Chapter 9 Get In #2
Like I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Like the sight of my lips stretch around the width of his dick is enough to have him rocking subtly, fucking my mouth.
“I knew you'd be perfect,” he whispers, voice trembling, pace quickening. “Knew it the moment I saw you.”
I want him believe him. I want him to feel this tie between us that’s only grown stronger in the hours since he walked into the Shadowvale Diner.
Tonight, if only for Halloween, I want this gorgeous, charming man to be mine.
And when he finally comes, spilling into my mouth with a broken groan, I don’t look away. I swallow every drop and hold his gaze the whole time.
Because we weren’t made for just one night.
Deep inside of me, a voice whispers that what we have, it’s meant to be forever.
I notice it first in his hands.
Again, a little bit of oral doesn’t lead to anything else except for a possessive kiss after Johnny zips up his pants, then helps me to my feed.
Once I was standing, he brushed the grass off of my knees, plucking a stray piece of hay from my ponytail.
As I melted into him, he kissed me, and now he knows what he tastes like, too.
Holding each other close, somehow we ended up dancing on the look-out point.
There’s no music. The Mustang’s engine was off—or, at least, I thought it was.
A car like that, it always seemed to hum, even when idling, but moments after I notice how Johnny’s hands were suddenly shaky, the Mustang comes to life.
Not with a roar, but a gentle sound. A quiet invitation. It’s lights turn on, and I pull away from Johnny, stunned by it.
First the jukebox, now the car. How fucking weird.
Johnny doesn’t seem to think it’s weird. Oh, no. He’s looking at the car in an expression that’s part horror, part pleading.
My stomach twists. “Johnny? What’s wrong?”
He doesn’t look at me. For the first time since our eyes met at the diner, he doesn’t look at me. Those baby blues of his, suddenly lighter than they’d been though that could be that they’re reflecting the Mustang’s headlight… his eyes narrow on the car as he pleads with it.
“No. I’m supposed to have more time. It’s not midnight yet.”
Huh? I rest my arm on his shoulder. If he shook me off, I would’ve dropped it. He doesn’t. He turns, eyes roving across my face in something close to panic.
I frown. “Time?” I echo. “More time for what?”
He licks his bottom lip, biting down on it. No sign of the cigarette that my chain-smoking date can’t seem to go long without because his shaky hands are empty as he lunges toward me, placing his hands on my shoulders now.
“The race.”
Come again? “What race?”
Johnny shakes his head. “It’s why I picked up the Mustang. It’s why I was supposed to get you home before midnight. I… there’s something I have to do, sweetheart. I thought I had until then. But it’s time.”
I still don’t understand. “For what?”
“The race,” he says again, and that still doesn’t help me.
I step away from him, taking in his outfit. Oh, jeez. I thought it was just a Halloween costume. And, okay, I’m sure it is, but there’s more to it. Johnny honestly thinks he’s some kind of hotshot street racer from the 1950s or something.
“You mean you’re going to race the Mustang against someone tonight? After our date?”
His face darkens. “An Oldsmobile 88. He always drives and Olds.”
Okay. “Are you good at racing?”
His jaw goes tight. “I always win.”
I pat his chest. “So what’s the problem? I’ll go with you for this race thing, then we can finish our Halloween date. Unless you’d rather drop me off at home first.”
“There’s no time.”
“Good. Then that’s settled. I’ll go with you.” I gesture at my less-than-fresh costume. “I’m already dressed for the part.”
His shaky hands clench into fists at his side. “You can’t come.”
“Excuse me?”
“I made that mistake once. I won’t lose you again.”
I have no clue what he’s talking about. It doesn’t matter. He told me I can’t do something.
After Ryan, I swore I would never let anyone who wasn’t giving me a paycheck tell me what I can or cannot do. Even then I bristle against commands which is amazing because when Johnny told me to get on my knees before, I didn’t hesitate.
Then again, that’s because I wanted to.
I wanted him.
But that’s about all the commands I’ll let this man give me.
“You can get me on my knees to suck your cock, Johnny, but don't ever think you can tell me what to do and I'll always do it.”
“You don’t understand—”
“No,” I say, and any flirtatious warmth is gone from my voice. I’m dead fucking serious. “You don’t understand. I’m coming with you.”
He jerks his head once. No. “Wait here. I should be back. We can finish our night then.”
This’ll be a night to die for…
I shove Johnny’s teasing voice out of my head. Sure, there’s a ghost story about Scotty’s Curve, about some kid back in the 50s or 60s or I don’t know when who lost their life during a race. Only one, though. If they’re still racing all these years later, it’s gotta be safe.
And Johnny says he always wins.
“Let me make this perfectly clear: if you leave me here, I won’t be here when you come back. And don’t think about finding me at the diner, either.”
If he abandons me here at the top of this look-out point without a way to get home, he’ll never find me again.
Ask Ryan.
I’m great at hiding, and only getting better every time I have to run.
“So what will it be, Johnny? Do I get to go for a ride or is this goodbye.”
For a moment, I expect this will be the last thing Johnny Gray ever says to me.
But then, with an unreadable expression, he marches over to the passenger side door of the still-idling Mustang. He yanks on the door, ever the gentleman, and snaps out two words.
“Get in.”