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I like it. The way she always throws it back as hard as I give it.
“When are you just going to admit you think I’m sexy, Devan?” she whispers. “We clearly want each other.”
Her hand is back on my leg, my upper thigh, crawling closer to my hardening cock with every passing heartbeat. I grab her wrist, and the car veers sharply to the right, close enough to the other lane for the person in the green Suburban to honk the horn.
“Or do you want to correct me so that Ihaveto call you detective?” she adds.
The second her hand comes in contact with my erection, I jerk and almost lose control of the wheel. The two-lane road is busier than shit, and several cars honk at me.
“Don’t.” My demand is half-hearted at best when she starts to work her hand up and down my shaft through my pants. “Please.”
“If you really meant it, I would stop.” She pauses only to flick the button of my jeans open and drag the zipper south. “I’m not the kind of woman who takes advantage of a man sexually. I need you to know.”
I suck in a breath when her fingertips come into contact with the sensitive underside of my dick.
“I know.”
I’m not sure how I do, and I’m probably talking out of my ass because my focus is entirely on Aria. The way she slicks her hand along my shaft before she pulls my dick out of my pants and starts to stroke me. It’s everything I can do to pay attention to the road, my jaw clenched, my eyes blurring slightly.
Rather than taking the highway all the way back to the city, I turn off at the next stop and head for the back roads.
“That’s it,” Aria murmurs. She grasps the head of me, twisting her wrist slightly before she moves her palm down to the base again. “Watch the road. Let me take care of this for you.”
It’s wrong on every level.
She flexes her fingers, and my dick pulses. She milks me in a steady rhythm, up and down, working the head until I moan out loud.
I’m not a nun, and I’m not celibate, as much as the past few months would suggest. My eyes are on the road, but I look away quickly, wanting to see her face.
Her eyes are on my crotch and focused as she directs me closer to orgasm like a maestro with a symphony. She’s thorough, working me over, and I tighten my lips against the well of disgust. Not for her, but for me. She increases her tempo, and I lick my lips. My eyes go wide as my balls start to tighten, Aria chuckling.
She tightens her grip on me, and just as I’m about to lose it, she bends down. Takes me into her mouth with her dark eyes staying on me. I come inside her mouth, grunting like a fucking animal, her head bobbing up and down as she sucks me through completion.
Once she’s done, she wipes the corners of her lips and straightens, looking back at me.
“Well? I’m waiting,” she says after a beat.
“You want to be praised?” I ask.
“I mean, it would be nice.”
“No.” I know the moment the words leave my mouth that it’s a bad idea to antagonize her. Especially when she runs her tongue along her lips and shifts into a more comfortable position in her seat. Not fast enough for me to miss her hard nipples.
“Fine. Be the kind of man who doesn’t appreciate a good blowjob. Handjob. Whatever.”
It’s nothing against Aria. I have no fucking idea what kind of man I am or how I want to be.
“Here’s how this is going to play out,” I tell her, navigating the less crowded but slower side streets. One hand is on the wheel, and I use the other to tuck my spent dick back into my pants and re-button the top, with considerably less skill than Aria. “Once we get there, I’m going to take you in and book you. We’ll try to do it by the books.”
“Oh, because you're a real stickler for it,” she snaps, smoothing a loose curl behind her ear.
“I’m trying to be.” It’s as honest an answer as I can give.
We pass the rest of the drive in silence, and I pull into the parking garage beneath the warehouse with my heart pounding.
Once we’re stopped, Aria gets out and slams the car door, but it’s the only instance of childish behavior she allows. Walking around the hood toward her, slapping the cuffs on her, I give myself a temporary moment to calm my nerves. It’s a victory to talk to anyone with connections to Broderick, I tell myself. Even loose ones.
Hauling Aria into the warehouse used by the Ninth Precinct is lackluster, though. She goes along too easily, smiling and waving at every person she passes and staying a step ahead of me like she’s the one in charge here.
