I hadn’t said no.
I cleared my throat and dragged the deflective Dany to the front. “You mean the way you tied me up, slammed me against the hood of your car and then fucked me raw?”
“Uhh, I mean– ”
“Yeah, Joe. It was okay.” I gave him my best smile before quirking the corner for a smirk. “A few adjustments next time and it may even be good.”
The tension in his shoulders lessened. “I look forward to the post-coital survey.” I let loose with an ugly snort laugh that he seemed to appreciate. “Are you still hungry?”
“Is that question number one of the survey? Because the answer is always fuck yes. I put in a lot of work back there!” I gestured wildly behind us for effect. “Always feed a girl after sex. Write that down.”
“Alright, alright! I got it.” Joe’s grin was wide, emphasized by the shadows cast by city lights. Judas Priest this guy was perfect.
Too perfect?My traitorous brain whispered.
“Correct me if I’m getting the wrong impression about this thing between us…” he started shyly.” Would you like to come over to my place tonight? We can order in whatever you’d like.”
My heart stopped. As long as my feet have walked upon this Satan forsaken rock, I’d never been asked over to a man’s house.
Lured? Yes.
Forced? Without a doubt.
Never, ever asked.
“It’s okay if it’s too soon. I can loop back around to your–”
“I’d like that,” I answered, the words rushing out before my rational thinking could catch up. Why the fuck did I say that?
I didn’t look toward Joe, but I could feel the weight of his gaze on me. I didn’twant him to see whatever desperation this was that likely blushed my cheeks and widened my eyes.
“Good.” He didn’t speak for a few beats as if he were taking a moment to let my answer sink in. Eventually, he shook it off and asked, “Wanna listen to some music?”
Thankful for the reprieve, I said, “Joe, Ialwayswant to listen to some music.”
“Always, huh?”
“Yes! And this will be the first true test of our mutual fuckery.”
“Mutual fuckery?” He asked with a chuckle. “I’ll bite. True test how?”
“There’s only one acceptable genre with very few exceptions. If you turn on anything else, I’ll know we weren’t meant to be, and then I’ll kill you and take your ride.”
“Goodness, okay. High stakes.”
“Goodness,” I mocked. “Please. I’ve heard what filth comes out of your mouth. We are all past goodness.”
“Fair enough,” he sighed and reached for the touch screen control panel of the SUV. “Here goes nothing.”
I was on the edge of my seat, ears straining in anticipation of what could possibly stream from the speakers. When the first few notes of the synth cords floated toward my ears…
I damn near fell in love.
Bass guitar strummed a familiar tune before the rest of the band joined in and then, one of the few things God got right, sang through the cabin.
Bon Fucking Jovi.
“Tommy used to work on the docks,” Joe and I screamed in unison.
