Chapter 2: The Ride Home
His fingers were still wet. The scent of her, sharp and intimate, clung to his skin as she slid off his lap with a smooth, liquid grace. He stared at his own hand for a second, frozen, while she grabbed her purse from the sticky tabletop.
“Let’s go.” It wasn’t a question. Her voice had lost its pleading edge. It was direct now, a low current humming under the bar’s sad music.
She held out her hand.
Adam looked at her palm, at the delicate lines tracing a path from her wrist. He should leave her here. He should walk away, get into his car, drive anywhere else. But his body felt like it wasn’t his own. He took her hand. Her fingers closed around his, cool and strong.
She didn’t let go, leading him through the dim bar past the few slumped patrons, her heels clicking a fast, decisive rhythm on the grimy floor. Out into the damp night air, the humidity pressing on them like a weight. She beelined for his beat-up sedan parked crookedly under a flickering streetlight.
Without waiting for him, she opened the passenger door, slid in, and pulled the handle for the driver’s side. She beckoned him inside with a tilt of her head.
A dim, orange glow from the faulty streetlamp filtered through the dusty windshield, striping the cracked dashboard with bars of light and shadow. The car smelled of old leather, spilled coffee, and the cheap pine-scented air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror. The scent of her closed in on him the second he shut his door. Silence. The only sounds were the low, erratic buzzing of the streetlamp and his own pulse hammering in his ears.
Lindsey turned in her seat, facing him. Her eyes were bottomless pits in the gloom.
Then she moved.
One leg came over the center console, her tight dress riding so high he saw the shadowed curve of her ass. She braced a hand on his shoulder, then the other, and settled onto his lap, straddling him in the cramped driver's seat. Leather creaked under her knees as she pushed her body flush against his. The gearshift dug into his calf. He winced.
“Screw this.” Her voice was a throaty scrape next to his cheek. Reaching down with one hand, she fumbled for the lever at his hip and pushed. The seat glided backwards with a loud mechanical groan until his head almost touched the rear window. It gave them space. A cave of heat and darkness.
Her hands went to the front of his jeans. He grabbed her wrists, not to stop her, but to feel the frantic bird-bone beating of her pulse against his thumbs.
“Lindsey…”
“Shut up.” She wrenched her hands free. She wasn’t gentle. The zipper tore down, the metal teeth parting with a single, brutal sound. She shoved his jeans open. Her breath hitched.“See? Look at him. Look how much he likes it.” She said it like a mantra, but there was awe in her voice, a reverent hunger. Her fingers traced his hard length through the thin cotton of his boxer briefs.
With a quick, practiced motion, she tugged the waistband down and he sprang free, heavy and hot in the cool air. She made a noise then, a low, animal groan from deep in her throat. “God.” She spit into her palm, a quick, crude gesture, and wrapped her hand around him. Her grip was tight, urgent, sliding up and down the full length. Her face was rapt, like she was reading something sacred in the way his hips bucked, in the twitch of his flesh under her thumb.
It was familiar and utterly foreign. The way she watched his body, completely focused on its response—it always used to be their highest voltage connection. Her pleasure came second, only flowing from the undeniable proof of his. The sight of his desire was her drug.
“I want you,” she murmured, more to his erection than to his face. She bent forward.
Her tongue was wet and warm, tracing a single, searing line from his base to the tip. She hesitated there, her dark hair falling around him like a curtain, and then her lips parted. She swallowed him.Deep.
He cried out, a sound pulled from the core of him, and his hands flew to her head, fingers knotting in her dark hair. She gagged, a sharp, choked shudder that vibrated through him, but she didn’t pull back. She forced herself deeper, her throat working convulsively around him. Pulling off with a slick, wet gasp, she fought for air, her eyes watering.
“Oh, fuck,
Pulling off with a slick, wet gasp, she fought for air, her eyes watering.
“Oh, fuck, I’m
I’ve missed you in my mouth, Adam,” she rasped, her voice shredded, before taking him in again. Tears tracked through her mascara from the strain, each gag a wet, shuddering echo in the cramped car. She leaned into it, forcing her throat to open, her head bobbing in a frantic, messy rhythm.
Her hand pumped him in sync with her mouth. Adam groaned, his grip on her hair tightening, his hips lifting off the seat to meet her. The leather groaned under them. Lights from a passing car swept through the interior, illuminating her for a fractured second: her dress torn at the shoulder, her back arched like a drawn bowstring. “Feel so fuckin’ good,” she managed around him, the words muffled, vibrating.
He felt his climax coiling, a white-hot wire tightening at the base of his spine. “Lindsey,” he grunted, a warning.
She pulled off, her lips glistening and parted. Her dark eyes pinned him, urgent and defiant. “I want it. Please, Adam.” She didn’t wait for his answer. She leaned down and took him back, her pace quickening, desperate now. Her throat worked around him, her gag reflex fighting and failing against her will. His control snapped.
Her head was cradled in his hands, gently angled, held there, as she looked up at him, tears streaming freely. He saw the wild, greedy surrender in her expression right before he finished. She flinched for a second, and he felt her swallowing, deliberately, taking him deeper. The rhythmic convulsions of her throat milked every last pulse from him. She didn’t pull away, not even when he softened, staying there for a long, breathless moment before finally sitting back.
Breath heaving, she ran the back of her hand across her mouth and swallowed again with a wince. “See?” she whispered, her voice a raw, broken thing. She looked utterly spent, but a shaky, triumphant smile touched her swollen lips. “I told you.”