Sugar on the Edge (15 page)

“So, Brody is like your best friend?”

“No. I don’t have one of those, but he’s probably my closest.”

“The one that knows all your secrets?” Gavin asks as he turns to me for a brief glance.

“He knows one,” I tell him mysteriously.

“Hmmm,” Gavin says as he strokes a finger over his chin. “Are you going to share with me?”

“Maybe one day… but not today,” I tell him firmly.

We reach the 440 beltline and I point to Gavin to take the second exit that will have us heading back east. Traffic is light, and he smoothly transitions onto the highway. I watch as he flicks the gearshift. As he speeds up, he uses his fingers to pull at a paddle behind the steering wheel.

“What are you doing?” I ask with interest, because the engine revs louder with each pull on the paddle.

“I’m in manual mode now. These paddles are gear shifters,” he says as the car leaps forward when he shifts again.

I can feel the vibration of the engine through the creamy, leather seats and hear it scream in abandon as the car surges forward. He moves us into the far left lane and we fly past the other traffic that seems to be standing still.

“Why use the paddles to shift if the car does it automatically for you?” I ask as I watch him shift up and then down again when he slows to a more reasonable speed.

He turns his head to look at me, rolling his eyes in the process. “You’re a woman. What could you possibly understand about a V8 Ferrari-built engine that goes zero to sixty in five seconds flat?”

Laughing, I tell him, “Considering that just sounded like gibberish to me, clearly I don’t understand a thing.”

“Exactly,” he says as he exits onto US 264, a four-lane highway that’s practically deserted. “But I have an idea.”

Gavin starts to slow the car and pulls off onto the right shoulder. When he puts it in park, he undoes his seatbelt. “Get out.”

“Excuse me?”

“Get out. You’re going to drive so you can feel what real power is like underneath you.”

“No way,” I protest.

“Chicken,” he counters.

I glare at him.

“Anti-heroine,” he says with a sly grin.

“Fine,” I grumble, throwing off my seatbelt.

Gavin and I switch places. After I get the seat adjusted and my seatbelt back on, he points out some of the basic features.

“What about the paddles?”

“I’ll let you try those later. Right now, we’ll just leave it in automatic.”

After I put the car in drive and check my side mirror to see that no traffic is coming up on me, I gingerly push on the gas pedal and the engine screams as it leaps forward. I immediately hit the breaks in surprise, which causes the car to slam to a stop, throwing Gavin forward, his hands slapping hard on the dashboard.

“Holy shit,” I exclaim.

Gavin busts out laughing and pats me on the leg. “The accelerator is very responsive. Give it a gentler push.”

I try again, softer this time, and the engine hums for me as the car creeps forward. I put on my blinker and slowly merge onto the highway, gradually accelerating up to the speed limit.

My hands grip the steering wheel with white knuckles as I realize all of a sudden that I’m driving a $140,000 vehicle.

Then they start to sweat.

“Relax,” Gavin croons at me. “You’re doing fine.”

“I don’t want to wreck your car. It would take me a lifetime to pay it off,” I mutter.

“That’s what insurance is for,” he says casually. Then he demands, “Go faster.”

I push a little more firmly on the accelerator and the Maserati leaps under my request, the engine growling sexily at me. I can’t help the smile that comes to my face.

“Nice, right?” Gavin says.

“Oh, yeah,” I agree, and my smile goes wider.

“You’re fucking sexy as hell,” Gavin says so softly that I almost doubt I heard him right.

I turn to spare him a glance… and his eyes are pinned on me, the gray irises darkened, even with the noon sun sparkling bright. I swallow hard, because it’s the same look he gave me the other night, when I told him to touch me between my legs.

A tingling sensation spreads out from the back of my neck and my thighs involuntarily clench together, as I turn my eyes back to the road.

Gavin’s left arm raises up and his fingers skim along the back of my neck, pushing upward over the base of my skull and sifting through my hair. “Have you thought about the other night?” he murmurs.

My hands grip the steering wheel harder and my foot eases up off the accelerator a tiny bit, but words are stuck in my throat. I’m afraid to say anything.

“I have,” he admits softly as he shifts in the seat and leans closer to me. “I’ve thought about it a lot. About what I could have done differently.”

“Gavin—” I croak, but he cuts me off.

Bringing his right hand across, he places it on my knee and starts sliding it up my thigh. My pulse skyrockets and my foot actually falls off the gas pedal, as it’s almost impossible for me to concentrate on driving while he’s touching me.

“Speed back up, Sweet,” he whispers as he leans closer and sticks his nose under my ear. “Don’t want a cop to pull you over for going too slow.”

“I can’t—”

“You can,” he insists quietly, and his hand travels higher. I blink hard and push the gas pedal, getting my speed back up to within a normal range.

My legs fall open a bit to give him easier access and within just a moment, his fingers sit at my hipbone. His index finger strokes back and forth over my brown tights, but I can feel the burn of his touch all the way through to my soul.

“Let’s do this a little differently,” Gavin says with his finger moving softly against the inside of my thigh. “I really want to touch you and all I want from you is to say ‘yes’.”

“Oh, God,” I gasp out as his finger drifts over to press up against my center.

“Say ‘yes,’” he urges, his lips now against my ear, and I’m helpless.

“Yes,” I moan.

Gavin sits up suddenly and pushes my skirt all the way up so it bunches around my hips. “Lift yourself up a bit,” he growls.

I do as he commands, my foot pushing down on the accelerator inadvertently, causing the car to jump forward.

“Easy,” he chuckles, and I let up off the gas a bit.

Taking both of his hands, he pinches at my tights with his fingertips and with a grunt, jerks at the material, causing it to rip right at the inside of my thigh where it meets my hip.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans, and I glance down to see him pulling one edge of the tights away from my skin with his left hand while his right hand tunnels in.

“White lace panties,” he murmurs as his finger slips under the edge. “And they’re damp. My favorite kind.”

I can’t help the half sob, half moan that comes out of my mouth, and he tries to comfort me by leaning forward and kissing me on my lower jaw. “Easy, Sweet. We’re just getting started.”

That’s what scares me. I can barely control the raging of my blood and nonsensical sounds that want to pour forth from my mouth. I’m for sure going to wreck this car.

Softly inching his finger closer, he makes contact with my center and swipes his finger up and down. The move parts my swollen lips, and I can feel the slickness of my response coating his path. My hips flex up, trying to push his finger closer, and he doesn’t wait.

His finger sinks deep inside of me. I groan hard from within my chest, and tears prick at my eyes because this is the most erotic thing that’s ever happened to me in my life. Gavin pulls his finger back, slightly constrained by the material of my panties and tights, and pushes back in a bit rougher.

When he pulls back out again, he moves the tip of his finger and starts circling my clit. His breathing becomes harsher, his lips pressed against my neck, and his breath fanning out gives me additional shivers. He moves faster against me, because we don’t have time to drag this out, and I find I wouldn’t want it any other way.

I’m driving an Italian sports car on a lonely highway with an insanely gorgeous and carnally sinful man with his hand between my legs. There’s no other way for this to go but hard and fast.

“Need you to come for me, Sweet.” Gavin’s words pour out rough across my skin and my foot presses down hard on the accelerator. The needle on the speedometer climbs higher, and the engine cries out for me to give it even more reign.

Gavin’s finger circles, rubs, and presses against me, and I can feel the wetness of my desire slicked all around.

“I’m going to—”

“Fuck yes, you are,” Gavin growls.

“I’m—”

“Come on, Sweet… give it to me,” he urges and stops his rubbing to jam two of his fingers inside of me, hitting me deep and just at the right spot.

“Give it to me, Savannah,” he pants again.

He pulls his fingers out to press down hard on my clit.

“Fucking. Give. It. To. Me,” he practically snarls.

And I do.

Bursting apart from the inside out with a long moan, I give it all to him.

I can hear Savannah moving around downstairs as she cleans, and I’m bound and determined to ignore her. Kind of like the way she ignored me on the ride home yesterday after I made her orgasm all over my hand. I had pulled my hand from between her legs and stuck my index finger in my mouth, licking her off me.

“Delicious,” I said, and she groaned again while her breath came out in sharp, little pants. I wanted to demand she pull the car over to the side of the road, pull her across my lap, and slam her down on my cock. I badly wanted her to ride me there, on the side of Highway 264 in the bright light of day, while other cars whizzed by, but I could tell by the shyness in her eyes and the way she refused to meet my gaze that it wasn’t going to happen.

So I suffered the ride in silence, ultimately pulling out my laptop and fleshing out a new scene between Honey and Max. One where they were in a car together and after the finger fucking was over, she did, in fact, ride his cock hard on the side of the road. The unfortunate by product to writing that scene with the smell of Savannah still wafting up from my fingers as they moved across the keyboard was that I had a raging hard-on the entire time.

Yes, I want to ignore her, the way she ignored me after, but the monster in my pants perked up eager the minute I heard her walk in. Reaching down, I palm my dick through the rough material of my jeans and squeeze it. I close my eyes and groan as I imagine it’s Savannah’s hand on me.

Just that thought… just the thought of her small hand stroking my cock raises so much lust within me; I stand up abruptly from my desk and mutter a curse. Never… in all those months I visited sex clubs and fucked my way through London have I ever been this worked up over a woman.

And a woman that shouldn’t even hold any appeal to me. She represents everything that’s the antithesis to my darkness. She represents the possibility of moving myself out of that darkness, and allowing a little bit of bright back into my life.

That thought makes me shudder, not in a very good way, and my erection wanes.

That’s better.

I head out of my office and down the stairs, determined to be able to confront her. To prove to myself that I can be around her and still be me.