I don’t even hear what Dean orders because his hand is squeezing my thigh now, gripping it so tightly that it almost hurts. When I finally look up, I see Winter looking at me from across the table, and there’s something in her eyes that shakes me almost as much as the scars I saw on Cayde’s back.
The look on her face isn’t just jealous. It’s angry.
Possessive. As if I’ve taken something that’s hers.
I can’t stop seeing that look on Winter’s face, even after it’s gone and she’s daintily picking at the food on her plate. I barely listen to anything anyone says, my heart pounding in my chest as Dean’s hand grips my thigh tightly, a warning not to push him too far.
All I want is for lunch to be over. I barely taste the little bit of food I manage to eat; I couldn’t have said what’s actually on my plate. I can feel Winter’s eyes on me, the gazes of the other men, picking me apart, pulling at me, and I wish I could scream, shout at them, tell them all to go fuck themselves.
But it’s going to be me that gets fucked if I do. And there’s not even a little part of me that wants what Dean was threatening.
I’d meant to try to get some information, to listen to what they were talking about and use it to piece together more of what’s going on here. But every time I try to listen, all I can hear is them talking about me like I’m nothing but an object. If I look up for even a second, I see Winter’s green eyes narrowed in on me, looking at me as if she wants me dead.
As if I’ve taken something that’s hers.
All I’ve really gotten out of this lunch is an odd comment about Philip St. Vincent and his pet. Although that definitely piques my interest, it doesn’t tell me much.
I can see the tight line of Dean’s jaw when we leave, his hand squeezing my elbow again as he says his goodbyes. Winter is right there, looking up at him with those big green eyes, and I grit my teeth against everything I want to say.
“Bye, Dean,” she purrs. “I’ll see you at school on Monday?”
“Sure,” he says carelessly, glancing down at her.
“There’s a charity thing coming up that I’m supposed to go to,” she continues, reaching out to touch his arm. “If you wanted to go with me, that would be nice. I’d really like the company.”
Dean hesitates, and my stomach clenches at the look on his face. It’s reluctant, but he also doesn’t say no, which tells me there’s something else going on here. Something more than just her flirting with him.
He’s opening his mouth to say no when his father clears his throat, and I catch a look passing between him and Mr. Romero.
“Dean will be happy to go with you,” Mark says, and I feel Dean tense again, his hand clenching around my elbow as if to tell me to keep my mouth shut.
“I might have something going on that night,” Dean says, and his father frowns, the lines around his mouth deepening.
“No, you don’t,” he says firmly. “Winter, let Dean know the details once you have them. I’ll call you later, son.”
It’s a clear dismissal, and I can see the muscles in Dean’s jaw working. For once, I feel a sort of kinship with him because I can tell he’s trying as hard as I am to hold back what he really wants to say.
He steers me out of the dining room, and he doesn’t say a word until we’re back in the car. In fact, he doesn’t so much as utter a sound as he hits the gas, the tires of the Maserati spinning in the gravel, and my heart starts to pound as he pulls out onto the road and floors the car.
I should be afraid. Dean is driving way too fast, not heading back into town but further down the road that runs along the coast. I can see the waves churning to my right, beating against the rocks, and I know the pounding in my chest should be from fear and not elation.
But this is what I wanted, to see under Dean’s cool exterior, to get a glimpse of who he is deep down. I can see some of that now, the wind blowing through the window and ruffling his hair, making him look sharper, more dangerous than usual. His hands are clenched around the wheel, his knuckles white, and I can feel something inside of me thrilling to the sight of him holding himself together by sheer effort.
I squeeze my thighs together as the car veers around a curve, feeling the ache of desire intensify, the adrenaline shooting through my body turning into something else, something more urgent and needy.
My hand seems to go to his thigh of its own accord, sliding towards his groin, and I feel him straining against the front of his pants, hard and hot against my palm through the fabric. Dean groans as I rub my hand over him, and as I feel him throb against my hand, something comes over me that I’ve never felt with him before.
I drag his zipper down, sliding my hand inside until I feel the hot velvet flesh of his straining erection against my palm. “Athena—” Dean grinds out from between gritted teeth. I know I shouldn’t. We’re going too fast on roads that aren’t meant for this kind of speed. Everything that I was holding back in the country club seems to be boiling up now. All of my anger and frustration is turning into adrenaline-fueled lust, and I can’t stop myself. I wrap my hand around his shaft, sliding him out so that his naked cock is jutting up from his lap, the head red and swollen and angry, and recklessly I unbuckle my seatbelt, sliding across the center.
“Fuck, Athena!” Dean moans as my mouth slides over the head of him, sucking it into my mouth, licking away the wetness at the tip, and tasting him on my tongue, warm and salty. I feel the muscles in his thighs go rigid, hear his groan as he struggles to keep control of the car. At the same time, I start to go down on him, sliding my lips down the length of his shaft until he’s buried deep in my throat. For a wild second, I think that maybe it would be better if he did lose control of the car, if it just ended here, this stupid game that we’ve both been forced into playing.
Dean might not be unhappy about being a part of it, but I don’t think he had a choice in the matter, any more than the rest of us.
“God, Athena, what’s gotten into you?” The car slows a little, and I speed up, wrapping my tongue around his shaft as I bob up and down, choking a little on his length. Something about this feels good, powerful, having this intimate part of him buried so deeply in my mouth, between my teeth, in my throat, both of us on the edge of danger as Dean careens around another turn, yanking the steering wheel sharply to one side.
“Christ!” Dean’s cock throbs in my mouth, pre-cum coating my tongue, and as he veers again, he grabs my hair with one hand, yanking me up off of him and shoving me unceremoniously back into my seat. His cock jerks angrily, the shaft glistening with his arousal and my saliva, and I reach for him, but he swats my hand away. “You’re going to get us fucking killed.”
I open my mouth, unsure of what I’m actually going to say, but before anything can come out, Dean turns down a small side road, pulling into a grove of trees and killing both the engine and the lights.