22. You Can’t Please Everyone
EVANGELINE
Darren’s been quiet ever since we left Ethel’s house. He’s kept his eyes on the road ahead, eating up the miles as we head back towards Georgetown. The boxes containing some of his parents” things rattle in the backseat as we travel down the bumpy highway. This has been an emotional day for Darren, leaving the lake house and seeing the home his father grew up in.
“Darren?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he snaps.
“You have every right to be upset, but…”
“Evan, don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I ask, offended. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“Whatever it was, it doesn’t matter because it’s not going to make me feel better,” he grits out.
I narrow my eyes at him.
“I get you’re upset.” I place my hand on his that rests on the shifter.
“Upset doesn’t begin to cover it.” He shakes his head.
“You haven’t said a word since we left the house.”
“I shouldn’t have gone there.”
“You didn’t know what was going to happen, but now you do,” I offer.
“My parents are gone. What does it matter now?” He looks over at me, and I hate the tortured look in his eyes.
“It matters, Darren, if it helps you move on.”
“Ethel’s probably going to lose her home because of Rori fucking Colton.”
“He’s not the only one who voted against that Bill.”
Ethel was crushed. Even though she knew there was no guarantee, I think she was more hopeful than she let on, and when Darren found that the bill to establish the relief program had been voted down, I could tell it crushed him too, especially when he saw Lynchburg’s Representative, Rori Colton, had voted against it.
“Yeah, but now he’s the one taking over my father’s seat in Congress,” he grunts.
“Is that what really has you so upset? The thought of someone else taking your father’s seat?”
“I knew his seat couldn’t stay empty, but Jesus, Rori? He’s...” Darren struggles to come up with something so I help him out.
“Not good enough?”
“Not when he’s gonna vote to kick old ladies out of their homes,” Darren laments.
“Rori’s hardly the antichrist because he didn’t vote the way you wanted. I’m sure he’s never met Ethel or anyone in that neighborhood for that matter,” I insist, trying to make him feel better, but Darren grips the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white.
“That’s the problem. He’s supposed to serve the people of his district.”
“Surely your father told you that you can’t please everyone, especially in politics. There’s always going to be someone who benefits and someone who doesn’t, no matter how you vote,” I try to explain.
“It’s not just Rori or my father’s empty seat – it’s Ethel.”
“You really do care about her, don’t you?”
“Ah, you’ve found out my secret,” he teases. “I’m a big softy when it comes to elderly southern women who threaten to hit me with a cane,” he grins, but I can still see the conflict hiding in his eyes.
“Darren,” I fret softly, “I think it’s wonderful what you tried to do for Ethel, but some things aren’t in your control.”
“Maybe… I don’t know. Sometimes I wish they were,” he admits.
With his jaw set tight he looks sharper, older, more beautiful… like a man on fire whose embers are burning deep below the surface, and it causes the knots in my stomach to twist. It reminds me of something Rausch said, and to think he’s only scratching the surface of his potential. That felt like such a long time ago, and here I am, looking at Darren, not seeing it but feeling it, like a vibration in the small space of the car. He’s not scratching the surface anymore; he’s breaking through, and it’s incredibly sexy.
He grips the steering wheel tight, the tension causing the sinewy tendons in his arm to contract. While he focuses on the road, I reach across the console and lay my hand on his thigh, feeling the tight muscles twitch through his jeans. He looks over and smiles at me and then swallows hard when he feels my hand caress his cock. I feel it jump in response, and Darren clears his throat.
When I unbutton his pants, he grips the steering wheel tighter – his knuckles turning white.
“Evan,” he warns, glancing over at me, but I don’t listen and reach inside, dipping my hand under his boxers to feel him already getting hard.
I wrap my hand around his length and Darren shifts in his seat. When I unclip my seatbelt, Darren tenses.
“You shouldn’t – uh, you shouldn’t do that,” he stammers while I lean over and take him in my mouth. “Oh, Jesus, Evan.”
I like this Darren, a little nervous, a little scandalized, and I take advantage of that, taking him deep. The sound of his breath hitching and the feel of his hand in my hair sends a pulse right down my center – needy and bright, like a flame licking up my insides.
I move up and down his shaft, sucking and licking, tasting the saltiness of his precum, knowing that he’s close. His stomach trembles while his grip in my hair tightens – pushing me further to take him deeper. His hips shift, the involuntary need to pump, to seek out more, and I’m happy to give it to him.
“Fuck,” he rasps breathlessly.
Darren curses right before the car spins, and I’m thrown back in my seat, clutching for my seatbelt.
“Evan!” I hear Darren’s voice, and everything seems to snap back into place. We’re in a ditch on the side of the road, and once the shock wears off, I can’t help but laugh.
“I’m sorry,” I manage to sputter out. “I didn’t mean to…”
I don’t get to finish my sentence because Darren reaches for me, pulling me over the console and onto his lap. “You don’t get to start something and not finish it,” he scolds before kissing me.
The thrum of his pulse vibrates against my lips in a scorching kiss. His hand snakes up my back, pushing me harder against him. He moans into my mouth, and I run my hands along his shoulders and into his hair, pulling on the strands.
Desperate and without a word, I reach between us to find that he’s still hard, and I hum at the feel of him in my hand, thick and swelling. While I knead his cock, he pulls open the buttons of my shirt, dipping his hand into my bra and pulling one of my breasts out. He takes my nipple into his mouth, and I let go of his cock so I can lean back further against the steering wheel as he nips his way from one breast to the other, all while grinding into his lap.
I lower my head back to him, my eyelids heavy. “Darren,” I whine, and as if hearing the desperation in my voice, he moves his seat back as far as it will go and then he turns me over on his lap, so my back is to him. I can feel his cock press against me, and he unbuttons my jeans and dips his hand into my panties.
“Oh, God,” he rasps, pressing hungry kisses to my neck while palming one of my breasts. I lean my head back to rest against his shoulder while I moan and greedily move my hips to meet his fingers while they pump in and out of me.
“Anyone could walk up to the car,” he whispers, his voice heavy with lust, “looking to see if we’re okay. Is that what you want?” His voice is like a low rumble against my ear, and hot breath caresses my neck making me even more needy.
I’m unable to speak because the feverish movements of his fingers inside me render me speechless. His broken breaths against my neck and the way his hand trembles while he cups my breast tells me he needs me to come just as much as I do.
I tilt my head to try and meet his mouth, wanting to kiss him, to taste him, to have any part of him. Even though the windows are up, I can still hear the soft hum of the highway next to us. The wind from a semi-truck passing by rocks the car, and it mimics my own rocking against his fingers.
Pent up lust is knotting inside my cunt, and the need to come is overwhelming. His fingers dip into me, spreading my wetness along my slit, and when he teases my clit, I’m so sensitive that I can’t help but shiver and shake.
“Darren,” I whine, begging him for more.
“Jesus, Evan.” He hastily pushes my jeans down, along with my panties, and I step out of them as best I can in the restrictive space between him and the steering wheel. When I turn around, I find him hard and dripping, and God, so ready. He’s holding his cock in position for me to slide down on him. The minute I do I moan with satisfaction at the fullness and the pressure against my walls. I can’t stop, and the faster I move the more needy I become, desperate to relieve the building ache that threatens to slice me in half.
While he pumps his hips to meet me, I grind my clit against the ridges of his hard stomach. “That’s right, Queenie.” His breathless voice urges me on. “Take it,” he coaxes and I’m so very close, so desperately close.
He grips my hips, pushing and pulling me at a frantic pace. I’m almost there, my orgasm about to crest when I open my eyes and look down at him. He’s staring up at me with eyes that can’t decide whether they want to be green or brown, as I fall apart around him. His lashes flutter closed, his mouth parts but no sound comes out, and then he bites down on his lip as if to hold in a moan.
I can feel the walls of my pussy contract, gripping him tighter as he thrusts into me harder, letting go of his own release. He wraps his arms around me and reaches for my mouth while our bodies slow and the endorphins ebb away. I smile against his mouth, my teeth grazing his bottom lip.
“Jesus, Evan,” he groans, his voice rough and raw, drawing me in. “Why do you feel so goddamn good? Every. Fucking. Time.”
I push a few strands of dark, wavy hair from his forehead, still breathing heavily when Darren looks over my shoulder – his eyes going wide.
“Shit!” he barks, nudging me to move off him and he hands my pants to me. “Hurry, put these on.”