Pride bursts at my chest. “Record, huh?”
She rolls her eyes, but it does little to distract from her blushing. “In a row. Yes, but that’s beside the point.”
Even though I don’t want the night to end, I walk ahead of her, opening the door so she can slide into the back seat. Nowall there’s sadly left to do is say goodnight – and a much needed thank you – before closing the door and parting ways. But as fate would have it, I don’t have to just yet. The driver turns around apologetically, saying that they need run inside the convenience store to get diapers for their baby.
I reassure them that it’s okay and to take their time. I’d never not be understanding to someone having to take care of their family, especially not when it gives me some more time with her.
“Thank you,” she says.
“You’re more than welcome,” I respond, taking advantage of how she’s sitting with her legs facing the open door, parted just enough that I have a view of her noticeably damp panties.
Logic abandons me as my knees bend, and land on the asphalt.
“Armani,” she moans. “What are you doing?”
“You’re not wearing a garter,” I state the obvious, feeding into this unexpected faux-marital foreplay we’ve found ourselves in this evening.
“No shit, Sherlock, I’m not wearing a wedding dress either.”
“I realize that, but I guess this is the next best thing.”
Carefully, I thread my hands beneath her dress, keeping my eyes on hers. “Tell me to stop.”
She remains still. Unblinking. Saying nothing.
Taking that as the invitation I need, I shimmy her panties down until they reach her knees. Barring my teeth to her skin, I fight the urge to dip my tongue inside of her again as I bite onto the fabric, pulling it until they make their slow descent to her feet and are off and in my possession.
“I don’t know what that was, but consider it added to my kink list,” she jokes, all breathy sounding.
Yeah, mine too.
I pocket my memento as I rise to my feet. Perfect timing, I see the driver in the corner of my eye walking through the convenience store doors and out onto the sidewalk.
“Since you said no names.”
Her tongue swipes at her lips. “That’s fair.”
“One more thing.” I reach my hand forward until it settles in the inner pocket. Grabbing the pen that I keep in it, I ask for her palm. She gives it to me, and I write my number down.
“We said no names,” she reminds me.
“I know.”
She peers down at her hand. “Or numbers.”
“I remember, but in the event that you change your mind, you’ll have a number to reach me.”
“Is this your work phone you ignore?”
“No. My personal. And for the record, you’re the only person I’ve ever ignored my work phone for.”
She pouts as the driver walks on the crosswalk heading toward the car. “Aren’t I special.”
“Very,” I reassure her, with my hand on the car door getting ready to shut it.
“Wait!” she shouts.
“Yes?” Hoping the optimistic shift in my voice isn’t too obvious.
