Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Valentina, AKA Landry
Good Lord, the man kisses like he has all the time in the world to explore me. Like we aren’t parked in a car outside a motel where we might get caught by security. Deuce, the boy, kissed me with an urgency that felt rushed, which is what I expected.
Not this time though. Deuce is taking his time, plucking kisses from my lips and chin and cheek and even the tip of my nose before he dives back in and finally flicks my bottom lip with his tongue. I open for him, itching to take this further. Immediately.
But he doesn’t. He just slides his fingers into my hair and angles my head this way and that so he can sample me like a tray of appetizers he’s considering.
Well, I’m not here for sweet and slow. Not with him, not with anyone.
So I unzip and lift my hips to slide my black jeans and panties down my legs, all while Deuce tickles my face with fluttery kisses.
I get the material to my calves and have to saw my legs back and forth to get them off without the use of my hands, which are currently trying to unzip his pants.
He bats my hands away, which makes me growl with frustration.
“Easy,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Faster,” I whisper back.
“Slow down,” he argues.
I roll my eyes and surprise him by shooting off my seat and leaping onto his lap to straddle him.
He grunts on impact. My knee whacks the gearshift hard, but I grit my teeth and focus on the objective.
I can feel him now, his hard length right where I want him.
Just a single layer of clothes in the way.
He holds me by the shoulders, though I think it’s more to hold me back than an embrace. “You know there are perfectly good beds right there.”
He gestures through the windshield to the hotel we’re currently staking out. Well, kind of staking out. Can’t really see the hotel or the gray sedan right now.
“No. No hotel.” Hotel beds scream romance. I want it hard and fast and unromantic so I don’t do something stupid like develop feelings for Deuce again. That ended in disaster last time, and I’m not about to make the same mistake twice.
I reach down between his thigh and the car door.
I start pressing buttons and his seat moves back a couple inches with a slow vibration of movement.
Just enough so my backside isn’t pressed against the steering wheel and in danger of setting off the horn.
Then his seat back angles downward, which also gives us some more room.
Deuce reaches for the bottom of my black tank top, but I stop him. “Let’s keep shirts on in case security makes their rounds.”
I swear to God, the man pouts. “But I like boobs.”
“If you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll flash you with them, but right now, I want that dick out of your jeans.”
Deuce grins and I swear I see those straight white teeth of his like a beacon in the moonlight. “Yes, ma’am.” His drawl is slow and Southern. And fuck me, but I kind of like it.
He lifts his hips, which shifts me sideways. I brace against the door, but apparently my ass hits something because all of a sudden his headlights flash on, bright and obvious in the dark parking lot. We both freeze.
“Shit!” He reaches around me and shuts them off. We stare at each other with wide eyes and then burst out laughing. I sag against his chest as I totally lose it.
“Why…is this…so hard?” I manage to ask in between fits of giggles.
“You like it hard, baby?” he says with an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle.
That makes me laugh harder, which I’m pretty sure he meant to do. He hands me a condom, which I hold while he unzips his jeans and shoves them down his thighs. We’re both grunting with the effort of getting them down while I’m on top of him.
“Pretty sure this wasn’t as hard when we were younger,” he says on a groan. “This is why I like beds now.”
I would agree with him, but I’m too busy getting my hands on his cock.
It’s gorgeous standing there between us like a soldier volunteering for duty.
It’s long, thick, and clearly ready for what I have in mind.
I bend in half and strain to get my mouth on him without my ass hitting the horn on the steering wheel.
Deuce grunts the second my lips wrap around the tip of his cock.
His shuddering breath above me would make me grin if my mouth wasn’t currently stretched around his length.
The taste of him explodes in my mouth and suddenly I’m seventeen, giving a blow job for the first time and wondering if I’m doing it right.
Deuce slides his hands into my hair and grips the strands tight. The slight pain shooting across my skull makes me a little feral. I pull my lips off the head to lick around the rim with my tongue before sinking back onto him.
“Valentina. Fuck, V,” he curses, his hips convulsing a bit and shoving more of his length in my mouth.
Then he pulls hard on my hair and he slips out of my mouth. He doesn’t stop pulling until I’m sitting upright again, licking my lips.
“Condom,” he manages to grunt out. A midnight-black lock of his hair has escaped to his forehead.
I grin, loving seeing him out of control. I did that. I made the perfectly poised Deuce lose his mind. I put the condom packet in my teeth and rip it open. Deuce growls low and threatening in the back of his throat.
“You’re trying to kill me again. Not with a knife. Just you.”
God, I love sex. This feeling of power. The way a man looks at you like he just can’t survive without sinking into your body right this second.
I crave that look and Deuce is giving it to me in spades.
I roll the condom on and take in his jaw clenching so hard I can see why he gets constant modeling contracts, even at forty-one years old.
I lift up and position him where I need him.
He loosens his hold on my hair, one hand pushing my hair behind my ear and the other hand trailing down my tank top until he reaches the bare skin of my hip.
His thumb sweeps across to part me lewdly.
Like, even in the dark, he wants to see us come together.
I lower my hips and sink down onto his length, finally slowing things down because I have to.
The stretch, dear God, the stretch. The hitch of his breath the lower I sink. The way his gaze locks on where we’re now connected. It all feels so damn good. Heaven is right here in the small sedan in a back parking lot. Why haven’t we been doing this from the start?
“Valentina,” Deuce whispers.
I realize my eyes have fluttered closed as I inch my way down to take in his full length. I fling them open to see his gaze now on my face. The look he’s giving me now is different. It’s softer, holding something he wants to communicate. But I don’t want to hear it.
So I lift up and then slam back down again, ignoring the slice of discomfort and setting a new pace that could never be construed as slow or soft or romantic.
We’re fucking now, the sound of flesh coming together, the heat and humidity that rises with the windows rolled up, the little puffs of air that lead to full-on grunts.
He tries to slow me down with a strong grip on my hips, but I won’t have it.
I clench my muscles so hard his eyes roll back in his head.
I ride him like I’m outrunning everything I left in New York. Like this might be the only time.
And when I begin to break, it’s with a shout that sounds like a strangled cry.
My pace falters and I throw my head back.
Deuce leans forward and bites my breast through the tank top and bra.
It’s the barely there nip of pain that has everything coming together in a painful rush of an orgasm.
My thighs shake and I’m oblivious to what’s going on.
My brain has finally, blissfully, taken a back seat to pleasure.
Nothing outside of this car matters any longer.
Stakeout? What stakeout?
My head flops forward and he releases my breast. Deuce is driving up into me, his own pace frantic now.
I grip his shoulders and lay my head on his chest, boneless as I ride it out.
He goes still just seconds later and grunts out my name in a way that makes my stomach go queasy.
I like hearing my name as he drives up into me one last time and then begins to shake.
We stay like that for long minutes, both of us breathing hard but not talking. I finally get my head to come back down from the clouds and realize that he’s stroking my back. Big long sweeps of his hands that have me almost ready to fall asleep.
No.
I can’t fall asleep on his lap. Cuddling? Absolutely not.
I lift my head and give myself a second for the spins to settle down. He blinks his eyes open and peers up at me.
“Damn,” he whispers.
I grunt in response. I agree with him. That was…amazing. Maybe too good. Which is why I need to get off of him as soon as possible.
As quickly as I got on top of him, I reverse course, fumbling and bumping into the gearshift again as I get back in the passenger seat. It’s inelegant, and I think I left a shoulder print on his driver’s side window when I pushed off, but all in all, I get the job done.
He’s looking down at his own lap for longer than I’d expect. I notice once I have my jeans back on and lift my hips to zip them up. I frown.
“What?” Did I break his dick?
He flicks a glance at me, all that hooded-eye desire gone. “Uh. I think the condom broke.”
“You think? Or it did?” I snap, alarm obvious in my tone. I lean over to inspect the situation, but he pushes me away.
“Hold on!” He rolls it off of him and nods. “Yep, it broke.”
I flop back in my seat. “Well, shit.”
“Guess this dick just can’t be contained,” he drawls, putting his pants back on and looking like we didn’t just have sex in the car. Damn men and their ability to look put together instantly.
I whack him on the arm. “This isn’t funny.”
He sobers quickly. “I know. I’m clean, if that eases your mind at all.”
I rub my forehead, already regretting it. “I am too.” Hell, I haven’t been with someone in several years at this point. Too difficult to find no-strings-attached dalliances. Another idea hits me, this one stopping me cold.
“I’m not on birth control right now. My hormones have been all over the place, and I wanted off of them so I could figure out what was going on.”
I have Deuce’s attention now. “Okay,” he says calmly. “We can go to the pharmacy tomorrow and get some things. How long have you been having hormone issues?”
This is really not the time to have this discussion. No woman wants to discuss her failing ovaries right after she fucked a guy in his car. “A couple years now. It’s not a big deal.”
Deuce leans into my space, concern written across his face. I have the urge to reach up and smooth back that lock of hair. I sit on my hand instead.
“Maybe your anxiety is due to your hormones. That’s common, you know.”
I frown. I didn’t know that, but also, how would Deuce know that? He’s probably just spitting out bullshit, trying to mansplain my own body to me. It’s coming from a good place, but I’m not here to discuss my gynecological situation.
He sits back and gives me room, glancing out at the gray sedan that’s still parked outside the hotel. “I have a nurse practitioner friend. She can get us hooked up with some stuff tomorrow. I’ll take care of it, I promise.”
I want to say something snarky, maybe ask if this nurse practitioner friend is also one of “his girls,” but I don’t. It’s none of my business and if it helps me get a morning-after pill to prevent a situation I’m not ready for, then I’m all for it.
“Let’s just continue our stakeout in silence, okay?”
Deuce nods, which I see out of the corner of my eye. I fold my arms over my chest and try not to think about what we just did. It was fantastic and just what I need.
But I also regret it.
Because it will complicate things.
“I kind of like knowing I’m leaking out of you right now,” Deuce says on a low growl that makes goose bumps break out along my skin.
“You’re filthy!” I gasp, but I can’t deny it’s exactly the kind of thing I like in a man. “And I kind of like it,” I admit.
He bursts out laughing, and I join in. The tension eases immediately and I realize that he meant what he said earlier.
We’re friends.
And it’s really fucking nice.