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Turned onallthe fucking lights.
“I love you,” he mumbled through the floodlights of his release, not sure if the words came out as sound or scent, as light or laughter, as relief or revelation.
All he knew was that it was the truth, just like it was the truth that he was grateful for that terrible Thanksgiving, understood that it was the moment when he truly grew up, truly left home, really discovered who he was, broke free from the imagined expectations of his parents.
And in doing so, truly fulfilled their hippie-hearted dreams.
By choosing his own path.
Following his own star.
Accepting his own nature.
Loving his own darkness.
“I love you,” came Indy’s garbled response bubbling through the boiling lava-hot air surrounding their psychedelic cocoon. She was kissing him back with a hunger that only whetted Ice’s ravenous need for more.
More of her.
Allof her.
“You love me? Where have I heardthatbefore,” Ice growled into her mouth. “Oh, wait, I haven’t. Because you refused to say it earlier.” He kissed her again, then his big palms cupped her buttcheeks tight and raised her body off the ground, half-carrying half-dragging her towards the dust-tinted windows of their waiting chariot—which wasn’t ready to roll yet, but was sure as hell about to be hot-wired. “Get off me, Indy. I need to concentrate on getting this car-door open.”
“I’ll get off you when you get me off. I mean get me off you. I mean . . . you know what I mean.” Indy convulsed into giggles, shaking her head in violent refusal, clenching her ass in wiggly delight as Ice slammed her against the dusty car, kissed her like a rabid dog in season, mouth frothing and cock straining, the urge to attack merging with the soaring arousal, sex and violence combining into a playfully savage union, a dark desire glowing with a lighthearted edge, pulling them both down into it like giggling monkeys.
Indy wrapped her monkey-legs around Ice’s waist and giggle-kissed him as he tried in vain to get her off him. Her grip was firm, and finally Ice just shrugged and began to waddle around the car with his woman attached to his midsection like they were a single beast of unknown origin. He tried each door handle with no luck, was about to smash in the rear window with his elbow when Indy shrieked triumphantly into his ear, almost splitting his tympanic membrane with her pitch.
“There’s a moonroof!” she cried as Ice whirled her around, stumbling to find his balance with this strange new appendage wrapped around his torso and screaming into his acid-blasted eardrums. “It’s popped up for ventilation. Here, I can get my fingers under the edge and flip the lever and maybe slide it open. Put me on the roof. Hurry. Up, up, away!”
Ice grabbed her ass and twirled her around and deposited her on the roof. He was grinning like a gargoyle, infected by her idiocy, aroused by her acrobatics.
He watched as she hung on to the sides of the roof with all fours, gritting her teeth and holding on for dear life as if the car was a surfboard hurtling through a blue-pink cosmic sea. Her face was peaked with wild delight, and Ice ogled shamelessly as she raised her ass towards him to get leverage on the cracked-open moonroof.
“I’d like to crackthatopen,” Ice mumbled from behind her, wondering why he was mumbling, then realizing his face was grinding into her butt as he held her in place while she broke into the blue Honda which was shaking like giggling jelly along with them.
Indy squealed in protest, wiggling her ass to get him off her. Somehow she got the moonroof to slide open all the way, and suddenly she was halfway down the hatch, her legs briefly sticking up in the air before she managed to wrangle her curves down into the tinted insides of their soon-to-be honeymoon suite.
Ice snapped his head left and right, scanning the street, then quickly glancing up to see if any early-rising residents were capturing all this for the Internet’s gawking pleasure. Thankfully the traffic noises from the main road seemed to have swallowed up Ice and Indy’s orchestral maneuverings, and most of the apartment windows were still closed, air-conditioning units humming with pleasant reassurance.
Ice waited a three-count for Indy to get all the way inside, then tried the door handle again. It was still locked. He peered in through the tinted glass, wondering if Indy had broken her neck and it was all over, end of story, done and gone, nothing more to see. Just when he had moved on to deciding which coyote-snake-spook to murder first—Benson or Kaiser or Rhett—the door kicked open and hit Ice in the thigh.
“Took you long enough,” Ice grumbled as he tossed his bag in through the open back door, drawing a screeching protest from Indy, who appeared to have been in the flight-path of the flying duffel. “Sorry. Heads up. Another package coming in hot.”
Ice dove into the backseat head-first, landing squarely on Indy and flattening her into the seat with his weight. She gasped as her lungs emptied, groaned when his elbows dug into all sorts of unmentionable soft parts of her scrunched-up body, then giggled when Ice rolled onto his side and got them both firmly stuck between the front seatbacks and the tiny rear bench.
Ice blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to the car’s dim interior. The tinted windows were further darkened by the layer of dust on the outside glass, casting everything in a strange greenish light that reminded Ice of a 1960s green-tinted movie reel.
“Watch your head.” Ice wriggled around to reach the front-seat adjustment-lever. He yanked it up and slammed the front passenger seat forward, pushing it down and opening up enough space that Indy wasn’t in imminent danger of being crushed between a seatbench and a Delta killer. “Now watch your ass. No, wait,I’mwatching your ass. Much better.”
They were somehow head-to-toe in that little backseat, and Indy was giggling hysterically as Ice viciously kissed her upside-down ass through her black stretchy pants. They were a seething mass of twitching body parts, and Ice could barely remind himself to keep his legs still so he wouldn’t kick Indy unconscious.
A quick two-handed smack on her lovely butt and then Ice righted himself into a sitting position. Indy squirmed and wiggled to right herself too, but was hampered by Ice’s inability to take his paws off her ass.
The farthest she got was to manage a very ungraceful forward sprawl which landed her conveniently on Ice’s lap like a schoolgirl ready to be spanked. Thankfully Ice had been trained by the U.S. Military to be decisive in tight situations, to take advantage of any opportunity, make hay when the sun was shining, slap ass when the butt was beckoning.
And slap ass he did, drawing squeals and shrieks as he brought his open palms downsmack-smack-smackety-smackin a raucous rhythm on her rear globes, playing her buttcheeks like the bongos, bouncing her on his erection like a psychotic pervert as she squealed some more, shrieked some more, then finally relaxed and let out a shuddering sigh when Ice clapped down his open palms and kept them there on her ass, his big paws perfectly covering her ample cheeks.
Ice kneaded those beautiful buttocks until Indy was moaning and writhing on his lap. Then with one hand still rubbing her bottom, Ice ran the fingers of his other hand up along her spine, up along her bare neck to the back of her head.
