Chapter 5 #2
Still, I jump up to do as he says, heading for the trunk and rummaging in the suitcase. I find a small bag with a number of things I wouldn’t expect to find in a first-aid kit, including sewing material. But there’s also a little tub of vaseline.
“Found it!” I say, waving it at him.
He doesn’t look to be in all that much pain as he walks over to me, his arm snaking around my waist, before leading me to the restaurant.
Instead of sitting down at the booth, he pulls me toward the restroom.
“Uh… aren’t we going to eat?” I ask, suddenly realizing that I’m starving.
Now that he’s touching me again, the lump in my throat has eased, and I’m back to being hungry.
“I want you to treat my burns first,” he rumbles, closing the door behind us and locking it. “You said that as long as it wasn’t being treated, it was still burning my skin. Didn’t you?”
I snort. “Well, I don’t think it’s still burning after all this time.”
“Why don’t you look?”
He lifts me up and sits me down on the edge of the sink, then draws up to me, winding my legs around his waist.
“Go on,” he prompts.
Swallowing nervously, I unbutton his shirt, forgetting to breathe as I take in his tattooed chest once more.
Last night, I hadn’t had my glasses on, and besides, he’d pulled me onto his lap and held me to him, so I wouldn’t have been able to see much anyway.
Now, standing inches before him, I can see it all.
Every part of his beautiful tattooed skin, an intricate design winding its way toward his shoulders and up his neck.
The jagged scar is inches away from my face as he looks down at me, resting his forehead against mine in a way that feels even more tender than a kiss.
I can’t bring myself to ask him to stop. My mind has gone blank as I inhale his scent, his arms cradling me making me forget all about this morning.
“Go on,” he murmurs.
“Go… on?”
His mouth twitches into a small smile. “Treat my burn.”
It’s barely red, but I still dig out some cream and tentatively apply it to him. He huffs out a ragged breath as I keep going, smoothing my fingertips all over his chest, working the cream into his muscles.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper before I can help it.
I feel him smile in my ear. Then he breathes, “I want you.”
For once he doesn’t try to restrain me as I suddenly hop down from the sink. He merely looks at me with a puzzled air as I get down on my knees, before the confusion turns to pain.
“Not like that. I didn’t mean like that.”
“I want you too,” I admit. “Please let me. Please let me have your cock.”
I blush hard, but still bring hesitant hands to his fly. He doesn’t try to stop me as I unzip it. His cock springs free and I hungrily eye the bead of precum shining at its tip.
He moans softly as I open my mouth, licking it off before taking his entire length in my mouth.
He’s gotten me used to deepthroating it, what with all the times he’s held my face and fucked my mouth hard. Now, though, he lets me go at my own pace at first, and I take advantage of that, taking all of him in my mouth before licking down his shaft and sucking his tip softly.
I can tell my slow rhythm is having a tantalizing effect on him. After a while, forgetting himself, he grabs my face, wrapping a hand around my neck and squeezing it lightly as he drives his cock in and out of me.
I like it better this way anyway. I like it when he takes the lead.
I gasp, tears streaming down my cheeks as he pounds into me, forgetting everything but his own overwhelming need. Then I see his balls tighten, and his cum falls hotly over my face. He wipes it away with his fingers and shoves them into my mouth, and I dutifully suck down each drop.
Then he groans and takes a few steps back, panting, before suddenly crouching in front of me.
“Are you okay, cricket?”
“No,” I say, wiping my mouth.
At once, concern flashes in his eyes. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I’m hungry.”
The snort that escaped me at seeing how I tricked him turns into a full-belly squeal as he traps me against the wall and digs his fingers into my armpits.
“Quill!” I gasp, shaking with peals of laughter at the tickling. “Quill, stop! Stop!”
“Are you going to behave, cricket?”
“No!”
I’m spasming with laughter, my stomach hurting, as he keeps dancing his fingers under my armpits, my ribs and sides.
“How about now? Are you going to behave now?”
“Yes, yes, yes!”
I’m blue in the face by the time he stops, wheezing against him.
He picks me up effortlessly and I cringe back against his chest, certain that he’s going to tickle me again.
But instead he carries me to the restaurant, ignoring the stares of the other patrons as he sits down in a booth with me in his lap.
Well, so much for being discreet. Aren’t we supposed to be on the run?
Quill definitely doesn’t look all that worried, so I decide that I shouldn’t be either. Although I do wish he’d let me get off his lap, because it’s starting to feel a little awkward.
“Quill!” I hiss. “Let me go!”
He resolutely ignores me, flipping the pages of the menu. “So what’ll it be? A runza or a cheese frenchie?” he asks.
“A what or a what?”
“We’re in Nebraska, cricket,” he says, rubbing my back. “You should try one of the specialties.”
“Uhm, I think I’ll just have a burger.”
“Boring. And greasy. You should be a little bit more adventurous.”
I scrunch my nose at one of the weird plates being served up at another table. “A burger. Definitely a burger.”
He shrugs, then gets the waitress’ attention. “Two burgers.”
I poke him in the ribs. “What happened to being adventurous, huh?”
He pokes me right back, making me giggle loudly. I try to shuffle to the other side of the bench, but he’s still holding me firmly on him.
“Behave, cricket,” he whispers.
I can’t believe I’m getting wet at this weird form of foreplay. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m stuck in his arms as everyone around us stares.
I can tell Quill isn’t entirely unbothered either, as I feel a stiff lump pressing against me.
I wriggle my ass against it, biting down on a grin when I hear him inhale sharply.
“Behave,” he warns again.
“Or what?”
“Or so help me, I’ll lie you stomach down on this table and fuck you loudly in front of the whole restaurant, instead of…”
He cuts himself off when the waitress arrives with the burgers.
As soon as she’s gone, he finishes, “... instead of quietly in front of the whole restaurant.”
My eyes widen as he drags one of the plates in front of me.
“Eat,” he whispers in my ear.
“Uhm, Quill,” I begin.
His hand reaching up my shirt and resting dangerously on my side has me cringing again.
“I’m very ticklish,” I hiccup.
“Yes, you are.” I can’t see it, but I just know he’s got an evil grin plastered on his face. “Be a good girl and eat your burger. Or else.”
I pick up my burger gingerly and accidentally inhale a glob of ketchup when he slips his hand up a bit more and presses a finger on my armpit.
I’m so focused on the coughing fit that follows that I don’t even notice him unbuttoning my jeans until his other hand has wriggled its way inside and under my panties, and is clamped over my pussy.
“Quill!” I choke out, my face as red as the ketchup still smeared on my cheek.
“Keep eating, cricket,” he breathes dangerously in my ear, and I can’t tell what is driving me crazier, the fingers on one of his hands circling my clit or the other finger very lightly stroking my armpit.
Thankfully we’re sitting in one of the corner booths half-shielded by long wooden walls, and I can only pray that means the other diners don’t see what Quill is doing to me. They probably only see me jerk around uncomfortably on his lap and are wondering what the hell is wrong with me.
It takes an insane amount of willpower for me to choke down the burger as Quill continues to torment me. Two of his fingers are pushing in and out of me while his thumb presses against my clit, and his other fingers continue to lightly stroke my armpit, driving me absolutely crazy.
It all makes me soaking wet, and I gasp with relief as I come all over his fingers while swallowing the last of my burger.
Finally.
Not that I don’t love riding Quill’s fingers, but this session was absolute torture.
But it doesn’t look like he has any intention of letting me go as he whispers, “And now, the fries.”
“Quill!”
Then I practically snort one into my left nostril as he digs his finger harder into my armpit.
“Go on.”
I start shoveling them in my mouth, thick sweat clinging to my skin from the intense sensations Quill is causing me in this very embarrassing public setting. Still, when he pauses his hand in my panties, I groan in frustration.
“Take your time,” he breathes. “I know I am.”
He really fucking is. I’ve never known him to go so slow before, and it’s maddening.
He very lightly circles my clit, and this time, he doesn’t finger me at all.
It makes me more frustrated than anything else, but when I try to arch toward his fingers, his hand at my armpit digs into my skin, warning me to stay still.
I don’t know how I manage to not implode as he strokes my clit very lightly to an orgasm that makes me shudder with how frustratingly gentle it is. I need a lot more than this, and I rock my hips against his lap, trying to wring out the last bits of sensation from my folds.
He groans and I smirk at how frustrated he must also be feeling.
Then he buttons up my jeans just as the waitress comes back to the table, her bright smile reassuring me that she has no idea what just happened.
“Can I get you folks anything else?”
She turns her head to Quill’s uneaten burger. “Not hungry, hon?”
“Want it?” Quill asks me with a knowing glance that has me blushing furiously.
“Definitely not,” I say, choking on my ice water.
“We’ll take it to go,” he requests, turning back to the waitress.
“Sure thing.”
She leaves with the plate, returning moments later with a box and the check.
By then, Quill isn’t quite as hard anymore, but he’s still got me trapped in his lap, holding me tightly as if scared that whatever is going on between us will stop the minute he stops touching me.
He’s probably not wrong.
“Look at you two lovebirds,” smiles the waitress. “How long have you been together?”
“We’re not together.”
“Four years.”
I just have time to see the waitress’ confused expression before I turn back to glare at Quill. He merely shrugs, leaving a few bills on the table. Then he pulls me up and grips my ass possessively, which is definitely not going to make the waitress think we’re not together.
“Four years, Quill? What the hell?”
He opens the car door for me, his face a mask, then heads over to the other side.
“You do realize we haven’t been together all this time, right?” I huff. “Right?”
He obviously should, but sometimes I question his sanity. Especially when I remember how he’s apparently been going around killing my dates. He can’t possibly imagine I’ve belonged to him since high school… can he?
He turns on the engine, pulls out of the parking lot, then stares at me with a slight smirk on his face.
“What?” I snap.
He doesn’t answer right away, instead focusing on the road while I sit back, my arms crossed. He was right, I guess. The minute we broke contact, the spell was over. I’m back to remembering all the bad shit, and I couldn’t even break down the wall between us if I wanted to.
“I was just thinking,” he begins at last.
“Oh? Well, good for you.”
His smirk deepens as he grabs my hand and traps it in his.
“I was just thinking about how this road trip is forty hours long.”
“So?”
“So… I was wondering how many times you could come in that time.”
“Quill!” I squeak out, my face turning red.
“Well, go on.”
“Huh?!”
He tears his eyes away from the road and looks at me with a hungry glint in his eyes that makes me feel tingly all over.
“Go on,” he says darkly. “Take off those ugly jeans and start touching yourself, Piper.”