Page 36 of Hero Hair

“I don’t lie about sex, Teala. I committed to this.”

My heart skips a beat. I let my mind replace the wordthiswithyou.

“It’s the longest I’ve gone without sex since age sixteen.”

Silence fills the car as I weigh my response. “I get the commitment to holding up our charade, but why not have sex on the side?”

We’re on a long stretch of road without any other cars around. He glances over at me. “That would be too easy. I thought you knew me at least a little bit by this point. Challenges are sort of my thing. I committed to our pseudo relationship and maybe part of me was curious about how it would be if it were real. Not that it is real,” he explains. “Make no mistake of that.” His voice doesn’t sound so sure.

“Of course it’s not. I mean, you did just have lunch with my mom and give me an orgasm by dry humping me against my bedroom window. What’s real about that?” I retort. I watch his face. The corner of his lip quirks. It feels real. He knows it. I know it.

“I need a distraction for the next five minutes,” he says. “That’s how long until we get to my house. I might explode,” he says, wincing as he readjusts his hard-on.

I giggle. “Do you trust me?” I bite my lip.

Macs furrows his brow as I lick my lips and circle my mouth with my pointer finger. His eyes pop open wide. “If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about, the question should be do I trust myself.” He rubs his hands on the leather steering wheel up and down. “Go. Do it,” he says—the quickest decision that ever came to fruition. He leans his seat back using the buttons on the side panel of his door.

I unfasten my seat belt and bend over to start working on his button and zipper. His shaft is pressing against his jeans uncomfortably. I pull it through the fly of his boxer briefs. It’s just as large as it feels through his pants. It’s silky, with veins and a robust head. I do have a good comparison, so when I say his dick is beautiful, it is. Wrapping my hand around his girth, I watch his face. It’s a mask of determination and lust. His fists flex around the steering wheel, causing a cracking sound.

“Suck my dick,” he says. “Suck my fucking dick,” he repeats. Everything below my belly button turns to mush.

Typically I’d object to his order, but I’m so turned on. He’s waiting for me. I’m the only one. Right now at least. Even if it’s just for now, he is a monster of desire, and I can’t wait to see exactly what he can do with every part of his body. I lick the tip, swirling my tongue in small circles. At first contact, Macs groans, a guttural noise piercing the air in the cab of the car. My core clenches in response to the primal noise.

I let my mouth work down the shaft a bit before I start pumping my hand at the same time. I pull away to look at him while I keep working my hand up and down. The corner of the center console digs into my stomach, and I readjust my positioning.

“I’m sort of good at this. I figure I should warn you in case you think you’ll be the hero here,” I say.

He smirks, his eyes now so hooded I think I may combust from the desire I see there.

“I’m always the hero. Now suck my dick. I’ll tell you if you’re too good.” He’s playing. He has no clue how dangerous I am. Not in this regard.

I shrug, sliding my hand up around the head of his cock and all the way back down. My spit is lubricating and it’s running dry, so I bend over and, using precise aim, I let a mouthful of spit fall on the tip of his dick. He moans. I suck and use my hand at the perfect speed. My lips shield his softness from my teeth and I work him into a complete and utter frenzy. When I sense he’s getting too close, I back off with my hands and lick the underside up and down in long strokes. Macs is bucking his hips, trying to get me to swallow him whole. I wonder how long it will be until he releases his grip from ten and two and pushes my head with one hand. It’s only been a couple minutes and Macs is tapping out. Not tapping my shoulder to let me know he’s coming, actually moaning that I need to stop before he blows his load all over the Italian leather interior.

He’s breathing in huffs and puffs blown out of his mouth at an erratic pace. I lean up, wipe the string of spit from the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand, and retreat to my seat.

“FUCK!” Macs yells, a huge smile on his face. He slams his palm on the steering wheel. His eyes widen. “You suck dick like a goddamn professional. We were joking about it before, but fuck. Can I lock you in my closet?”

I laugh. “I should take offense to that, but I’ll run with the compliment. You’re not locking me anywhere.” I shake my head.

His grin is wide and confusing. When he looks over at me it’s like he’s viewing me for the first time. “What the hell are you, Teala Smart?”

I grin. “I’m a lot of things, but I’m mostly your worst nightmare.” I tilt my head in the direction of his cock, still ramrod straight and begging for more attention. “Want more?”

“Fuck!” he yells again. He shakes his head, still grinning like a lunatic. “We’re almost home,” he says, readjusting his dick so I can’t see it anymore. My face must fall, because he responds, “Baby, you can have so much more of that. However much you want. All of it. Anytime you want. Let me park the car. If I thought I could safely get us there and come down your hot fucking throat, I would have let you continue. I think my whole body was buzzing.” His eyebrows are raised and his dimples are on full display. “Jesus, your mouth.”

He rubs a palm down the front of his unzipped jeans. “And we better do it fast before I get blue balls again. God, I want to come in you so badly,” he says, shaking his head.

“I’m more than a mouth, you know?” I should have downplayed my skills. This always happens.

His dimples disappear. “I know.” It’s a simple response, but it insinuates so much more. “Trust me, I know.” He pulls into a long driveway.

His house is beautiful. It’s a ranch style home with landscaping and lots of tools and sawdust out in the front patio. He parks in front of the two-car garage and explains that he has so many projects going on this weekend with some friend named Tahoe, he had to use his garage to prep. He usually parks his vehicle in there otherwise.

His sexual excitement turns into something else as we approach his front door. He starts talking faster, explaining why certain things are the way they are even though I never asked. He avoids looking at me as he pulls out his key. It hangs from a Louis Vuitton key chain and holds nothing else but the fob that starts his car. He pushes the door open and motions for me to walk in first. You can taste the hesitance in the air. I feel like he’s going to push me out of his world at any moment, decide it’s a horrible idea to have me in his life now that coming down my throat isn’t on the forefront of his mind. Because that’s all I’m truly good for. I’m almost sorry it’s the third date because after this he’ll be less and less enthralled until we have sex and then he’ll be done with me.

“I want you to know how much this means to me. I don’t let people in my world,” he admits.

I hear his keys hit the table in the entryway as I look around. It’s beautiful. Even in the dismantled state it’s in, I’m able to see his vision. The ceilings are high and everything is open. The walls are a crisp white and the furniture he does have is tasteful, expensive. The scent of sawdust and new paint is overwhelming. I wrinkle my nose.

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