Page 5 of His Little Stowaway

I almost fight the urge not to, but end up adjusting my growing hard on through my pants right in front of her, lifting myself up a little off my seat so I can do it.

Smiling to myself once I know she can see it.

She can see what she’s done to me in a split second what nobody else has in twenty years.

She looks shocked, then swallows hard. Stammering like the damned driver was.

“Just stop here, let me out right here,” she says suddenly, her whole body trembling as I hear myself tsking.

My head shakes gently from side to side.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that...” I ask, raising my brow in question.

Feeling short changed I still don’t even know her name yet.

“Brynn,” she says swiftly, trying to keep her eyes on mine, but I’m glad to see them darting down toward my aching tent pole again.

“Brynn,” I repeat, easing myself back into the seat feeling better already.

A name to match this feeling.

“Possession is nine-tenths of the law, Brynn,” I smile over at her. “Which makes you… mine.” I inform her.

She looks shocked, then angry, opening her mouth to say something. Pursing her lips when I speak over her.

“In my car. In my coat. On my time. Mine for now anyway, wouldn’t you say?” I continue. “Why don’t you start right from the beginning, Brynn?” I ask, eager to know more than just what’s brought her to me.

“We’ve got a long drive before we get to my office,” I tell her, glancing at my watch before returning my gaze to hers.

“Tell me all about it, Brynn.”

Chapter Three

Brynn

So much for just resting my eyes.

Once I curl up in the car, in that huge warm coat. The manly scent fills my senses. I’m in the deepest, most restful sleep I think I’ve ever had.

It’s only the sound of someone getting into the front of the car that wakes me in the morning.

That and the fact I need to use the bathroom.

I jump awake with a start, looking straight through the dividing glass to the driver’s side, and see a middle-aged man staring right back at me in the rearview without even flinching.

Once he turns fully and starts to straighten his hair and tie, muttering words I can’t hear but read. Something like ‘I’m late as fuck,’ I realize I can see him but he can’t see me.

Some sort of one-way mirrored glass I guess.

Phew.

I’m unwrapping myself from the still warm coat, wincing when I notice the wallet and cards, cash, and everything else strewn all over the floor of the limo when it starts up and shifts suddenly into gear.

My heart is in my throat as I tumble back into the seat, and realize pretty quickly that I’m trapped in the moving car.

I can jump out at the first lights we stop at. The driver won’t know what—

The sudden click of the lock makes me gasp, then grapple at the door handle even though we’re moving.

It’s useless.

The driver has locked himself and me in the car.

Nothing too crazy about that when driving something like this through the city.

What am I gonna do?

This looks very bad for me, even worse for the driver if he’s on his way to pick up Mr. Boss what’s his name…

Pearce Masters.

The one thing I’ve kept a hold of the whole time is his ID, his picture.

If this is the guy we’re going to pick up, I might as well kiss my ass goodbye and get used to being locked up.

Slumping back into my seat, I figure I may as well at least try and enjoy the ride while I can.

The man has an intense look.

Pearce. How ironic, like his gaze.

He’s way past being handsome too. All the way to oh my freaking god town.

A sort of brooding, I’ve got a secret look but it also lets you know you’re the last person he’s interested in telling it to.

His thick, dark hair flecked with gray, the sexy, mature man of the world kind.

Not the kind that falls out in clumps or grows out his ears at the same time.

His equally thick and chiseled jaw is set firm. Shoulders that are too big for the camera to catch, but at a glance, I can see he’s no lazybones.

The man works out, for sure.

He’s an older man. Mature.

And definitely, a man who knows what he wants.

If I wasn’t in his car illegally, wearing his coat and fingering his wallet, cash and cards I’d say I couldn’t wait to meet the man.

But given the situation…

I don’t have long to think or even worry about it either. After about ten minutes at speed through early morning traffic, the huge stretch limo slows to a crawl and I can see the man himself looming up ahead of us.

His tall muscular frame makes the surrounding buildings seem thinner and frailer somehow next to his wide build.

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