Page 42 of Wildcat
I take two steps toward the door. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I don’t want to be here. “Thanks, man.”
“Good luck,” he calls after me.
The drive back to the restaurant takes an eternity. I don’t have a plan, but at minimum I have to make sure she gets home safely.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that asshole.
I park across the street and jog toward the entrance. Scarlett is exiting as I approach and my heart rate kicks up. She’s alone, so I guess that’s something.
Pausing on the sidewalk, I wait for her to look my way. When she does, my entire body clenches with panic at her icy stare. She isn’t happy to see me. Not that I blame her.
“What are you doing here?”
I take another step toward her. “I wanted to make sure you had a ride.”
She glances over her shoulder back into the restaurant. “You can’t be here.”
“How are you getting home?”
“That’s none of your business.”
I close the remaining distance between us and slide my hand around the back of her neck. “I want you to be my business.”
Her pulse thrums under my touch.
“Are you going home with him?”
She tries to glare but even so her body melts into my touch. Slowly her head shakes side to side. “He’s in the bathroom. We’re just going to share an Uber.”
“Not anymore.” I take her hand and lead her to my car. She doesn’t resist or speak until I open the passenger side door.
“This really isn’t necessary.”
I drop my forehead to hers and skim my lips over hers. “Then get in because you want to. Because you can’t stop thinking about me and because there’s nowhere else you want to be.”
I force my feet back and give her room. She stares at me through hooded eyes. Her tongue flicks out to wet her lips and finally she moves into the car.
I don’t waste any time once I’m inside, pulling her to me and capturing her mouth.
“This doesn’t change anything,” she whispers. “I don’t date athletes. Especially ones that play for my dad.”
The excitement with which she kisses me makes it hard to care about words that don’t alter the here and now.
Dropping my hand to her thigh, I slide it up and under the hem of her dress. She whimpers as my fingers brush the delicate material between her legs.
She shifts to give me better access and loops her arms around my neck.
“You’re drenched, baby,” I murmur against her lips. “This for me?”
Her nod is nearly imperceptible, but when I circle my thumb against her clit, she cries out with relief. I tug until the material gives way and dip two fingers inside of her. She clings to me, nipping at my bottom lip and scraping her blunt nails along my back. The things she mutters are mostly nonsense, but they affirm me. She feels this too. It might be madness, but we’re in it together.
I would give up blow jobs for the rest of my life in exchange for watching Scarlett on the brink of bliss. To be clear, I’d like both, but if I have to give up one, it’s an easy choice.
Her pussy clenches around my fingers as her orgasm wracks her body and leaves her limp against me. A phone rings, hers or mine I’m not sure. Don’t care.
I take her mouth in a soft kiss as my heart hammers with adrenaline.
“That was…” she trails off. “Oh my gosh.”
