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It’s a yellow sticky note. It’s dark, but with a sliver of moonlight from passing thick clouds above, I make out something on the front. It’s a pencil drawing of a ruler with the 8” mark ticked off.
Aka: Here’s Johnny!
His hulking figure fills the frame of the window. The floating mist mixes with the darkness. He faces me, and I’m startled to see he’s wearing a black leather mask with silver studs and zippers like a BDSM Master would wear.
We stare, and it’s his chance to take me in. All of me. My face, my hips, my thighs.
“Last chance,” I whisper, wondering if he’ll see my thick body and change his mind.
Counting backward from five, I don’t get past four when the door handle clicks open, the whiny hinge echoing throughout the interior. I never noticed it because I don’t sit in the back seat.
Oh, God, this is happening.
I’m about to get fucked. By a stranger.
He leans on the door and that mist frames him again. Christ, he’s so huge I worry we won’t fit back here.
Dressed in a black, ab-hugging T-shirt and dark jeans, his face is shrouded with that mask I now see clearer. It fully covers his face except for eyes, nose, and mouth. The smell of leather hits me and my nipples harden.
“Having some car trouble?” His question relaxes me.
We didn’t plan to speak, but his deep voice is as smooth as glass.
“No. I just needed…” I exhale. “I needed to make myself come.”
He growls. “Why?”
I spread my legs and dip my hand into my thong. “Because I’ve got a man on my mind who I can’t shake.”
If you only knew how true this was…
“I can make you come. Non-fucking stop with my hard cock, buried deep inside you.”
How did I get this lucky? Hot bod? Dirty mouth?
There’s no discernable accent, no way for me to detect where he’s from, not that it matters. Only a piece of me wishes he had an accent like Eoghan, because listening to him speak is so hot.
“Show me…”
Without any more words, Johnny leans into the car and grabs the front of my dress, pulling me out.
My heart pounds as adrenaline floods my veins. We didn’t talk about this…
Fear mixes with a wild burst of excitement, though. I offer a little resistance, struggling. It’s part of the game. I shouldn’t make this easy for him.
With every useless tug to break free, something primal wakes up inside me. I wanted to be fucked, but this dance is part of the fantasy. The struggle, the twisting against a brute of a man who doesn’t yield.
He grunts with every squeeze, every nail that digs into his skin as he drags me…
Oh God, he’s bringing me to…
To his car.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Jillian
Oh, hell to the no…
