NINETEEN
The drive to The Ranch was too fucking long on a good day. On a day with a pantyless Oakley in his car, it was goddamned torture. And of course, a misty fog had rolled in, slowing the drive even more. The subtle scent of Oakley’s arousal taunted Pike in the enclosed space, making his cock throb in protest. If it hadn’t been Flo’s place, he would’ve followed Oakley into the bathroom, propped her on the sink, and fucked her senseless. But he had too much respect for Flo to do that there.
Pike curled his fingers around the steering wheel and tried to concentrate on the dark road in front of him, but Oakley’s presence was impossible to ignore. After she’d returned from the restroom—two minutes late, he’d noted—she’d had a high flush on her cheeks and a drunk-on-lust look in her eyes. She hadn’t said a word about what she had or hadn’t done, but he could tell she’d followed his directive. He’d had to adjust his napkin on his lap because he’d gone hard in an instant.
And now, in his periphery, he could see that she kept shifting in her seat and that her nipples were peaked against her blouse. He wanted to pull over to the side of the road and take them in his mouth until she was so desperate she begged for him to be inside her. But they were still a ways from The Ranch and he was trying to be patient.
“You were late coming back from the bathroom,” he said, breaking the silence. “Got carried away in there?”
She turned her head and gave him a wouldn’t-you-like-to-know smile.
“Don’t tease me, mama. Tell me. In vivid detail preferably.”
She pressed her lips together, humor in her eyes, and looked toward the road. “You sound like one of my callers.”
“You’re dodging my question.”
She nodded. “A fair assessment.”
“How come?”
She glanced down, a self-deprecating smile tugging at her lips. “It’s silly, right? I talk sex for a living but when it comes to talking to you about it, I lock up like some awkward virgin. I had to fight it the first few times we talked on the phone. Now, in person, it’s coming back.”
He appreciated the honesty. “I get it. Everything’s easier when it’s a role. You talk sex as Sasha. But it’s just you here tonight. Same for me. It’s easier for me when I’m the drummer from Dark-fall. But the only person you’ve got in this car with you is James Pike Ryland. So don’t feel awkward. We’re on even ground.”
She looked over at him. “Your name is James?”
“It was my father’s name. But my dad walked out when I was five and I started going by Pike since my mom said she couldn’t stand to hear his name in the house. I legally changed it when I joined the band to separate myself from my history, but for some reason, James still feels like my real name. It’s what my brother called me.”
She considered him. “So if I was in here with Pike Ryland, rock star, how would it be different?”
He laughed. “We are not going to discuss that. You would hate him.”
She turned her body toward him, devious smile beaming. “Oh, no. We have to go there now. I think I got a glimpse of him the first time we met.”
He rubbed the back of his head. How had he gotten trapped in this corner? “Fuck, all right. I do what’s easy. I tell women what they want to hear. Most girls just want to know how hot they are, how great they look in whatever they’re wearing. It’s much more about them and the conquest of landing the band member than it is about me. I figured that out early on. Then it usually ends up with talk of who I know, where I’ve been, all that shit that makes me sound like a big deal.”
Oakley bit her lip like she was trying hard not to laugh.
“What?” he asked, grinning. “That shit totally works.”
“Oh, I have no doubt. I’m sure ten minutes of that and there’s no more talking because the girl’s head is bobbing in your lap. Frankly, I don’t know why you even bother talking. I mean, looking at you is enough. You probably could just unbutton your fly and point.”
His mouth kicked up at the corner. “Yeah? Would that have worked on you?”
“That would’ve gotten you a knee to the balls. And a thank-you for showing me where to aim.”
He laughed.
She turned, peering out at the passing mileage signs. “Looking at you is no hardship. You know that. But talking to James Pike Ryland is what got me here. The other guy would’ve never had a chance.”
The gently spoken admission thumped him right in the chest. He focused on the road, trying not to show on his face how the words had affected him. “Thank you, Oakley.”
A few quiet seconds passed and then he heard the click of her seat belt. She slid across the bench seat and placed her hand on his thigh, the touch like a brand through the material. He didn’t move, didn’t look her way.
She dragged her hand higher and grazed his half-hard erection, tentative yet purposeful at the same time. “But if James wants to unzip and point, I may not oppose the suggestion.”
He inhaled a slow breath at her touch and her offer, not to mention the sound of his given name on her lips. But he didn’t turn to her or unzip his pants. As much as he wanted to know what her mouth would feel like around him—God, did he want to know—he recognized a bid for control when he saw it. He’d learned from Foster that a scared submissive’s best tactic at getting a dom off track was playing to his baser needs—offering blow jobs being the top of the list. The conversation had gotten too personal, and she was retreating into the role she knew better. He wouldn’t allow it. “Tell me what happened at the restaurant.”