Shock seized me first, the butterflies shredding me to pieces. Then he grabbed my face and kissed me, hard. His lips devoured mine as our mouths pressed against each other in a painful frenzy. It was fire itself, our tongues and lips fanning the flames, our teeth nipping each other like sparks. I ran my hands up and down the back of his head, over his shoulders and back, pulling him to me; I couldn’t get close enough. He reached down and pulled my dress up over my waist, leaving me bare, my legs straddling him.
With one hand he began thumbing my clit, rubbing me until I was slick with desire and throbbing for release. He kissed, licked, and bit down my neck. With each groan, his hot breath flared against my skin. Once he reached my lacy neckline, he grabbed it with both hands and ripped it straight down the middle. My designer dress was left in tatters as it fell off my shoulders, leaving me naked. I didn’t care.
He worked his way down my chest and stomach, then buried his head in my cleft. He ran his tongue down the insides of my thighs, teasing me until I was grabbing his hair and forcing his dripping mouth onto my clit. He obliged with a grunt and I moaned in response, my back arching into him.
Just when I was about to come, he pulled his tongue away. He deftly unzipped his pants and positioned his cock into my opening. I was more than ready. I grabbed him by the ass and back and thrust him into me. I wrapped my legs around him, holding him until he was deep, deep inside. I ignored the pain from the tattoo and just kept him as close to me as possible while he started pumping in and out of me, my hips in his vice-like grip. He worked faster, harder, and was pounding me back into the hood, deepening the dent. I’d never been fucked so thoroughly before; I felt like I was going to meld into the metal.
“Fuck!” I cried out as we came together, my yelping cries soaring high into the desert sky, joining those of coyotes. He came hard into me, his fingers digging into my ass as he pumped his load into my spasming body. My convulsions milked him dry until he collapsed on top of me, pressing me to the hood. It felt deliciously cold against my hot and sweaty bare back.
We lay like that for a few minutes until the chill got to us. He pulled up and ran a finger over my lips. I kissed it, smiling, enjoying the taste of me on his fingers.
“We’ve thoroughly ruined this car tonight,” he murmured, planting a kiss on my forehead and down my nose.
“Everyone needs a little excitement,” I said, running my hands through his thick, soft hair. “Even cars.”
He smiled, soft and sweet, and studied me. I had seen that look before, one we’d shared on his trampoline. I never knew what that look was at the time, but I knew now.
“How can you still love me?” I asked quietly as I traced circles into the back of his head. “After everything I did to you.”
God, he was wonderful when he grinned like that.
“There’s no one else I wanted to love,” he admitted. “No one who deserved it more than you.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I didn’t know how to feel, other than my heart feeling like it was pressing against my chest, up my throat, until it was stretching my mouth into a smile. I let out a little laugh of joy. He stroked his fingers down my face, peering at me intently. He didn’t need his glasses on for me to see the honesty in his eyes.
“I hope one day I’ll deserve it too,” he said.
My heart broke, jagged and sharp mixed with the warmth that was flooding through me. I held his head tight in my hands and looked deeply at him. “You will, Camden.”
I couldn’t promise when it would happen. But I wasn’t going anywhere. We had time.
At least, I hoped we still had time.
I let go of him and he straightened up. “Time to go?” he asked, reading me.
I nodded. “I might as well get changed here.” I sat up.
“I’ll get your clothes,” he said. He zipped up his fly and dusted off his tux. Aside from his bowtie that I had yanked loose, he looked calm and collected and ready to take on the night. He went inside the car and came back with a pair of boxer shorts, a shirt, and sweater. “You should probably still keep the area around the leg loose. For now.”
When I was done changing, having left the ruins of the dress on the desert floor, we got back in the car and drove off, heading for our next destination, wherever that was. In the side mirror I watched the dress blow away in the night wind, black wings on a black sky.
Then
The girl hadn’t meant to go home early. Even though Javier was taking care of her, both physically and financially, she felt strange without having a job. She felt even stranger that he wasn’t some sugar daddy that had come into money, but that he got his wealth through criminal means.