RIDE OF HER LIFE
© Copyright KIMBERLY DEAN, 2012
“Thanks for the ride, Frank,” Andrea said as she got out of the car. It was still early, but dusk was gathering as she closed the door with a decisive click. “You’re a lifesaver.”
Her coworker’s cheeks reddened until they nearly matched his hair. “Are you sure you don’t want to grab some dinner?”
“I have a ton of work.” Turning, she started sidling away. “I really appreciate your help.”
“Do you need me to pick you up in the morning?”
Damn. Glancing towards her house, she looked for an escape. She found one in the dimming light, seated on the picnic table behind the house next door. “I’m sure my neighbor will give me a ride.”
Her neighbor. Andrea felt her breaths shorten and her knees go wobbly as she looked at him. Bo.
Frank followed her line of sight and pulled back so sharply, he bumped his head against the driver’s side window. “Him?”
In the shadows, Bo looked dark and menacing. He was watching the two of them closely and, if she hadn’t known him, she just might have hopped right back into the car. “He looks rough, I know, but he’s really very sweet – unless you do something to make him angry.”
To back up her claim, she threw her neighbor a friendly smile, but it stalled on her face. Come to think of it, he didn’t look too happy just now.
Frank apparently agreed. “Okay, then,” he said in a rush. “Have a good night.”
He shifted gears, but the engine only revved higher. He’d put it into neutral. Trying again, he found drive and stepped on the gas.
Andrea’s shoulders sagged as he drove hurriedly down the street. Oh, thank goodness. Frank was a nice man, but he had the personality of a paperweight. Steady, serviceable, and boring as hell.
Tiredly, she turned and started walking towards her home.
“You’re home late.”
Her chin snapped up and, once again, her knees wobbled. Trying to keep her balance, she side-stepped off the sidewalk and onto the grass. It took her in Bo’s direction, so she kept going as if that was what she’d intended all along. “My car broke down.”
The scowl on his face deepened. “Why didn’t you call me?”
The tingle at the back of her knees slid up to the small of her back. Even with what she’d told Frank, she found Bo a bit scary, too.
No, not scary, she thought as her gaze drifted over his unhappy face. His chiseled, ruggedly-handsome, unhappy face…
That’s what Bo Cahill was. Intimidating, imposing, dominant – and so damn sexy her knees never worked right around him.
“I was at work, and Frank was right there,” she said. “He offered to give me a ride home.”
Bo’s eyes narrowed as his gaze went down the street. “Looked like that wasn’t all he wanted to give you.”
Her nervous fingers stilled against the side of her computer bag. Frank’s crush wasn’t something she wanted to discuss with Bo. No, no, no. The subjects of crushes, attraction, and lust were definitely off limits with this man.
His gaze settled on her again, and her fingers started fluttering. Fast. There was something new in his eyes, something a bit wild and dangerous.
“I told you that car was running on a hope and a prayer.”
He had told her. He was good that way, helping her with repairs around her house and all the “manly” things she hadn’t had the time or the inclination to do. “I know,” she said, her voice as quiet as the leaf that fell from a nearby tree.
She watched as it swirled, spinning and floating to the ground until it nearly disappeared in the dark grass. Her stomach was behaving in much the same manner. Bo was in a strange mood tonight. She could feel the warm autumn air practically vibrating around him. She glanced at the bottle in his hand, but he wasn’t drinking. It was water.
“Did you ever stop to think that I might be worried?”
Her gaze leapt back to his face. His lips were as tight as the fingers he had wrapped around that water bottle. No, she hadn’t thought of that, but from the look on his face, she didn’t dare say it out loud.
He was still sitting on the picnic table, but that put him right at eye level with her. His legs dangled off the edge, but there was nothing relaxed about him. He jerked his chin in the direction Frank had taken. “So is that the kind of guy that you go for?”
Her mouth went dry as the Sahara. He was venturing into those topics again, the ones that made her uncomfortable around him. “No,” she managed to get out.
Frank definitely wasn’t her type.
The tingling at the small of her back slowly circled around to her belly and crept up into her breasts. She was glad for the dimming light as she felt her nipples tighten.
She wouldn’t have thought so when he first moved in. With his shoulder-length hair and tattooed biceps, she’d worried about her safety – all while staring at him so hard her eyes had gone dry. He was gorgeous, but from such a different walk of life from hers, she hadn’t known how to relate to him.
She still didn’t.
She took an unsteady step back when he set down the bottle and hopped down from his perch. Damn her knees.
“Is that what you’re looking for?” he pressed. “Someone nice and proper?”
Why did that suddenly sound so bad? “I… I want someone who treats me well.”
Frank did… but so did he. Bo had warned her about her car. And he’d mowed her lawn and brought her take-out Chinese food when she’d been trying to finish a paper for publication just last week.
He moved in closer, and she could feel his heat as he towered over her.
“You are smart,” she snapped. Her eyes popped open when she realized that the conversation had somehow swung around to the two of them. As in the two of them, together…
She gave a quick shake of her head, the thought too much to take in. She was an assistant professor of biology at the local university, but she was still struggling to pay off her own school loans and make tenure. She wasn’t anything special, but he was. “You’re a lineman, Bo. If you make a mistake on your job, poof, you get zapped with a gazillion volts of electricity.”
He took another step forward, but her legs were wobbling so hard now, she couldn’t move away.
“It’s the amps that will kill you,” he said, his voice deep and gruff. Suddenly, his hand was cupping the side of her face, his fingers delving into the bun at the back of her head. “Kinda how I feel whenever I get close to you.”
Andrea’s breath clogged her throat. What?
“Which is never often enough.”
Her stomach dipped. The growl in his voice… The heat in his look… Any words she might said stuck in her throat.
The bobby pins in her hair loosened as he suddenly pulled her close. “Next time you need help, you call me.”
She let out a gasp when their bodies came into contact, brushing lightly and then pressing tight. Her heart began to pound as his head dipped, but when his mouth covered hers, it nearly exploded. Oh, God!
So this was what it felt like to really be kissed.
His body was muscled and so hot, it nearly burned. Her breasts pressed flat against his chest but, even with the padding of her bra, her nipples felt like they were on fire. She shifted against him, trying to put out the flames, but the friction only made it worse.
The weight of her computer bag disappeared from her shoulder. When his thigh slipped between her legs, she forgot it entirely. All her attention was suddenly on the pressure between her legs. She struggled for breath, but the sweep of his tongue threw her lungs out of their rhythm.
“I’m tired of the dance, Drea,” he grumbled.
Her fingers tightened on his back. There was a dominance in his tone she hadn’t heard before.
He kissed her again, hard and fast. “It’s time we got down to business.”
She shuddered. What business?
“Ask me to fuck you.”
All at once, her heart and her lungs stopped working. Even her ears stopped functioning. She couldn’t hear anything as her vision narrowed on him.
“Ask me to fuck you hard.”
She saw his lips form the words, and her systems started rebooting one-by-one. Oh, that business… the business she’d been trying to ignore, because it frightened her and thrilled her and shocked her all at the same time. She and Bo didn’t fit together. They were an improbable match that didn’t make sense. He was tattoos and motorcycles. She was cellular structure and book clubs.
But she wanted to believe the improbable was possible.
“Fuck me hard, Bo,” she whispered. “Please.”
It was what she’d been secretly hoping for. It was what she dreamed of at night as she played with herself in her empty bed.
The words set him off. His lips flattened and he picked her up almost roughly. Turning, he strode towards the picnic table.
Andrea glanced around nervously, her loose hair sweeping over her shoulders. He didn’t intend to take her there, did he? Out in the open? Night had fallen, but the moon would be up soon. “Not here,” she said, her voice shaking. “People will see.”
“Let them.” Water from the bottle splashed from as he set her down on the rickety old table. “Let Professor Redhead drive by again and get an eyeful.”
He was already tugging her sleeveless sweater over her head. He tossed it aside and went for her bra. Andrea self-consciously clapped her hands over her breasts when she felt them bared.
“Wait!” she gasped.
“No more waiting,” he growled as he whipped off his T-shirt.
With her hands covering her breasts, it left her with no defenses when he started pushing up her full skirt. She tried to scoot off the table, but the splintered edge scraped the back of her legs. She lifted them at the discomfort, but he used her momentum to roll her flat onto her back.
The moon rose behind him, and Andrea shivered. The wolf tattoo on his right arm looked like it wanted to eat her alive.
“You don’t know what you need, do you, sweet thing?” Watching her closely, he pushed her skirt to her waist. Curling his fingers around her panties, he began pulling them off.
“You’re lucky I do.” His voice was soft as the breeze that ruffled the leaves on the trees.
Andrea’s chest worked hard when he caught her ankles. She expected him to wrap her legs around his waist, but he kept lifting them higher and higher. Her lips parted with shock when, at last, he rested them against his shoulders. His chest felt hot and hard against the back of her thighs.
“The neighbors,” she protested one last time. She rolled her head about, trying to see if anybody was watching out their windows.
He wasn’t concerned about an audience. He was staring so hard at her naked pussy, shyness pressed down on her like lead. She was wet. She’d been wet since she’d first caught him staring at her.
He swiped one finger between her folds. The contact was hot and shocking, like the touch of a sparkler.
“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he said. “You want it raw, you want it fast, and you want it from me. You just don’t know how to ask.”
He reached for the zipper of his jeans, and she squirmed. She was nervous, but her excitement threatened to choke her. He was pushing her, forcing her beyond her comfort level.
And she loved it.
“Hold on, babe. You’re about to get everything you’ve been begging for.”
His cock was engorged when he pulled it from his jeans. Andrea was horrified at their public display, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him. The tingle was back. Her entire body vibrated with anticipation and nerves. She’d never done anything like this. A thrill of uneasiness and excitement rushed through her when the broad tip of his erection bumped against her opening.
The uneasiness won out. She was wet beyond belief, but they’d barely even kissed. He hadn’t stroked her, sucked on her breasts, or…
“Ahhhh!” she cried when he thrust into her.
His jaw went slack, and his body shuddered. He took a moment, buried deep within her, but then pulled back and working his big cock in and out of her.
Andrea twisted on the table. “Oh, God!” she groaned.
He felt huge inside her, spreading her and filling her. It had been a while for her, but he was thrusting hard and going deep.
“Christ, you feel good,” he panted as the table underneath her creaked and groaned.
So did he. She couldn’t stop moaning. The rhythmic ee-ee-ee-ee of the table squeaked in her ears. Its tempo matched every stroke of his cock, every lift of her hips…
He was fucking her hard and fast, but it was too much. Too raw. Too intimate. She felt too vulnerable, and she tried to lower her legs.
“No.” Keeping her legs close together, he leaned forward. “I like it this way. It makes you tighter. Makes you pay attention to me.”
The increase in pressure startled her. “Bo!”
He bucked at the sound of his name, and Andrea could hardly stand the pleasure. It felt naughty, exhibitionistic, and so damn good.
“That’s right, sweet thing. Give it to me. I’m the guy who’s meant to be your lover, not your handyman.”
She looked up at him wordlessly. Satisfaction had tightened his face until his cheekbones looked honed from marble. Reaching out, she caught the sides of the table in a white-knuckled grip. Her orgasm was building.
“Bo,” she gasped, suddenly scared of the emotions bubbling inside her.
He grunted and thrust so hard, she slid up the coarse table…
Headlong into her climax.
Vaguely, she heard her skirt rip. Her pussy clamped down on his cock, and her sandals slapped against her heels as her toes flexed.
Bo smothered her cry with a kiss. He thrust into her one last time, and his warm come spurted inside her. His weight came down upon her, and she lie underneath him, limp and so full of emotion, her chest threatened to burst.
Crickets chirped around them. The moon rose higher in the sky, illuminating their lovers’ clench to anyone who might chance a look. Andrea didn’t care.
She’d just experienced the best fuck of her life.
Shakily, she ran her hands down his back. His weight was heavy, and the wooden table bit into her back.
“Can we go inside now?” she asked, her lips brushing against his ear.
“On one condition. Tell me what I am to you.”
She smiled softly. “Oh honey, you’re the man I call when I need a ride.”