“We should get back to work,” she mutters.
“I think we’re good for today. Step one—client books ride. Step two—you fulfill ride. Unless there’s something about that workflow you’re struggling with?”
She lets out a giggle, a hand flying to her mouth.
I laugh. “Did you just literally giggle?”
“Nope. Not even a little bit.”
“I think you kinda did—don’t gaslight me!”
“Shut up!”
“You giggled!” I lean out my window and call out to the trees. “Amy Hitman just giggled like a girl—in my car!”
“Cut it out!”
She launches herself at me, smothering me with her hand, and I grab her waist, pulling her closer. I love it when she plays hard to get. As soon as she whips her hand back, I close the distance, pressing my lips to hers, powered by all the tension that’s been building over the past twenty minutes.
I draw her onto my lap, kneading her ass, feeling my way up to her soft, heavy breasts, loving how they fill my hands. This wasn’t part of the plan, but it seems this is how things always go with us. I catch her tongue between my teeth, a shiver shooting down my spine when she rocks against me, and we grind our way into a groove, exploring with our mouths and hands, until she fumbles for the lever and folds my seat all the way down.
We can’t get it on here—not unless we want to have our asses hauled down to the station, and after a while, we push away from each other, frustration fizzing between us.
“This is stupid,” she whispers, rubbing herself harder against my lap.
I yank down on her waistband, prizing the buttons of her pants loose with my thumb and slipping my fingers into her panties, moving gently back and forth, savoring every second of her as she grinds down against me. While she sucks on my lip, I take her to the edge, pulling back, slowing down, and when she bites at me, pushing against me for more, I lean farther back—teasing her, making her work for it. I get to decide when she comes. Right here, right now, I’m taming her, andI love the power I have over her, the control she has over me. Every single time, she draws me into this magnetic dance, a push-pull that makes me forget the chaos around me.
She’s perfect.
Amy’s the girl I need when everything gets to be too much… And it so often does with me.
She’s imperfect.
Amy’s the side street I lose myself down, a moment suspended in time. No stress, no strings, just a chance to catch my breath—it’s so freeing.
Suddenly, my phone rings, and I come crashing back down to reality.
That’s Don’s ringtone.
Busy here, dude.
When he tries calling again, I’m this close to blocking him.
Not now—just give me a minute more… A second more…
But something about the energy whirling around me shifts me out of focus, and it’s like my hand has a mind of its own. I pick up.
“Hey, buddy. You good?”
Amy’s tongue is still rolling around my mouth, and I glance down at the phone, suddenly panicked, as if he can see me through the screen.
“Am I interrupting something?” he asks suspiciously.
My eyes dart out the window. Is he spying on us?
“Nope! Just on the road!”
I snatch my hand back and drape it over the steering wheel, like that’ll make me sound more convincing. I can feel Amy’s eyes on me—judging me, listening to me. Watching and waiting. She’s panting hard, and I make a conscious effort to still my breath.
