by Marie James
“Okay?” I give him the same head tilt. “I’m getting one later.”
“Right after you finish that coffee. I don’t allow liquids in my truck. Don’t want anything spilled on my seats.”
“One, I’m not going any damn where with you, and two, I’m not a child. I can drink in a vehicle without spilling shit.”
“I would tell you to hurry up; that I don’t have all damn day, but it would be a lie. I cleared my schedule for you.” His grin is almost contagious, but I catch myself before my lips part to mirror his.
“Nope.” I drink the last sip of my coffee and rinse the cup before placing it on the counter.
“Your dad told me to make sure you got one so let’s go.” He sweeps his arm out toward the door.
I stay exactly where I’ve been standing and give him a pointed look.
“You keep mentioning him. How often do you talk to him?”
“If you want my life story, Princess, you’re going to have to get into my truck.”
I need a rental car, and I also need answers, but I don’t know if I need them enough to be alone with him. I remind myself that I’m alone with him right now, in the apartment, where there are beds and a very comfortable couch.
“I’ll grab my purse,” I say and run out of the room.
He waits, somehow a little too close yet still too far away while I use my key to lock the apartment door, and his hand finds the small of my back as we descend the stairs. Once we’re buckled in, he cranks the truck and puts it in gear.
“Every day,” he says out of nowhere.
“Huh?”
His smile is blinding. “You asked how often I speak to Jaxon. We talk every day.”
“No way,” I hiss. “I don’t even talk to him every day.”
“And he misses you when you go days without checking in.”
Well, if that isn’t a kick in the gut.
“I’m trying to be independent,” I mutter, already guilty over my sporadic contact with my dads before he even mentioned it.
“I get it.”
“He doesn’t talk to me about you.” The meanness I hate so much rears its ugly head once again.
“You told him long ago that you didn’t want to know anything about me.”
I stiffen. “You talk about me? Did you tell him why I didn’t want to hear about you?”
He laughs at my ridiculous question. Of course he didn’t. He wouldn’t live to tell the tale if he did.
“We talk about you all the time.”
I let that sink in and stare out the window. We drive, five minutes longer than it would take to get to the rental place.
“Where are we going?”
“Figured we could find someplace quiet to talk.” He looks over at me, and I instantly want to shut him down. If not for the sincerity and pleading in his eyes I would’ve. For some reason, today, being this close to him for the first time in years, I just don’t have the strength to push him away.
We ride in silence for another fifteen minutes, until he turns off of the highway, pulling into the State Park. Slowly, he drives along until he finds a deserted parking area near the water. He surprises me when he parks with the nose of his truck against the trees and the tailgate facing the water that’s on the other side of the lot. I anticipate him climbing out so we can sit and watch over the water, but he puts it in park and makes no move to get out.
“Tell me about your relationship with my dad,” I plead.
“Tell me about school,” he counters.
The fire in his eyes makes me think he’s asking more about the nightlife and parties than the core classes I took last year and have already registered for this year. I realize now why he parked the way he did. This way there’s nothing to look at but trees, so he’s forcing my hand. There are, however, worse things to look at than his sexy lips and clear blue eyes.
“Don’t,” he murmurs.
“Don’t what?”
“Lick your lips and stare at my mouth.”
The corners of my mouth twitch before turning up with a wide smile.
“Tell me about my dad,” I insist.
“Tell me about the boys you’ve met at college,” he counters.
“Men,” I correct. “And I thought you said you haven’t been stalking me.”
“So there have been others?” I stare, stunned at how quick he is to ask about my romantic life. “Are you seeing anyone?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It’s my business now,” he says with quiet authority.
The domination in his voice is exactly what was missing in the darting gaze of the boy from yesterday.
“You want details?” I ask, unclicking my seatbelt and shifting my weight. I bite my lip as he stares, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “You want the truth?”
“Always the truth,” he says, voice cracking at the end.
“You want to know that your voice does more to my body than their mouths, their fingers, their,” I lean over the console close to his ear, “cocks?”
“Stop,” he commands, loud enough that I back away into my seat.
I told myself that my choices were just that, mine. I reminded myself each time I cried after a boy dropped me off at the end of the night that I was getting exactly what I’d wanted. I wasn’t being used; I was the one doing the using. No regrets, I’d told myself each and every time.
I lived by that rule over the last three months. I was having fun, partying, and living life to the fullest.
Right now? This very second? I hate the woman I’ve become. I despise each of the three guys I used. More so, I hate the look of disappointment in Lawson’s eyes as he realizes I gave something away that should’ve belonged to him. I hate him even more, blame him, for who I’ve become.
“What?” I ask defensively, another mask to my pain. “No dirty talk from you? No declarations of how much better you’d be?”
“I’m not that angry kid that moved away from New Mexico, Delilah.” The intensity of his stare holds my eyes. “Now, I’m simply a man who knows what he wants.”
“What do you want?”
I swear if he says anything about my mouth on his cock, the police will never find his body.
“You,” he answers. One simple, three-letter word. How in the hell is it enough to tilt my world off of its axis?
Chapter 30
Lawson
Her lips are on mine before I can consider that honesty is the best aphrodisiac for women.
My first thought is to push her away, but at the end of the day I’m not a saint, so I kiss her back. I let the warmth of her tongue sweep over mine, and I offer her mine in exchange. In amazing contradiction, a sheen of sweat and goosebumps trail down my spine and branch out all over my body.
My cock, pressing against the denim of my jeans, having been hard since she agreed to talk, throbs in need of attention. The sound of coins clanging echoes around the cab of the truck as she flips up the console and tugs me closer to her.
We’re in dangerous territory. I’d wanted to be alone with her. Wanted the chance to talk without interruption, but the way her lips are gliding over mine will only lead to one thing, and talking isn’t it.
She’s not quite straddling me, but her chest is pressed against mine, and the contact is beyond amazing. “Delilah.”
I pull my head back but don’t loosen my arms. They managed to find their way around her back, one hand resting dangerously low near her ass.
“Missed you, too,” she whispers.
For the first time since I saw her yesterday, I see sincerity in her eyes. It’s brief, only lasting a couple of seconds, but my heart soars at the possibility of what it could mean.
“Princess.”
Her mouth hits mine again, and rather than push her away, my fingers dig in harder and pull her closer.
The heat between her thighs burns my cock as she shifts her weight to straddle me.
“Fuck,” I groan.
He
r hips rotate as she grinds down on me. Jesus, the tell-tale tingle is already present in my underused balls.
“Slow down,” I urge.
With a mischievous grin, she swivels her hips in the slowest, most delicious circle. I grip her hips, but I’m no fool. My hands may be on her body, but I haven’t made any real effort to make her stop. I’m powerless against her, against the situation I’ve envisioned while I stroked myself off in the shower, her name on my lips for the last two years.
If I concentrate hard enough, I can still feel the warmth of her pussy as it constricts around my finger. Can still feel the swipe of her tongue over the tip of my cock.
I squeeze my eyes shut, doing my best to stave off the orgasm that’s churning with hurricane strength force in my nuts.
When I open them, Delilah has her shirt pulled up and both cups of her bra tugged down. Her perfectly round, pink-tipped breasts are mere inches from my mouth. Saliva pools as if I’m a hungry dog tempted with a T-bone steak.
Tilting my head back, I look in her eyes. Having dreamed of this moment, I don’t want to give in, but I only have so much strength.
Lips parted, her breath ghosts out in uneven pants. She leans in, placing the puckered tip of her breast on my bottom lip, in similar fashion to the way I rested my cock on hers back in New Mexico. I want to shake my head to clear out thoughts of how epically I fucked that up, but doing so would break the contact with her perfect skin. That sacrifice isn’t one I’m strong enough to make.
I don’t waste time. I don’t give her breast a gentle swipe of my tongue. I wrap my lips around it and suck like I’ll never be offered it again. She whimpers, squirming once again as I draw her puckered flesh deeper. When her fingers get lost in my hair, I’m lost in her. I disappear into her scent, into the glorious taste of her warm skin. I’m entranced by the irregular breaths leaving her lungs. I’m adrift in the sound of her erratic heartbeat, or is it mine that’s reverberating around us?
The pressure surrounding my cock is relieved. So much so, that I have to look down to see if I’ve just busted a nut in my jeans. It nearly comes to fruition when I look down and see her small hands gloriously wrapped around my cock.
“Oh fuck,” I hiss as her black skirt clears her thighs and her bright pink panties are revealed.
“Feel good?” she asks, swiping the tip of my cock at the wet line on the pink fabric.
“Too good,” I hiss.
“What about this?”
My mouth, once flooded, now runs dry as I watch her pull her panties to the side and use my cock to stroke that perfect bundle of nerves. I’ve felt that sensitive flesh on the tips of my fingers, but fuck me sideways if it does any justice to what she’s doing right now.
I’m concentrating so hard on the sight of her skin against mine, that I don’t even notice that she’s produced a condom until she caps the end of my dick with it.
“Delilah,” I groan but don’t make a move to stop her.
“Lawson,” she mimics.
“I can’t tell you no.”
My mind is screaming for me to put an end to this, but my grip holds tight to her hips, even helping her as she situates me at her entrance.
“Then don’t,” she pants against my lips as she slides down my cock.
We moan in unison when she seats herself fully and begins to rise.
“Help me,” she begs.
Holding her against my chest with one hand, I use my other to push my jeans down to the floorboard. I gain the leverage I need with my thighs no longer being restricted and press into her as she sinks down.
I hold her up, easing into her and retreating in the most delicious way. I opt for slow, hoping to have the lasting power to take her over the edge with me, but she wants nothing to do with slow. I want romance, to make love to her. The look in her eyes tells me she needs to be fucked. She needs to be taken in the filthiest way possible. Being in the truck and not a bed covered in rose petals dictates that she gets what she’s searching for.
We move in sync with each other, her forcing herself down as I pound up. The brutality of it is also beautiful in its own right.
“Fuck me like a filthy slut,” she hisses when I pull her down, thrusting deeper. “I’m your dirty girl.”
God help me, I wish I could stop the train that’s barreling down my spine ninety to nothing as she throws the words that ruined us years ago in my face. I squeeze my eyes shut, a feeble attempt to gain some control, but lose the battle. Her words, even as bitter as they sound, send me straight over the edge and fuck if that first pulse of my cock isn’t the heaven I’ve always imagined it would be.
“Fuck, fuck,” I hiss. “Too soon.”
Somehow still cognizant, I lick my thumb and swipe it repeatedly over her clit as I fuck her through my orgasm.
“Yes,” she moans before she clenches around me.
The rhythmic clenching of her core around me is enough to keep me thick inside of her. When I can focus on something other than her flushed cheeks, I notice the condensation from our breaths covering the windows. If people weren’t able to determine what we’ve been up to by the rocking of the truck, the windows would be a dead giveaway.
“I’ve never,” she says, the look on her face almost worshipping. Shaking her head, she just stares down at me. “It’s never been like that before.”
I smile up at her, reaching up to brush my lips against hers. “You deserve more than this fucking truck.”
“I figured it would’ve lasted longer with your sexual prowess and all.” I’m unable to tell if she’s joking or not.
“I haven’t come with a girl present since before my mother passed away,” I confess.
An emotion I can’t distinguish marks her face as her brows draw together. The brief tremble in her lower lip makes my heart clench. It’s gone as quickly as it showed up.
She looks down as she slides off my still semi-engorged cock.
“Looks like I still managed to get your seat wet, even without bringing a cup of coffee in here.”
I don’t bother to look down. I can feel the evidence of her orgasm pooling below me on the seat. My truck is going to smell like her for a long time to come, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to climbing inside and letting the scent settle in my lungs every day.
“Let me help you,” I say and grip her hips before she can move away fully. Leaning over, I flip open the glove compartment and pull out a few napkins stashed there from random fast food places.
When she trembles against my hand at the contact, I swear I’m ready to take her again. My eyes meet hers, and I immediately know whatever moment we just shared has come to an abrupt end.
“Thanks.” Her tone is flat as she repositions her panties and once again conceals her perfect little pussy. Next, she’s back on her side of the truck and covering her breasts. I mourn the loss as I tug the condom free and wrap the napkin I used on her around it.
“Well, that was awesome.” I look around my truck for some place to stash the evidence as she uses the visor mirror to put more lip gloss on.
“It was okay,” she says absently, smacking her lips and refusing to look my way.
Anger at her unwillingness to acknowledge how great we were together when only moments ago she was quivering around me during her release pisses me off. I jam the trash in the cup holder in the driver’s door and turn to glare at her.
“Excuse me?”
I clench the steering wheel as I fight the urge to grab her chin and force her to look at me.
“I mean,” she begins, still looking down at her clothes. “Most guys don’t fuck me in a truck. I at least get a bed.”
My eyes nearly bulge out of my head at her words.
“You jumped me. You took my cock out. You rolled that rubber down my dick and sat on it like it was yours.” I put the truck in reverse and back out without even checking my surroundings. When I pull out far enough, grateful to not have run over some kid or hit a guy unloading on the boa
t ramp, I put it in drive and peel out heading toward the main road. “Don’t regret your actions now, Princess.”
Chapter 31
Delilah
The echo of him inside of me is almost unbearable as we bump along the road, heading back out to the highway and eventually back into town to get my rental car. Clenching my thighs together does nothing but make me yearn for more.
I’ve been lying to myself. I can tell myself repeatedly that I was using the guys I slept with, but after what Lawson and I just did, there’s no denying that those men were using me.
I didn’t mean for my confession to slip past my lips, but I was delirious with pleasure, my orgasm the first by another’s touch since the last one he gave me in my childhood bedroom.
If I were using them like I’ve proclaimed more times than I can count, they would’ve made me come, would’ve been invested in my gratification. Having been focused solely on their own release, makes the truth sit heavy in my stomach, souring the coffee there from this morning.
I find the courage to look over at him. He doesn’t acknowledge me, but I know he’s aware of my gaze because his hands tighten on the steering wheel.
How do I tell him the truth? How do I explain to him that his confession rocked me to my core?
“I haven’t come with a girl present since before my mother passed away.”
I can’t presume he was waiting for me, but while he was living a life of self-imposed celibacy, I was getting drunk and letting vodka make major decisions for me. Blame wasn’t one hundred percent on the alcohol. I made my choices, and I’ll live with the fallout.
“Are we just going to ride in silence with you over there bristling like a wet cat?”
He stretches his neck, first to the right, then to the left before he speaks. The tension doesn’t ease up in the truck as he figures out what he’s going to say. My eyes narrow, hating that he just doesn’t speak his truth without worrying how I’ll respond. It feels calculating and manipulative and pisses me off.
“Talk to me,” I demand. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not that simple. My feelings are… confusing.”
