Page 14 of Dirty
Sera had thoroughly distracted me, and I wasn’t ready to give her up just yet. That made me cruel, and wicked, and evil, and a thousand other things including stupid, but I’d never faltered before. I’d never dropped the ball. I wasn’t going to now. I was entitled to a little fun, though.
That was what I told myself.
A long time ago, people used to ask me for help all the livelong day. It had been my job to help people, and I used to like doing it. A lot had changed since then. I’d lost myself, not to mention my soul, on the road about ten thousand miles ago, and I’d never turned back to find either. I should have gotten into my truck and driven away from Sera and her destroyed car just now, but…I just couldn’t. I’d liked the way my name sounded on her lips. It had been hotter than fuck hearing her panting it over and over into my ear last night. And so what if I wanted to hear her say it a couple more times before I ended this? She was different. I got the sneaking suspicion that she was more than a little broken inside. She’d obviously been through hell at some point, but the flames had forged her, not burned her to ash. In a lot of ways, she reminded me of Monica.
I hadn’t slashed her tires. I had no idea who the fuck had done it, but I wanted to pat them on the back and also shove a whittled down toothbrush through each of their eyeballs for creating this situation, that was already seriously complicated enough.
I’d changed out of my wet running gear and dressed in something a little more murder-appropriate—black pants, black shirt, black leather driving gloves and a ball cap—before heading out to Franz Halford’s auto mechanic’s shop. As I piloted my way through a network of roads that bore a closer resemblance to swamps than highways, kind of enjoying the huge spray that went up from both front tires whenever I went through a particularly deep patch of standing water, I counted no less than three overturned vehicles, sitting on their roofs, waiting to be hauled out of ditches and away from the medians.
At the turn off I needed to take in order to reach the auto shop, a row of power lines had collapsed, and a confusion of cables, tangled and sparking, were causing havoc for passing drivers, who couldn’t quite figure out how to circumnavigate them without electrocuting themselves and dying horribly. A large woman with a tabby cat tucked under her arm, wearing a bright yellow waterproof jacket, seemed to be trying to direct the traffic, but she didn’t seem to know what she was doing either, so I wheeled around her and the fast growing line of cars and made the turn regardless.
Idiots.
I’d allowed my phone to go dead last night—there was nothing more distracting than an irate woman sending you a thousand text messages when you were trying to fucking come—but I’d plugged it in to charge when I climbed into the truck. The screen finally lit up as I took a left and pulled into the cluttered parking lot of Halford’s Family Auto and Lube, and I braced myself for a litany of messages from Monica. Nothing came through, though. Nothing at all. That was fucking weird. She’d said she needed me to call her immediately, and when Monica said immediately, she meantyesterday. Her patience was wearing thin with me, I knew that, but fuck me if she didn’t make my life harder. I was used to having her around now. I was used to her panicked outbursts, and her need for me to check in every day. I should probably have cut her loose by now, but it wasn’t that easy. I didn’t really have the right to do that to her, either.
The rusting, spray-painted roller shutters that fronted Halford’s Family Auto & Lube were still firmly shut and very locked, and a huge, fat, tarnished padlock was glinting in the weak early morning light. Didn’t look like Franz was an early riser. Didn’t look like anyone was at the shop at all, though it was really fucking hard to tell with all the decrepit vehicles that were sitting the parking lot. Given all of the dirt, corrosion, smashed glass and bald tires, it was hard to imagine any of the cars were running, but who fucking knew…
Across the street, the neon ‘open’sign of a dingy looking café flickered to life, causing a red glow to be reflected across the surface of the family-sized swimming pool that had formed in café’s parking lot.Hot Donuts! Fresh coffee! All American Scrambler Breakfast!I read the sign in the window, not really paying much attention. The food would be shit. The coffee would be shit. Their donuts had probably been gathering dust and rat crap sprinkles for days, but I still got out of the truck, popped the collar of my jacket, shoved my hands in my pockets and ran across the now empty road. My socks were soaked in less than a second.
From inside the diner, I had a perfect view of the auto shop; there’d be no chance I’d miss the comings and goings of one Franz Halford from the booth I selected right in the window, so I sat my ass down on the cracked and peeling faux leather seat and pretended to read the sticky laminated menu that was propped between the salt and pepper shakers on the table in front of me. The garish, very badly taken, very unappealing photos of limp toast and rubbery eggs did nothing to inspire hunger in me. Committing homicide was usually something I liked to do on an empty stomach—things had a way of getting really fucking messy, after all. People shit themselves. They vomited. They bled all over the goddamn place. I’d learned my lesson in the past: food was never a good idea when the potential for bodily fluids was so high. I ordered a black coffee from a pimple-faced waiter when he finally decided to come over and check on me, and that was it. The poor bastard seemed disappointed.
An hour passed, and the caffeine in my veins began to make me antsy. Normally, patience was one of my strong points. I mean, the last job I’d done required me to hunker down for five hours in a forest, amongst the leaf litter and dead tree branches for my quarry to come along, and that hadn’t fazed me one bit. Waiting for Franz Halford this morning was hell on earth, though, and I knew why. It was her fault. Sera’s. God, her mouth really had been so fucking perfect, pouting, wrapped around my hard dick. And when she’d turned over and presented her ass to me, I’d known I was in fucking trouble. My job was now almost impossible, because I’d been stupid enough to think with my dick. Sera oozed sex appeal from every pore of her beautifully crafted, stunning fucking body. She welcomed a good fucking with every sideways glance she sent you, but she did so unintentionally, without expectation or any true knowledge that she was even doing it. Basically, she was the living embodiment of everything that turned me on. And I wasstillfucking turned on. My dick hadn’t stopped raging since last night—it had still been hard enough to crack concrete this morning when I’d woke up. I’d had to run in the pissing rain just to stop myself from sliding my fingers inside her while she slept. Even now, sitting in the booth, being handed lukewarm, disgusting coffee in a very dirty cup by a teenager who looked like he might not be all that clean himself, my cock was throbbing like a pulsing beacon.
The way she’d hesitantly wrapped her hand around me…
The way her eyes had flashed when she’d squeezed and felt how thick and ready I was…
The way she’d inadvertently wet her bottom lip with the pink tip of that delicate little tongue of hers…
Shit. I needed to go jerk off in the bathroom. These kinds of thoughts would do nothing but claw at my mind, demanding my attention, distracting me from the task at hand, and this wasn’t a line of work you could bumble your way through. I needed to be sharp. Focused. Single minded. So long as Sera Lafferty’s pretty pink pussy fogging my brain, I’d never be able to get anything done.
Getting up, I rearranged my cock in my pants to avoid any embarrassment, and then made my way into the restrooms. They were clean, at least, and smelled faintly like lemon. Plenty of paper towels. I grabbed a couple and locked myself into a stall, dropping my pants and pressing a hand against the back wall. I could make myself come in less than a minute if I wanted to. The memory of last night, of Sera looking so perfect and frankly fucking edible, deserved more respect than that, though. I worked my hand up and down the shaft of my cock slowly at first, relishing the pressure and the buzz of pleasure that began to tingle at the base of my dick. Fuck, that felt good. Not as good as Sera’s mouth, but still…
I stroked faster, sucking in a deep breath and holding it inside my chest. She looked so fucking hot this morning, her hair damp and curling at the ends, her dark eyes flashing with rage as she realized what someone had done to her car. Her shirt had been tight and a little wet from the rain; the very first thing I’d noticed when she’d lowered her window to scowl at me was her tight nipples, poking out of the material at me. I’d taken them into my mouth last night. I’d licked and I’d sucked them. I’d pinched and rolled them, knowing all too well that Sera would enjoy the frisson of pain racing between her breasts and her cunt.
God, she’d opened up so nicely for me. She’d smelled so fucking good. Her pussy juice had coated more than just my cock; I’d reveled in the silky feeling of her excitement between the pad of my thumb and my index finger. Next time, I was going to lap at her like a hungry dog, and I was going to go back for seconds.
I sucked in a fresh lungful of oxygen, holding that one in my chest, too. My mind transported me back to the moment when I was about to thrust into Sera for the first time, and my balls tightened, my cock pulsing in my hand. The tip glistened with pre-cum, and I couldn’t help it. I imagined her on her knees, her hands wrapped around my shaft, the tip of her tongue darting between her lips as she gently licked the clear fluid from me, and my legs threatened to bail on me.
Fuck, it was wrong of me, but I wanted her again. Last night should never have happened, but it did, and now? Urgh. I was never going to stop wanting her. I should complete my work and go. I should just do what I came here to do and get the fuck out of here, but that was thing aboutshould, though. People rarely ever paid any heed to something theyshoulddo. Should was rear-view mirror knowledge, a right hand turn that you could still see over your shoulder if you turned around far enough to catch it out of the corner of your eye. The turning was still there. You could still make it, if you performed an emergency one-eighty and headed back in the opposite direction. But somehow your foot always stayed on the gas, pressing you toward disaster, and there was nothing you could do about it.
I wasn’t going to leave Sera here in Liberty Fields today. I was going to collect her from the motel as soon as my task was complete, and then it was inevitable. I was going to fuck her again. I was going to charm the ever-loving shit out of her, and she was going to be laid flat on the back seat of the truck, panting, digging her fingernails into my back all over again. And I was going to love every second of it.
God, it was so wrong…
I screwed my eyes shut, changing out my breath again, biting down on the inside of my cheek as I felt myself slipping and sliding toward oblivion. My hand was coated with pre-cum now, slick with the viscous fluid, which made running my hand up and down all the more enjoyable. It was easy to pretend that I was fucking her. It was easy to imagine I was pushing myself into her hot, wet, slick pussy. Too easy. I tipped my head back, straining as I teetered on the brink of coming, holding it back for as long as I could.
Her eyes, though…
Her mouth.
Her hands.
Her breasts.
Her spread thighs, and the fragile, pale pink between her legs, redder and darker where I slid myself inside of her…
Fuck…
