by Cat Johnson
“Holy crap. Are you crazy?”
Chase finally freed himself from her clench, bent down and scooped up his belongings. Looking frantically for any way out beside the doorway through which her husband was about to walk, he spotted glass doors that opened onto a terrace. He sprinted bare-assed outside, his rapidly deflating, condom-covered erection leading the way.
“What the fuck!”
With one hand braced on the railing, Chase barely considered the eight foot drop to the ground as her husband’s booming voice behind him announced he hadn’t gotten away unseen.
Chase landed on the ground, falling hard on one knee before scrambling up and running for the back of the property. Daring to glance back, he saw one very angry and extremely large husband swearing at him over the railing, before the man turned around and ran back inside. Then there was the sound of a car engine firing up in the driveway.
“Shit.” Chase tripped. He crashed into the trunk of a tree, the bark scraping the skin of his hip. Clothes and boots clutched to his chest and dick still hanging out, he kept running. If he could get into a neighbor’s yard and hide, he could at least get dressed and maybe wait it out until the coast was clear.
The backyard was the size of baseball field. It left him out in the open, naked and probably about to be shot. That thought motivated him to run a little faster.
By the time he got to the neighbor’s property, he heard the squeal of tires as a red convertible fishtailed around the corner of the next block. He considered running back, but these damn rich people had such huge yards, by the time he got to the other street, the angry husband would be there waiting for him. It was kind of like being a runner stuck between the bases as the first and second basemen tossed the ball back and forth.
Chase ran through the neighbor’s yard, leaping over flowers and in one case, an unhappy cat, as the car got closer. He figured this was it. His life was over, and all for a few seconds inside a woman. Then a suped-up, black pickup truck coming from the other direction swerved onto the lawn of the house nearest him.
The door flung open. “Get in.”
Not one to question the generosity of strangers with his life on the line, Chase jumped in. The truck took off before he’d even swung the door shut, speeding past the angry husband who threw the car into a spin and began following them.
The dark-haired guy driving let out an excited whoop, grinning at Chase. “Sweet. Did you see how that car handles?”
He sure had, in between pulling his underwear up his legs and trying to catch his breath. Chase had noticed the condom still hanging off his now limp dick. With a quick look at the stranger who’d saved him to make sure he was looking at the road, Chase pulled the rubber off. He flung it out the open window. One backward glance told him that had been a really bad idea. It hit the windshield of the sports car behind them and stuck there. Nothing like literally throwing it in the guy’s face he’d just been fucking his wife.
Chase spun back in his seat. “He’s gaining on us.” And now he was really pissed, as if he hadn’t been before.
“Well, yeah. Of course he is. That thing’s got way more horsepower than I do, but we have something he doesn’t.”
He didn’t know what that was, but he did know if he was going to die, he’d do it with his boots on. Chase struggled into his jeans and had one boot in his hand before he asked, “What do we have he doesn’t?”
Whatever it was, they were sure going to need it. Boots finally on, he got up the nerve to look backward once more. Holding on with one hand to stay in his seat as his new friend took a turn too fast, Chase watched the car pursuing them swerve from one side of the road to the other, trying to get alongside them.
“We’ve got four-wheel drive.” Looking like he was enjoying this a bit too much, the driver swerved off the road and headed directly for the creek running alongside it. The truck crashed down the bank and through the water as the car skidded to a stop behind them.
On the other side of the water, the crazy man at the wheel let out another giant whoop as the truck pulled up the creek bed and bounced onto another road. “That was great. I love it.”
Finally letting himself breath freely again, Chase wished he could say the same.
Once it was pretty obvious the sports car couldn’t follow, and they were well out of sight, Chase let himself start to think he might live to see another day.
The driver finally slowed the truck to something nearer the speed limit and glanced over. “Where can I drop you?”
“Shit, my truck’s back at the sports arena.” That would be the last time Chase would agree when a woman said she’d drive. From now on, he’d follow in his own truck. He’d also think to ask if she was married or not.
“No problem. We’re not too far from the arena. I’m John Dollar by the way. Folks usually just call me Dollar.”
“Chase Reese. Oh, man. I don’t know how to thank you.”
John shot him a crooked smile. “Don’t worry about it. I haven’t had that much fun in a long time.”
“No, really. I know I must have looked like a crazy man, running down the road, you know, naked like that, and you stopped anyway.” That made Chase wonder if he would have done the same. “Why did you pick me up?”
“Just paying it forward, dude. I’ve been in a similar position thanks to Ms. Jenny.”
Chase’s eyes opened wide as the realization hit him. “Do you mean… You? And her?”
He hadn’t been this woman’s first romp on the cheating side. Chase supposed he shouldn’t be surprised by that.
“Yup.” Dollar grinned wide. “She’s been trying to teach that husband of hers a lesson for years now. You’d think he’d have learned it by now. Or at least gotten tired and divorced her. Hey, you wanna grab a beer? There’s a bar on the way.”
“Oh, yeah. I sure could use one.” Shaking his head, Chase still couldn’t believe it all. He hadn’t gotten to finish what he’d started, but it sure had been one hell of an eight-second ride. One he wouldn’t forget any time soon.
The End
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Cat Johnson is the author of contemporary erotic romance in genres including western, military, romantic comedy, multiple partner and paranormal. She is known for her creative research and marketing techniques. Consequently some of her closest friends/book consultants wear combat or cowboy boots for a living, she owns an entire collection of camouflage and western footwear for book signings and she’s sponsored pro bull riders.
Cat is the author of over a dozen full-length romance novels and numerous shorter works. For more information about the author, her blogs and all of her available works visit www.catjohnson.net .
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