“You can borrow them sometime.” His mouth swallows my self-congratulatory smile and his fingers slide slowly through the slippery folds between my legs. The combination of what he’s doing causes the remaining brain cells necessary for playful comebacks to explode on impact.
Once he feels my surrender in the form of every bone in my body liquefying against him, Gavin lets a deep sound of animalistic content roll through his throat and into my ear. “My sweet, wet girl. If this car were more accommodating, I’d spread you out and taste every single inch of you.”
“Gavin.” I’m dying—writhing against his hand in hopes his thick fingers will stop teasing and slip inside. Preferably before I burn to death with the heat of needing him. The incessant throbbing inside me seeks his attention so badly I’m willing to outright beg for it.
“Tell me what you need, sweetness. What can I do to make it better?” His index finger traces the outline of my labia before repeating the same languorous circuit around my clit.
Too many things to list. “Gavin, please.” My voice breaks. It’s too much to handle all at once. And yet I still want more.
“Since you said please.” Freeing me from the delicious imprisonment of his teasing fingertips, Gavin dips his entire middle finger straight into my pulsating opening. Thrusting rhythmically while using his thumb to massage the throbbing bundle of nerves between us, he whispers dirty promises in my ear until I plummet headfirst past the point of no return. Clutching his shoulder for stability, I press myself upright.
And that’s when I hear it.
Whoop whoop. The unmistakable warning of a police siren.
Gavin practically tosses me off his lap and into the passenger seat. “Get your clothes and seat belt on. Now,” he barks at me.
My fingers are clumsy and uncooperative as I rifle through my bag. “I packed a T-shirt. I know I did.”
“I have a black duffel in the back. There are probably a few in there. Grab one. Quickly.”
Turning in a position that sadly doesn’t affect him at all anymore, I lift his bag from the back and pull the first shirt I find out of it. The blue lights from the officer’s car are creating a strobe effect against the darkness. Out the back window I see the uniformed man getting out of his car. My heart rate triples at the sight.
I examine the shirt so that I don’t put it on inside out or backward. “I bought you this one,” I say, holding up an army-gray short-sleeved shirt that says Always be yourself. Unless you can be a drummer. Then always be a drummer.
“Yeah. You did. For my birthday a few years ago I think. Put it on, please. Before you get arrested for public indecency.”
I pull it over my head and try to be discreet about inhaling his scent like a coke fiend taking their last hit. I’ve just yanked my jeans on and snapped my seat belt across my lap when the knock comes at my window. I don’t know why I expected him to go to Gavin’s, but I did. After recovering from a near stroke at the shock, I roll the window down and offer the uniformed gentleman a smile.
“Hi, Officer.”
“Evening, kids. Out kind of late. Car trouble?”
“No, sir,” Gavin answers, leaning over to look at the stockily built guy. “Had some trouble with my windshield wipers during the downpour, but I got it handled.”
He got something handled, but it sure wasn’t the windshield wipers.
The office makes a grunting noise. “I see. This a ’67?”
Gavin nods and his lips curve upward, but I can still see the way he’s barely breathing. “Yes, sir.”
I don’t know if it’s the cop or Gavin’s obvious tension that’s rattling my nerves, but I feel jittery, like I’ve drank a dozen cups of coffee and have caffeine surging in my veins. Even my legs are trembling, but that might be from previous events.
“It’s nice. Well cared for. Tell me, where are you two heading?”
“Amarillo,” I say just as Gavin says, “Potter County.”
The officer frowns, then glances over the top of the car at the traffic speeding past. “Listen, this rain could come and go all night. You kids get where you’re going safe, all right?”