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Oh god.
His words ran in a tumble. Blah blah blah.
But I caught that last part.
Because was a drive-in supposed to be a nice date? I mean, we weren’t even at a regular theater for crying out loud. And I saw how he’d gotten the extra small popcorn, not even a medium to share.
But I tried to be nice again.
“I’m very appreciative,” was my murmur. “Thank you.”
Jim sniffed a little.
“You’re welcome,” he said imperiously before launching once more into a long monologue about comic books. I sank deeper into the seat, silently eating popcorn. Because how long could I take this? How long could I hang out with Mr. Milquetoast, pretending it was okay?
After all, I’m a virgin, but still, a girl still has fantasies. And right now, those fantasies involved Mr. Evercore.
But how would it work in real life?
He was a prisoner.
I was a good girl.
I was his “mentor” at the prison newspaper project, we were working on an article about jailhouse food together.
Oh god, oh god.
This was so wrong.
It could never work. Hell would have to freeze over for us to get together. As much as I wanted to fantasize about Mason dragging me behind a bookcase in the prison’s library and having his way, I knew it wouldn’t happen. I wasn’t that kind of girl.
Or was I?
I wasn’t sure anymore. After all, the unspeakable had happened today. Twice, no less. I’d creamed while talking to the man, unable to control my sweetly dripping pussy.
And then to add insult to injury, I’d touched myself in the bathroom, thinking about Mason. Anyone could have walked in. My co-workers. Marie. Hell, the janitor. But it couldn’t wait until I got home. Right there, in the prison bathroom, I stroked my clit, pretending it was Mason’s hands.
Plus, Mark had driven me home with my panties soaking wet. More than soaking, drenched through with need.
What was it about that man that got me so riled up? His electrifying gaze, maybe? Or was it that powerful body? His husky voice? All of the above? He was the epitome of an alpha, a commanding masculine presence that took what he wanted.
But them my dreams were interrupted.
“Oooh,” Jim cooed as the movie began.
I tried not to laugh. That would be mean. But it was ridiculous right? I bet Mr. Evercore never squealed like a little girl. No, he was more of a growler. Someone who would pin you to a bed, his lips brushing hotly against your throat. And then there’d be a low growl. A warning. His way of asserting control.
Turning you into his plaything.
His toy.
His doll.
And oh god, I wanted it.
Bad.
But now wasn’t the time. Because if I wasn’t careful, there was going to be a mess on the seat … again.
***
Luckily, the movie ended relatively quickly. I honestly had no idea what it was about. Sometimes, I would look up and see the superhero holding the damsel in distress, but that would only fuel my fantasies.
Because for the whole two hours, all I thought about was Mr. Evercore.
Those piercing blue eyes.
The massive shoulders with long, strong arms. Even wearing a baggy prison jumpsuit, it was clear this guy worked out a lot. There was just no way to get that kind of physique without putting in the hours.
Jim’s voice interrupted.
“Well, here we are,” he hummed melodically. And dutifully, the small man parked at the curb, let himself out, and came around to open the door for me. He took my hand, helping me to my feet.
Again, I should have felt charmed.
The blond man was chivalrous, opening doors and holding hands.
But instead, I felt boredom.
I didn’t want a price. I wanted an animal. Someone who’d tear off my clothes and ravish my form.
And now, all I could do think about was how he wasn’t Mr. Evercore. His hand felt limp and cool in mine. His fingers much too slender. They were like wet noodles. Yuck.
So as soon as possible, I wriggled from his grasp, reaching for my keys. A small part of me felt guilty for sure. It wasn’t Jim’s fault. There was simply no way he could compete with Mason.
“Wait… Laney… before you go…” His voice was shy, barely a whisper.
I turned, tilting my head in question. “Hmm?”
Gently, the small man grabbed my arms and pulled me close, but not close enough for our bodies to touch. His face had developed a bright red hue.
Why was he blushing?
His breathing wavered just before he stood on tiptoes and planted a light, feathery kiss on my forehead.
“G-G-Goodnight,” came that breathy murmur. And then blushing beet red all over again, Jim was gone, scampering to his car before making a getaway.
I stood in the doorway for a moment, trying to comprehend what had just happened.
My date had been a scared rabbit.
No sensuous mystery, no burning blue eyes.
