Chapter Seven
WILSON
Lunch was fine. There’s no better way to describe it.
The food was good, but I’d persuaded Hope to tell me the truth about her situation.
She spoke with conviction and a lack of care for her surroundings.
No teary eyes or quivering lip, but a quiet condemnation of her parents and how they’ve treated her thus far in her nineteen years.
She explained that she couldn’t say outright in front of a room of strangers that her parents were deadbeats. Her dad’s an abusive drunk, and her mother’s too weak to fight him.
I agreed.
She told me that she worked at the Velveteen, though I already knew it, as a way to stay sane. She needed money; an escape route if things went properly sour, and getting naked was a surefire way to earn a paycheck.
I agreed.
Finally, she told me that she hoped that this wouldn’t taint my perception of her. That she’s not some weak, frail thing that needs a helping hand and that her actions in the classroom are of her own volition. She’s not using me as a release, but she craves my presence.
Reluctantly, I agreed.
I feel the same way about Hope. I don’t see her as a weak pawn pushed around to serve her parents.
She’s so much more; a strong, self-sufficient woman who knows what she wants and how to get it.
Our conversation only highlighted this point.
The way she spoke commanded my respect and attention.
I hung on her every word, eager to listen while my protective side broke through.
Through it all, Hope met me with flirtatious banter and those smoky eyes that drive me crazy. Every serious comment was quickly followed up with a dirty joke to ensure the mood stayed light.
We’re driving in my electric-blue Cadillac Blackwing; an hour out from Decatur.
My intentions for taking Hope out were never pure, not after days of her relentless efforts to wear me down.
Lunch was merely the first stop on our day out, and the next, I’m ashamed to admit, is a sleazy motel room somewhere off the highway.
“So, why are we so far away from the city?” Hope asks, running a flat palm along my inner thigh.
A terrible question with a terrible answer.
In honesty, it’s to avoid potential spies that Manny Ramirez might have hiding around Decatur.
Although I feel safe going to classes – to build my image as a valued citizen among the people – I can’t let my guard down.
If he catches even a whiff of my presence, there’s going to be hell to pay.
Instead of telling Hope the truth, I say, “We can’t let anyone know about us yet.”
A hard answer that I know might sour my afternoon plans moving forward.
“Oh.” Hope draws her hand back. “I get it.”
“I don’t think you do,” I say.
“No,” she shakes her head. “You’re worried someone might see us.
It’ll raise suspicions.” Hope continues this line of thought for a while, rambling through endless speculation, but I don’t stop her.
I don’t care if the world knows my interest and intrigue in her.
I’ve put it on full display in front of Tom Marshall and her parents.
There isn’t a part of me that fears the consequences our budding relationship might bring.
I’m doing this to protect her.
“You’re embarrassed—”
“Not at all,” I cut her off before she can finish her train of thought. “Every fiber of my being craves you.”
A smile spreads across her face.
“Is that right, huh?” Her hand returns to my utter delight.
“More than I’m proud to admit.”
“And what about this?” Hope asks, gliding between my thighs until she meets my cock. She grazes against it, and like the helpless, horny fool I am, it springs to life.
“What about it?” I ask, briefly turning my attention off the road to see what she’s getting up to.
“It’s all I’ve been thinking about,” Hope says. “To the point of torturing myself. I’ve seen the way little Willy—” the nickname makes me laugh, “gets excited when I’m around.”
Hope works the front of my zipper, slow and steady until it’s reached the bottom of its path.
“What are you doing?”
“Having some fun before our next stop,” she says.
Hope undoes my belt, then the top button of my trousers, and forces them lower. She releases her seatbelt, awkwardly bending over my lap.
“Hope—”
She doesn’t give me time to finish my sentence before her hand’s back in place, fiddling with my boxers. She doesn’t lower them, so much as tug them over my erection.
“It’s so big,” she mutters. “You’re going to split me in half.”
I can’t stop the growl from leaving my lips.
She gets a firm grip on the base of my cock, tugging it. My legs turn to jelly, and for a brief second my foot slips off the gas. Christ, I knew it was going to happen, but thoughts alone couldn’t prepare me for how desperately I needed her touch.
She’s not messing around. No more waiting or talking about it. Hope’s taking what she’s wanted for so long. She presses the tip of her tongue against my head and an instant spike of pleasure tears through my core. My body shudders at the sensation and Hope giggles against my skin.
She shuffles around her seat a few more times until her ass is pressed against the passenger side window. It’s a good thing we’re on a long stretch of deserted road, or the world would get a free view of her ass. My ass.
“Fuck,” another growl tears the word from me.
Hope wraps her mouth over the tip of my cock, sliding her head lower in precise movements until its full length is coated and lubricated in her spit. She starts rhythmic stroking from the base, while she sucks the upper half stopping every so often to catch her breath.
Hope teases me with her mouth for what feels like seconds before we reach our destination.
I pull into the parking lot and Hope raises her head from my lap, her gaze met by the same awful vista I witnessed the second I saw the place on the horizon.
It’s a cheap motel that serves as a halfway house for travelers from Decatur.
The Big Fish Motel – I don’t get the name – is far less than meets the eye.
Peeling paint on the walls, so sun-weathered they barely carry any color at all.
Cracked concrete sets the scene from the parking lot to the rooms.
Had I not prepaid online, I’m sure we would have encountered some old creepy fuck sitting behind the reception counter, who’d lick his lips in sheer desire at the thought of Hope and me sharing an afternoon of bliss in one of his tattered beds.
Even as we pull into the parking lot, Hope’s hand doesn’t stop its careless stroking. She doesn’t care about the destination, just the journey we’re about to embark on together. I bring my Blackwing to a stop.
“Stay here,” I say, jumping out of the car and rushing towards the reception. I might’ve prepaid, but I still need to collect the key.
Inside, there is no balding old man with a sneering smile on his face. It’s a young woman, with a thick, southern drawl. She’s snacking on a Little Debbie Swiss Roll. By the open wrappers around the table, it seems it’s not the first box she’s gotten into.
“Room fourteen. I booked online,” my words come out sort of panicked. Mostly because my longing to be at Hope’s side can only be compared to a heroin addict going through withdrawals.
“We say ‘Hello’ where I’m from,” she says.
“Hello. I booked online for room fourteen.”
The woman gives me a huff, struggling out of her chair to collect the key on the wall behind her. She grabs it, sets it down on the counter, and goes back to the magazine she was reading before.
I grab it and all but sprint back to the parking lot.
Hope’s out of the car when I approach it. Her hands dance across the white shirt she’s wearing, and on noticing my return, they drift up to her breasts, squeezing them together. She knows exactly how to hit every pleasure center in my brain.
“Which one’s ours?” she asks.
I haphazardly point towards a big red door with a fake gold 14 hanging from the door.
Hope reaches out and takes my hand, skipping forward towards the room. If she’s upset with our afternoon lodging, she’s hiding it better than I can.
Hope stops at the door, turning around, with my fingers still in tow.
She pulls me into her and starts kissing me with the same intensity as the first few kisses.
It’s surprisingly refreshing, as if I’m being born at the touch of her lips.
Her hands run up my body, clutching my face and running through my hair.
While we kiss, I struggle to push the key into the lock and unlock the door.
When we finally break through it, we’re greeted with a musty room with dirty, beige walls.
Linoleum tiles run along the floor, and the bed is covered in a pink spread, that’s seen more than its fair share of years in service.
Fuck, I should’ve booked a room at the Ritz Hotel for a woman like Hope. What the hell’s she going to think?
But she doesn’t say a thing, just leads me further into the room.
This room doesn’t manage to ruin her good spirits one bit.
She forces the door shut with a hard bang, and before I can say a word, she has sunk to her knees to carry on what she started in the car.
She tears at my clothes viciously, pulling my belt off and thrusting my pants to my ankles. Hope’s ravenous.
She looks up at me one last time before ripping my boxers out of the way. My cock slips free from its restraints, and she squints, staring at the tip less than an inch from her face.
“You’re so fucking cute,” I chuckle.
Hope glares at me. “Cute? Would you say this is cute?” Her scoff nearly makes me laugh again, but I hold back, knowing her wrath.
In one long push forward, she takes the entire length of my shaft until her lips meet my pubic bone. Explosions of pleasure shoot through my entire body, and I would have crumbled if I didn’t have the door behind me keeping me steady.
“Fucking hell,” I growl.