Chapter 11: Concrete Confessions
The transition from the pressurized cabin to the concrete bowels of the garage was a descent into another kind of silence. The jet lag was a phantom weight, but the adrenaline was a live wire under their skin. The air was cold, thick with the taste of exhaust and damp concrete. Their footsteps echoed in the vast, dim space, a syncopated rhythm against the distant whine of a shuttle bus.
She didn’t speak. Her hand, still clutching his, led him past rows of silent cars, deeper into the shadows where the fluorescent lights flickered and died. She stopped between a grimy pillar and a dark SUV, its windows opaque with city grime. The hum of the airport was a distant memory here, replaced by the low thrum of ventilation systems.
She turned to face him, her back to the pillar. Her eyes were dark pools in the uneven light. With a sharp, metallic rasp, she unbuckled his belt, her gaze locked on his. The leather slithered free.
“On your knees,” he said, the command quiet but absolute, a reversal of roles that sparked in her eyes.
A challenge. A thrill. She sank down without breaking eye contact, the rough concrete biting through her stockings. Her hands went to his fly, freeing his cock, already thick and heavy with the anticipation that had built over three thousand miles. She didn’t hesitate. She took him into her mouth, deep, her throat opening for him with a practiced, desperate hunger.
Her head bobbed, a frantic rhythm. Her lips stretched tight, her tongue working the sensitive underside. She gagged slightly, tears springing to her eyes, but she pushed deeper, taking him all, until his pubic bone pressed against her nose. The wet, sucking sounds were obscenely loud in the cavernous silence.
“Yeah, just like that,” Ryan groaned, his hands fisting in her red hair. “Take it all, you greedy fucking thing. After twenty-seven years, you think you can just make up for it in airplane bathrooms and parking garages?”
She pulled back, gasping for air, a slick strand of saliva connecting her lips to his glistening tip. “I’m not making up for anything,” she hissed, her voice raw. “I’m taking what I should have taken then.” She dove back down, her fury and her need a tangible force.
He let her work for a minute, his hips pushing forward, fucking her face in short, sharp thrusts. He could feel the climax coiling in his gut, a dangerous precipice. He pulled her head back by her hair, forcing her to look up at him. Her lipstick was smeared, her eyes wild.
“Stand up,” he ordered.
She rose, her body trembling. He turned her around, bending her over the cold hood of the SUV. The metal groaned under her weight. He pushed her dress up, baring her ass to the cold, foul air. He ran a hand over the pale curves, then parted her.
“You remember,” she breathed, her voice muffled against the hood. “You remember how much I liked it.”
He spat into his hand, slicking himself, then pressed the thick head of his cock against her other, tighter entrance. “This what you flew across the country for, Channah? This what you really wanted? To get your ass fucked in a dirty garage by a man you walked away from?”
“Yes,” she sobbed, pushing back against him. “God, yes, please, Ryan. Fuck my ass. Like you used to. Make me feel it for days.”
He pushed. Slowly. An inexorable, burning invasion. She cried out, a sharp, strangled sound that echoed off the concrete. He held himself there, letting her body adjust to the brutal stretch, feeling her clench and flutter around him.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he gritted out, his own breath catching. “Like a virgin.”
“Don’t stop,” she begged, her fingers scrambling for purchase on the slick hood. “Don’t you fucking stop.”
He began to move. Short, deep, punishing strokes. The slap of his skin against hers was a brutal metronome. He leaned over her, his mouth at her ear, his voice a dark whisper. “You feel that? That’s me inside you. In the place no one else gets. You think you can get on a plane and leave this? This is in your bones now.”
He drove into her harder, his rhythm becoming frantic, possessive. He gripped her hips, his fingers leaving bruises on her pale skin. The pleasure was a sharp, bright pain, a claiming. She was sobbing openly now, her body shaking, her internal muscles clutching at him like a fist.
“I’m gonna come,” he growled, his control shattering. “I’m gonna fill this perfect ass up. You want that? You want me to come inside you?”
“Yes! Do it! Please!” she screamed, her voice tearing through the garage.
With a final, deep thrust that buried him to the hilt, he erupted, a hot, pulsing rush that seemed to drain him of everything. He collapsed over her, his body weight pinning her to the cold metal of the car. For a long minute, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the distant, mournful sound of a plane taking off.
He slowly pulled out. She winced, straightening up with a soft, pained gasp. They dressed in silence, their movements clumsy, avoiding each other’s eyes. The animal heat was receding, leaving a stark, complicated emptiness in its wake.
He unlocked his beat-up sedan, the chirp of the alarm disarmingly normal. She slid into the passenger seat, staring straight ahead through the windshield at the stained concrete wall.
As he pulled out of the parking space, the headlights cutting a swath through the gloom, he finally spoke, his voice quiet. “My place or yours?”
She didn’t look at him. “Just drive, Ryan.”