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12
Not long afterDrake came off stage, he touched my thigh under the table, and Nora was suddenly ready to go home. Either she’d read our desperate body language, which I believed we really had both tried to hide, or perhaps the shot had done her in.
Either way, we rode in the taxi and dropped her home first, Drake making the driver wait while he walked her not only up to the door but into the house, doing something for about five minutes, God knew what, but knowing him, he made her a chamomile tea or something and finally, finally closed the door behind him and skipped back toward the car.
Once inside, he shuffled to my side in the back, his legs spread wide open, trying to find comfort in the small backseat, but it felt more like an invitation for me to stick my head between them. I could practically see the outline of his cock right through his jeans, but whether it was just because he was big or because he was hard, I didn’t know.
I didn’t know but I wanted to. Sliding my hand up the length of his lean, strong thigh, I looked in the rearview mirror, noticed the driver’s eyes were firmly on the road, and took in a handful of Drake’s crotch.
His dick was that luscious kind of firm that got me riled up. My own sex caught fire. In my hand he wasn’t quite steel, but juicy and thick. I loved that in-between feeling of a horny dick that I still had to work to get hard. That came most alive under my power. I stroked my hand along its form, gazing straight out the front windshield as if it was an innocent, mindless act.
Drake gazed in the same direction, straight out the windshield, as though ensuring the cab driver took us down the right streets, but he only played the same game I did. His hand slid up the inside of my thigh, warm, big, with just enough pressure to make me spread my legs a little wider when he reached my core. He cupped his hand over me. Blood rushed to the area, and my clit became the perfect counterpart to the growing cock under my hand. Thank fucking God for thin, pleather leggings. They were thin enough to enjoy the pleasure of his palm on my clit and his fingers easing gently inward.
With a few drinks in me, I wasn’t as patient as I might have been. I rolled my hips forward, urging my core into his fingers and palm, wishing my pants would just disappear, and the taxi driver, too. My clit engorged, blood rushing to meet the palm of my lover, and I rode his hand. My core was heavy and burned for Drake. Moist desire soaked right through my panties, and it took everything inside to keep quiet. I wanted to sigh and moan, but I bit my lip as he touched me in all the right places.
Drake leaned over and in the lowest growl, so animalistic I almost couldn’t make out his words, he uttered, “I can feel your clit right through your clothes. You like that, don’t you? You like the thought of getting caught doing something naughty.” He nibbled my lobe. “So do I…”
He slithered his hand inside my stretchy leggings, stroking his finger along the seam of my panties, he made his way down my core and straight to my slick folds. He eased a finger up and down the length of my slit, from my desperate clit down to my opening, circling it. I pulsed with wanting and closed my eyes to imagine the tip of his tan dick teasing my opening. I loved it when he ran circles around it and when it became torture, plunged it inside.
I wanted every part of this man inside me. His tongue, his cock, his fingers, all at the same time. Something about him made me feel completely untamed. Insatiable. It could never be enough.
My nipples grew hard, scratching the inside my bra, and I wanted him all over those, too.
I had to get a hold of myself. “Drake…” I whispered.
I was about to tell him to stop when he slid a finger inside me and all the while palmed my clit. My heart raced, and in the cold air of Seattle, Drake made me sweat. I bucked into him as silently as possible, urging him to circle my clit faster. Faster. Until my whole core pulsed and clenched. My channel fluttered around his finger. Warm, soothing cum wet his hand as I drew in a deep breath to keep myself from drowning in this bliss.
When the last pulse gave way, Drake eased his hand out. The elastic of my leggings made a snap, loud and incriminating. Our shoulders came up, holding in laughs that would have been all the evidence the cab driver needed.
Pulling up to the hotel, Drake handed the cabbie a twenty. “Keep the change.”
That guy was lucky he wasn’t keeping more than just the change in this car.
It was late now.The hotel room finally silenced our moans, groans, and sighs. We waited for the sandman to arrive after what felt hours of him being buried inside me.
Drake’s fingers trailed up and down my back, lightly, and though it made me feel lazy, they felt intentional. With my head on his chest, I wanted to fall asleep and at the same time consciously enjoy the alertness of his touch.
I knew he was awake. I was pretty sure I could even feel that his eyes were still open, staring out the window which we’d left wide open. The moonlight bathed us in romance and was almost the only light around. Somewhere in the distance, outside, was a view of water and mountains which for now, were pitch-black, but waited patiently to awe us in the morning.
The hotel, like everything Drake offered me every day, was luxurious. Drake made sure I always slept in the softest sheets, had access to views that made me love walking this earth, but also gifted me rich conversation, nourishing sex, and through his careful planning ensured I experienced spontaneous joy. That’s what we would call surprises from now on—spontaneous joy.
He made me think I was lucky and deserved him at the same time.
I’d never craved money or to be taken care of like some women. Having grown up in the womb of wealth, I hadn’t lived in a land of scarcity when it came to worldly things. What I’d craved was someone’s raw, exposed soul. A true connection. Someone who would make me feel so secure I could expose mine, too, and we could walk around like two proverbial naked people for the rest of our lives.
Living with Drake in my life was the difference between being a puppet and being human. My soul animated around him. I felt alive around him. When he wasn’t there, I just hung from strings.
He caressed his fingers in an upward stroke and found my earlobe, gently outlining it. A feeling so affectionate it was paradise.
“You’re still awake.” His voice rumbled in his chest.
I smiled to myself. “You are, too.”
“Mmm.” His response hummed against my cheek.
“What’re you thinking about?”
“Just considering the late-night thought collective.”
