9. CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER NINE
C ARLY
We don’t make it to the car.
It’s a testament to how quickly and thoroughly lust takes over because I don’t even think anything of it when Micah suddenly spins me around and presses my back against the wall, capturing my lips with his. The taste of wine and lust spreads across my tongue. I get drunk off it, sucking on his tongue, savoring his flavor, the feel of him.
My heart pounds in my ears, waves of lust crashing into me. My brain flatlines. Every single thought is scorched beneath a wave of desire. Every thought except one.
It’s not enough.
I need more.
I lift a single leg, through the slit of my dress, wrapping it around his waist as his hips drive deeper into me. Tingles explode all over my skin, sensation focused on his hardness. Memories of his large cock have me gasping into his mouth as I enjoy the heated brand on my pussy. Excitement seeps into my bones.
He’s going to fuck me again.
That’s already a foregone conclusion. We’re going to have explosive sex, right here right now, and the only question is how long we can get it to last. We race toward the peak now, desire shooting up, urging us to go faster. My body longs for the destination even as my mind relishes the journey.
My nipples pucker up, my pussy aches. Need whips me into a frenzy, turning the kiss rougher, wetter, more desperate.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recall that we’re in a dark alley near the parking lot, between the restaurant and the building next to it that looks like a used car lot. Technically, it’s empty right now but it’s not private by any stretch of the word. Anyone could walk up and see us, see his lips tearing at mine, my hand tugging his hair desperately as his left hand slowly slides my dress up.
The possibility of getting caught should make me stop.
Instead, it only drives my passion higher. The erotic threat makes us wilder until we’re barely taking breaths in between kisses. We’re too driven by our need to devour each other.
Micah’s lips nip mine and then it’s his turn to suck my tongue for a moment before he pulls back. I blink, dazed by the loss of his lip. It takes a second for my vision to focus enough to look into his eyes. They’re dark with a half-crazed sheen.
There’s a question in them when he growls, “I want you, Carly. So fucking badly.”
“I want you too.” The words are barely a whisper in the wind before he kisses me again, a short harsh kiss that leads to his kissing down my neck.
With a groan, my head falls back, panted breaths fogging in the air. My heart threatens to beat out of my chest, and I bite back a plea for him to go faster. I don’t know if I’ll even be able to bear it if he does. His mouth on my neck is already driving me crazy. Each section of skin he licks becomes hypersensitive, even to barest gusts of air. I want to beg him to touch my nipples but that might just send me careening over the edge.
I slowly lose strength in my limbs, as I cling to him. I’m getting drunker off his scent, surrounded by his caresses, his hardness, his hands seeming to touch me endlessly.
As his hand moves under my dress, he mutters about how soft my skin is and how good I feel. Energy ricochets everywhere and I beg him to hurry. Just in case someone comes.
I don’t want to stop. The urgency pounds inside me, my pussy pulsing with need. We can’t stop. I feel so achingly empty, so ready to be filled. It won’t wait till we get home or to a hotel. If we have to stop now… I think I might die.
He has to take me now, here against this wall with the wind surrounding us and the moon as our only source of light.
To my delight, Micah seems to be on the same wavelength. He hoists me into the air, pressing me back against the wall as my legs wrap around his waist naturally. He shifts so that he can push his hand between us and cup my pussy through my panties.
Oh yes.
“Fuck, you’re already wet,” he groans against my skin. “Do you know how sexy you are?”
“Mmmh.” I try not to bite my lips too hard as he sucks at a sensitive spot on my neck that makes me shake with pleasure. I’ve never thought I was particularly sexy or attractive. Just cute. But Micah, with his desperate hands and his filthy words, manages to make me feel like just about the most desirable person on planet Earth.
His other hand is underneath my ass, cupping and squeezing in a deliciously lewd way. I like how he never shies away from taking a handful of me, and working it. My weight is something I’ve always struggled to accept but Micah’s touch makes me forget all about being self-conscious. It’s the way he lifts me easily, holds me up, molds my curves, and mutters things like, “ God, you feel so good… ”
Another wave of lust crashes through me at his words. I bite my lip to hold back the moan that threatens.
Then, it gets worse.
Micah’s hand finds and rubs my clit over my panties.
“Oh, God.” The gasp flies out of me. Desire arcs so sharply that I jolt. My muscles stiffen, awareness centered on his touch. My thighs squeeze tight around him, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.
“Oh, baby…” His voice is pure whiskey. Dark and rich and decadent. The lust already has me leaking onto my panties. But the sound we make when he twists his finger into the fabric turns me on more.
The sound of his finger sliding through my folds is embarrassingly moist. “So fucking wet.”
“Yes,” I gasp trying to buck against his hand, to encourage him to do more. “I’m wet for you. Please, Micah, make me come.”
He doesn’t respond, only murmurs something unintelligible as my nerves threaten to break apart.
And then he shifts my panties aside, his finger brushing against my clit.
I release a noisy exhale into the air.
“You’re not going to come, baby,” he orders, his voice harsh. He sucks my earlobe into his mouth, making me cry out again. “Not until I tell you to.”
“Oh, God, Micah.” I can only sob at the sheer torture, as he works my swollen nub, his expert fingers applying the perfect amount of pressure. My head digs into the wall behind me. I bite my lip so hard it nearly breaks skin.
Micah thrusts into my pussy hard, with a single finger and I gasp again.
Oh, God.
I’m not going to survive.
I’ll die anyway, as tortured desire drags me to the grave.
My nipples are so painfully aroused they chafe underneath my dress. I bring up my hands to rub them but it only makes everything so much worse, my pussy clenching around his finger, creaming for him.
He murmurs his approval, rubbing my clit with his thumb, as he drives a finger into me again, ripping another sob from my throat.
“That’s right,” he murmurs as my heart threatens to jump out of my chest. “You can touch yourself all you want, baby, but you can’t come until I say so.”His teeth close around the base of my neck, and the sharp bite of pain makes me exclaim. It enhances the pleasure, even as the proceeding suckling has me melting inside.
I don’t know what he’s turning me into. I feel like a purely sensate being who can do nothing but feel and give myself over for him to do whatever he wants me to.
And he truly uses me in the best way.
His hand slides down from my clit, pushing two fingers smoothly into my center.
My body hunches over as lust punches through me.
My mind ripples and splits. A part of me yelling to escape his measured, deep thrusts. Another part yearns for more.
I want release. I need release.
“Please, Micah,” I beg, loudly, lustily. “Please let me come.”
He adds another finger and then curves it to hit my G-spot.
A guttural throaty sound escapes from me. My toes curl, my body clenching on his thick digit.
He starts going faster, slamming into me and it feels so good that I can’t stand it. My mind is flying apart, but he secures me between his body and the wall so I know there’s no danger of falling. I have no clue how he’s holding me up this long. I’m not exactly a shrinking daisy, but then I grip his arms and remember how muscular he is. It hides well under the suits he usually wears but the strength in his arms is undeniable.
I shift my hold to his shoulder and start bouncing slowly in the air, on his finger, ever greedy for more. I shut my eyes to savor the feeling of my incoming orgasm driving every other thought from my mind. It’s almost there. It rides the base of my spine, skittering along down all my extremities. It grows bigger, pulls tighter. At some point, it’s so intense that I bite his shoulder to hold back.
“Yes, fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back. “Mark me. Mark me and come for me, baby girl.”
That’s it. That’s all I need. Suddenly without warning, I flood his hand and shout my release into the air.
And that’s when I instantly hear voices.
Micah hears them too, because he mutters out a curse and pulls his finger out of me with a wet pop. He hoists me higher and carries me to the parking lot, fumbling his key out of his pocket and unlocking the car as we go.
And once we’re in the cool interior of the Porsche, he doesn’t stop.
He slides into the car with me in his lap and I can feel the barely bridled energy, waiting to be released. I can feel a hard cock pressing against my pussy.
I shift my panties aside and fumble with his zipper, mindless now, needing to feel him inside me. The location isn’t ideal but it’s not my first time having car sex. Yes, it can be uncomfortably cramped but I know how to make it work.
And so does Micah, because he pushes the seats all the way back to give him space. Luckily, his rental car has enough headroom that I don’t bang my head when he lifts me. Plus, the windows are tinted.
And then finally, I release his cock, watching it rise angrily and proudly from his pants.
I take a second to stare at it in awe.
He looks painfully aroused, I’m surprised he’s not a desperate, pleading mess like I am.
His cock is a stiff baton, tip swollen and purple, stalk twitching and quivering as it bounces near his belly button.
Precum has dribbled out the tip and down the stalk. Veins throb at the side.
He only touched me.
All he did was touch me, and he looks just about ready to explode.
Pride merges with passion.
And then, with a curse, Micah drags me forward, arranges me in his lap and drives his cock into me.
“Micah!”
From then on, I can only hold on for the ride.
This coupling isn’t like the first time. It’s messy and jagged and full of muttered swear words and tongue kisses. A few elbows banging on the car door here and there. Once, my back hits the horn and it goes off. We don’t stop. There’s no control, no suave moves. All animalistic needs.
And it’s glorious.
My body buckles as we rush to the peak. His eyes roll back, pure pleasure in his flushed face. He swears and snarls as desire turns him into an anguished beast.
“Oh, God, I’m coming!” I cry out as my senses splinter again and, almost simultaneously, Micah jerks his own release into me.
I feel it, his hot need spurting inside me and it nearly triggers a second orgasm. But I just don’t have it in me.
I sag limply against him and he groans in my hair.
“Jesus,” Micah says, clutching me for uncountable seconds after it’s done. His hands shake, and he’s still panting in my hair.
I try to use the rest of my flagging energy to crawl out of his lap, but his arms tighten around me keeping me in place.
“That was insane,” he breathes.
“Yeah,” I whisper, resting back on him. That last orgasm seems to have sucked the last bit of strength out of me and I’m in a pleasant fog, ready to fall asleep right here on his chest. Especially with the way his hand begins running through my hair at regular intervals, his heartbeat racing under my ear.
And then in an instant, as if just realizing what he was doing, he lets his hand drop and says, “I need to get you home, don’t I?”
“Yeah,” I recognize the words for what they are, a need to detach. Still, when I attempt to climb off his lap for the second time, he holds on to my thigh for a second and his hand almost seems reluctant to release me. Which is crazy because he’s the one making it clear that this moment of intimacy is over.
Not that I mind much. I’m used to fun meaningless sex, and I know how to keep myself from falling too deeply. I also know that a man holding you and kissing you and sometimes even telling you he loves you after mind-blowing sex means nothing. It’s all just hormones.
I straighten my dress and take off my damp panties, as I get into my seat. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of him tucking his cock back into his pants, with a wet patch in front. God, even soft he’s still majestic, long and thick. I want him in my mouth and make a mental note to do that the next time we hook up. If there is a next time.
When I glance up, he’s looking at me, something dark in his gaze.
“What?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“Nothing.” Then he reaches over and slips my seat belt over my body. While he’s at it, his arm brushes against my thigh and triggers aftershocks inside my pussy.
Down girl. Maybe next time.
The ride back to my neighborhood is cozy and quiet. I relax in the seat, languishing in the feel of a luxury car gliding smoothly along the roads. I’ve never been a car girl, never known the difference between one or another, but I have to admit there’s something just nice about coasting in a smooth car with comfortable leather seats that feel like they could melt the stress right out of you.
Suddenly, my phone rings loud enough to cut through the comfortable silence.
My eyes pop open and I reach for my purse, which had slipped from my shoulders unceremoniously in our little tumble. I’m glad I didn’t somehow lose it when we were hooking up at the restaurant because I didn’t even have the presence of mind to search for it before I left.
I fish the phone out of the bag, ready to answer automatically, until I see the unknown number.
Unknown but very familiar.
Whoever is calling is doing so from the Laketown jailhouse.
I swallow, all my relaxation dissipating as tension coils in my muscles. There are three people who it could be.
It could be my dad, arrested for public drunkenness or belligerently starting a fight with a bartender.
My mother, arrested for swiping someone’s wallet or trying to box a church lady.
Or Nate.
Somehow, somehow, I know in my bones that it’s that last one.
And talking to Nate is worse than the other two, because it’s more painful. On some level, I’ve managed to detach myself somewhat from my parents and their misdeeds. I still feel I owe them some loyalty because they’re my parents but their screwups no longer hurt me as deeply.
But Nate… what he did hurt.
Because I cared about him, and still do care about him. And I know he’s not truly a bad person, which is what makes this whole thing worse. I seem to be the only one who still holds onto the notion because admittedly, Nate has done a truly horrible thing.
“You okay?” Micah asks and I realize that I’ve been staring at the phone for a long time.
“Yeah,” I answer and with great difficulty, I hang up the call. “I’m fine.”
“Was that your cousin?”
My head whips to him, widening in surprise. How did he know Nate was my cousin? Did I accidentally say something to him about it?
“Declan told me all about him,” he says.
Of course, I think bitterly, although I can’t really blame Declan here.
“It’s good that you hung up. You don’t need to keep in contact with someone like that.”
Rather than make me feel good, his words irritate me. “Someone like what? You don’t even know him.”
“I don’t need to. I know he conspires with kidnappers, thieves, and murderers.”
He has a point there, but I don’t want to acknowledge it. “He hasn’t had an easy life.”
“Neither have you and you seem to be better adjusted than he is.”
“It’s different,” I say and then lay my head back. My post-orgasm bliss is ruined. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Fine by me. But for the record, I want you to stay away from him at least for the duration of our deal.”
“What? Why?” I plan on staying away from Nate anyway, but it’s one thing to do it and another thing to be told I have to do it.
“Because I don’t want anyone finding out that my fiancée is cousins with a potential criminal.”
The words immediately strike clean, hitting me in my most exposed insecure place. I stare at him, disbelievingly. I didn’t expect that from him, especially when he told me of his colorful past. I should have expected it, but I didn’t.
And I hate the way he just made me feel.
“I’m not saying that to make you feel bad,” he says, but I don’t care. “I’m saying it to help you.”
Help me how? I want to scream, but I ignore the urge. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he got under my skin.
“It’s fine,” I say tersely, turning back to the window.
It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have expected him to be different from all the others in Lakeview.
He doesn’t owe me anything and this deal of ours won’t last long anyway.
And once it’s over, I’ll be three hundred thousand dollars richer and he’ll be thankfully out of my life.