“I’m going to fuck you.”
“What?” My lips parted as a car zoomed by and wetness seeped out of me, making my already wet underwearwetter. “You sure… you want to do that?” I looked around the empty walkway, my cheeks feeling warm.
“Of course I’m sure, Mia.” He sounded so assertive and stern that it scared and excited me.
It was no surprise that I had the biggest, fastest, and juiciest crush on him since my father introduced him to me a year ago. I was too busy stuffing my food with the wedding cake when he had showed me the fine specimen that was James Fox in a fitted tailored suit. With an awkward, braces-covered, toothy smile and insecure body, I had shyly shaken his hand while he ruffled my hair.Ruffled. Like I was a kid to him. Probably was, considering he was eighteen years older than me.
At sixteen, I had filed my attraction towards him in the celebrity crush folder of my brain along with Cillian Murphy, Michael Fassbender, Andrew Garfield, and Tom Hiddleston. I realized that I had a thing for hot older men with British accents, who possibly looked British, too. No biggie, lots of people have crushes on older celebrities, and it took me one look at Tumblr’s homepage to notice that.
But my crush on James was anything but simple.
James held my elbow, his grip firm and my skin singed where he touched me, and pointed to the passenger car seat. “Sit.”
I craned my neck to look at him and licked my lips when his eyes met mine. “W-what would my father say?”
I almost cringed mentioning him in all of this. I did not want to think about my dad when I was with James, which was very little, but I had to be sure.
If my dad found out his bestfriend slept with his only daughter…yeah, no, it won’t look good.
He raised a brow, making me scuffle in my shoes. “Your dad doesn’t need to know about this.” His fingers tightened on my skin as he moved closer, our clothes almost touching. “Now sit in the damn car before I drag you in there.”
My dad doesn’t need to know?
Hewantedme to be his dirty little secret.
My tongue felt like lead. I scrambled to the car seat and sat down, trying to calm my heavy breathing, but it wasn’t working. All I could think about was his large, veiny hands touching me everywhere, bringing me on the verge of orgasms again and again while he fucked me like he said he would.
“Why are your cheeks red?”
Because I’m having very R-rated thoughts about your hands, tongue, and cock inside me.
“Because I’m cold?” I hid my face behind my hair, hoping he wouldn’t notice I now resembled a tomato.
I held my breath when his fingers touched my jaw, making me look at him. His brows were furrowed as his eyes danced over my face, and then he touched my forehead with the back of his palm.
“You’re hot.”
“Well, I hope so,” I replied with an awkward chuckle.
“What did you drink at the party?” he asked, surprising me by leaning closer. I parted my lips to answer, but I got lost in his dreamy eyes. I couldn’t muster any thoughts when he was near.How was I going to be intimate with him when my brain had turned into puddle? Was I even ready for that? With him?I was pulled back to earth when he pulled the seat belt over me and strapped me in.
Oh. He wasn’t going in for a kiss.
Yet.
“I don’t remember,” I answered, looking down at my lap and cringing at the thought of my wet clothes soaking his expensive leather seat. “I’m sorry for ruining your car seat.”
The car started with a smooth purr just by a press of a button. He flickered his eyes at me and replied, “Don’t worry, I get the covers changed every week.”
How rich was this guy?
“Why every week?”
His lips curled at the corner. “Because they get stained—ah, ruined every week.”
I frowned at him.Ruined by what?
Shrugging, I leaned back on the comfortable seat and looked out the window, my heart rate increasing with each mile. By the time I noticed the familiar road, I was shivering.