At 2:09 AM, I finally left, and there he was, leaning against a black car, smoking. His dark hair was slicked back, the piercings in his ears glinting under the streetlight. The leather jacket he wore was unzipped, revealing a fitted black shirt that clung to his chest in a way that made my mouth go dry and something else turn wet.
Cross exhaled smoke through his nose, his eyes raking over me. “You’re sure in no hurry, doll.”
“Making sure you build up the appetite.”
He grinned, flicking the cigarette away. “Oh, I’m positively famished.”
He pushed off the car and stepped closer, the heat of his body cutting through the humid night air. The streetlight caught the sharp angles of his face, making him look real fucking tempting.
I tilted my head up to him and watched his grin grow before he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. The rough stubble on his jaw grazed my chin, and I tasted coffee and the bitter aftertaste of cigarettes on his tongue. Then, suddenly, his hand was between my thighs, and I yelped against his mouth.
“Relax,” he whispered. “Just saying ‘hello’.”
His fingers pressed against the lace between my legs, and I gasped, my hips jerking forward instinctively. And yet my hand landed against his cheek, slapping him, before I took him by the jaw and kissed him again, deeper, greedier.
The hand between my thighs didn’t relent, fingers curling against the fabric of my thong. “You’re dripping, babe,” he muttered against my mouth.
I pulled back just enough to glare at him. “Don’t make me slap you again.”
He grinned at that and withdrew his hand. “Oh, you’re mean tonight.” The hand that had been between my thighs now wrapped around my wrist. He brought my fingers to his mouth, eyes locked on mine, and sucked two of them inside — tongue swirling around the pads before he bit down hard enough to make me gasp. “I like mean,” he said, and finally nodded toward the car. “Get in.”
I looked back at my pink Barbie car and decided nothing would happen if it stayed here overnight, and got inside his Mustang.
The engine growled to life with a deep rumble that vibrated through the leather seats. Cross didn’t look at me as he pulled away from the curb, his hands loose on the steering wheel. The city blurred past — neon signs, drunken laughter spilling from bars, the occasional flash of a taxi’s brake lights. I watched it allthrough the window, relaxing into the seat while I took off the high heels and stretched my feet.
“Give them here,” he said, eyes on the road.
“The shoes?”
“Your feet.”
I cocked an eyebrow but ended up turning in the seat and placing my feet in his lap. His hands were warm, fingers pressing into the arches just right. I let out a soft moan before I could stop myself, the sound swallowed by the hum of the engine and the distant wail of a police siren somewhere in the French Quarter.
Cross smirked, thumb digging into a particularly tender spot. “Long night?”
“Long enough,” I admitted, letting my cheek press against the headrest. The relief in my feet was almost perverse, the way his hand worked out the knots. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”
“Oh yeah?” His thumb pressed deeper, and I bit my lip to keep from making another lewd sound. “What kind?”
“Film a video with me.”
His hand stilled on my feet. The car slowed at a red light, the engine idling. Cross turned his head to look at me.
“For my OnlyFans,” I added, lazily moving my toes against his stomach.
His fingers tightened around my ankle. “You want to film me fucking you.”
“After the way you aired our dirty laundry yesterday — I think it’s only fair,” I said, and then— “And it’s the only way you’ll get to stick it in, rockstar. No video — no p in v.” I shook my head, biting my lip seductively.
His eyes darkened, the streetlight catching the glint of danger in them. The light turned green, but he didn’t move. The car behind us honked, and Cross finally released my ankle, his hand sliding up my calf so slowly before he shifted the car into gear.
“You drive a hard bargain, Baby Doll,” he said, voice low. The engine growled as he accelerated.
“AndI want that thirty-five K on top of that,” I said.
The car surged forward, tires gripping the pavement as Cross navigated the empty streets. His hand didn’t leave my leg, fingers moving in idle patterns up my thigh, each touch sending an electric jolt straight to my pussy. “Take my phone.” He nodded in the general direction of the center console. “Wire yourself the money.”
I reached over and grabbed his phone, the screen lighting up with a passcode prompt. “What’s the code?”
