Truth or Beard(75)

Although, peripherally I realized he’d shut the driver’s side door, cocooning us inside his sexy machine. I also heard increased/louder comments, whistling, and now banging on the roof of the car.

Kneeling over me, he dipped his head to one side, his beard rough against my cheek and jaw, and growled in my ear, “Jessica, do you think you can give me a few minutes to drive us out of this crowd? Find a private spot?”

“I don’t know if I can wait that long,” I answered honestly, my breathing ragged with excitement even though the progress of my reaching hand had been frustrated by his belt.

Duane made a short noise of disbelief that soon turned into loud, rumbly laughter. The sound succeeded in tugging me somewhat out of my feral cloud. I saw he was smiling at me, his face just inches from mine.

I reluctantly returned his smile. “I’m actually kind of serious. I think if you breathed on me I’d orgasm.”

My confession made his eyes widen as he laughed again; then he squinted at me. “I’m kinda breathing on you now.”

“No, you mistake my meaning. If you were to breathe on me down there,” I glanced down at myself meaningfully then back to him, “I would totally come apart.”

He sat up, his smile now a smirk. “That sounds like a dare.”

“No. It’s not a dare. It’s a truth,” I whispered, lost in his eyes. I realized one of his hands was up my skirt, digging into my bare thigh.

He searched my face in the dark car, as though hoping to read the veracity of my statement. The crowd surrounding us grew a bit more obnoxious and were now peeping through the windows. Duane shook himself. He withdrew his hands and set me away at the same time, lifting me to a more vertical position.

He engaged the ignition, revving it, as he glanced in his rearview mirror. “Put on your seatbelt, we need to move.”

I used the center seat belt, and then snuggled close to him, weaving my fingers into the hair at the back of his neck and using my other hand to stroke his inner thigh. He was tense. His muscles felt tight.

“Duane,” I whispered in his ear, more breath than sound, “I’m not letting you leave this car until we make it to second base. At least.”

He rolled the Road Runner forward slightly, nudging the crowd out of the way, giving me his profile. “Jess, you know how good I am at baseball, right?”

I got the feeling he was waiting for me to answer. “Yes, Duane. I know you’re good at baseball.”

His eyes slid to the side, collided with mine. Again, I saw intense focus, like he had plans and they all involved me.

“Do you think I’d settle for second base if I was sure I could steal home?”





CHAPTER 14


“As you walk and eat and travel, be where you are. Otherwise you will miss most of your life.”

― Gautama Buddha





~Duane~


Jessica James tonguing my ear, stroking my thigh, her knuckles brushing against my hard-on, all while I navigated back mountain roads.

It was a gauntlet.

While I drove, in between kisses she’d managed to pull off my shirt, unbuckle my belt, undo the button and the zipper of my jeans. She was single-mindedly focused on removing my clothes, but had yet to remove a single article of her own—an oversight requiring immediate rectification.

The only sound in the car was our breathing, the roar of the engine, and her soft moans of please and hurry.

But despite my earlier allusions to rounding the bases and her sexy little sounds and touches, the drive gave me the time I needed to gain perspective. I’d made up my mind a long time ago. Our first time wasn’t going to be in a car.

I’d always figured, in the unlikely event Jessica agreed to my courtship, we would wait. I’d decided, likely after we’d confessed our undying love and devotion to each other and were engaged, we’d go on vacation together for an anniversary. It would be someplace I could romance her. Or maybe we would wait until we were married. That had always been my assumption.

My expectations hadn’t factored in her life goals and ambitions.

We weren’t going to have any anniversaries, romantic vacations, or a wedding night. We only had now. Regardless, despite her eagerness to consummate our abridged relationship, I couldn’t completely shake off my years of frustrated hopes. It wouldn’t be what I’d wanted, but I was damn determined to make it meaningful and memorable. Even if she didn’t care about the where and how, I did.

No.

Nothing would be rushed or hurried. I would take my time, several times. We would have all night, not a quickie in my Road Runner.

Now if she would just stop dipping her fingers into my boxers, I’d be able to form a coherent thought.