Chapter 24
Georgia
The men swap driving so they aren’t tired when we arrive. I’m not allowed. Why? I’m sure they don’t think I will drive them to a police station, since we’re supposed to be trusting each other. Possibly they just think I’m a weak female and can’t drive the car?
When I first sat down in the backseat, the thing jammed its way in and he pressed the ON button at almost the same time. Luckily my clit was happy to be so thoroughly abused.
Nevertheless, I grumble at him in perfect Brat. “When do I get to stick this in you?”
“No. No. Do that and I do this.” With his hand submerged in his jacket pocket, he turns up the power, the buzz goes mildly ballistic.
“Ffff…” I blink and I decide its wise to lay back and take the punishment. When my hand shifts toward the apex of my legs he cautions me.
“No. None of that. If I can’t touch you, neither can you.” Rafe made that rule. For some reason Lazlo is sticking to it. Maybe because he knows it makes this more agonizing. I’d love his hands roving over me. But no.
Reluctantly, I drop my hand and clutch the seat edge instead. Small, slightly unhinged but orgasmic sounds? Those become my norm.
And that is how it goes for a whole fucking hour.
I get ninety percent of the way to an O at least five times.
My pussy is getting the best work-out of its life. At least he chose not to do my ass.
He convinced me to submit to this by kisses and manhandling. The man has figured out Manhandling 101 and also Threats 101—nasty and delicious, push me against the wall and threaten to put his dick in my ass if I don’t obey.
It was so unfair.
I’m smiling though. I fumble in the small leather bag Lazlo found for me, searching for the hand mirror. I’ve zero makeup and no phone, due to the recent madness of my life and men not realizing it would be nice to have some lipstick. At least, I do have a mirror.
“Lazlo. Arriving at a hotel looking like I’ve been electrocuted or worse might get me arrested, and I need some rest time.”
I’m exaggerating but, I peek at my face in the mirror.
Compared to when we took off on this trip, I look frazzled.
My face is flushed. In the background, I notice the traffic behind us has thinned for once.
A plain black SUV sits back from us, at a very cautious distance.
The registration for some reason stuck in my head because it reads like Sarah with 4s instead of As, even though it is misarranged.
That merged in behind us when we pulled onto the A12.
The man ignored me, as he was busy telling Rafe about how his arm was almost blown off and has rolled his sleeve high to show the scars.
Since Rafe is driving and has angled his head to look, I offer them a frown that I’m sure they won’t see.
“That’s a badass scar,” he says. “I have nothing like that. Never served. Only a broken wonky toe from an old school RPG being dropped on it in Pakistan, years ago.”
“No VC for you then.”
“You got a medal for that?” He nods toward Lazlo’s arm while accelerating as the traffic moves ahead.
“For a wound? No. I have a campaign medal and Sir Ben got an MC, Military Cross. He deserved it. I owe the man.”
“Guys!”
“Yes, little lady?” Lazlo twists to look back at me.
“I appreciate the history and all. But maybe turn this off. Let me remove it, please. I look like I’ve been dragged out of a bin.”
“I like knowing I can do this to you.” But for once he doesn’t turn it on again. “That you’re ours to play with.”
“I know. And I understand it from my end.”
“Your ends are having fun.” He crooks an eyebrow.
“Was that an innuendo?” Rafe chips in.
“Ha. Ha. Okay, you two. Confession. And I am into this more than I figured I would be. But we are not going to London for sex. We’re going there to try to sort out who these murderers are. I need to be able to think straight. I do. I need my brain.”
Even now I can feel the throb below, the fucking enticing ache, and the slickness in the crotch of my panties. He still looks dubious.
“Sex is also on the agenda,” Rafe points out. “We have brains to make up for it.”
I am their witness. “Have you forgotten who I am? I can be a sex toy without you entirely screwing with my brain, all the time.”
“Does she have a good point there?” Lazlo asks.
I hold up the mirror to check myself again, and even though Rafe slowed earlier while he was talking to Lazlo, and several cars have passed us and beeped at us, that black SUV I’m calling Sarah is still in the same place.
“Proof for you of my brains,” I declare. “Now that I’m slightly sane, I think I’ve spotted a car tailing us.” I’m overly pleased with myself, and showing off, yet this could be significant and a sign of a big, scary problem.
“Shit.” Lazlo glances in his side mirror while Rafe checks the rear view. “Which one?”
“The black SUV with a misspelled Sarah on its plate. It was there when we first merged with this highway.”
“I see it,” Rafe says. “Phoning the frat seems useless. They’d take a while to respond.”
“And we can’t ram them and beat them up.”
“Duh.” I dredge up my memory of this highway section, which can be almost eidetic sometimes. “Take the next exit, wait at the first traffic light until it goes orange then blow through it and merge back on. After that it’ll be luck whether they catch us again.”
“That’s—” Lazlo begins.
“A good idea.” Rafe swings the wheel and peels off to the exit lane, without indicating.
I watch the SUV scurry to follow us.
As we approach the traffic light at a dawdle, because it is still green, the SUV is three cars behind.
“It’s changing!” Lazlo spits out.
Smoothly, Rafe does precisely what I suggested and zips through.
I check and the SUV is caught behind another car at the red, and boxed in at the sides.
“Hell, yeah.” I raise my fist, punching the air. “Do I get a reward?”
“A reward.” He twists and leans to talk to me. “You do. It can come out but I get to do it. Shimmy forward so I can reach.”
Damn. The man is one track.
“That was impressive, Georgia,” Rafe says. “I’d have to pull up google maps to do what we just did.”
“When you’re good, you’re good.” I do a little pretend dance where I sit.
“Here. Now. Before I come back there and spank you.” Lazlo beckons me.
“Have you been in a sex desert for ten years?” I drawl as I loosen the seatbelt and wriggle forward.
“You are a bad, bad girl.” He runs his hand up my thigh, drags down my leggings and reaches under my panties.
I feel the tug as he pulls on the device, then the pressure on my clit as it moves.
My hushed gasp was noted and he stops pulling, instead he weaves a finger up to my clit and begins to tease me, massaging it, revolving his finger in firm circles.
I give in and close my eyes, shift an inch closer to him.
“Such a wet little cunt,” he taunts. “I’m going to fuck you, later, while Rafe is in your ass maybe? Yes?” he queries Rafe.
He grunts. “Shut up with that while I’m driving.”
I’m quivering though, and it’ll be seconds at most before I come.
“That’s it, come for me girl. Feel that finger on you. You’re ours…no matter how good you are at tracking vehicles.”
I snort at the silliness but he’s kept going with the fingerplay and has managed to squeeze his shoulders around, has stuffed his other hand between my legs then a finger alongside the device.
And into me. Penetrated and fingerfucked, and with Lazlo encouraging me, I arch a little, clamp my thighs around his arms.
“Play with your tits. Open that dress.”
I whine because he’s stopped toying with my clit then I rapidly undo the buttons with shaking fingers and pull down the bra.
He’s right though, doing this while he greedily watches then starts to plunge his finger in me, and press on my nub… Gods. I shut my eyes and devote myself to it all.
Being fingered while on the highway and praying no one can look into the car and see what is happening. More. More finger. More of that urgent massaging. More.
“Like my finger in here? Fucking you. You’re hot in here.” He shoves that finger higher and higher. “And this?” His thumb has taken over and circles and presses my swollen nub.
Shaking, grasping the seat edge to either side, I moan then explode into climax, keening, my thighs wrapped over him to trap his filthy, violating fingers.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs then pulls out the device and pats my leg. “Well done. Fucking awesome actually.”
“The pair of you are assholes,” Rafe says, though I’m barely hearing him and still shuddering, still struggling to get enough air. “I’ve got a King-Kong hard-on now and no way to get off.”
“Want me to do you too?” Lazlo asks, amused.
“Hell, no. Though I’m almost wishing I was into that. Fuck.”
I peek at him and see he’s arranging his pants.
Sighing, I wriggle back into place on the seat and look for the box of tissues.
“The SUV?” Lazlo asks him.
“Gone. For now. She is right. Our number one thing is serious and sexy times come second.”
“Well now.” He ponders that while staring at the windscreen. “You’re certainly coming second.”
“Jeez.” Rafe punches him on the arm.
“Ow!” But he chuckles. “Now that’s out of the way. If we are being followed, what can we do to up security?”
“Finally.” I let out a breath. “You’re thinking about the important stuff.”
“I’d like to think of you as important, Georgia,” Lazlo says, glancing back. “Tell me about why you were on that boat, or if that’s too much, your past? Your family?”
Having cleaned myself, as much as I can, and tossed the balled-up tissues in the opposite corner of the BMW, I consider what to say.
He wants to know more. My recent past is painful but he sees me as important—and that there is the best bit.
Maybe this threesome of ours can go somewhere I would never have dreamed of?
Is it wrong to simply want to belong to someone and be important to them?
He adds, “I know Rafe’s story—armament sales, big company, family that originally hails from Brazil. I’ve told mine, boring army shit. Can I hear yours? Anything to start with. It’s up to you.”
Being blown up and shot at, being helped to safety by your commander is boring? He is glossing over what must hold trauma for him, but I wouldn’t expect anyone to vomit up all the bad feelings in one go. Let alone a big, macho guy. Me neither though.
I puff out a breath. “Okay. A summary for you, since you’re being nice.” I smile awkwardly, tuck back my wayward and slightly sweaty hair.
Do I need another shower? Undeniably, categorically yes. If I have to sit down at a restaurant or café, I’m afraid I might leave a wet patch on the chairs.
“I was studying law when my mother died. My dad died from cancer years before and us—we were raised separately by different parents, for a while. We are all adults and the fallout over the inheritance was…”
I think on it all, remembering. The good times with mum and dad weren’t blotted out, but the anger and bitterness after they were gone has wrecked our family.
“Well, it was brutal. As you can imagine, we don’t speak to each other now. It’s as if I have no family. I’m not sure they’d tell me if they were dying.” I shrug. “I lost my taste for studying and used a lot of what I was left with to come here, to London, and drown myself in fun.”
What should have been fun.
“Only instead the boat happened, and the Evil House.”
“You call it that?” His tone sharpened.
“Yes. They did too—the two assholes who ran it. I thought you knew?”
“I didn’t. A lot of that you said before, when I met you, but not that part. Hey. I’m sorry. I owe you a whole month of hugs and kisses.” He reaches through and squeezes my knee.
“Thank you,” I say softly, voice trembling. Why are my eyes watering?
“We will find out who did that,” Rafe says. “You need some justice.”
“Yeah.” I lean back into the headrest of the seat and close my eyes. “I do. But so does your Sir Ben for the death of his son. Also. Something came to me just then, while I was thinking on the past. Have we checked with Alden to see if he has more texts from the mysterious Joseph phone?”
Remembering that feels like ancient history.
“He hasn’t. He would tell someone. He would have told my Sir Ben, and he would tell me.”