"Say yes," he whispered, thrusting gently. "Say you'll marry me."
I bit my lip and wrapped my legs around his back. The pain faded as my body caught up with my brain. I squeezed my muscles around him and when I saw the look of hunger in his eyes it was like my blood caught fire. Surely it wasn't normal to want someone this much.
"Say yes." He bent to kiss me, his hips moving in time with the beats of my heart. I moaned into his mouth and his breath went ragged for a moment, before he took his cue and started to go harder.
Then I shifted my hips and he was there - his next thrust hit that twitchy spot inside of me. "Yes," I said, rising up to meet him. It was still new to me, that something could feel this good.
"Yes?"
"Yes."
He looked like his soul was about to spill out of his eyes in that moment. He buried his face in my shoulder and his voice hissed hot against my ear. "I love you. I fucking love you, baby. So fucking much."
I made a dumb, hungry animal sound in response. His hips were all at the wrong angle now and I was on the edge. "Please," I moaned.
He raised himself up on his hands and looked down at me, holding himself still inside me. He looked so pleased with himself, and well he might do - he could see what he'd done to me. My skirt and panties were on the floor, my top and bra tangled up under my chin, so that my nipples poked out obscenely. When I raised my head I could see the bunched muscles of his flat belly, the trail of hair where he disappeared into me. "Say you love me," he said, with an evil, teasing smile on his lips.
"Iloveyou..." It came out all in one breath. He angled his hips and hit the spot just right, so that I had to bite my lip hard to keep from crying out.
"Again."
"I love you. Please. Please..."
"You like that, baby?" He started to move with hard, sweet stabs. I never minded him running his mouth off, not when he was deep inside me and every motion of our bodies dragged filthy endearments from his lips. I was his slut, his honeyfuck, his sweet, darling whore. He did it on purpose - of course he did. When I cried out he'd won - Everglade heard me. She knew what was up. I loved him best. He'd proved it. That was the whole point of the exercise.
It's hard to look at things in this light.
Chapter Eleven
Jaime
I'm going too fast on Laurel.
I can't stop. If I stop I'll think about what I'm doing and if I think about it I'll be shaking too hard to hold the wheel. Oh my God, those bends. One slip of the wheel and you'll go ninety miles an hour into a tree. You don't come back from a crash at that kind of speed. Blood, brains, shattered bone - all those lovely images from Drivers Ed come back to me in glorious Technicolor.
Somehow I keep my head until the road straightens out, and then it's like I drove into a Hollywood version of Mad Max. Bikes, all around me. They're zipping past, in and out of the gaps in cars. And the worst thing I know is why. She's up there at the front of them all.
And it's my fault, isn't it? If I hadn't pointed out that camera...
I can see her - she's maybe three or four cars ahead. I see the taillights of the Escalade. They're safe, right? Everyone says those SUVs are like tanks.
But she's driving like a maniac and I can't overtake. There's a biker to one side and a mini-van on the other. He has a bulky camera bag strapped to the back of his bike. Were they lying in wait for her, the whole time? Were they seriously lurking in the Hills waiting for her to drive out of the gates? That’s just nuts.
The bike picks up speed and there's soon another one in its place. My problem now is the fucking mini-van, coasting along at about sixty. I catch a glimpse of the driver - a serene looking blonde. The mid lane slows suddenly and I'm left looking at the back of her van - one of those Baby On Board stickers and that little fish symbol that people like to use to show people that Jesus wants them for a sunbeam. Protestants, I guess. I've never known a Catholic with one of those things - we know you can't get out just by taking the fish sign off your car.
I wind down the window and stick my head out. There's a light up ahead, flashing in a busted, panicky way that makes my heart nearly leap out of my chest.
Oh shit, shit, shit. For an insane second I think of Princess Diana.
The midlane moves enough to give me a gap, and I take it, cutting in front of the soccer mom. As I take off I catch a brief glimpse of her giving me a very unChristian hand sign in the rear view mirror.
There's a mess all right - three bikes piled up at the side of the road. I wish I had more sympathy, but what did they expect? I chase Amber's taillights all the way to the freeway exit, then by some miracle I'm alongside. I can see her profile through the smoked glass, then the white of her cheek as she turns round to look at me. She lowers the window and I've never seen anything quite like her face at that moment - she's so scared. She's so far out of her depth it's a wonder she can even remember to breathe.