Under the Streetlight
We’ve been out on the town – had some dinner and a couple of drinks followed by some sultry dancing. I’m not going to lie. I’m more than ready to work up a little more sweat, and I’m not overly fussy about where we do that. In the car, up against a wall, on the sofa, under the sheets—hell, right here in the bar would suit me just fine.
Reading me like a billboard, Darren leads me to the door. I slide into the passenger seat, letting my skirt ride up my thighs, and watch him settle in next to me. The spicy scent of his cologne fills the car, and I close my eyes, taking it in with a deep breath. I recall the first time I smelled Drakkar. A tall, blond, blue-eyed monster was wearing it—the man was a gift waiting to be unwrapped.
My mind in a fog thanks to a mix of tequila, our earlier thigh friction, and the scent-induced memories of a lover past, I can’t keep my hands off him. I know my father has always enforced seatbelts but, tonight—
Seatbelt be damned!
I toss that offending restraint aside and lean over, my hand moving directly to his crotch. I’m writing my name across his neck with my tongue and stroking his growing length through his jeans when he slams the car into park.
His hand slides through my hair, aggressively pulling my head back, and his mouth covers mine. This isn’t just any kiss. It’s one of those fierce, hungry, I need it all type of kisses. The kind that you lick your lips when it’s over to ensure you still possess your tongue.
His eyes penetrate mine as he leans back in his seat, releasing a deep breath. “You’re fucking killing me, babe.” He shakes his head, slapping his hand off the steering wheel. “Okay, that’s it. Get out of the car.”
Baffled, I sit staring as his door opens and he steps out. What? What the hell just happened?
My door flies open, and he grabs my hand, coaxing me out of the vehicle. I look around—my stomach in knots. I hadn’t noticed where we were. He couldn’t know, but he parked at the old government dock down the street from my dad’s.
His arms wrap around me, and my mind suddenly begins to protest. I know I had thought anywhere, but here, by my father’s house?
All thoughts of dad quickly disappear as the warm, smooth touch of his fingers caress my thigh. My body melts against his as our lips connect, and those talented fingers drag my skirt past my hips. The cold hard metal on my bared bottom barely registers as he lifts me onto the hood and stands between my thighs.
My head falls back, and the streetlight above brings our location back to mind. “Shit!” I wiggle, trying to sit up, but when the heat of his flesh presses against me, I’m lost in his touch once again. My center throbs as he grips my hips to pull me closer, and my legs wrap around his backside, drawing him in.
Pushing my shirt above my breasts as he thrust forward, I let out a moan, matching the short burst of a siren. My eyes spring open to red and blue, reflecting off his face. Panic fills my chest, and I try to shove him back, but he stands firm. He tugs my shirt down but remains where he is – nestled deep inside me.
The crunch of gravel moves toward us when I hear a familiar voice at my side. “Sara?”
“Dad?!”
Tossing the sweat-laden blankets off me, I leap from my bed, frantically peering around the room. My heart still racing, I reach for my cellphone.
‘Darren, we’re NEVER parking again!’
SJ. Turner
Sleep
Sleep, my new best friend.
For in slumber, I see your face,
hear the sound of your voice,
even sense your touch.
Yes, Dreamland.
That’s my new serenity.
Where joy & laughter thrive,
love isn’t just a spoken word
and you’re still alive.
Conclusion: The alarm clock must die!
SJ. Turner