Eve
REV FIXES ME with a lethal stare. It’s kind of cute—the man’s more bark than bite.
“You want me to ride in a cage?”
Since he’s the one who volunteered...yeah. “I have to get the Princess Mobile back to my place, and since I’m pretty certain flying and boating are out, that leaves driving.”
There’s a brief pause and then Rev holds out his hand. “Give me your keys.”
“Do I look stupid?” I ignore him and head for the driver’s side. He can ride with me or not, but I’m done. When I slide inside the RV and shove the keys into the ignition, however, Rev’s right there beside me. He scoops his hands beneath my butt and lifts me off the seat.
“No cavemen allowed.”
He grunts and drops me onto the passenger-side seat. “Out of your hands now, princess.”
A guy who must be one of his friends strolls up. He and Rev make arrangements for the other man to drive his bike back to his place and then we hit the road. Way too fast.
Rev drives the Princess Mobile the way he rides his bike. He’s lightning quick, his gaze concentrated on the road as he takes each turn tight and hard. My poor vehicle hasn’t exceeded twenty-five miles an hour in years, and he’s pushing fifty. On city streets.
“Slow down. I can’t afford a ticket.”
“This thing doesn’t go fast enough for a ticket.” I silently point out the window at a speed limit sign and he grunts. “You think I can’t afford to pay a ticket?”
“I don’t want a ticket.”
“Because you’re such a good girl?”
“Because I have a strong personal preference for not breaking the law,” I snap and roll my eyes. “I’m not unusual in that regard.”
“Uh-huh.” He brakes for a red light and slides me a sidelong look. “You gonna pout about my driving all the way home?”
I focus on the road. So I don’t like breaking rules. I follow the law religiously. I don’t even cheat the smallest bit on my taxes, which likely makes me the IRS’s favorite small business owner. I’ve never written off so much as a single personal item. These are not character flaws.
Rev taps my knee. “Nothing to say?”
“I’m not in the mood to talk to you.”
He hits the gas when the light changes. “Don’t let me stop you, because I’m never gonna fucking live this down.”
“You’re the one who insisted on sitting in the driver’s seat,” I point out smugly. “This isn’t my fault—and this isn’t the way to my house. Do you need GPS?”
We’re in an unfamiliar industrial area. Rev’s sense of direction must suck.
“You need to know something,” he says slowly.
You know what? I don’t need to know whatever it is he’s about to share. It’s a safe bet it’s designed to piss me off, and I’ve already achieved that state, thank you very much. In fact, I have a point I need to make very clear to Rev. Immediately. Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars.
“Pull over.”
I’m tired of being the good girl. Of doing what I should, when I should. I reach over and grab Rev’s dick through his jeans.
He freezes. “The fuck?”
I have to hand it to him—he doesn’t crash us. He jerks the RV over to the side of the road.
I squeeze harder. “Now that I’ve got your attention, let’s talk.”
I’m not sure what happens next exactly, but Rev twists, my hand loses its grip and I fly backward. My head bounces against the seat as my back plants on the vinyl and Rev comes down over me, pinning me with his weight. My hands are trapped beneath me, which is my first clue that this teach-Rev-a-lesson scenario just derailed.
“I’m listening,” he says slowly. “In fact, I’m in the mood to be perfectly fair. Tit for tat. You want my attention, it’s all yours.”
Crap.
“Think you made it a rule,” he adds thoughtfully. “You do 30 percent of the chasing. I do the other 70. I owe you something now.”
I should say stop.
I should stay mad.
Instead, just one word comes out of my mouth. “Please.”
It’s a stupid word and one I’ll regret saying tomorrow, if not sooner. But I’m horny, I’m pissed off and I think there’s something special between Rev and I, even if neither one of us knows how to talk about it. We both need more practice at this relationship thing.
His hand finds the waistband of my jeans. “You want this?”
“Please,” I repeat, but this time it’s more order than request. Screw asking him for what I want—I’ll settle for telling.
He eases the jeans down to my ankles and then I step out of them. This shouldn’t turn me on.
But it does.
Oh, God, does it turn me on.
My left leg brushes the seat; my right leg smacks into the dashboard. The lack of room is absolutely the only reason I hook my traitorous leg around Rev’s ass. Truly, it is. I don’t like him all that much right now. He’s obnoxious, arrogant and way too demanding. No matter what we’ve done together, he’s not in the driver seat of my life. I am.
Except I’m also spread wide on the front seat.
“Rev—”
“Shut up,” he says calmly. “It’s my turn.”
I look down, as much as I can, and that’s a huge mistake because heat rushes south. His hand disappears from view and then I feel his fingers stroking over the crotch of my panties. I yelp.
“You grabbed me.” He sounds like the voice of reason. Given the way he’s straddling me, I can feel his dick. Rev isn’t a small man anywhere, as the long, thick part of him pressing against me attests. I wriggle, trying to free my hands, and he gets bigger.
I am such a lucky girl.
“We can’t do this here.” I’d like to say I protest because I’m sensible of where we are (parked by the side of a road). And maybe that factors in—but the real reason is logistical. There’s not enough space to have sex here, no matter how badly I want it.
The pinning-me-down part is a little iffy, too. I’ve never tried tying a guy up or being tied up, and I should tell him to get the fuck off me. He’d do it. Rev promised me the first time he touched me that the games ended the minute I told him stop, so while I’d love to tell him he doesn’t do it for me... I’d be lying. And with his fingers pressed against the crotch of my panties, he’s gonna figure the truth out for himself anyhow.
“You’re wet,” he whispers roughly. “Even wetter than in the club.”
He just had to bring that up. Yes. I’m that turned on. My panties are soaked, and if he moves his fingers, I’ll come for him. The guys I’ve dated in the past have been foreplay guys. They’ve kissed and touched and run through bedroom tricks like they’re working their way through a back issue of Cosmopolitan. And while I appreciated their efforts, none of them made me feel the way Rev does. It’s like riding the orgasm Tilt-A-Whirl, one endless round of pleasure, when before I’d been standing all alone in line for the teacup ride.
He drags his fingers down my crotch and then tunnels beneath the lacy edge. Heat races through me as his fingers skim my slick folds, the pleasure so sharp and intense I swear I see stars. Or maybe that’s just sunlight on a passing car. I don’t know. I can’t think, can’t make my head figure out the logical thing to do. All I can do is feel.
“I could fuck you right here.” His voice gets lower, rougher. Darker. I bet he gives brilliant phone sex. I buck and he pins me down.
“Tell me no, Evie, if this isn’t what you want.”
“Can’t,” I gasp out. I have no idea why he wants to talk now, when we could be doing other things. Kissing. Kissing would be good.
“Can.” He gives me a dark smile and then shoves his fingers through my slick, swollen folds. Yes. I scream for him. God, I’d do anything he wanted right now. He penetrates me with two fingers, opening me up and pushing deep into my body.
“Ask me for it,” he growls, twisting his fingers inside me and finding a magic spot. What should feel like an invasion feels so goddamned good. He works his fingers deeper as his thumb zeroes in on my clit. I collapse shamelessly beneath him, giving up any thought of resistance as my pussy tightens. Rev’s shoulder strikes the steering wheel and he grunts.
“Let me up.” We can drive to his place or mine. Find a motel. Something.
“Kinda like having you like this.” He looks down, watching his hand, seeing me take his fingers and ride him. It turns me on, knowing he’s so confident. He knows what he likes—and he’s certain he can make me like it, too.
He penetrates me with three fingers this time, driving deep into my body. Not as if I put up any resistance. I’m swollen, wet for him, so slick that I can hear the wetness as he plays with me.
He brushes his mouth over my ear. “You still mad at me?”
This kind of discussion would guarantee world peace. Maybe our leaders should try it. I giggle at the thought and Rev nips my ear hard.
“Don’t laugh at the man who’s making you feel good.” Warm amusement threads through his voice, though. That’s something I’m figuring out about Rev. He doesn’t judge in bed. Whatever works for me is his favorite thing, too. He finds my G-spot, his calloused fingers rubbing just right against a place that makes me see not just stars but an entire fucking galaxy.
My head shuts down, my body tight and focused on Rev. He’s the center of the universe for me.
“Remember,” he says roughly, as if he hasn’t tattooed himself on every nerve ending in my body. “You started this.”
“And you’d better finish it before I kill you.” I finally manage to wriggle my hands free, but Rev is ready for me. He draws them over my head until my fingers close around the door handle.
“Don’t let go,” he orders.
I’m stretched tight, anticipation thrumming through me, as his thumb circles my clit and his fingers push slowly in and out.
“Or?”
“Or I’ll stop.” His laugh taunts me. “You want to end like this, Evie? Wet and tight, needing what I can give you?”
The man should have been a lawyer.
Not waiting for an answer, he moves down my body and I do my best to make room for him. He shoves my sopping panties to the side, his thumb still working my clit in lazy circles.
“You like me just fine,” he announces, sounding way too fucking pleased. “This doesn’t feel mad to me.”
He works me with his tongue, tasting me, owning me. My panties vanish, along with all rational thought. Rev doesn’t hesitate. He opens me up shamelessly, holding me in place with his hands on my hips. His mouth finds my clit, his tongue licking my slick folds as he pushes his thumb and fingers back inside me. I can’t breathe, can’t scream, and holding back isn’t part of my plan. I hurtle toward my orgasm so fast that I yell loud enough to be heard on the street.
Pretty sure I scream his name. Might make more than a few promises, too, my thighs squeezing his head, my fingers clenched around the handle. I’m pulled tight, stretched, and when the tension breaks, I’m all his.