I sit up on the hood and hug my legs to my chest.
“We’re not good people, but at least we’re together in that.” I look to the side and shake my head as a car roars past us. A howl of wind rides up the back of my shirt. “I don’t really want to talk about it rightnow, and that probably makes me an even shittier person, but I’m very sorry for choking you.”
He just nods.
“I mean it,” I whisper as I lower myself gently off the hood, my boots kicking against gravel. And maybe it’s manipulative of me, but I’m terrified he’s about to run, so I pull him in for an embrace. Hold him close and plant a soft kiss on his forehead. “Go grab your shit, punk.”
He tilts his head upward with glistening eyes as a gentle smile rises over his lips. “I’m still your punk?”
“Yeah.” I force a smile and squeeze him tighter. “I guess I can’t get rid of you that easily. My precious little killer.”
CHAPTER 12
SEVEN
The days grow hotter evenas they grow shorter. The nights are hotter too, inching toward a permanent inferno. We can’t escape the sweat, but at least the breeze tunneling through the open windows brings a little respite.
Noah’s grumpier than usual, which is an absurd observation because he’s been grumpy since I first laid eyes on him. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed this evening, right around eight at night. Threw on some fresh clothes and commanded we were leaving immediately.
I did as I was told, having learned I don’t really get a say in where we’re going or when. That’s fine with me, anyhow. I’m indecisive, so best to not leave decisions up to me. Otherwise, we’d be staying put because I’m tired of the road. And staying in place isn’t the smartest idea from two people on the run from their pasts.
Noah clenches his jaw and shakes his head. Something’s clearly on his mind, but I don’t dare question what. He would only answer with a scowl or a sneer. Might even tell me to mind my own fucking business. He reaches into the center console, pulls a cigarette from an opened pack and places it between his lips where it teeters up and down.
I rip it out of his mouth. I’m not brave enough to question what’s on his mind but have no qualms about doing something he has explicitly told me not to do before. There are many things I don’t understand in this life including why I do the things I do.
“This is a disgusting habit,” I scold him.
He tongues the inside of his cheek as he turns to me. “You know I don’t actually smoke them.”
“It’s looking an awful lot like you’re about to start, and that’s not happening on my watch.” I toss it out the window with a shrug and a shit-eating grin.
He reaches down into the console and grabs the whole pack, but I rip that out of his hand too. The entire pack lands somewhere on the road behind us.
He wags his finger at me. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“What are you going to do?” I lean over the shifter. “Spank me?”
The sting of Noah’s open palm ripples across my ass. A smidge of pain is a fair trade for a cock-filled hole.
The muscles in my arm tense as I try to hold myself upright, but it’s a difficult chore when there’s a literal God plowing me from behind. He’s really in a punishing mood. Wants me to feel the sting of every stroke. Wants me to know the pleasure I’m experiencing is the consequence of my own actions.
I saw this in a porno once. Some straight guy was railing some other straight guy on the side of the road. They might have been stepbrothers or some shit. Also that video was filmed during the day, and I’m being taken in the middle of the night.
Regardless, holy fucking hell.
There’s something about the night air caressing every square inch of my naked body. Something absolutely feral about being fucked in the wide open where anyone could drive by and see. Something submissive about the way I find pleasure in Noah taking his grumpiness out on me.
The grumpier he is, the harder he fucks.
The harder he fucks, the faster I come.
I feel myself tighten around his cock as I shoot my seed, painting the backseat of his precious old car in creamy, white jizz. He continues to rail me from behind, slapping my ass here and there. I’m spent, but my cock remains semi-hard, slapping against the fabric of the backseat with every thrust from behind. I scoop over the evidence of my release with my pointer fingerand swallow it into my own mouth. It’s what he’d want me to do. To clean the mess I’ve made before he sees it.
Out of sight.
Out of mind.
That’s what he is as his breath quickens and his fingers dig into my flesh. He pulls his cock free, tosses the warm condom onto my back, and shoots rope after rope of hot cum onto my bare cheeks.
