Cam actually blushes. “No, it’s…” He gestures out the window and instantly I get it. The landscape is barren, almost boring. But there’s something about the desolation of it all. No cacti jutting up from the desert floor here, just creosote bushes and yucca trees. The dry sand is shades of tan. It’s peaceful.
I signal at the next side road and drive about a mile until there’s no sign of civilization. It feels like we’re the last people on earth. And, I realize, I want Cameron so badly that it hurts.
My only chance at saving myself, my heart, is to break the tension. “Does this look like a good place to murder me?” I ask brightly.
“Sorry, no murder today.” He gets out of the car and gestures for me to follow. The morning light casts the yucca trees into shadows. The scene is so far from what I see on the freeway every day in Sacramento that it takes my breath away.
“The desert is beautiful, even out here,” I observe.
“The scenery is about the only thing I miss about Arizona.” Cam’s voice is almost wistful.
“Because of your father?”
He leans against my car, staring into the landscape. “Yes.”
Cameron
I feel ready to talk about my dad. To tell Marisa things that I’ve never even told my therapist, whom I pay two hundred dollars per hour to listen to me turn myself inside out.
Marisa positions herself a couple of feet away from me, leaning against the car. “But you’re in a hurry to get to Tucson. Do you have things you need to say to him?”
“Not really.” I’ve pictured the deathbed scene a hundred times, and it never feels cathartic. Only painful.
“But like I said, if I don’t see him, my mom’s family’s property all goes to his wife, my stepmother.”
“Please stop me if I’m out of line here, but do you need the money?” she asks, her voice tentative. “Does the property hold sentimental value to you?”
“No,” I say flatly. Then I process not just the words she’s saying, but the meaning behind them. “No. Not anymore. I don’t need any of it.”
I glance over and Marisa is looking at me, her eyes shining. She whispers: “What do you need, Cam?”
I pivot toward her. “That’s my newest problem, Marisa. I need you.”
She gasps and bites her lip and I want to cover her body with mine. “I thought… we agreed… and then this morning you—”
“I what?”
“I woke up, and you were shaving and it was all… awkward.”
I run my hand over my chin. “My shaving was awkward?”
She pushes my arm playfully. “No, silly, the morning was awkward. Just like it wasn’t supposed to be.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, meaning it. “That was my fault. I spoke with my stepmother first thing, and my head was in a bad place.”
“I didn’t know.” She slides her hand down my arm to twine my fingers in hers. I feel comforted. Safe. Safe enough to say what I’m feeling for a change.
“I was also trying to respect our intent to have it be just a one-time thing.” I swallow hard and squeeze her hand.
Marisa
It’s good that Cameron doesn’t want more. I’m not sure how much more I can give to him without losing a part of myself. The virginity thing was another issue, and, in retrospect, absurd. I wanted to have sex with Cam and for some reason I had to make it about something else. Now, I may want something more with him, and again I’m equivocating.
He’s about to be dealing with the death of his father. He’s scattered and raw. What if he’s just trying to distract himself? If I make more of this than it is, I could end up walking away—driving away—with a broken heart.
“You’re a good friend, Marisa,” he says.
It’s chilly in the desert winter, and I wrap my arms protectively around my body. “Thanks. So are you.”
Without even asking, he moves toward me, offering his own arms. His warmth. I step into his big body and he wraps himself around me. He nuzzles my hair, one hand on the back of my head. “Hell, Marisa. We’re not just friends.”
“I know,” I agree quietly. My heart is thumping, hearing what he’s implying but not saying.
That’s when he kisses me. First on the back of my head, then spinning me around and taking my mouth. “Marisa, I can’t lie to you,” Cam says between kisses, which I return hungrily. “I don’t want this to be over between us.”
I swallow a lump in my throat and close my eyes. “I don’t want it to be over either.”
“You’re so damn precious.” I feel his fingers coast over my lower lip. “I can’t believe you let me do this.”
I try a joke: “And here I thought you were doing me a favor last night.”
“No,” he says deadpan. “And it’s you who is the gift.”
My heart races even faster. What is he offering me? More of the same, or more of… more?
I know what I want. Or at least I feel like I know what I want. A chance with Cam. To date. To get to know him in the real world. To learn the possibilities. But can I trust my feelings? I thought I’d love soccer forever. I thought I could make a go of a career in mathematics. In my life, when the stakes have been highest, I’ve changed course.
“We’ve known each other one day, Cam.”
He looks down at his watch, which I presume is expensive. “We’re almost into day two, sweetheart.”
I roll my eyes. Should I even try to explain? This man is so self-assured, I don’t know if he’s second-guessed himself a day in his life. At least in business. “I’m in the middle of figuring out where to go with my degree. My mind is all over the map. I don’t know if I can handle a…” I swallow the word “relationship,” because he hasn’t even said that’s what he wants. “I don’t know if I can trust my feelings.”
“Many people change their majors,” he says, answering the least of the questions I want to ask.
He’s not being condescending, but I’m instantly defensive. “A lot people aren’t looking at a hundred grand in student loans if they give up their scholarship.”
“You’re right. I haven’t had that experience.” He steps back and draws a hand through his short hair. His shirt rides up, and I’m instantly reminded of how I gripped Cam there, holding on as I rode him to orgasm.
“It’s okay,” I sigh. “It’s not your fault.”
“When I went to school, it was practically the Dark Ages. I think we bartered sticks and rocks for tuition.” He grins. “My MBA final exams were done on an abacus.”
I play along: “You are very old. The cost of attendance was much different back when dinosaurs roamed the lecture halls.”
“Rawr.” He actually does T-Rex hands. I can’t believe it.
“Cameron Cole, are you actually joking around?” I say. “It’s like I barely know you. Oh, wait. I barely know you.”
His eyes narrow, and he drops the act. His voice comes out gravely and sincere: “I know you.”
I gasp, my throat catching. In that moment, I feel like we know each other, at least the most important parts, like our passions and our values. And the chemistry between us. How rare is that?
Suddenly, I feel tears in my eyes. “Cam, it’s scary. The knowing you. All of it.”
His tone grows even more serious. “How long do you need? I know what I want, but I’ll give you all the time in the world. I’m not in any hurry.”
“You are in a hurry. You need to get to Tucson,” I choke out.
He touches my chin, tilting it up so I’m looking at him through my tears. “That’s not what I mean. I don’t care anymore when I get to Tucson. I don’t care if I talk to my father. I don’t care about my damn inheritance.”
Cameron
“You don’t mean that,” Marisa whispers as a tear rolls down her cheek. I don’t blame her for taking a while to come around. I only realized the full extent of my feelings myself a few seconds ago, when I said the words.
But what I know now—what Marisa has helped me underst
and—is that there’s no dramatic deathbed scene that will redeem my father or repair our relationship or make any of this okay. He had the chance to do things right, and he didn’t. It’s not my job to absolve him of guilt he doesn’t feel, any more than I deserve to pay penance in order to inherit the family property. Caroline can have the fucking land. The house. My stepmother can have it all. I don’t care.
It’s so damn freeing, the not caring, that I’m exhilarated. I turn my head to the desert sky and feel the winter air wash over me. Marisa stares at me as if I’m some kind of weird desert creature, maybe a jackalope, appearing in some kind of mirage of myself.
“Come here, Marisa.” I draw her into a hug, and when she wraps her arms around me, it feels like friendship but also something more. “Thank you.”
“What did I even do?” she mutters into my shoulder. Then she inhales sharply.
I pull back and my face spreads into a wide grin. “Marisa, whose last name I don’t even know, are you smelling me?”
“It’s Luna,” she says, “and, yes, maybe a little.”
I pull her back toward me, cup her head in my hands, and breathe in her scent. Heaven. “I have a confession,” I say.
“I didn’t know you were Catholic.” I’m pretty sure she’s teasing, but still I picture the two of us at an elaborate church wedding with her surrounded by her loving family members who I hope won’t kill me when they find out I’ve fallen in love with their daughter.
“Oh, Marisa Luna.” I pull her even closer and laugh out loud as I think about it: me, in my thirties, with a boatload of issues that perplex even a trained psychiatrist. I have more money than I know what to do with, dozens of people at my beck and call, and I’m still lonely as fuck.
At least, I was lonely until I met Marisa. Now, I can’t imagine my life without her. I picture her with me in a cozy home. Her following her career dreams while we raise our children together. I also picture my cock buried inside her as she screams my name.
I don’t deserve this woman. I really don’t.
“What are you laughing about? What’s your confession?” Marisa runs her hands down my body and actually tickles me.
I shift to one side. I didn’t even know I was ticklish. “My confession is…” I bracket my hands on either side of her waist. “I don’t care about this boring scenery. I asked you to pull off the main road because I wanted more time with you. To talk.”
“Just… to talk?” I hear her sharp intake of breath. She almost sounds disappointed.
Fuck. I feel like I’ll die if I can’t have her again. But the last thing I want to do is change the rules we made or pressure her. This pretty young woman trusted me to take care of her, to make her first time good, and if that’s the only thing I accomplish in my sorry-ass life, I will die a happy man.
“I just want you to know, Cam, that I really enjoyed last night.” She stands up tall. “You made my first time not bad.”
I bark out a laugh. “So, I was tolerable?”
She moves to tickle me again, but I dodge her. “You know what I mean!” She lowers her voice even though there is no one here for miles. “You actually gave me orgasms and stuff. Like, bonus. I didn’t order up any of that.”
I can’t help parrying. “Could do it again, baby.” I wave my hand at the dirt and brush that surrounds us. “Could make you come right here in the desert.”
I hear her voice catch. Victory.
“You could?” She challenges. “Way out here?”
I take two steps forward and she’s pinned against the car, one of my arms on either side of her. I don’t lose eye contact. I need to be sure she wants this.
“We had an agreement,” I remind her.
“I know,” she whispers. I don’t move. I’m sure she can feel my heart beating. Feel my arousal.
“So we should go?” I suggest, pulling away slightly.
“I didn’t say that.” Slowly, she moves her hands under my shirt. I shiver. I’m rock hard. Then she reaches back and grasps my ass in her hands. “We could make a new agreement.”
Marisa
I thought I could protect my heart by limiting myself to one time with Cameron. I was wrong. I already have feelings for him. So what’s the harm in getting more of what he gave me last night? He liked what I gave him. I can maintain an emotional distance. I think.
“I honor my agreements, Marisa,” Cameron says. But his voice is strained and his dick is hard. I shift my body forward so I can feel him. He gasps.
“I respect that,” I tell him. “But surely you’ve had deals you’ve… renegotiated?”
Suddenly, he looks deadly serious. “You’re not a business deal, Marisa.”
He takes my face in his hands and kisses me. Once I can breathe again, I ask him. “Then what am I, Cameron?”
I instantly wish I could take the words back. Of course, he’s not going to proclaim his love for me. I can’t process any of this. All I know is that I want him again. My unpracticed hands grapple at his belt, then the button of his pants.
“You want this?” He slides my hand over his bulge. “You sure, Marisa?”
“Yes.”
“You want me?” The subtle difference in his question doesn’t escape me.
“Yes, Cam, I want you. Inside me. Please.”
He spins me around and I plant my hands on the car. I hear a zip and my legs shake in anticipation. Several long seconds later, I hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper. I’m still a little sore from last night, but I don’t care. I brace myself, expecting him to plunge into me, filling me in an instant.
Instead, he’s slow. He’s sweet. He’s gentle. Cam pushes one of my braids aside and kisses the back of my neck. Then his hands glide around my body and under my shirt, cupping my breasts.
He leans in and whispers in my ear. “Marisa, I’m worried I might be too rough with you.”
Instead of frightening me, his words inflame me. “Maybe I don’t mind a little rough.”
His hands dig into my hips, and he groans. “Marisa, could you be any more perfect? Fuck, I need you.”
I’m losing control. I reach back and claw at his arms, his ass, any part of him I can reach to try to pull him closer. “Get in me, Cam,” I practically beg, splaying my arms out on the car, my ass in the air, skirt hiked up.
I feel his control slipping, but I don’t feel a moment’s danger. He wraps my braids in his hand, and the slight tug shoots to my core. He checks in. “You good? This hurt?”
“Don’t stop,” I manage. “Love it. Please, more.”
When he finally eases his cock into me, it’s perfect. The angle, the depth. Everything. “Gonna give it to you hard, okay, sweetheart? Can you take my cock like this? Wanna hit that special spot inside you.”
“Yes,” I moan. He’s so big that some part of him is rubbing against some part of me, and there’s a sensation that’s different from what I felt last night. That I can’t see him unless I turn my head somehow makes the sensation more intense.
I want to scream.
So I do.
Cameron
I know now that she was holding back at the hotel. Maybe afraid someone would hear. Not now. Now, my girl is letting go.
As I pump into her, I can see her tits bouncing and our motion reflected on the surface of the car. I look down, palming her ass so I can see where our bodies connect. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.
“Oh, shit.” My tone reveals my shock, because Marisa freezes.
“What is it, Cam? What’s wrong?”
Even though I’ve fucked up, I’m still hard as I pull out. I see where the condom has separated from its rim. Fuck. She’s going to hate me. “Marisa, the condom. It’s… broken.”
“Oh,” she gasps. I take the useless thing off and wrap it up. I’m such an asshole that my dick isn’t flagging. The idea of coming inside her, something I’ve never done with any woman, sounds like the best thing in the world. Of course, I’d never suggest it.
“I�
��m sorry, I—”
“It’s okay,” she interrupts. “Please, don’t stop.”
“I’m safe,” I assure her. “Been tested.”
She turns her head to look at me, and her expression holds no fear, only reassurance. Is she really going to let me do this? The thought of spilling my load inside her has me almost over the edge. I’m probably leaking already.
“I haven’t been tested,” she says. “But, you know. The virgin thing. And I’m on the pill, for other reasons.”
“Oh, fuck, Marisa.” I gently push her forward so her hands are splayed on the car and her ass is in the air. “You really want this cock bare inside you?”
“Yes. Please,” she moans. I slide into her, and it’s heaven.
“Nothing between us, baby.” I grip her hips as I pick up the pace. “Feels so damn good. This sweet pussy milking my cock. Makes me want to smack your little ass.”
“Do it. And tell me what you’re doing.”
I give her a light swat.
“I’m fucking you.” I’m loving you. “My cock is so deep in your pussy, baby.” I’m making you mine. “As soon as you come for me, I’m going to fill you up and you’ll see my seed dripping out of you.” This is real.
“Yeah. Yes,” she mutters. “I want it. Give me that. Please, Cam.”
“Wanna rub you, please?” I’m already reaching for her clit, and as soon as she nods yes, my fingers are stroking her.
“Yes, Cam, do that,” she says, and I feel like I’ve won the damn lottery.
“You gotta come first,” I pant. I can’t hold off much longer. My balls are ready to explode. With my free hand, I grip the base of my cock to slow things down.
“It feels good all the time you fuck me, Cam. I don’t need to come. I want you to feel good, too.”
She’s so precious, and she’s pleading and I can’t say no to her. I need this, and then I need to tell her how I feel. I want to give her a lifetime of orgasms.
His Driver: An Instalove Road Trip Romance Page 7
