Drive: Cougars, Cars and Kink, Book 1 (11 page)

At that, they all began to laugh, much harder, Suzanne realized, than the story warranted. Her body shook, and she knew it wasn’t just laughter, but tension releasing. Neil, who was whooping, pulled her to her feet, sat himself down in the chair, and then tugged her onto his lap. His father was red in the face and wiping at his eyes. “Poor kitty.”

“He felt so bad about Daisy. She lost fur in the injured area and it never grew back.” He’d refused to get another cat after Daisy died—many years after the incident, having lived to an advanced age despite bald patches on her formerly magnificent tail; while he came up with a lot of excuses, Suzanne always knew it was guilt. He’d loved that cat to pieces but he’d hurt it.

She’d almost forgotten that. Frank had gotten good at hiding his feelings, good at being detached and remote. But once he’d been a man who admitted he loved a tuxedo cat from the local shelter, who petted the cat when he was home and made automated toys so she’d have someone to play with even when she was alone. Who broke out of his remoteness, out of the shell he’d built around himself and the busyness of running a company, to make sure they could go together for Daisy’s final trip to the vet, who’d held the little black-and-white body afterward and cried and buried it in the backyard even though it was technically illegal in Bellwood.

Suzanne realized she was crying and laughing at the same time.

“Daisy was a great cat,” she said weakly. “I still miss her.” Then she forced herself to smile. “But you know, I think I’m finally ready to get another cat once this mess is settled. Lots of other good kitties need homes.”

From the way Neil hugged her closer and Joe just shook his head, they realized even before she did that she wasn’t just talking about cats.

Well, wasn’t that special? At least Neil wasn’t freaking out. But she kind of was. She’d told Janice she was ready to date again. She’d certainly proved she was ready to have sex again. But it was one thing to admit to your best friend that a new relationship sounded good, another to inadvertently admit it not only to the man you’d just had a fling with, but to his dad as well.
Awkward!

“Want to look at the car first thing in the morning?” Joe said, blatantly changing the subject.

“Sure. Won’t have a lot of time, but we can get started. Finish after work, unless Janice wants us to stop by and pick up that phone.”

After all the talk, the intensity and then the laughter, silence filled the room, its weight shocking. Suzanne’s crazy energy fled, and all she wanted to do was cling to Neil until she relaxed enough to sleep. But the weight of the silence wouldn’t let her.

Finally Joe spoke again. “Well,” he said. “You two must be beat, and my show’s on in a few minutes. Gonna go heat up some dinner. Suzanne.” He nodded, the gesture simultaneously curt and gracious, and retreated.

He’d left them alone together.

For about five heartbeats they remained frozen in their almost-decorous position.

Then he stood and leaned over her. One hand pushed on the back of the chair, tipping her back slightly. She fell backward, raised her head, let her mouth open despite herself.

His other hand tangled in her hair, a firm, possessive grip. He half-lifted her out of the chair, though she followed willingly, raising herself to meet him. He moved the hand from the chair to the small of her back, slipped it under the hem of her shirt so he was touching bare skin.

Her brain melted.

His lips took possession of her mouth, and all worry, all tension, all thought of anything but him fled.

Chapter Fourteen

He shouldn’t be doing this.

Neil didn’t feel bad about kissing her. He’d caught the quickening of her breath when he’d caressed the back of her hand, noted the way her body softened when she leaned into him. Yesterday hadn’t been a one-time good deal for either of them. She wanted more, just like he did. Not sure what that meant yet, but it was a place to start.

But he couldn’t help kissing her like he was a starving animal and she was something he could devour. Like she was his and it was his right to do so.

He should be considerate now, gentle. Soothing. A sweet kiss, welcoming. Then he should take care of her, make her comfortable. Maybe ask her if she’d prefer to go out for dinner or order in or take a chance on his cooking. He wasn’t a candidate for
Iron Chef
, and he needed to go shopping, but he could manage doctoring spaghetti sauce from a jar or grilling up a tuna melt with what he had on hand.

Instead his tongue moved in and out of her mouth roughly, mimicking fucking. He’d pulled her out of the chair. His cock was already steel hard, and the only reason he wasn’t tearing at her clothes was that the position was awkward and he wanted to hold her. Let them move, just a little, and he’d be flipping up that soft print skirt. He loved skirts for so many reasons, but access was definitely one of them. He thought he remembered her complaining that she didn’t have clean panties. Wasn’t that convenient?

And wasn’t he a pig, considering the kind of day she’d had, how exhausted she must be? But Suzanne didn’t exactly protest. No, her mouth had opened under his invasion and she was sucking on his tongue, welcoming it in. She arched her body against him. God, she was supple. Must do yoga or dance or something because the position was damn awkward and she was not only maintaining it but encouraging him. One of her hands was on the chair arm for balance, but the other was on his back, moving around, gliding down toward his ass and back up again.

He felt like a horny teenager, at the edge of losing control. Before Suzanne appeared at the door, he’d been so exhausted he didn’t think he could stay awake long enough for a reasonable conversation, let alone a scene. Eat something simple, kiss her good night, crawl into bed together and try for some fun in the morning if they had the energy then. He’d started waking up as soon as he saw her, and now all the fatigue had melted away, leaving behind only raw need.

Not right.

Except from the way she was reacting, the same thing had happened to her. So there was no reason to feel weird about it.

He broke away from the kiss just long enough for Suzanne to stand up. Her eyes were soft, glazed, her mouth swollen from his kisses, and her nipples made little tents in her shirt. He managed to get a good look before she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down, back into the kiss. “Need you,” she whispered before their lips met again. “Please.” Her voice was sultry with desire.

Oh hell… Sometime they’d sit down and go over checklists and have the conversation about fantasies and limits that a Dom and a sub should have before they played. But tonight wasn’t going to be that night. He’d watch her body language, listen for safewords, ask her before he tried anything new. Besides, he wasn’t in the mood to talk anymore, and he sensed she wasn’t either.

Neil pulled her close, a rough, possessive movement. He slid his hand down that amazing ass and started working her skirt up as they kissed.

Yeah, he’d remembered correctly. No panties. Hallelujah.

He squeezed. She moaned. “That’s tender. More than I realized.”

“Good.”

“Not too tender, though.” Her voice was quivery in a good way, like she couldn’t quite believe the words coming out of her mouth, couldn’t quite believe her own daring. “Please…” She pushed her ass back against his questing hand and he knew what she was pleading for. Still, he figured he should double-check. One, it was the right thing to do. Two, prolonging her suspense, making her ask again, spelling out what she’d probably prefer to leave as inarticulate pleas, was evil in a fun way.

“Tell me what you need, Suzanne.”

She swallowed hard. He watched her throat move, remembering her sucking his cock the night before. “I need to stop thinking. Stop fretting. Need to clear my head. Pain and sex will help. Please spank me.”

“Bend over. Brace yourself on the chair.”

Without a second’s hesitation, and with a glowing smile, Suzanne obeyed. “Are you always this obedient?”

“Don’t know. So far you haven’t given any orders I haven’t liked.” She hesitated then added, “Except about the cell phone, and that was just common sense.” He flipped up her skirt, baring the naked ass he’d felt, but hadn’t seen in what felt like years.

It was bruised. The light mottling made it even more spectacular. He ran his fingers lightly over the bruising until she was purring under his ministrations.

Then he pinched. Suzanne yelped, but the yelp quickly shifted to a moan, and she pushed back against his hand. Already, he smelled the rich aroma of her arousal. He wasn’t one to wax poetic about things like a woman’s scent, but he’d go as far as saying hers was intoxicating. Maybe that was just her, though. Not her smell but her lust, her enthusiasm, her need, the way she didn’t feel she had to play shy and coy with him.

“Are you sure you want a spanking? You must be sore already.” He was confident of the answer, based on her hungry reaction to the pinch, the way she was swaying her butt now as if trying to hypnotize him with it. But it was always smart to ask when you and a sub were still getting to know each other.

Know each other? Hell, under circumstances that didn’t involve craziness with cars, drones and creepy dudes with accents he couldn’t place, they’d still be at the coffee-date stage. Maybe coffee-date with a lot of suggestive flirting and a kiss goodbye that involved tongue and hair-pulling, but still, things were moving fast. In a good direction, but still fast.

“Yes!” Then she hesitated before adding. “I’m a little tender, but every time I sat down today, I thought of you. Thought about that evil, wonderful spoon.”

“Good.” He pushed the skirt further up, making sure it was out of the way. “You should be tender. You’re bruised.”

“I want a mirror.” If he hadn’t been able to see her grin, he swore he could have heard it.

He petted the curve of her ass again. “Later. It’ll look even better freshly reddened.” She wriggled under his hand. She had no idea how tempting…or maybe she did. Suzanne might not have a lot of real-life experience, but she had all the right instincts.

“Don’t scream,” he whispered. “Dad’s right next door.” He put his left hand between her shoulder blades, forcing her head down and at the same time offering connection, comfort in what must still be an odd situation. Then he struck. “This is for not telling me you were friends with Janice. Not that you had any reason to know I knew her.”

She laughed. At the same time, she rose onto the balls of her feet as if the blow lifted her up, and she shoved the fleshy base of her thumb into her mouth to stifle a cry.

Then a layer of tension melted away from her body. He swore he could see her muscles softening, her breathing become slower and deeper.

He understood exactly what she was feeling because the same magic was working on him. For her, pain and surrender. For him, pain and control. Two sides of a coin.

Three more spanks, each punctuated with a ridiculous reference to Janice and “being set up”. Three more delicious responses.

He pitched his voice low. “Good girl.” She sighed, a sigh halfway to a moan of ecstasy, and that felt like a reward.

He cupped his hand this time, and caught her at the sweet spot where her ass curved to meet her thighs.

This time he heard the gasp behind her hand, but it turned to a pleased moan. The roll of her hips gave him a good look at her pussy, already slicked and swollen.

He couldn’t resist giving that tempting pussy a slap too, much lighter than the ones on her ass, but enough to test how she liked it.

The sound that escaped around her hand was indescribable, unprintable, and sexy as hell. His hand came away wet, and when he looked down, a trickle of moisture glinted on her thigh. “More, please,” she said, almost whimpering.

“On your ass or your cunt?”

“Yes, please.”

Oh God. How had he gotten this lucky? All he’d meant to do was check out a car. Of course, Janice had other designs, but her instincts had been great so he couldn’t complain, except jokingly.

Of course he’d also gotten up to his eyebrows in a clusterfuck that involved some potential insane brew of alphabet agencies, corporate sharks and wannabe terrorists. But when he gave a sharp slap to Suzanne’s swollen sex, felt the slickness coat his fingers, heard her sharp intake of breath, the clusterfuck dimmed, leaving only the keen-edged moment behind.

He rested his wet fingers against her, found the steel ring amid the soft, slippery flesh. Tugged. Caressed. Tugged again. Held off when it seemed like she might come, instead alternately petting her soft pubic curls and slapping at the inside of her thighs. He repeated the game until she was mewling and not even bothering to hold it back. “Shhh,” he said, but his hand kept moving, encouraging her, enjoying the noises and her lack of control.

He was a grown man. His father could handle a few odd noises, and if he got funny looks or inquiring grunts while they checked out the Mustang in the morning, it was worth it.

With her juices, he traced the outline of a red palm print on her ass. She made a strangled noise, shaking her head back and forth as if she wanted to say something—wanted to
demand
something—but couldn’t find words, at least not words she dared to use at the moment. “Good girl,” he repeated, though he wasn’t sure if he meant her obvious hunger or the unspoken plea. She wasn’t the only one who was having trouble with words at this point. A lot of the blood his brain needed had gathered in his cock and balls.

God, he loved her responsiveness. She was uninhibited, had some idea what she’d like to try, but she seemed surprised by her own reactions half the time, surprised by her lack of shame and delighted by it, and that made her even more fun. She offered the best of both worlds: the thrill of watching a newbie learn about her own kinks and the pleasures of BDSM combined with the ease of a more experienced, worldly playmate who knew what she wanted.

He began spanking that tempting curve again, spanked until it was a uniform rose. Suzanne’s cunt juices dripped down her thighs and his cock was so hard, so demanding, that it was all he could do not to take her right there, over the chair, just like yesterday not even bothering to undress because he didn’t want to deal with anything that slowed down his dick’s race into that tight, hungry pussy.

He forced himself to take a deep breath. Nothing wrong with that kind of crazed-weasel sex, but maybe it would do them both good to slow down this time.

Once it was over, once he’d come and so had she, they’d both start thinking again. No need to rush for
that
moment. Not tonight.

He eased her upright, guiding her with both hands, then turning her around in his arms. An open-mouthed kiss, almost soft after the wild ones earlier, but punctuated with his fingers digging into her tenderized ass until she groaned into his mouth and tried to ride his thigh. Then he broke off the kiss. He’d meant to say something more eloquent, or at least a complete sentence, but what came out was “Bed. Now.” And that seemed to work for Suzanne.

The bedroom, at least, was upstairs and on the far side of the house. His father, probably in the living room watching TV, wouldn’t hear noises.

Neil had every intention of making Suzanne scream. A lot.

* * * * *

The downstairs had seemed trapped in an earlier decade, but Neil had put a little work into his bedroom. It was simple, both traditional and modern looking, with pale yellow walls, dark wood furniture with clean lines—Mission knock-offs. Simple, functional, and yet attractive. In her work, she’d seen a lot of bad decorating. This was no designer masterpiece, but it was good decorating.

Tonight she thought the gun case under the nightstand particularly complimented the décor.

She might have been biased because the room’s simplicity made it easy to focus on Neil, intense in his uniform, eyes dark with need. She liked the way he looked in his uniform. The dark blue suited him, as did the severity of it. It gave him an air of authority she liked. Even the white T-shirt that showed where he’d opened his collar worked for her, maybe because Frank wore suits when he needed to impress investors and dressed in engineer chic the rest of the time, khakis and plaid or checked button-down shirts that had gotten more expensive as he’d become more successful, but no less ugly.

When she touched Neil, the fabric, coarse and tough and polyester-laden, felt right because it was his uniform, or maybe because it was on his body. She traced the outline of the Boston Police Department patch on his upper arm, feeling the heat of his skin, the hardness of his muscles.

“Uniform fetish?” He smiled as he said it, and the smile seemed to strip away her clothes and several layers of skin.

“I never thought so before tonight. I still don’t think so. But the uniform works on you.”

“Have to show you the dress uniform sometime.” He was unbuttoning his shirt as he said it. “Those pants fit better. And you’ll like the jacket. Everyone likes that.”

She swallowed hard. It wasn’t like he was showing more skin yet, but the white tee clung to his chest in a way the uniform shirt didn’t. Dark hair poked through in places, and she could see his nipples, erect and dark in contrast to his fair skin. “I’m sure. But I like this better. Your body, under thin cotton.” She reached out, ran her hand down his chest. The T-shirt was soft under her fingertips, with the crispness of his hair underneath, and warm skin. She brushed his nipple, was rewarded by an intake of breath and a low, “Damn…” He grabbed her wrist then, and that gesture, that demand, almost brought her to her knees. “You’re making me crazy. Crazier. Let me get undressed.” He let go of her wrist. It felt lonely. His touch echoed in her skin, pulsed at her wrist. Her ass throbbed, and so did her clit, in time with her heart, her blood, that insistent beat in the place he’d held.