7

THE TANK-WAGON

NORA

A FEW HOURS later, I hit the wall. I need to leave before I’m too tired to drive the fifteen minutes to Cam’s apartment. I would leave my car and tag along with Cam herself, but she left hours ago. As I debate calling a cab or something, Doc is predictably in my ear.

“Leaving me already, Beauty?”

“You never finished rubbing my feet, so I think that’s grounds, don’t you?” I twist to give him a playful look over my shoulder. His fingertips dig into my hips.

“Allow me to do it now,” he says.

“I’m so tired right now, it doesn’t matter,” I say. “I just want to go home and fall face-first into my bed.”

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”

“I only had a few beers, and I switched to water two hours ago. I’m good. Just tired.” I lean into his palm when his hand cups my face. It legitimately comforts me. “Stop or I’ll fall asleep right here.”

“How ’bout I give you a lift, okay? I’d feel better.”

“Oh really? What kind of lift are you offering?” I’m far too tired for sex right now, but minds can be changed.

I watch his beard morph around his grin. “Just the kind that gets you home,” he says, leaning in closer.

“Still a little unclear,” I joke, pressing myself against him and lifting my chin. “Some say ‘home’ is a feeling.”

“I think you’re talking about a ride,” he says, playing the part. “That’s on the table, too, if you like.”

I giggle, dropping my face into his chest. I feel his arms close around me. “Ohh, my God. I’m loopy. Okay, yes. Yes, please. Would you take me home?”

“I would.” The dual application of the question and the answer are not lost on me, but thankfully I’m not given the time to ponder this too deeply.

He slaps my ass, and I stand at attention.

“Let’s hit it,” he says. His wink is implied.

***

Once we’re driving, Doc inquires as to whether I want to come home with him, or go back to my place with Cameron. He doesn’t seem offended when I decline to stay with him tonight. It’s too early. Right? I mean, isn’t it?

“We can just sleep, love,” he says when my no sounds unsure. “I just thought I could drive you back to your car in the morning.”

That’s when I realize—or really, remember—how sweet and accommodating he can be. How considerate. But a voice in my head turns the idea away. Again.

“Thank you, it’s fine. Cam can take me, I’m sure.”

He shrugs and leaves his hand between us, thumb rubbing over the back of my hand. “It’s all right. I know you’re still on the fence about us.”

I’m a little taken aback. “What the hell? I can’t just want to ugly sleep in my own bed? I need to crave cuddling against that bearskin rug on your chest?”

He barks a laugh. “Bearskin rug? I think that’s a little harsh, don’t you think? It’s not that bad.” Doc pulls the neck of his shirt out to glance down. “Is it?”

I purse my lips to hide a smile. His insecurity is adorable. Goddammit.

“No,” I concede softly. “It’s not. I like your furs.”

His head shakes back and forth, but he’s smiling. “You can absolutely do whatever you want, whenever you want. I think you established that long ago. I just… I’m happy to have you near me again,” he says as we pull up in front of the small four-unit house Cam’s apartment is in. “That’s all.”

Right in the gut. I mean, did someone just kick me? Or did all the air get sucked out of the car? I’m frozen with my mouth agape, staring at this man. I’ve fought so hard against everything with him. Yet, here he is. Still willing. Still open. Still wanting me. I don’t know where this is going, and I will not agree to any sort of real commitment, but right now? I have never needed anyone more.

The yelp he emits when I attack him is not really a surprise, considering I’m a five-foot-ten woman who has launched herself into his lap. The great thing about his car is it’s a monster. I’m not even sure what the hell kind of car it is, but I don’t care, because what I do know is that I have to get closer. I need to feel him. His skin, his beard tickling my face, my chest… all of him. I’m inundated with a desperation to be consumed, so despite the fact that the door to my bed is something like a hundred feet away, it’s happening now. In his car.

“Damn, woman,” he grumbles, not annoyed in the least. “Let me push the seat back first.”

We are attached at the lips before we catapult into the backseat without ever leaving the front—the bench seatback goes all the way flat, nary a gap between it and the back. I jerk forward, my boobs pretty much right in his face.

“Don’t worry, I’m not complaining.”

I make some sort of happy grunt noise of amusement. “I never worry about you and my boobs. You have always been fast friends.”

“With benefits.”

“Ha ha!”

I start tearing—and swearing—at my buttons. Why the fuck did I pick a blouse today? God love him, Doc takes over, and he’s somehow more collected and gentle. His soft touches brushing my chest spur me to beg, as though I can’t feel enough of him.

“Please,” I whisper.

“I got you, Beauty,” he replies before pushing up to kiss me.

My head bumps the ceiling, but I barely notice thanks to the combination of his mouth and hands. He does have me. Something in my chest eases, as if pleasure—or even the promise of it—will calm the most painful of nerves.

Once my shirt is gone, Doc sucks my nipples through the lace of my bra, which is ridiculous because they’re demi cups. I mean, pull it down a little and POP! C’est la nipple! I giggle.

“I’m enjoying myself, okay?” he says.

I reach behind myself to flick the clasp open and drop the sadly uncomfortable thing to the side.

“You just don’t like me having any fun, do you?” he says with snark. Naughty, naughty snark. “How ’bout I rid you of an even bigger constraint?”

With that, he flips me on my back. His shirt disappears in record time, and I’m jealous of his stealth ability when I could barely find my own buttons. His belt undone and zipper down, he takes on my bottoms as his next task—a task he manages surprisingly quickly considering how tight they are. Then again, he’s on a mission. His hair is longer on top, so it flops over his forehead as he concentrates on maneuvering quickly in the limited space. Since it takes a bit of effort, time slows, and I’m able to watch him. Doc has a bit of a baby face when you look beneath the sometimes-grizzly beard he sports. I do love it, even when it’s prickly on my neck and, well, inner thighs. If he shaved it, we might have words. Many words.

Regardless, the small smile playing on his lips as he throws my pants somewhere—onto the floor or on the back window ledge for all I know—is everything. I see the boy at heart, and the man with a love for life. Then his eyes fix on me, and I feel his hunger burning a hole in my chest. So I respond the best way I know how.

“Are you gonna fuck me or what?”

Evidence of a yes pulls the corners of Doc’s mouth crooked, and goddammit, I could not want him more right now. He crawls over me slowly—really slowly. I’ve expressed my impatience, so of course now’s the time he chooses to push my buttons. Hell, what am I saying? This is exactly the time to do just that. He knows that’s what makes sex for us all the more intense.

When he brushes his beard on my chin to tickle me, I push at his chest, only to hook my leg around his and flip us to take back the throne, so to speak. Since I’ve done so with extra force and quickness, I nail my head on the roof of the car.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mutter, rubbing my skull. My eyes closed, I can practically feel every one of his muscles contract as he lifts his torso to meet mine. His hand settles over mine where I hit my head while his cock presses against my clit. It’s the ultimate button to push.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he whispers before his mouth attaches to my neck.

Gooseflesh ripples across my skin like billions of microcosmic explosions. I’m so wet, I’m sliding along his shaft like he’s a goddamn carnival ride—which, he kind of can be, but let’s focus here.

“Please, please, please,” I say on a sigh, the pain in my head completely forgotten. With renewed purpose, I shift my hips, lifting off his thighs to reposition myself. As I take him inside, I let out a strangled cry. Not the sexiest, but given how amazing Doc feels pushing up inside me, I don’t give a shit. “God, yes!”

He groans. The sound is maddeningly sexy. Then he moves. I move. I roll my hips, he thrusts upward. God in Heaven, how can anyone make me feel this good? Fingers dig into my hips as my nails sink into his shoulders. I have the urge to throw my head back, but at this point, I don’t want to risk a concussion. Instead, I push forward, almost laying my cheek against the tattoo on his shoulder. My tongue slithers out to taste it. I flatten it to lick and taste his salty skin, trailing to his neck and up behind ear. Biting his earlobe wasn’t in my plan, but when his strong hands squeeze and pull my hips firmly against him in several short strokes, I bite down. Each movement pushes against me so perfectly, I’m feverishly close to release. Sweat beads along my forehead, amassing into a drop that tickles my hairline as it escapes into my ear.

“Oh, God,” I say, my voice low and imploring. “Baby, I’m… I need, I—I, ohh.”

He makes a noise I can only describe as a growl. It really does feel animalistic, and fuck me, but the noise is just what I needed to hear. Every muscle stiffens and releases in unpredictable order as a burst of heat rushes throughout my entire body. My vision blanks—I see a flash of white like the brightest camera has gone off, outlines of shapes barely visible before me. Just as quickly, it all reverses like a film negative. I can’t even tell you what noises I am making—if any. All I can hear is the rush of the blood in my veins. An aftershock claims my entire body, and it’s as though I am temporarily paralyzed—but happy about it. Not just happy, euphoric. Every nerve ending tingles as the rush slowly fades.

The tide of my pulse in my ears ebbs, and my vision clears. I realize finally that Doc is still moving, feverishly chasing after me. A small part of me thinks, how apt. It almost makes me cry. Well, it actually does if you count the burn of tears threatening the edge of my lashes. Is it guilt? Maybe. There is something inexplicably intense with us, a connection that straightens the learning curve—like every touch was already written. Sex with other men has never made it this easy to reach new heights.

I resume the rock of my hips, pulling at his back to bring him to me, to help him catch up with me. I wrap my arms around him and hold him tight, meeting his thrusts, every desperate pound and push.

“Yes, baby,” I say softly in his ear. “Please, Declan.”

Somehow, I knew that would clinch it. He exhales sharply and stills, holding me as if life itself depended on it. A single tear escapes me, but my body is on fire, and it’s magnificent. He’s basically silent, his breath caught in his throat as he spasms inside me. Finally, he gasps and moans, shuddering before his hands release their death grip.

“Fuck, Beauty,” he mumbles, a smile very pronounced on his lips.

“Mmm-hmm.” I hold his face in my hands and kiss him. I want to kiss him until I collapse or he does.

Or until Cameron taps on the window and says, “I heard you guys from the second floor through my closed windows. Might wanna wrap it up before someone calls the cops.”

I’m frozen, pressing my naked breasts tightly against Doc. Cam chuckles, and she has already begun walking away, but I’m still mortified. Pretty sure my face is the color of a strawberry right now—I am not normally an exhibitionist… except when it comes to Doc, it seems. It’s like I temporarily forgot we were in a car instead of somewhere private and, I don’t know, soundproof. At least we were inside the car this time.

When I feel Doc shift below me—and specifically, inside me, I turn back to find him biting his lips off in an attempt to keep from laughing. He fails.

“Christ,” I mutter.

“Aww, come on,” he says, teasing. “Even a captive audience can be fun. Haven’t you wanted to explore your exhibitionist side?”

I lift an eyebrow. “No.”

Carefully, I climb off of him and search for my discarded clothes. I start with my shirt, since this car feels like all windows right now. I zero in on those that are rolled down. Fucking hell. I grumble to myself and awkwardly try to get covered up so I can “walk of shame” up to the door. I notice Doc’s barely moving, having just rid himself of the condom.

He purses his lips and reaches out to tuck some of my hair behind my ear. “How about exploring getting some sleep? Can I crash with you?”

A lopsided smile spreads across my face as I stop, helplessly caught in his gaze. “Yes.”

He leans over to give me a peck, but then decides he wants slower seconds. Against my lips, he says, “Two yeses in a day? Happy Doc.”

“What does that make me?” I ask. “Snow White? Where are the other dwarves?”

That must have tickled his funny bone, because he unleashes a too-loud cacophony of laughter through the car.

I slap a hand over his mouth and grumble, “Come on, let’s go.”

“Speaking of Grumpy…”

As I walk up the path to the door, Doc sounds off behind me. “People don’t give proper credit to how good car sex can be,” he says. Then, opting for a high-pitched, whiny voice, he adds, “‘It’s so uncomfortable.’ ‘There’s no room.’ Blah blah blah.”

I snicker as I unlock the main door. “Well, it usually is. I can only think of one other time I’ve had sex in a car when it was worth the effort—and that’s questionable at best.”

He stops me as I make a turn for the stairs. “We’ve had sex in a car before,” he says, clearly hurt. “Six weeks ago.”

I turn and stand chest to chest with him. “That was on a car. Big difference.”

“Fair play,” he says as we continue up the stairs. “But you did say usually. I guess it’s a good thing I drive the tank-wagon.”

My body stops at the top of the steps of its own volition. I turn slowly and block the stairs with a hand on each of the newel-posts. “That’s not a thing.”

“What?” He’s genuinely confused. Or orgasm-fogged.

“Tank-wagon. It’s a tank. Or it’s a wagon. It can’t be both.” I feel pretty confident about this, but his responding smirk tells me I shouldn’t be. Because that damn smirk undoes me. It makes me want to do unspeakable things to him. And let him do a whole slew of unspeakable things to me. Shh. Don’t tell him that.

The smirk becomes an all-out grin. He probably knows that already.

“I like tank-wagon.”

“Pfft.” I snort, trying not to laugh. “Well, stud, it doesn’t exist.”

He steps up to the top, pushing me backward onto the landing with his chest. His grin relaxes. “Au contraire,” he says quietly. “We just had sex in one.”

The peal of laughter that escapes me is seriously loud and resembles the sound of a mentally deficient goose. I run toward the apartment door and unlock it as quickly as I can. “Come on!” I hiss, but he ambles over like he’s got no need to rush.

I yank him through the door and close it behind us. He immediately pulls me to him for a kiss, but we’re interrupted by Cam, who’s peeking out of the kitchen with a glass of orange juice in hand.

“I’m going back to bed,” she says. “Do I need to find better earplugs?”

Shameface. “No, Cammy,” I say, dropping my hand to take Doc’s. “We’re going to sleep. Swear.”

“We are?”

Doc’s such a dick.