendrix has stolen over eight million dollars from four different banks. Finally arresting him would be a major win for Carter since the feds have been after him for nearly ten years with no luck until now. Now they have a name and an M.O. We’re getting damn close to finding evidence or catching him in the act.

  And I’m…torn.

  I feel incredibly guilty that my allegiances may have changed, but ever since the night Hendrix killed Lester to save me, I can’t seem to stop thinking about him. I want to be with him. And a crazy, insane part of me is even thinking about Hendrix’s offer to go with him. He’ll be leaving the country, of that I’m certain, but who the hell knows where he’s headed. The man is a wanted criminal, so my guess is he’ll go to a country that doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the United States. That’s the only way he would be safe.

  But what would my mother say or my grandfather, both of whom bleed blue? They always do the right thing. Without a doubt, I know they would have called the police after Lester was shot. They probably would’ve even tried to save his life.

  And I didn’t do either of those things.

  I’m a horrible person and an even worse cop.

  Could I ever come back from what I did, even if no one ever finds out?

  No, of course not. The guilt would eat me alive if I ever put on a badge again.

  So, if I’m not going back to a career in law enforcement, then what do I have left holding me back from running away with Hendrix?

  Hendrix

  Fuck, I hate going to the prison.

  That’s why I don’t visit my father as much as I should. The man has been locked up since I was eighteen, and even back then, before Van, Sawyer, and I robbed our first bank, I always freaked out when the door to the visitor room shut and locked me inside until a guard came to open it again.

  Now, with four bank heists under my belt, I visit less often than before, scared that with one wrong move, I could end up in the same cell as my father.

  No, that will never happen. I would rather be dead than in prison.

  And the sentence for bank robbery is nothing compared to the life sentence I would get if anyone finds out I killed Lester and threw his body into the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

  I wore a baseball hat and used a fake ID to rent the van and boat to haul his ass down there, so there shouldn’t be anything to worry about. My only regret is that Libby’s involved. I can’t help but wonder if maybe I should’ve had her call the police. Maybe things would’ve ended up okay and there would be nothing hanging over her head if she stays here because I can’t convince her to come with me.

  No, the police would’ve wanted my fingerprints, or a DNA sample, and that shit can’t get into the system. I’ve made it twenty-nine years without giving it to them and I’m too close to the end to fuck that up for us now. Van and Sawyer would never forgive me.

  Acting normal is nearly impossible when I check in at Butner Federal Penitentiary Saturday morning and have to be searched before they let me go into the visitor room. I try my best not to jump when the door slams closed.

  I sit down in a plastic chair until they finally bring in my father. Getting to my feet, I meet him beside the small table and give him a hug with a slap on his back. “How are you doing, old man?”

  “Same shit, different day,” he grumbles. Already, I can tell he’s in a crap mood, worse than normal.

  “Sorry I haven’t been here in a while. I’ll put some money on your commissary account before I leave since it’s probably running low,” I tell him as we both sit in the bolted down seats on either side of the bolted table.

  “Thanks,” he replies. “You’ve been busy, I’m sure. How are the boys?”

  “Working hard,” I tell him. I grew up and went to school with Van and Sawyer, so my Pop has always treated them like they were his sons, and they always looked up to him since neither had a father worth a shit. “It’s summer and peopl
e lose their minds if they have to sit in a house without AC for more than five minutes.”

  “Right,” he says with a nod. “Anything new with the other side of business?”

  “Ah, no,” I answer with a quick glance around the room since I know exactly what he’s referring to. Feeling only a little guilty about not telling him about the man I put in the ground, I lower my voice and say, “Business is looking good on all sides.”

  “That right?” he asks. “You being smart?”

  “Always.”

  “Anything else going on? Seeing anyone new?” he prods, and the question about my dating life is unusual since he knows I never see anyone for more than a night, or I didn’t until Libby. Why would he think now, of all times, that I’m seeing someone? Rather than lie to my old man again, I tell him the truth.

  “Maybe,” I admit.

  “Son, what have I always told you?” he says with a heavy sigh of disappointment.

  “You can’t trust women.”

  “Right. You can’t trust her! You can’t trust anyone!” he exclaims.

  “Not even Van? Sawyer? You?” I ask with a teasing grin.

  “Not even me,” he says, staring me right into my eyes as if conveying some deep wisdom.

  “I’m being smart about it,” I assure him.

  Leaning on his forearms to get closer, he says, “You’ve come too damn far to let some blonde bitch ruin everything.”

  Reeling back in surprise at his words and insult, I ask, “How did you know she’s blonde?”

  “They’ve always been your weakness.”

  “Yours too,” I remind him through clenched teeth.

  “I don’t want to see you follow in my footsteps.”

  “That’s never gonna happen. I’ll die before…before I end up in here,” I say, catching myself before I let the wrong words slip about getting caught doing something illegal in the room that’s recorded.

  “And what about the other guys? You gonna take Van and Sawyer out with you?”

  “Nobody is taking anyone out,” I whisper. “We’re almost done,” I say, softer.

  “I know, that’s why you need to be even more cautious. Trust no one!”

  “I’m going to ask her to come with us,” I blurt out, referring to the “retirement” plan the guys and I have in place.

  “Fuck, Hendrix. Don’t be an idiot,” my Pop says while shaking his head. “There’s three ways this ends: she rats you out, she robs you and your boys blind, or you end up destroying her life, either with prison or death. Is that what you want for her?”

  “That’s not gonna happen,” I counter, meaning all of it. Libby doesn’t give a shit about money since she gets angry if I over-tip her. Now, I’m certain I can trust her since she hasn’t said a word to anyone about the murder, and I would never let anything happen to her.

  “She’s making you weak. You’re gonna fuck up the last job.”

  “No, I’m not,” I argue. “This job will be the easiest one yet.”

  “Maybe so, but it’s gonna all blow up in your face if you don’t ditch her and ditch her now!”

  “No,” I say without hesitation when I get to my feet. “She’s good for me, and I…I’m in love with her,” I finally admit, not just to him but to myself. Libby is a good girl and she makes me want to be a better man, an honest one she deserves, even if it’s too late for that to happen.

  “Love? Pfft,” he scoffs. “Your dick might be in love, but you wouldn’t know the first thing about the real thing!”

  “Whatever,” I reply, withholding from him the fact we’ve never actually had sex. That’s how I know the way I feel about Libby has nothing to do with my dick for once in my life.

  My old man is wrong. I can trust her, and once shit goes down next week, I’m going to convince her to leave with us.

  I’m more nervous about her refusal than I am the damn job. I could rob a First National Bank with my eyes closed.

  Nothing can stop me and my boys from cleaning them out and packing our bags for our retirement.

  Now, I just have to find a way to convince Libby to not only open up and let me in, but to agree to leave her life behind to come with us.

  That may be more difficult than breaking into a steel vault since it took weeks before she would even kiss me.

  Still, on the quiet ride home after talking to my father, I have to admit there’s this small nagging seed of doubt in the back of my mind, warning me that he’s right, that I can’t trust anyone, maybe not even Libby.

  The seed keeps growing bigger the closer I get back to town to pick up Libby and take her to the lake as promised.

  Libby and I haven’t even slept together yet and I’m going to take a chance on bringing her with us and finding out about the bank robberies? She would hate me if she knew who I really am.

  Is it possible that Pop and the guys are right?

  Have I gotten distracted from the goal we’ve been working toward for years because of a woman? One who hasn’t even touched me yet?

  If she actually cared about me, we would’ve been together by now, which makes me think there’s more to her reluctance than just my playboy ways.

  Chapter 12

  Libby

  I notice something is off with Hendrix from the second he picks me up Saturday afternoon. Instead of devouring me with his eyes like usual since I’m wearing a short blue summer dress, he barely looks at me, or speaks a word.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask as he drives us to the lake. “Did something happen with…with Lester?” I whisper.

  “No. Nothing to worry about there,” Hendrix replies, keeping his eyes on the road.

  “So then, why are you so quiet and distant?”

  Blowing out a puff of air, he finally tells me what has him off-kilter. “I went to see my dad this morning.”

  Oh shit.

  “You did?” I ask in shock. “Wh-what did he say?”

  “He was in a foul fucking mood,” he replies, without even a glance in my direction. “I don’t know why he can’t just be happy for me. All he ever gives me is shit, though, telling me I’m gonna fuck everything up…”

  “Don’t let him get to you,” I say, reaching over to run my hand up his jean-covered thigh, to try and distract him from this incredibly dangerous topic. His father isn’t stupid enough to admit he ratted him out, right? “You’re great at what you do and put in long hours…”

  “All it takes is just one mistake,” Hendrix says, eyes on the road and jaw clenched tight, and I know he’s not talking about the heating and air business. “Maybe…maybe I have been trying to rush this, asking you to leave with me when we just met. You’re obviously not ready for that type of commitment if you don’t want to be with me yet…”

  “No, Hendrix. Don’t say that,” I quickly respond in a panic because I’ve just made my decision to go all-in with him so I can’t lose him now. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it to keep him from giving up on me right when I’ve finally been able to admit to myself that I want to be with him.

  Gathering my courage, I say, “I love being with you,” as I let my hand move higher until I reach the outline of his cock. And wow! What a cock it is. I felt it underneath me the other night, but now I know he’s thicker than a roll of quarters and twice as long while it’s still soft.

  “Jesus, Libby!” The truck swerves for a moment over the white line in the center of the road before he corrects it. I have to say I’m glad my touch has that kind of effect on him.

  “I want to get to know you better,” I say honestly as I give his now growing length a squeeze that makes him groan. “Just be patient, and in the meantime, there are other things we can do…”

  “You want to do this now?” he asks, stealing a quick glance at me. “After weeks of refusing to touch me, now you want to do this? While I’m fucking driving?”

  The truth is, if he hadn’t shot me down, we would’ve done more the other night. I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time so, in a way, I’m re
lieved Hendrix refused, even if the rejection hurt. After what happened with Lester, I needed to be close to him and he pushed me away.

  Then, last night in his truck, I was worried things might go further, but he was gentleman enough to stop after he made me feel good without asking for anything in return.

  “Well, not everything yet,” I answer, since I’ve had time to come to my senses and know that sex is the big, bold line I can’t cross with him unless I’m one hundred percent certain of my decision. Right now, I’m only hovering around the ninety-five percent mark. “But I could touch you a little? If that’s what you want?” I swallow around the rock lodged in my throat because I’m nervous. “Take me back to your place. There will be a lot more room to play in a bed.”

  “No,” Hendrix chokes out with a shake of his head while I keep stroking his cock through the denim. “Too far away.”

  “Aw, come on, Hendrix,” I plead. “I can’t do the things I want to do to you when we’re out in public in broad daylight.”

  “Like hell, you’re not,” he growls.

  One hand on the steering wheel, he uses his free hand to pop the button on his jeans and jerk the zipper down. A second later, and he’s pulling his steely shaft free and slamming on the brakes so hard I nearly go out the windshield. Instead, Hendrix puts the truck into park and grabs the back of my head to bring my mouth to his, kissing me hot and hard. His tongue thrusts urgently into my mouth and I do my best to keep up. He’s an amazing kisser, making me float away into the clouds, forgetting everything else, all of my responsibilities and all the rules…

  “I need your mouth, sweetheart. So damn bad,” Hendrix says, his normally brown eyes nearly black now with hunger and desire. “Can you do that for me?”

  The thought that I would do anything for him suddenly and surprisingly flits through my mind, catching me off guard before I’m finally able to swallow it down to simply tell him, “Yes.”