Page 17 of Fatal Collision
Gone are the noisy crowds and the revving engines… the neon lights spilling out from beneath vehicles. Gone are the sports cars burning doughnuts into the asphalt in a cloud of smoke while spectators, with too much money to burn, bet on the next race.
The dark night stretches out before us, with the blacktop shining under silvery moonlight.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Away from there.” Kane’s deep voice slithers across the small space between us, a caress that trails up the inside of my thigh all the way to the hem of my skirt.
It teases along the edge, like a soft breath before slipping underneath, making me gasp as a spark of pleasure tightens like a band around my stomach.
Kane, unaware of the effect he has on me, continues, “You said it yourself, your brother can’t afford to lose money, so let’s get out of here.”
Confusion knits my brows. Is he aware that his words are a direct contradiction to what he said earlier, when he told me my brother had to beat him?
“Why?” I ask as I shift my body slightly in his direction, intrigued despite myself.
“Racing isn’t about money for me.” Kane puts his hand on my thigh and trails it higher, dragging his fingers over my skin. “Sometimes the prize isn’t cash. Sometimes it’s something more special. Something priceless.”
My breath catches as he dips his hand between mylegs and squeezes my mound. The touch surprises me so much that a soft moan escapes before I can stop it.
Kane massages my clit with the heel of his palm. “You stole an orgasm from me. It’s time you give it back, little thief.”
With terrifying control, he continues driving us to our destination while rubbing me into a frenzy with his free hand. Every movement is slow and precise… and applied with just enough pressure to build me up but not push me over the edge.
Why am I allowing this? It’s crazy, that’s what it is.
“Kane,” I moan, and my legs fall open to accommodate his big hand. I need more. So much more. I don’t want to admit that I am, in fact, two seconds away from orgasming in Kane Ravencourt’s car.
How many women have lost their virginity in here? How many women have opened their legs and sacrificed their dignity to this prick in the hopes of catching the attention of one of the most powerful men in town, one of the future leaders, only to be cast aside the next day like yesterday’s trash?
I don’t want that to be me, but I also invited this mess when I threatened him with a gun and jerked his cock, all because of sexual desires I’ve never told anyone about before.
Some unusual kink I don’t fully understand.
Maybe he’ll leave me alone after this, like his other conquests, once he realizes the prize isn’t as shiny as hefirst thought… Then we can both move on with our lives.
We pull down a forgotten country road, and the car bumps over uneven ground. Wispy branches of overgrown trees slap the windows like they’re trying to grab for us, while imaginary twisted fingers with broken nails scrape along the glass.
The car comes to a sudden stop, jerking us forward. The seatbelt bands around my chest to protect me from injury, but it also traps me against the seat.
Kane rips my panties off in a swift move and shoves them into his back pocket.
“You have a pretty pussy,” he says near my ear, and he plunges two of his thick, devilish fingers inside me, pumping viciously in and out before I have a chance to adjust.
I cry out as the sudden intrusion burns through my tight walls. It’s been a long time since anyone fingered me, and the feeling is so much more overwhelming than I remember.
“Do you have a boyfriend, Jessica?” he asks, mirroring the words I spoke to him the time I made him come.
“Does it matter? You seem pretty desperate.”
If he’s going to throw my words at me, I’ll throw his right back at him.
“No.” His voice is low, rushing down my neck with his next breath, his fingers slick with my arousal. “It doesn’t. Even if you had a doting boyfriend waitingfor you back home, I’d still pump this tight cunt until you explode on my fingers. And you’d love every second of it, just like you are now, maybe even more because you know that no other man, especially some vanilla boyfriend, could make your pussy weep like this.”
It’s impossible to focus on his filthy words when his skilled fingers massage my tightening walls with each swift thrust that draws moans and fractured whimpers from my chest. Like the clown from that famous horror book, who coaxed victims down sewage drains with red balloons.
The initial sting soon gives way to throbbing pleasure, and my back arches while he rubs my swollen clit with his thumb. Kane brings me right to the edge… to the split second before the wave is about to crash into the cliff face. But the euphoria never comes.
He slips his soaked fingers out and eases back, unbothered by the slick trail on his pants where his glistening hand rests.
