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He slides his hand over my stomach, and with every thrust, he says each word in a caress. “You’re so beautiful. I’m so lucky to have you carrying my baby. You have given me so much, Aura. There is nothing I could give you that amounts to what you have given me. I love you, my angel. I will always love you. Please, forgive me. I can’t lose you. I’m not the same without you.” I moan when he plays with my clit and arch my back. “Come for me, Aura. There is only you.”
He thrusts into me while frantically playing with my clit. I come, his name escaping my lips. “Lane.” He places the palm of his hand flat over my stomach so it doesn’t hit the sink, protecting me, protecting our son.
When my shift is over, he opens the door for me to get inside his car.
“Lane?”
“Yes, Aura,” he says, buckling his seat belt.
“What kind of car is this?” I ask.
I meant to ask him before but never got around to it. I don’t know much about cars except what he has shown me, what the mods do and what purpose they serve.
He smiles and revs the engine. “An r35 GT-R.”
“Oh. I know what you build is a big deal, but is this an expensive car? Like a Porsche?”
He chuckles and pulls out onto the road. “The makers of Porsche can’t beat it. It’s worth more than a Porsche and a Lamborghini because I built it.”
I tilt my head, Nick’s words the other night replay in my head. That Lane was like Michael Jordan in the race world for building the fastest car in the world.
“I’m sorry I’m asking all these questions. I just don’t really know much about cars and their worth because my parents only had one car, and it was used.”
“I love when you ask. It shows you care what I’m into and what I do.”
He doesn’t drive past the speed limit, which I can appreciate. Some young guys with modified cars line up and try to provoke him to race, but he ignores them. Lane continues to drive careful and doesn’t go too fast. It’s quiet and doesn’t play music. For Lane, the sound of an engine is music. It’s his Beethoven.
I never liked driving his cars because I know how much they mean to him. As a form of respect, I don’t like touch any of them. There are times he is disappointed I don’t. It wouldn’t bother him if I did. He taught me to drive a stick shift and how to listen to the engine while shifting gears. He said I should learn, just in case of an emergency, so I agreed.
“Lane.”
“Yes.”
“Where are we going?”
“Home.”
“This doesn’t look like the way to the house.”
“It is, Aura. This is the way to our home.”
This was not the way home. The houses are spread out and have huge gates in each driveway.
He turns onto a street with a single driveway leading to a tall gate. It is so tall, there is no way you could jump over. There are cameras that shift when we pull up on each of the giant pillars.
“Where are we?”
The gate slowly swings open. When he revs the engine, the rumble vibrates the snug seat and calms my nerves. There is a big flutter and a poke from inside of my stomach. I look down where my apron is still tied around my protruding waist.
“Lane?”
“Yes.”
“Do that again.”
He glances at me. “Do what again?”
“Rev the engine.”
