Black Flag (Racing on the Edge) (38 page)

“You ready?” he finally
asked, eyes holding my own.

“Yes, woo me dirty
heathen.”

Jameson chose a
restaurant on the pier, the warm coastal air surrounding us. Tiny white
Christmas lights twisted in the wooden umbrellas overhead created a magical
feeling over the pier. The ocean crashed against the rocks below us, the salt
actually present on my tongue and the humidity made my ass sweat.

“Are you having a good
time?” he asked, letting his hand settle against the small of my back, claiming
me quietly and succinctly. I only hoped he couldn’t feel how much I was
sweating.

“Very much so, thank you.”
I assured him, smiling, more sweat dripping.

The waiter brought out
an appetizer Jameson ordered, setting it on the small round table. Keeping one
arm securely wrapped around my waist, he reached for his fork to put one of the
shrimp on it.

“Open up honey.” He
instructed, and I surely did. The warm tangy but sweet coconut shrimp burst
flavor throughout my mouth; it was delicious. I moaned around the fork, as he
slipped the tines back out.

He chuckled throwing
back his own shrimp like a man, licking his lips as I watched this dirty
heathen pornography play out. Then he winked.

I rolled my eyes,
trying not to let him know how incredibly turned on I was by this. I had to
hold my own at some point.

With no shame or sense
of social propriety, I closed the distance between us, and kissed him, hard. He
grinned in surprise, but quickly kissed me back with equal intensity.

My entire body turned
toward him, my legs nestling in between his as his fingers found my skin, the
skin just above the hem of my dress. My head tilted to one side so I could kiss
him more deeply, my tongue sliding against his, leading and then letting him
lead. He tasted like sweet and tangy and it was all I could do not to grab him
and have my way with him, sweaty ass and all.

I heard someone
clearing their throat, and I opened my eyes to see our waiter with our meals,
his expression uncomfortable.

“Excuse me, Mr. Riley,
I have your meals here,” he said, carefully averting his eyes from the display
we were putting on, in a very public pier.

I might have moaned a
little as he removed his hands from my legs, and turned my chair around. Taking
my hands and pulling them from his lap where they had found their way, they had
a mind of their own I tell you. He smirked as I took a shaky deep breath.

Jameson flashed the
waiter a smile before offering me a slow wink. “Sorry man,”

I almost let out an
indignant groan when I saw him discreetly adjust himself. It was comforting to
know that I wasn’t the only one feeling worked up. Then I wondered if he was sweating
as much as I was.

I smiled serenely at
him, lowering my eyes just enough when his gaze met mine so that he knew I
knew. Being the knocked up pigizzle that I was, I let my hand drift back to his
lap just enough to accidentally on purposely graze him, feeling how worked up
he was.

I heard him groan, and
I smiled inwardly. Just as I went in for another
feelsky
,
he grasped my hand tightly in his own, pressing himself against me, my breath
catching in my throat as I felt him harden further under our hands.

“Do you want me to
fuck
you
right here?” he murmured, low and thick in my ear as my entire body
started trembling. Closing my eyes, I tried to get control as he placed my hand
back in my own lap, grinning in a devilish way. As our waiter busied himself
around us, filling water glasses and arranging food, I only had eyes for
Jameson, delicious and beautiful, sitting next to me in our fairytale,
wondering what I did right to be granted such an amazing wish.

Our meal took forever
to finish, mainly because of our food prep-assembly we had going on with
tantalizing tastes and lingering kisses that were entirely too provocative for
the social gathering we were surrounded by, but again, I could give a flying
fuck about any of that. This was my fairytale goddamn it and if I want to do
some assembly prepping with my dirty heathen, in public, I would.

Jameson smiled softly
at me, reaching for my hand. The warm night air blowing softly through his
hair, “I’m glad we’re alone, finally.” he said, raising my hand to his mouth.
He laid kisses across my knuckles, opening my palm and pressing a wet kiss at
its center. “Where I don’t have to worry about someone walking in on us,” he
kissed my hand once more as I stared back at him. “
...
or the media,”

“Don’t get too excited there
...
we haven’t made it back to the room
yet.”

“Is my woo working?” he
went in for the kill but I had my own ideas.

“Jameson?”

“Yes?”

I smiled and decided
that for once, I was going to play the part of the dirty heathen. I took his
hand that was wrapped around my own, sliding it slowly up the inside of my
thigh, all the way to my properly lubricated and sweaty crankcase.

The look on his face
was priceless. The flashes of emotions were easy to see. First was shock, then
amusement that I did this, and then slowly it turned to overwhelming desire
while he breathing increased followed quickly by raw
lust.

I giggled. “
The woo
...
is
working. Good woo.” I pulled his hand back away against his pout for it to
stay.
“But Jameson?”

“Yes?” he voice was
thick and rough again, his eyes half opened.

“I think to be properly
wooed; we should go back to the room.”

“Thank god,” he smiled
and signaled the waiter.

He paid the bill and we
began making our way through the city toward our hotel. Lanterns lit up the
dark sky overhead as a heavy drumbeat pulsed with people dancing in the
streets. There was a buoyant energy throughout the city; the sense of wild
abandon was floating through the air.

We passed a bar playing
salsa music and Jameson stopped suddenly, yanking me inside.

“Really
...
you salsa dance?”

He licked his lips
slowly, wrapping his arms firmly around my waist. “Honey
...
I know how to
move
.” His strong
hips pressed forward leading me toward the dance floor. “And it’s all in the
hips.”

Thousands of those tiny
twinkle lights strung across the ceiling and pillars throughout the bar
creating a sexy romantic feeling on the dark wooden dance floor. People were
dancing all around us, making it difficult it move but none of them existed
once my dirty heathen had his strong concrete arms around me, moving me fluidly
over the dance floor with ease to the beats of
El Gitano del Amor
.

I don’t know how it
happened but his tie was loosened, the top few buttons of the shirt undone
allowing a view of his faint chest hairs to peek out. My hands instinctively
wrapped around his neck, his fingertips gripped my hips controlling my
movements.

His eyes lit up as we
moved across the dance floor effortlessly to the beat of the band, the music
pulsing, I could feel it throughout my entire body. I couldn’t speak—all I
could do was smile.

I can’t salsa dance to
save my life but with Jameson leading me around, turns out I could salsa dance
and goddamn was he right, it’s all in the hips.

Beautiful women danced closely
beside us but Jameson’s eyes never left mine, not once. They stayed fixated,
holding me like the treasure I was to him.

When the song finished
he drew me closer, his hips pressing forward, his breath blowing across my face
as we spoke. “Let’s get out of here. I have some proper wooing to do.”

His eyes still focused
on mine, he led me away from the dance floor. Once outside, I was whirled once
more against the side of the building and pulled toward an obscured alleyway.

“What are you doing?” I
asked but he didn’t answer. His green eyes sparkled as his left hand came up to
cup my cheek, angling my face toward his.

He kissed me deeply,
passionately; fervently
...
let’s just say this one
kiss was what fairytales were made from. His tongue gently but with determination
caressed my own. His other hand slid down from my hip to wrap around the back
of my knee—hitching it around his waist. And in a movement, so quick I didn’t
know what was happening, Jameson slid my underwear aside and assessed my
bearings, deciding whether or not align boring or maybe press forging would be
necessary.

I gasped loudly at the
feeling of his long slender fingers wooing the crankcase. And then again, in
another movement so quick I barely had time to interpret it, he was fumbling
with his belt, desperately trying to get his pants unzipped.

“What
...
are
...
oh god
...
that’s
...
” his fingers swirled around my ignition switch.

“Good?” he grunted
pushing forward with a growl of animalistic proportions. If he hadn’t been
holding me against the wall, I would have collapsed right then with that noise.

“So good, but we’re
...
in public
...
” Though I said this, for the life of
me, I couldn’t bring myself to give a shit about our public display of align
boring.

People were screaming
and dancing in the streets not more than ten feet from us but under the
secluded darkness of the alley, it felt private and insanely fucking erotic.
Maybe this is part of
the woo
.

“I don’t care,” his
mouth moved back to mine, his breath coming out in short gasps as he pushed
inside. “I couldn’t wait any longer.” His wet hot lips traveled from mouth and
kissed along my jaw, down my neck and sunk into his favorite spot, the skin
over my collarbone. “I want you Sway, right now.” His voice trembled, full of
desire. “I can’t promise you slow, not tonight.”

“Fine by me,” I
breathed.

 “Ah shit, honey
...
I can’t last long like this.” Jameson
breathed against my neck after a few moments; his head buried there, his hands
wrapped around my ass, guiding me up and down over.

I don’t know what it
was about this align boring against the cold brick wall in the dark alleyway.
I’m sure this alleyway has housed many romps and the occasional drug addicts’
next hit, but I was just as turned on by this as was Jameson. My ass was scraping
against the brick wall; forget the sticker burn I had before
...
now I had brick burn
...
much worse.

I could feel Jameson’s
camshaft lift as he hardened further, his movements quickened, his breathing
ragged and wetting the side of my neck. Each growl, each grunt, each moan that
escaped his beautiful lips sent me closer to the edge until I was falling with
him.

His hips twitched and I
felt him pulsing inside as I stifled my moan with his tie that somehow got
shoved inside my mouth.

“Oh my god
...
that was
...
” I could hardly speak the words.

I handed Jameson his
tie back while he set me on my feet.

“How’d you get that?”
he asked me smirking. His hands dropped to button his slacks. His shirt was
also ripped open, with no buttons remaining.

I giggled. I didn’t remember
doing any of that. It was like I had some out of body experience, similar to
that night I destroyed my bedroom and his closet.

Adjusting my dress and
underwear I realized the only problem with this romp in the alley was the mess
I now had. Usually I was able to go to the bathroom right afterwards. Now we
still had a half mile to walk and excuse my crassness but I had an oil leak
without a drip pan if you catch my drift.

Not exactly fairytale
right there but hey, sometimes the fairytale is messy.

“What’s wrong?” Jameson
asked leaving his shirt open and reaching for my hand.

“I’ve um
...
” I glanced down with my eyes between my
legs. His eyes followed and then meet mine with confusion.

Slowly, and I do mean
slowly, the realization hit him, and what did he do? He grinned.

“Sorry, honey
...
let’s uh
...
get back to the hotel.”

“Easy for you to say,”
I said. “You don’t have an oil leak sliding down your bare thighs right now.”

He let out a small
chuckle and leaned into kiss my forehead. “Here, use my shirt. I’ll go
without.”

It helped and he tossed
the shirt in a dumpster when we began walking toward the street.

Jameson stopped
suddenly just on the edge of the sidewalk, winked and pulled me hard against
his side, kissing me.