Page 22 of Dick

I stomped down on the gas pedal. The brute acceleration pinned both of us back in our seats, and remained until we reached 140 miles per hour. She screamed a joyous yelp as the exhaust note belched out the back and the road ahead rushed upon us at horrifically rapid pace. Before we merged into traffic, I released the gas pedal, applied the brakes, and began to slow the car to a moderate speed.

The car was capable of more than 200 miles per hour, but I wasn’t interested in being chased by the cops or arrested for driving a stolen car. I slowed to 90 miles per hour and merged into traffic.

“Holy shit,” Jess said. “This thing is fun.”

“It’s impossible to drive the fucker without speeding,” I said.

“Do it again,” she begged.

It was the least I could do for her, considering she was the first person who ever took the entire length of my cock without a moment’s complaint.

I checked all three mirrors, made note of no cops, and scanned the road ahead to determine my path. “Ready?”

She grinned. “Yep.”

I tapped the back of the downshift paddle four times, mashed the accelerator, and sped up from 70 to 160 almost instantly, weaving in and out of cars like a trained professional. I released the accelerator pedal and glanced at Jess. The ear-to-ear smile had either returned or never left.

“It sucks this is over,” she said.

“What’s that?” I asked. I no more than responded, and realized what she meant.

It did suck. My life as a professional criminal was rewarding in many respects, but disappointing in so many others. Not allowing people close to me was the most difficult part to accept, but was the one thing that kept me beyond the walls of prison.

And going back to prison wasn’t an option.

She turned her head to face me. “Never seeing you again.”

I nodded and opted to remain silent. I didn’t like it, either, but I didn’t want to talk about it.

She turned, peered out the window, and immediately screamed. “Cop!”

I checked the rearview. Sans lights, but traveling in excess of what I would guess to be 100 miles per hour, a cop was flying up behind us. I signaled and changed lanes to the right.

He changed lanes.

I signaled again and changed lanes into the exit lane.

He changed lanes.

Fuck.

The lights in his grille, the top of the car, and the headlights all started flashing at the same time. My asshole puckered in response.

Son-of-a-fucking bitch.

“Get your arm inside the window and hold on,” I said.

“What?”

I pulled against the downshift paddle four times, pressed down on the gas, and flipped the window buttons to up. “I’m gonna outrun that prick behind us.”

“The cop?” she gasped.

The car quickly sped up from 70 miles per hour to 120. “Yeah, the cop.”

At 120 miles per hour, he was still close behind.

I swerved to keep from hitting a truck directly in front of us only to almost rear end a Suburban in the fast lane. Frantically, I flicked the flash-to-pass with the tips of my left fingers and swerved into the center lane with a few feet to spare. Jess screamed like she was being murdered.