Chapter 6
RYAN
Iwent too far.
I know I went too far. I could see it happening in real time, my mouth running ahead of my brain like it always does, and I just kept going. Choke me. Spit in my face. Call me a filthy cockslut. Who says that? Who unloads all of that on a guy he met two hours ago?
Me. Apparently.
Talking with my dick again.
There was a chance to actually get to know this guy. To maybe be friends, even. And instead, I had to paint a picture of myself as some depraved slut who wants to be used and discarded. Way to go, Ryan. Real fucking appealing.
The exit comes up, and I take it. My hands are steady on the wheel, but my chest is tight.
He hasn’t said a word since “Get off at the next exit.” Just sits there, jaw clenched, staring straight ahead.
I can’t read him. Can’t tell if he’s about to punch me or just get out of the truck and start walking.
There’s a gas station at the bottom of the ramp, a motel next to it, some roadhouse bar across the lot. I pull past all of it and park at the far end, where the lot meets a line of trees.
“Look, Dominic, I’m sorry,” I say as I kill the engine. “I know I went too far back there. I shouldn’t have said all that. I get carried away sometimes and—”
“Ryan.”
“Let’s just go to the parts store, and I’ll fix your car, and we can forget this ever happened, okay? I’ll buy you a new alternator for the trouble. I’m way too forward, people have always told me that, I just get excited and—”
“Ryan,” he says again. “Shut up.”
I snap my mouth shut.
He unbuckles his seat belt, then reaches over and pushes the button on my seat belt, too. The metal clasp clicks. The belt retracts with a whir.
“Scoot your seat back.”
My heart slams against my ribs. “What?”
“You heard me. Scoot your seat back.”
I do. My foot fumbles for the lever, and the seat slides back with a squeak until I’m almost lying flat.
Dominic climbs over the console, one hand gripping the headrest, the other on the back of the seat, caging me in.
His knees land on either side of my thighs.
Worn denim on worn denim. And then he’s on me.
All of him. His weight pinning me to the leather seat, the heat of his body bleeding through our clothes.
He smells like sweat and deodorant and cotton baked in the sun.
“You talk a big game, you know that?” he says, his voice a low rumble. “For a guy who comes in his pants in under a minute.”
“Hey,” I breathe. “You were—”
He grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. His thumb presses into the corner of my jaw. “I told you to shut up.”
My cock is rock hard against his thigh, and there’s no way he doesn’t feel it.
Those whiskey-colored eyes bore into mine. “You like to provoke. You poke and you poke until you get a reaction. Well, now you got one. So you’re gonna sit there and listen. You’re not gonna say a fucking word unless I tell you to. Understand?”
A grin spreads across my face. I can’t help it. “Fuck, that’s hot.”
His hand slides from my chin to my throat. Holds it there. Not tight enough to cut off my air, but tight enough to make a point. His thumb rests on my pulse point. He must feel how fast my heart is beating.
“I said, understand?”
I nod, my Adam’s apple bobbing against his palm.
“Good.” His grip loosens, but he doesn’t move his hand. “Lucky for you, you caught me at a time when I’ve got a lot of anger and frustration to burn off. So I’m willing to play your little game. But we’re gonna do it my way. My rules. You’re gonna do everything I say, when I say it. Got it?”
Another nod. I’m dizzy with it. This is it. This is the fire I’ve been chasing.
“Now,” he says, “unzip my pants.”
It’s a clumsy one-handed operation with his grip still on my throat. My fingers fumble with the button, the zipper. Finally, it gives. The denim falls open. His boxer briefs are stretched tight, the thick outline of him pressing against the cotton. A dark wet spot right at the tip. My mouth waters.
“Pull it out.”
I reach inside. The fabric is warm and damp. I wrap my fingers around his shaft and feel him pulse against my palm as I pull him free. There it is again. That perfect fucking cock, the head swollen and leaking, veins thick along the underside.
“You see what you do to me?” He lets go of my throat. “You and that filthy mouth of yours.”
“It’s gorgeous,” I rasp, stroking him slowly from base to tip. “So fucking big.”
He swats my hand away, grips the base of his cock, and points it right at my face. Close enough to feel the heat coming off it, close enough to smell the musk of him, the leftover tang of my own spit.
I open my mouth on instinct, tongue out.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he says, pulling back just enough. “Just look. Don’t touch.”
It takes everything I have to close my mouth.
All I want is to taste him again, to feel the weight of him on my tongue, to swallow down whatever he gives me.
But he’s in charge. And I’ll do whatever he wants.
So I sit there, hands flat on the seat, staring at the swollen head glistening with precum inches from my lips.
“You would love that, wouldn’t you?” he murmurs, twisting his wrist so the fat head slides along my cheek, leaving a wet, sticky trail. “For me to fuck your face again?”
I let out a desperate whine, nodding against the seat.
“You’re not getting it that easy.” He smears the wetness over my lips, and I have to fight the urge to dart my tongue out for a taste. “You want my cock, you have to earn it, Ryan.”
“Please,” I beg. “Anything.”
“Anything?” He taps the head of his cock against my bottom lip. “God, you’re desperate. I bet your hole is twitching right now, isn’t it? Wishing this was inside you?”
“Yes,” I gasp. He has no idea. Every nerve in me is screaming for it.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he says, tucking himself back into his jeans.
“You’re gonna walk into that gas station, buy a bottle of lube and a box of condoms. Extra large.
Look the cashier dead in the eye when you buy them.
Then you’re gonna walk across that lot to the motel and get us a room.
One bed. And when I walk through the door, you better be on it. Naked. Am I clear?”
I grin up at him. “Crystal.”
He climbs off me and gets out of the truck. The door slams shut. I watch him walk toward the far end of the lot, hands in his pockets, shoulders squared. The bulge in his jeans is obscene.
It takes me a second to pull myself together. My heart is still jackhammering against my ribs. I know how this ends. Once his car is fixed, he’s gone. And I’ll be alone in this truck again, feeling worse than before.
But fuck it. If this is all I get, I’m taking it. This guy has me so twisted up I can’t think straight. I’m already addicted. To the look in his eyes. The sound of his voice. The taste of his skin.
I take a breath, get out, and walk toward the gas station.