Chapter 20 #2
I jerk upright and spin around, quickly realizing I’m pinned. “Ian… I told you, we could have a raincheck. You’re drunk. And I want to go home.” My tone takes an edge, but I don’t care.
He pooches out his bottom lip. “Come on. Just one more drink. You don’t want to go home yet.”
I hate the smell of liquor on his breath. “I’m good. Thanks, though.”
He leans into me. “It’s not safe out here, you know. Place gets weird after dark. Like I said.”
I press my hands against his chest, trying to conjure up all the niceness I have left, despite all the sirens going off in my head. “Back up.”
He doesn’t. “You sure you don’t want to come to my place? I got the good stuff.”
I set my jaw and press my palms against him. “I said no.”
His smile flattens and face darkens. “You don’t have to be like that about it.”
I swallow hard, duck my head, and try to pivot out—but he grabs my upper arm with bruising force.
“C’mon,” he says, his voice rougher now, “I’ve seen how you look at me. You’re not fooling anyone. You need someone to help you loosen up.”
I try to push him off with my free hand, but he’s got leverage. He uses his knee to wedge between mine, trapping me against the cold steel.
I go still, my breath heavy.
“Don’t play hard to get,” he breathes, leaning in, his lips at my ear. “Nobody’s watching.”
But they are. My whole fucking closet of skeletons is front row.
“Just go away,” I grit out to Ian.
Ian shakes his head and pushes off the car, just as I catch sight of another shadow.
Oh fuck.
Before I can even process it, Ian is on the ground, his chest rising and falling, but the rest of him out cold.
“Stupid fucker.” Bradford is standing just on the other side of the body, his expression the same orientation of absolutely zero emotion. But his fist is clenched by his side.
He cocks one brow as we stand there, eyes locked. “Hopefully, you didn’t like him.”
“Not at all.” I shake my head, once, and then I do something completely stupid. I make a move to cross over Ian’s unconscious body and right into Calvin’s space.
And he meets me halfway.
His lips crash into mine, fingers threading through my hair. The world is reduced to just that sensation, every nerve is raw and sparking. We stumble back in the same place Ian just had me pinned, but I don’t even give a fuck.
He shifts, pushing me against the side of the car, but this time is different.
The metal is freezing through my shirt, but his body is a furnace, all heat and force.
His thigh wedges between mine, pinning me in place.
My hands tangle in his hair as we get lost a kiss, tugging hard enough to make him grunt.
I moan into him as I start to grind against his leg, like a feral animal. Fuck strategy. Fuck investigation. I just…want this.
He answers by hiking me up around him, grinding his hips against me. I feel the outline of his cock, thick and hard through his denim.
I arch into him, desperate for more.
He wraps his arms around my ass and carries me deeper into the shadows of the parking lot, balancing me as he pops the tailgate of his truck. He shoves the bed cover back, and then sets me down.
He pops the button on my jeans with one hand, and then pulls. He shoves them down, along with my underwear, and the rush of cold air makes me hiss.
“You’re a fucking tease, Jenna,” Calvin groans, as he forces my legs apart, my body shivering against him as he dips, gripping my thighs and pulling my pussy right to his mouth.
I gasp and dig my nails into his shoulder. He growls in response, before his tongue swipes across my clit. It’s the first time someone has touched me in years.
And I feel the weight of that.
I squeeze my eyes shut and fight to hold back the tears, even as pleasure rolls through my system. I don’t do this. I don’t do one-night stands. Or parking lot fucks. This is how you get hurt. This isn’t smart.
“Relax,” Calvin’s voice cuts through the noise, his grip tightening on my thighs. He kisses my pussy, a strangely gentle gesture given the situation. Somehow, it calms my nerves, and I relax, his mouth going back to work.
I thread my fingers through his hair, and hold him against me, grinding myself against his face. His groans into me, as I become a panting mess, my back arched and my eyes clamped shut.
“Come on, Jenna,” he murmurs into me. “Soak my face.”
“Oh fuck.” His words cause me tense around him, my legs shaking just as much from my muscles clenching as the cold. My head slams against the metal truck bed, just as my entire body releases and I see stars.
I come hard, and as the waves of pleasure roll through me, Calvin laps up every single ounce I give him.
And as he leans away and my eyes flutter open, he frees himself swiftly—belt undone, zipper down, cock out and hard. There’s nothing pretty about this. No slow unwrapping, no fucking buildup. He pulls my leg up against his shoulder, lines up, and pushes all his thick cock inside.
I gasp, the stretch fast and fucking punishing.
But still, I take it, scraping my nails against the metal of the truck bed.
He drives into me, not bothering to check on me. It feels like the truck rocks with the force of it, but I think it’s all in my head. My whimpers shift to moans, and as those icy, cruel eyes hold mine, he clamps his hand around my throat.
I respond by digging my heels into him, trying to pull him deeper.
“You little fucking slut,” he growls. “This is exactly what you wanted.”
“You, too,” I pant, just as he squeezes off my airway enough that my vision curls at the edges. The loss of it causes me to focus on the way he’s filling me, and the sound of our bodies.
I know, somewhere in my stupid brain, that anyone could walk past and see this. That Ian could regain consciousness and watch the whole show. That every security camera for a hundred yards might be catching it, live.
And I do not care.
And it’s at that moment, Calvin leans over and bites down on my shoulder, the pain so sharp it draws me closer to the edge. I wrap my legs around him and clutch his head to my chest.
“Jenna,” he groans, the word muffled.
“Don’t stop,” I gasp, voice breaking as I start to sweat.
His thrusts become desperate, his moans intensifying.
And I let that take me, the rush building from the base of my spine and exploding outwards. I come a second time with a fucking violence that borders on terrifying, muscles locking around him, with his hand clamped over my mouth as I let out a scream.
He follows a second later, shuddering, pumping into me, hands clenched so tight on my hips that I know I’ll have bruises tomorrow.
But before he can collapse on me, the reality hits me.
I shove him off. “We’re in a fucking parking lot.”
I scramble to redress as he stumbles back, my entire body shaking. My jeans are inside-out, my shirt is all damp with sweat and the scent of his cologne. My body feels like it’s been struck by lightning. I look at Bradford and see the exact same thing I always do.
Nothing.