Chapter Nineteen - Cindy
“So what do you think?”
“Hmmm?” Pax says as he changes lanes. The traffic on the 405 is horrendous. And we are still a long way from Malibu.
“My detective story?”
“Oh,” he says, braking hard as he tries to maneuver into the next lane.
“Where are you going?”
“We’re taking PCH. I can’t handle this shit anymore. I really need to think about moving.”
“Moving where?”
“Huh?”
“God, are you even listening to me?”
Pax smiles and shoots me a wink. “Sorry. I’m just preoccupied with road rage at the moment.” He swerves over, then again, and takes the off ramp at El Segundo. “I love your story. I can totally see you in one of those sexy pencil skirts with the thick-heeled pumps and your hair up in a forties do. You’d rock that shit, Sugar.”
“Thanks,” I say, blushing. “You’d rock a trench coat and fedora too. So I got the idea when I was seven and my parents took this murder mystery train up in the mountains.”
“Mountains? I thought you lived on a farm? Your dad’s place comes up as Severance, Colorado.”
Shit. Why am I so stupid?
“Well, yeah,” I say, recovering quickly. “But you know, the mountains aren’t too far away. We’d go there sometimes.”
“Don’t they have one of those murder mystery trains in Canon City? I think I remember Match telling me about it once. That’s pretty far from Severance, right?”
Damn, he’s really up on his Colorado geography. “That’s the one,” I say, nervously swallowing. Does he know more than I think he does? Is he testing me to see if I’ll lie? And did I ever tell him I was from Severance? Nope. I’m pretty sure I didn’t.
He was checking up on you again this afternoon, Cindy. Duh! You’re doing good pretending this Liam shit didn’t rattle your world. Keep going…
“Asshole,” Pax says, flipping the finger to some guy who cuts him off. “I’m definitely getting out of California first chance I get. Sorry,” he says, looking at me. “Go on. The murder mystery train?”
“Yeah,” I say, dropping my suspicions. I think he’s just distracted with driving. I’m being paranoid. “So they were all in costume, you know?”
“Yeah, I can totally picture it. How old were you? Did you have blonde pigtails?”
I smile, remembering that day. It was my parents’ anniversary. But if Oliver was talking about it once, he might’ve mentioned that. So I don’t bring it up. “I was young, I don’t remember how old. But I was obsessed with Humphrey Bogart movies after that.”
“Ha,” Pax says. “Oliver likes those too. Must be a Colorado thing.”
I don’t move. He knows. He has to know.
“Are we talking about it?” I ask.
“What? Why? Do you want to talk about it?”
“Do you?”
“No,” he says. “No. We’re forgetting, remember?”
OK, yeah. I’m paranoid. “So anyway, I was obsessed with the old movies and I started dressing up and stuff. My mom’s not into that kind of thing. Vintage class, and all that. She’s more of a…” And my stupid ass is just about to say “bombshell,” when I stop short. He will definitely know my mother as a bombshell. Oliver can’t have left that out. My father calls her Bomb all the time. And I know Pax has been to our house at least twice. Both times while I was in college. So he never saw me there. But still. Once you see my mother, you form an opinion and you never forget it. “More Doris Day.”
“Awww, you take after her, right? Sweet and shit?”
“Yup.” I laugh, picturing anyone calling my mother sweet. Hell, anyone calling me sweet is just as funny. We are so alike. “Anyway, I got into it. We did Death of a Salesman in high school and I played the part of the Woman.”
“The sexy tramp?”
“Yeah.” I laugh. “I get it now, of course. But back then I just wanted to wear the clothes.”
“Did you nail it?”
“Broke a leg. But really, it just fanned the flames of my obsession.”
Pax gets quiet all of a sudden. Shit, what did I say?
“Me?” he asks, looking over for a second before returning his eyes to the highway. “Was I your Bogart?”
I glance past him, to the ocean, which is flying by as we travel north. “Maybe a little.”
“We shouldn’t talk about it.”
“Right.”
“We should just enjoy it.”
“Yeah,” I say softly.
“But I love your story. The real one and the fairy tale too.”
I lean back into my seat, relaxing. OK, maybe he knows something? But he can’t know I’m Oliver’s sister. I just don’t think he’d be so calm about that.
“We can play dress-up if you want,” Pax says.
My smile is huge at that offer. “You’d dress up?” I laugh just picturing it. “In a trench coat and hat?”
“Sugar, if you put on some stockings and red lipstick—and maybe nothing else— I’ll do anything you ask. You want a fantasy night, I’m there.”
I lean over and place my hand on his dick.
He grins, changes lanes, and pulls off the highway.
“What are you doing?”
“That’s a signal I don’t ignore, Cinderella. You want sexy times? You get sexy times.”
“It’s not even dark out.”
“Who cares? I got a boat at Marina Del Rey. Wanna see my boat?” He cups his hand over mine, making me squeeze his already thick cock.
I lean over and start kissing his neck. “Yeah, let’s see the boat.”
“Play with yourself while I drive,” he says, not looking at me. “I want you wet and ready the minute we get there.” And then he tips his sunglasses up and looks me in the eyes. “Do not squirt in my car.”
I hold up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.” We laugh.
“But seriously,” he says, staring over at me—laugh gone, smile gone. “Play with yourself while I drive. And start by taking those panties off, one leg at a time.”
God, he is hot.
I kick off my sandals, place both feet on the dashboard, and then lift my hips up just enough to wiggle my panties down to my thighs.
He’s watching from the corner of his eye.
“Keep your eyes on the road, Mr. Vance. I’m just feeling a little warm and need some relief. But this is none of your concern.”
That smile is worth every bit of the cheesiness I feel right now.
“A nice woman,” he says, giving me one more look as the panties make their way past my knees, slide down my calves, and stop at my ankles, “wouldn’t need the kind of relief taking your panties off would provide.”
“I’m not a nice woman, Detective. I’m a slut. I told you, I need help. And you blew me off back in your office because I have no money. Well, just because I can’t pay you in money, Detective, doesn’t mean I can’t pay you at all.”
His smile is so big. But he keeps his eyes on the road as he gets his laugh under control.
“Consider the show you’re about to give me a down payment. Now turn your body so I can see you, and then open your slutty legs wide.”
I do what he wants. I take off my seatbelt, angle myself with my back against the door, and then open my legs.
“Your skirt’s in the way, Miss Sugar.”
“That’s Miss Sugar Cookie to you, Detective.”
He’s almost giggling and it makes me happy that I have the power to make him happy, even after that fucked-up visit from Liam Henry this afternoon.
“Pull your skirt up and play with yourself,” he says in a low voice, then glances at me with heavy eyes. “This is the game I want to play right now.”
“Don’t worry,” I whisper in a soothing tone. “I’m just getting started.” I pull my skirt up and give him a good look. We stop at a light. I can see the marina a few blocks ahead off to the left. “Do you want me to do it like this?” I say. “Pushing my fingers inside myself.”
“You little Disney whore.” But he licks his lips. And I picture his mouth where my fingers are, licking and lapping against my pussy, and I have to close my eyes.
“I’m not a whore,” I say in my best sultry dame-in-distress voice, then open my eyes again. “I forgot to tell you, I’m a virgin.”
This time he does laugh. Loudly. “Are you?”
“Yes,” I say. “So I might not want to do anything too fun today, Detective. I’m saving myself for Prince Charming.”
The light turns green but Paxton watches me as my fingertips caress the wet folds between my legs until the car behind us honks.
He starts forward and then turns left, towards the marina. “Are you going to tease me, Miss Cookie?”
“Oh,” I say, moaning a little. “I love teasing men. It’s how I got into this situation in the first place.”
“You pretended to be a whore? But when they found out you were a virgin, they—”
“Threatened my life,” I pretend-sob. “You’ll help me, won’t you?”
“Tell me what kind of help you need, Miss Cookie.”
“I just can’t stop”—I pretend-sob again—“teasing. Help me stop. Please.”
He chuckles in a sexy you-have-no-idea-how-much-I-love-this-game kind of way. “I’ll do my best, ma’am.”
“Jesus fuck, are we there yet, Pax? I really do need you to lick my pussy.”
But all I get in response is a sly smile.
Oh, shit. I have a feeling he’s going to take my little fantasy farther than I expected.