Chapter 27
Bailey
“To see whoever it is you meet up with for your midnight booty calls? I’ll pass.” I go to shut the door in his face, but he stops it with a strong hand.
“I thought we established there aren’t any booty calls,” he tells me darkly and I can see that comment irritated him. “Come with me and I’ll show you.”
I hesitate, looking down at what I’m wearing. My oversized T-shirt and boy shorts aren’t exactly attire to leave the house in.
“Fine, let me change.”
“Nope, no need.” He grabs my hand and pulls me outside.
“Hold on, I at least need my keys.” I try to pry my hand away from his, and he lets go reluctantly.
I grab my keys off the hook by the door, slip on some shoes before joining Wes on my porch again. I almost run upstairs to change, but for this one moment I’m going to trust him when he says I don’t need to.
It’s cold out tonight, and goosebumps cover my legs during the short walk to Wes’s car. I climb inside, but he doesn’t get in right away. I look around, seeing he’s at the trunk grabbing something. Then my door is open and a thick piece of fabric is thrown onto my lap.
“Wha—” I ask, but he’s shutting the door again. “Jerk,” I mumble under my breath.
He climbs into the driver’s seat and I have to appreciate this giant of a man in this sports car. It’s different when the engine roars to life. Normally the loud sound irritates me, but as I’m sitting in the passenger seat there’s something about it that feels…sensual.
The noise hardly registers, it’s the way the seat vibrates with the power from the engine. I distract myself by looking at what Wes threw on me, and see that it’s one of his hoodies. I drape it over myself to stay warm, but also to hide my legs and the way I’m pressing them together tightly.
He turns the heat on, but it doesn’t kick on right away as he pulls out onto our street. Music starts to play from his phone, and he turns it up so loud we couldn’t hear each other if we tried to have a conversation.
Which is fine by me, I don’t need to have a conversation with him right now. I bring his hoodie up to my chin, and for once in my life, just go along for the ride.
I don’t know where we’re going or how long we’ll be gone, but after several minutes I roll my head over to look at Wes.
He has one arm on the steering wheel, the other resting on his thigh.
His focus is purely on the road in front of us, but the hard lines that are normally on his face are softer. He’s focused, but not intensely so.
He’s always so serious, so intimidating when you first look at him, but right now part of that is gone. He looks softer, more at ease.
It’s weird.
It makes me want to ruffle his feathers a bit. I’m caught between enjoying the peace we’ve found ourselves in for once, and annoying him so he threatens me with more punishments.
The longer we drive, the more the rumble from the engine causes my arousal to increase despite my efforts to tamp it down. I can’t tell if it’s from the vibration of the engine through the seat or the company that’s causing my little problem. I’ve never felt turned on as easily as I am right now.
I haven’t even been touched and I feel like this.
Add in the fact that Wes and I slept together just yesterday.
I’ve always enjoyed sex, it’s a stress reliever, a way to get out of my head, a fun time.
But I’ve never needed it like this. The fact that a car that’s only irritated me up to this point, and the man driving being the cause of my raging hormones has me confused and concerned.
He reaches up to turn the music down. I watch the veins in his hand with the simple action, and have to squeeze my legs together even tighter. It makes me want to slap myself.
“You okay?” he asks gruffly.
“Yeah, why?”
“You just seem off.” He still isn’t looking at me. I narrow my eyes at him, not appreciating the fact that he’s able to read me without even making eye contact.
“Well I was dragged out of my house in the middle of the night to apparently drive to nowhere,” I deadpan.
“Driving nowhere is the best part.”
“Is that really what you do? You don’t go anywhere?”
He shrugs.
“Why? What’s the point other than literally burning gas?”
He doesn’t respond right away. I watch the way his hand tightens on the steering wheel and he clenches his jaw. “It keeps my mind occupied.”
I think about that, how many times I wish my mind could be occupied and the ways I’ve tried to do that. Driving around has never been on that list because if I’m driving then I have a destination in mind.
Against my better judgment I ask, “Why do you need your mind occupied?”
He tightens his hand on the steering wheel again, his knuckles turn white. I’m worried my question overstepped whatever line in the sand we’ve drawn. Maybe it has, and he can take me home and forget about all of this.
Go back to how things were before. If that’s even possible.
“Sometimes I struggle to sleep, too,” I mumble softly.
“And why’s that?” he asks, though I feel the same way he seems to about my question.
“I asked you first.”
Silence surrounds us again, it seems to be a common theme when we’re alone, which is happening a lot more often lately. He doesn’t even move to turn up the music, and instead of answering my question he changes the subject.
“Would you want to drive?”
I rear back. “Your fancy shmancy car? So I can fuck something up on it and you blame me? No thanks.”
“You wouldn’t fuck something up on it.”
I give him a disbelieving look, and he actually glances over at me, the smallest smile appearing on his mouth.
He ends up pulling over on the shoulder. “Come over here.”
I look around, it’s pitch black but we’re very much out in the open. “Uh, no.”
“I didn’t ask, Angel. Come over here.”
I look at him, then the steering wheel and the small space between them. “Wes, no.”
“I’m not asking. Come over here, or I’ll put you over here.”
I bite my bottom lip and sigh. Unbuckling the seatbelt, I open the door because even if he thinks the two of us are about to fit in that seat together there’s no chance my long ass legs are fitting over the middle console.
I stand outside the driver’s side door, and wait. He opens it, and pats his lap, “Here’s your seat.”
“You’re insane.”
“Probably. But you’re going to steer, and I’m going to work the pedals.”
“You’re really insane.”
“Then join me in my insanity, Angel.”
With a long drawn out breath I give in, climbing onto his lap. It’s an extremely tight fit between his large body and the steering wheel. My head is grazing the top of the roof, and I don’t know how he expects this to work. I swivel my hips, making him grunt which makes me smirk.
I turn my head to the side, and ask with a smug smile, “There a problem?”
He grabs my hip and has me move against him once again. I let out a squeak, feeling his hardening length under me. Which doesn’t help the way I’ve already been feeling from the vibrations in this stupid car.
“There a problem?” he repeats my question back to me and I scowl even though he can’t see me. “How about we get a little more insane?”
“Not sure how that’s possible,” I retort.
He hums, moving his hand from my hip toward the inside of my thigh, and I slap my hand over his. “What’re you doing?”
“Are you going to stop me or are you going to let me continue?”
I open and shut my mouth wanting to say something about wanting to know what exactly he’s wanting to continue.
But when I don’t say anything he slips his hand lower, up the inside of my thigh, under my shorts, grazing over the thin fabric covering my center.
I can tell when he feels the dampness there because his chest rumbles in approval.
He runs the pad of his finger along my fabric covered seam and I drop my head back to his shoulder with a small moan.
“What’ll it be, Angel?”
“Hm?” I hum, too busy getting lost in the sensations to think of any real response.
“Are you going to stop me, or let me continue?” he repeats, and I’m still too distracted by what his hand is doing, the simple act of rubbing me through my underwear.
He pauses and I want to scream, but he keeps a steady pressure with his hand pressed completely against me.
“Which will it be?” he demands, rougher this time. I squirm, trying to get him to move more, but he holds me firmly in place.
“Continue,” I breathe out finally.
His hand finally moves again, this time he pulls my underwear to the side, and plunges a finger in. I buck against him, but the small space limits both our movements and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to handle it like this.
“Wes,” I moan breathily, reaching behind me to tangle my fingers in the hair on the back of his head.
“What is it, Angel?”
“I want more.” I don’t even think about what I’m saying. The words just fly out like I don’t have control over them.
He lets out a soft chuckle, and then takes his hand away and I want to grab and force it back into me. But I’m not able to because he’s pushing me forward so my chest collides with the steering wheel, and I hear clothes rustling.
“What’re you doing?” I ask, panting while trying not to accidentally hit the horn.
He doesn’t answer, instead I feel cool air on my backside as he pulls my shorts down over my ass.
I squeal and try to get away, but there’s no room for me to go anywhere.
Wes pulls me back down, and I feel his bare cock against my ass.
I have to bite my bottom lip to stifle my reaction.
Though, I think trying to hide how I’m feeling is a moot point considering he just felt how wet I already am.
“Keep your hands at ten and two,” he says casually, placing them there for me. I swing my head back to look at him, but he lets go of one of my hands to guide my face forward by my chin. “Always keep your eyes on the road.”
“Wes, I’m not steering the car like this.”
He shuffles underneath me, and I feel the tip of his dick press against my opening and my jaw drops in a gasp.