Chapter Eight
Willow
I sit with my hands clasped together in my lap and listen to the soft rock music coming over the radio. We just turned onto the interstate and the trip so far has been quiet. I have no idea what tonight will bring, but I’m both nervous and excited. I never knew how amazing it would feel to let go of my inhibitions and just feel. Not worrying what others will think and doing what feels good. What Tegan and I did the other day may be wrong and disgusting in most people’s eyes, but it felt damn good to me. And I say fuck them and their judgmental asses.
I’m startled when Tegan reaches over the middle console and lays a hand on my thigh. My skirt has ridden up, so his cool hand is against my heated flesh. It feels good, and I’m sure he can feel the goose bumps his touch caused.
We ride for a few more minutes, his hand staying in place, thumb rubbing back and forth. I’m hyperaware of his fingers, and I start to pant.
A minute later, he tells me, “Pull your skirt up. I’ve felt how wet you are. Now I want to see it.”
His words have my breath catching in my throat.
I look out the window to see if any other cars are around. I may have enjoyed what we did with Nathan the other night, but the notion of exposing myself to just anyone still makes me nervous. I don’t need to worry though, because the sun has set, so the light in the cab is low. It would be hard for someone to see me. Not to mention, the truck is high, so the chance of them seeing over the door is small.
When I look back at him, he’s wearing a smirk. He knows what I’m doing and it amuses him. His sunglasses are perched on top of his head, I’ve noticed he wears them a lot, even when he doesn’t need them, and he swipes them off and throws them on the dash. He looks hot as hell wearing them.
“If I get a wet spot on the seat of your truck, I don’t want to hear any complaints,” I tell him as I lift my skirt.
“Not good enough. I can’t see.” He lifts the console and grabs my leg again, pulling it so it’s halfway on his side and my legs are spread wide. His eyes leave the road, just long enough to take a peek at what I’m exposing.
“Damn, baby,” he says huskily.
A soft cry leaves my lips, and I grip the handle on the door when he pinches my clit between his fingers. It’s hard for him to grab hold of it because I’m so slick. He pushes a finger inside, then pulls it out, fingers my clit for a moment, then dips it back inside. He’s driving me insane. If it wasn’t so dangerous, I would have already released his cock from his jeans and climbed on his lap.
He plays with me, alternating between fucking me with his fingers and strumming my clit, when I hear a loud engine beside us. Just as I look over and see a semitruck pulling up beside us, the cab light comes on. I hold my breath, both praying the trucker doesn’t notice and keeps driving, and hoping that he does.
The truck inches ahead of ours, and I think he must not have noticed, but then it slows down, until the cab of his truck is lined up with ours. I don’t look over to see if he’s watching, I’m not that brave, but I know he is. It’s confirmed when there’s a loud blare of a deep horn. I grip Tegan’s hand, not sure if I’m going to push it away or push his fingers in deeper.
“Use my fingers to fuck yourself. Let that trucker see you come,” Tegan says beside me, his tone gruff.
It only takes me a minute to make my decision. I can feel my arousal leaking out of me. Not only is my body excited about the prospect of the unknown man in the semi seeing me come, but my mind is as well.
“I want two fingers,” I instruct Tegan, and am rewarded when he straightens a second finger. Gripping his hand, I shove both fingers inside my wet pussy. I use his hand like I would a dildo, but imagine it’s his dick. His fingers don’t fill me near as full as I would be if they were his dick, but it still feels damn good.
I bite my lip and tip my head back on a moan, thrusting his hand back and forth, plunging his fingers in and out of me. My head falls to the side and a blush creeps up my cheeks when I see the trucker watching me. Although it’s embarrassing, I still maneuver Tegan’s hand, thrusting his fingers.
Minutes later, the thought of the trucker leaves my mind as I’m completely consumed with the intense sensation running through my body.
My inner muscles tighten up, and I lift my hips from the seat and relentlessly use Tegan’s fingers to bring myself to orgasm. My small cries of pleasure mixed with his deep groans fill the truck, drowning out the music coming out of the speakers.
I push his whole palm against my quivering pussy as my racing heart slowly starts to settle down. I lazily turn my head to look over at Tegan, only to find his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling faster than normal, and his grip on the steering has his knuckles turning white. A smile curls my lips when I realize he’s fighting for control.
“Your pussy is going to be so fucking sore once I get done with it later.”
I giggle, and pull his hand away. He brings it to his mouth, and once again licks my juices from his fingers. Another blare of a horn sounds, reminding me I just gave a stranger a very naughty show. We both watch as the semi pulls ahead of us.
A hostess in a short black dress and wearing bright red lipstick leads us to a circular booth in a dark corner. I sit on the soft cushion seat first and slide around to the back, with Tegan following me. We’re so close that we’re nearly touching, shoulder to shoulder, even though there’s plenty enough room to put a couple feet between us and still have space to move around and be comfortable.
Once we’re seated, I look around the room. This isn’t your typical nice restaurant. It’s fine dining, but not the type of restaurant you see filled with rich families eating dinner, or a man getting down on one knee to propose to his girlfriend, or where people go on their first date. It’s comfy and cozy with chairs around small tables that resemble the ones you would see in a sitting room in a Victorian-style house. Several other booths like ours are placed throughout the room, along with other smaller tables. A billiards table is off to one side. We passed by a bar when we first came in, and there’s another in the back of the room. Every man and woman is dressed to the nines. Several men are walking around the room talking to people at their tables. It all reminds me of a gentlemen’s club.
“What is this place?” I ask Tegan, bringing my eyes back to him.
Before he can answer, a waiter in a black suit approaches our table. He introduces himself as Barry and offers the house wine, which Tegan accepts, then walks off again. It surprises me he ordered wine. He doesn’t strike me as a wine drinker. He seems more of a beer or hard liquor kind of guy. But then again, the clothes that he’s wearing would say differently to anyone who’s just met him. His black slacks and untucked dark gray button-up, with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, something I find incredible sexy on a man, say he definitely cleans up nice.
“It’s a place where people come to unwind and enjoy themselves,” he tells me, sliding his arm around the back of the booth, grazing his fingers along my exposed shoulder.
My body is still lit from our escapade in his truck, so his touch sends shivers over my body. He senses it and smiles.
“Do you come here often?”
“No, not anymore, but I have a standing invitation to come anytime I want.”
His fingers fiddle with my hair, causing the strands to tickle my skin. I ignore what it makes me feel. I’ve always loved when people play with my hair.
The waiter, faster than any waiter I’ve dealt with before, comes back with a bottle of wine in a bucket and two glasses and sets them on the table before leaving us alone again.
“How did your interview with Nathan go?” Tegan asks, pouring us both a glass.
I take a sip and set it back down. “It went great actually. He wanted me to go ahead and start this week, but I had already told Minnie I would watch Luna a couple times. I start on Monday.”
“You’ll like working for Nathan. He’s a good guy.”