Bad Things (Tristan & Danika, #1)(76)

I could remember the feel of her, skin on skin, how utterly divine it had felt, and still, even while I was inside of her, I hadn’t thought of the protection that I usually couldn’t do without.

“Fuck,” I said succinctly. “I’m sorry. I lost my mind. At least you’re on the pill.”

“At least. And it won’t be happening again.”

I felt my gut clench. “It won’t?”

“It won’t. No condom, no sex.”

My lungs punched out in a huge sigh of relief. I’d thought she was saying no sex in general. I had one condom in my wallet. It was something at least, but I’d need to go for more in a hurry. It was debatable, even after coming twice, if one would be enough to take us until morning. I had missed her.

I gripped a hand on her knee, rubbing. I was getting hard again, thoughts of the near future taking over the now.

“I need your mouth, sweetheart,” I told her quietly, meaning it.

“Excuse me?” she said, still full of that sass. Part of it was the fact that she was still rightfully pissed at me, and part of it was just her personality.

“You heard me. Suck my dick while I drive. I’ll make it up to you later. As many times as you want. I’ve been dreaming about having that mouth wrapped around my cock for weeks.” There was a definite plea in my voice, because I was desperate for the contact, desperate for her to perform a willing act on me just because I asked.

I was a little shocked and beyond relieved when she actually complied, shifting in her seat to grip me through my jeans. Her hot mouth moved to my ear, biting at the lobe as she unbuttoned, unzipped, and fisted me through my boxers.

I groaned as she jerked hard at me.

“Tell me again that you missed me,” she whispered.

“I missed you, boo. Everything about you.”

“Even my attitude?”

“’Specially that.”

I took one hand off the wheel, gripping her hair and moving her head down, as gently as I could manage.

“Suck me off, sweetheart. I need it fast. And now.”

I helped her pull me from my pants, lifting my hips off the seat to free myself.

Her hot breath puffed onto my tip as she gripped me hard at the base. I pushed her onto me with a hand gripped in her hair. I was in no mood for teasing.

I felt her knowing laugh around my cock and I jumped inside her mouth. Her head bobbed up and down as she started up a rhythm, her tongue busy, her grip firm.

“Harder. Suck me off hard,” I bit out, gripping her hair, jerking into her mouth, pushing far enough to feel her throat closing around me.

I was emptying into the back of her throat with a few short strokes, hand gripping hard into her hair.

She sucked me hard, wringing me dry, before she raised her head. Her hand still stroked me, with a lighter touch now, her nails scoring over my scrotum.

“I f*cking love your mouth,” I told her.

“You love f*cking my mouth,” she agreed, twisting the words.

I laughed, pulling her into my side, feeling a surge of such joy and happiness that she was even speaking to me. That joy seemed to be channeling itself into an urgent need to f*ck her repeatedly. Luckily, she wasn’t complaining.





CHAPTER THIRTY





She was already checking her phone again as I started driving.

“Frankie upset that you left?” I asked.

“Hmm? Frankie? Oh no. This is something else.”

Just by the absent, slightly agitated tone of her voice, I knew who was texting her.

“Your ex,” I guessed, feeling suddenly less happy and more violent.

She sighed unhappily. “He just won’t get a clue. He thinks it’s cute to be persistent, but I’m so over his crap.”

I was pulling back over before she finished the first sentence. I grabbed her phone, ignoring her complaints, and started to read.

I was fuming almost instantly.





Daryl: I miss you. I’m at a party over at Dig’s house. Come see me baby.





This text was followed by an address, which I assumed was Dig’s house.





“What kind of a name is Dig?” I asked Danika, still scrolling through her texts. It was basically a variation of the same thing; I love you, I miss you, come see me. There were several a day, all from him, none sent. From what I could tell, Danika had only responded once, a few weeks ago, and that was to tell him to leave her alone.

“It’s a nickname, though I don’t even know his real name. The guy’s a loser. Even if we were still together, I would never go to a party at Dig’s house. All of his party’s just involve a bunch of skinny white boys smoking pot for days at a time.”

That surprised a laugh out of me, but I came across a message that killed that quickly enough. In fact, I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.

I showed her the screen of her phone.





Daryl: I miss your sweet *, baby. Come over here. I need to be inside of you again.





“Does he say shit like this to you often?” I bit out.

She cringed, her cheeks flushed. “You tell me. You’re the one reading all of my messages. And don’t get mad at me about what he’s saying. You think I have any control over that? I wish he’d forget I even existed.”