Chapter 9 #2
“Sarah,” he chokes out, gripping my hips. “Christ. I’ve never felt anything like this.”
Me neither, but I don’t mean the same thing he does.
He’s hard and thick and yeah, that feels great.
But there’s a different connection here.
A joining that goes beyond our bodies, a connection that’s deeper than anything we’re doing physically.
My eyes threaten to close as pleasure wraps me in a woolly cocoon, but I force myself to stay locked with Ian.
Our gazes meld together, and in that moment we’re connected in a million ways I’ve never come close to being with anyone else.
I rock my hips faster, groaning from the delicious friction of my clit against his body.
His shoulders are hard under my hands, and when his mouth finds my throat, that’s just one more contact point of pleasure.
I breathe him in, wishing I knew what cologne he wears.
It’s intoxicating, and even though I don’t recognize it from college, it’s familiar somehow.
So is he, the way we fit together as I move on his lap with pressure building inside me.
The windows are getting steamy, and anyone seeing our car from the outside would notice it rocking. But there’s no one else. It’s just the two of us, gasping and grabbing and writhing against each other.
“Sarah, oh my God. You’re so soft. So—holy Christ. Sarah.”
I love how he keeps saying my name. Like he can’t believe it’s really me, that he’s doing this with me, with the friend he’s known for years. But we’re more than friends now. I don’t know what we are exactly, but the fire and connection between us is otherworldly.
Pleasure fizzes up inside me like that bottle of champagne we uncorked at the table. I feel myself bubbling over, and I cry out as I drive myself onto him.
“Ian.”
He thrusts up harder, needing no more direction than that one word. It’s enough, this is enough, and he pumps into me through each new starburst of pleasure. He’s a few seconds behind me, but I feel it the instant he lets go. There’s a ripple of tremors as he groans and fills me up completely.
I collapse against his chest, panting like—like—like we just fucked in the backseat of a car like a couple of horny teenagers.
A giggle slips out. “I can’t believe we just had car sex.”
I draw back to see him smiling at me. “Is this one of those college rites of passage we missed?” he asks.
“Seems more like high school,” I point out. “We would have just fucked in a dorm room in college.”
“Would we?” He seems to think it over. “You’re probably right, though we’d have been working around our roommates’ schedules.”
I’m not thinking about schedules. I’m thinking about how things would have been then. What if we had fallen in love at eighteen or nineteen? Is the Ian I’m getting now so different from the one I knew then? Is this relationship we’re creating such a huge jump from what it would have been back then?
Different, but the same. I don’t know how to explain it.
“Ian, I—”
Thunk!
Something hits the car, and I scream. Ian tries to grab my hips, but I scramble off him and snatch a handful of tissues from the console.
Mopping up should probably be my last concern when we’re about to be murdered, but Lisa did say this was a $2,500 dress. I scramble to tug it down around my thighs as I look around frantically for the source of the attack.
“What was that?” My voice comes out breathless, and I don’t know if it’s from the sex or from terror at the serial killer trying to get into the car. “Oh God, this is like that campfire story where the crazed murderer has a hook for a hand and the couple finds it stuck in the car door.”
Ian grimaces as he zips himself back into his pants. “It wasn’t the door,” he says, ever the practical one. “It sounded like the top of the car.”
“So what, alien abduction?”
He stretches up and pulls back the cover on the car’s sunroof. It takes me a few seconds to figure out what I’m staring at.
“Is that a butthole?”
Ian nods solemnly. “Yep. The feline variety.”
Hearing our voices, the cat that has seated himself on the sunroof peers down with a disdainful gaze. If cats could talk, this one would say, “what the hell are you looking at?”
I can’t seem to stop staring. “Where on earth did a cat come from?”
“Lots of businesses keep them around to control mice,” he says. “Or it could be from one of the feral colonies around here.”
The cat stays seated with its stink-star pressed against the glass. He lifts one paw and begins to lick it, in no big hurry to end this unexpected post-coital show.
“Should we check him for a collar?” I suggest. “Maybe he’s someone’s lost pet.”
“I’d just appreciate him removing his cheerio from our line of sight.”
The instant I reach for the door handle, the cat bolts off the top of the car. I take my hand back from the door and fold it in my lap. When Ian starts to laugh, I join in. He slings an arm around me.
“Well, fiancée,” he says. “I can’t promise you romance, but I can promise you laughs.”
“And cat buttholes,” I add.
“And cat buttholes.”
And who knows, maybe that’s enough.