8. Vroom Vroom

CHAPTER 8

VROOM VROOM

CHARLI XCX

I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.

Correction; I haven’t let myself have this much fun in a long time. I’ve allowed myself to become so buried in my career and keeping up the illusion of happiness, I’ve forgotten what it ?feels like to let go and just be happy. Since Cassie, I prefer to spend time with my dogs rather than most people. My friends are the few exceptions.

We alternate between dancing and making out, which brings out a surreal feeling I’ve been longing to experience again for years. I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or Renate causing this sloppy sensation in my brain and butterflies lodging in my chest, but I don’t want to let go of these feelings, not yet.

Now she wants to go home with me? And I just handed her my keys? I’m convinced I’ve died.

She slips behind the wheel like she owns it, and the way she controls the car like a natural has my head spinning. No fear. That’s nothing if not hot. Once again, I find myself curious to know what she’s like in bed. If I’m lucky, I might find out soon. I have a million questions running through my head about the dominatrix bomb she dropped earlier, and I’m getting a hard on every time she calls me her puppy. Fuck, what the hell got into me? As she drives, I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to clear my mind, but there’s so much running through it.

I’ve had women over since Cassie, and even dated a few, but always to drown out the pain for a few hours or days. It always left me feeling worse, and them feeling used. Ren is the first one not interested in my money or my fame, and more importantly, she doesn’t want to play therapist—I already have one of those. Ren also isn’t someone I hope sneaks out in the middle of the night. I want to wake up next to her tomorrow. Hell, for a lifetime worth of tomorrows. I want to dance with her, laugh with her, and just be with her. I want her to be mine, but more importantly, I need to be hers.

But this is all way too fast, and I know she’s hesitant.

“You okay, big guy? Or do I need to pull over? Wouldn’t want you getting sick in such a pretty car.” She glances over at me for a second, then back to the road. I hadn’t realized I’d gone still, too busy letting her run around in my mind. She stopped drinking hours ago, because she’s a responsible adult. I’ve been drinking and acting like a fucking frat boy. Like a loser. I’m sure she’s being nice and making sure I make it home in one piece. She’ll get me to pass out on the couch and leave, never to be heard from again. She’ll become the one that got away, the one I let slip out of my fingers because I’m too scared to tell her how she makes me feel.

The alcohol grabs me by the collar and throws me headfirst into a spiral so fast I can’t stop it. I’m too drunk to recognize the signs, too stupid to remember what to do. There’s a panic attack knocking on my fucking window while she drives through Hollywood.

“I’m sorry. It’s uhm.” I scrunch my nose together for a second to bite back the coming panic attack. “I haven’t been out with someone like you in…shit…a while.”

“Like, on a date? Tell me that’s not true.” She asks as she maneuvers the tight corners. I take her in, the full hips, the thick thighs, the small peak of a perfect soft belly between her top and her skirt. And her tits. I’m still staring at her tits. I’m spiraling into a breakdown and I’m staring at a goddess.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I haven’t dated in a while. I mean, I have, but none of them went well.” I watch Los Angeles pass by the window. Even the familiar landscape looks foreign in the darkness. Just like in my mind, the world closes in.

“You sure you’re okay?”

She reaches over and takes my hand, stroking it with her thumb. The gesture is soft but reassuring and I close my eyes, remembering how to breathe through this as her touch calms me.

“Yeah, I think I’m just…” In total disbelief that you’re sitting next to me, you’re holding my hand, you’re real. “You know, drunk.”

She continues to hold my hand as I emerge from the spiral. We pass a billboard for the Pasadena Parrots and smack my forehead and whip out my phone. Scrolling through the messages, I can’t find Devin’s name. Am I that drunk? My memory flashes to him playing with my phone last night, and I scroll back up. Bingo, the blonde knockout named Buffy. Dick.

Hey, bringing Ren home.

ETA, ten minutes.

Buffy

Roger that. I’m a ghost in the wind!

Leaf. A leaf on the wind.

Buffy

Whatever dick, I’m gone, and I took the dogs.

I chuckle and look out the windshield. I’m about to give her a heads up about the corners in this area, but she’s giving me a look that screams I’m about to be in detention. That’s when I notice the console saying I have an incoming message from Buffy. I should be worried, but I’m grinning like a moron.

“Buffy? That’s not your wife or something, right?”

“You’re welcome to scroll through my messages when we get to my place, if it will help you feel better about it. Buffy is my dipshit brother’s idea of a joke. He changed his contact name last night when I told him about our date. Complete with a picture from, well, probably a porn site. Nothing but fart jokes, ETAs, and NHL stats between Buffy and I.”

“Oh my god, when you said brother earlier, I didn’t know you were serious. There’s another one of you?”

“Yeah,” I laugh, pulling her hand to my lips and kissing each of her knuckles. “My kid brother, Devin Hollywood Cooper. Sometimes Mini Cooper.” She stares at me until the light goes green, clearly not recognizing the name. “He’s a goalie for the Parrots.”

“The ice hockey?”

“Yeah, the ice hockey, ” I snicker. She scrunches her nose up, and it’s fucking adorable. The panic attack that never fully took hold now fades into the blackness of the night. No Pongo reminding me to take my meds, no calling my doc, nothing but her. She’s not the solution to my problems, but, just maybe, she’s something better. “You’ve never been to a hockey game, have you?”

“No. I come from a house of football and baseball boys. Hockey is still a white person’s sport.”

“Yeah, that may still be true, but if you agree to go out with me again, I think that means you’re officially dating a Canadian. We’re required to initiate the unenlightened or we lose access to maple syrup. Or something like that.”

“Sounds terrible,” she giggles. “But we had a plan, remember? The night’s not over yet.”

“Are you saying I might still be a dud?”

“No, I’m saying we should wait. Get this out of our system so we don’t make plans we’ll regret later.” She furrows her brow and stares ahead at the road. I’m not against what she’s saying. It’s smart and makes sense, but my irrational brain has the lead. “So, how old is your brother?”

“He’s, uhhhh.” Math becomes way too hard since my brain has been bouncing from the booze to her breasts. “Twenty-three? Yeah, he’ll be twenty-four in a couple of months.”

“Wow, that’s a big gap. I mean, you are like thirty-something, right? Please tell me you’re not in your twenties.”

“Nah. I’m thirty-five.” I reach over, tracing the edges of the slit in her dress with my finger. “What’s with the hate for twenty-somethings?”

“Your brother changes the contact info on your phone to a porn star’s tits, and you have to ask me that?” She laughs, and when she looks at me again, it’s hard to swallow the lump in my throat.

“God, you’re beautiful when you laugh. Actually, you’re stunning, laughing or not.”

“And you’re drunk.”

“Not that drunk. I promise.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Without warning, she swerves the car into a small section of undeveloped road, throwing it into park. “I will never get over the way you idiots park up here,” she mumbles as she unclips her seatbelt.

The GPS shows we’re only a few minutes from my house. She can’t want to walk the rest of the way. It’s steep and brutal. I should know, Steve makes me run it.

“Where are you—” Before I can finish the thought, Ren climbs over the gearshift and into my lap. Our mouths slam together and our hands are everywhere. The tension between us has finally burst, and neither one of us can wait another minute. I want all of her, and she clearly feels the same way.

She grabs my hair and pulls as she moans long and low into my mouth. It’s like she’s given me part of her soul the way she’s kissing back and trying to rip my shirt off.

“Renate,” I hum against her ear in time with her hips that are rolling over me.

“Shut up and keep kissing me, you fucking idiot!”

Her hands grab for my belt and she has it undone in no time, so my hands get to work. One squeezes her ass hard, the other tries to figure out how this top works. It looked so easy, but this thing might be worse than a bra. She pulls away from me again, reaching into my pants. I’m gasping for air, but she’s not stopping.

“Wait!” She snaps her head up, her face contorted in confusion, he hand pressed against my painfully hard cock. “Ask me again.”

“Ask you what?!”

“If I wanna be a good boy or a bad boy. Ask me again.”

Her lip curls up in a grin that makes the butterflies in my stomach do backflips. She slips her hands into my boxers as she pushing her tits against my chest. Her lips brushing mine with each word as she whispers. “Chase Cooper, do you want to be a good boy, or do you want to be a very bad boy?”

“Bad,” I answer, grabbing her top and pulling it open. “I’ll be the fucking devil for a taste of you.”

She grabs my bottom lip between her teeth and bites down hard. The pain leaves in an instant, becoming something more, something I’ve never felt before. I reach down between her legs and under her skirt, sliding my hand up until my fingers find the lace. She’s soaked. I could wring out her damn panties level soaked. My thumb finds her clit and before I can slip two fingers inside her, she’s got one hand squeezing my cock and the other squeezing my neck.

“The safe word is octopus. If you can’t remember that, say red, okay?”

I nod seconds before my eyes roll back. Her thumb drags over the head of my cock so fucking slow, pulling the moan right out of my soul. It’s damn near torture, but fuck, I want more. I can’t concentrate on what I’m doing, especially when she squeezes my throat harder.

“Oh please! Don’t fucking stop, Renate!”

“Tell me what you want, Chase.”

“I wanna fuck you.”

“Beg for my pussy, Chase.”

My mind goes blank for a moment as I’m given an instant lesson on why some women are so into dirty talk. And being choked out. “Fuck, that’s fucking hot.” I lick my lips and think, “Please. Please let me have you, Renate.”

“You can do better, unless you want me to leave you like this.” She squeezes my cock again and my ass comes off the seat.

“No! Please!” I yell out, not recognizing the voice coming out of me. “Please, Sunshine. I need you so bad. I can’t stop fucking thinking about you. I wanna take you home and let you fuck my face. I wanna drown in your pussy while you scream my name. Please, anything.”

“Much better,” she says between pants. She leans in next to my ear again, and whispers in the most seductive voice I’ve ever heard, “You’re such a good boy.”

She’s riding my hand, her head flung back in ecstasy and my fingers curl up, hitting her G-spot and making her scream for me. She’s got one hand on my cock and the other cupping her breast, pinching her nipple through the fabric. I grope around, struggling to get the armrest storage open so I can pull out a condom. When it finally pops, I quickly find the foil package, holding it up in triumph. She licks her lips and bites down on the foil’s edge while I pull it to the side. She’s so fucking perfect.

I move for her tits, but she catches my wrist, pulling it over my head and holding it down.

“Stop trying to take control, Chase. Not until you bury that big cock deep inside me. Do you understand?” I nod. “Good boy, now make me fucking come with your fingers before you fuck me. Earn this pussy you want so much.”

Her mouth slams into mine as our teeth clash together when I slip a third finger into her cunt and pump harder. Her nails carve their way down my arm. I’m not even inside her and I’m going to fucking lose it. The wail of pleasure that comes out of her is pornographic and her entire body convulses around me. As she tumbles over the edge, she throws her hands around my neck and holds on tight.

It’s like she trusts me to keep her safe in this vulnerable moment, and I sure as hell will.

When her body stops shaking, she lifts herself off my chest and looks at me with those big, brown, sex-drunk eyes and a beautiful smile. “You’re turn, big boy. You ready?”

”Fuck yeah.”

Her hand wraps around my cock again and I gasp. I damn near black out as she guides me into her. She’s so wet I slide right into her and it’s beyond incredible. Her head rocks back as she impales herself on me, her noises tell me she likes it as much as I do. The windows steamed up, and the car fills with grunts, moans, and slapping skin as she rides me like a rodeo bull. I fumble around until I find the controls and lay my seat back so I can watch her bouncing on top of me.

Renate isn’t tall and skinny like most of the women I end up with. In fact, she’s only the second woman I’ve ever been with who doesn’t fit that Hollywood cookie-cutter aesthetic. Watching her body move now reminds me why I love thick women so much more. It’s the way her tits bounce when she rocks her head back. How her thighs sound when they slap against my legs. The softness of every part of her my fingers graze. There’s so much more to grab, so much more to explore, so much more to want.

We both belt out primal noises as she reaches the peak again and her lips make the prettiest ‘O’ shape. I don’t think she even cares that she’s fucking me. I could be anyone. Hell, I don’t need to be here at all. Right now, she’s taking whatever she needs from my cock as she fucks herself stupid. Knowing that I’m nothing but a toy for her satisfaction is like a sexual awakening in me. This quicky in my car is the hottest, best sex I’ve had in my whole life.

She’s fearless. She knows what she wants and how to take it from me. She’s taking me right to the edge and holding me there without pushing me over. Just her, in complete and total control.

“Fuck you feel so damn good, Renate. I’m… I’m gonna come.”

She grabs my jaw and stares at me, the street light forming a halo around her wild, messy hair. “You don’t come until I want you to, understand, slut? ”

I nod, but it’s not enough. She needs to know I want this, or she’ll back off. “Yes…ma’am.”

Her small fingers slide down my face, wrapping around my throat again. She squeezes, inching me closer to that release, but I hold back. “Stop having sex with me and fuck me! Make me scream for you, Chase. Do what you’ve been wanting to do to me all damn night.”

She’s handing me the keys now, and I’m scared to death I’ve forgotten how to drive. I pull her top down, grab her hips and thrust hard into her as my mouth wraps around her dark brown nipple. I suck and bite as her fingers rake through my hair. I can’t hold out much longer, but I can already feel that I won’t have to.

“Oh fuck, Chase, ohhh right there, puppy!” She throws her head back again and I can feel her tighten around me like a vise as another orgasm overtakes her. I’m squeezing my eyes shut and trying hard not to come. I’m focusing so damn hard on not coming, I don’t even notice her lean forward and press her lips to my ear until she whispers in this smoky, hauntingly perfect voice, “Fill my pussy like the good little whore you are, puppy.”