Dirty Filthy Fix: A Fixed Trilogy Novella (Fixed #5.5)(14)

But every time I snuck a glance at him as we waited for a cab, the desert in my throat disappeared and every concern, every worry, felt small and trivial, like the mole I fretted about on the back of my hand but that no one else ever noticed.

I liked this guy. I liked how he looked. I liked how he moved. I certainly liked how he kissed. I liked how he knew the dirty things I wanted him to say and do to me. If this was a mistake, it was going to be worth it.

So I banished my anxiety and committed to the decision.

Once inside the cab, I slid right up next to him. I pushed my mask to the top of my head and placed my hand high on his thigh. Perhaps too high for polite company. Not that our cab driver was polite company. In the first two minutes of driving with him, he’d sworn more than my Brooklyn-born grandfather and used his hands to make as many rude gestures as my Italian grandmother. He was a true New Yorker, and I had a feeling he expected his customers to be fooling around in the backseat. Working the Saturday night shift, he probably preferred the hanky-panky to the drunks who threw up all over the worn interior.

With my guilt reconciled, I slipped my fingers toward Nathan’s inseam.

“What are you doing there, baby?” he asked, his lips hovering near mine now.

“Keeping my hands warm.” I wrapped my other hand around his neck, my palm instantly soaking in the heat of his body.

His eyes flicked to the driver and back to me. “Are you wearing panties right now?”

I shook my head, a coy smile on my lips.

His features wrinkled with mischief. “Then how about you warm up those hands by playing with yourself? If you can make yourself come before we get to my place, and if you can do it quietly, then I’ll let you come again as soon as we get in the door of my apartment.”

My glance darted to the driver. Nathan hadn’t been exactly whispering, but to tell the truth, I didn’t really care what the cabbie had overheard. I was just interested in his reaction if he had heard. It made everything hotter to have an audience.

The driver met my gaze in the rearview mirror, his eyes wide with curious excitement. Then, quickly, he turned his attention back to the road just in time to swerve before hitting someone in the street. The cabbie laid his fist on the horn while yelling at the pedestrian, who couldn’t possibly hear him through the blare and the windows.

Maybe that would teach the driver to keep his eyes where they should be.

But probably not.

This was going to be fun.

I’d listened to Nathan as he’d given the address when we’d first gotten in the car. His apartment was over on the West Side, overlooking the Hudson River, which meant we didn’t have very long before we’d be there. Luckily, I knew how to make myself come quickly—that wasn’t going to be the problem.

The problem was going to be keeping myself quiet.

I’d played the silent game in sex before—and I could do it—but it was difficult for me. I was well known for being a screamer.

Could anyone blame me? I liked sex. And I didn’t mind letting people know about it.

I was definitely up for the challenge, though. I moved my hand through one of the slits in my dress and found the swollen nub buried in my folds. With two fingers, I began massaging my clit, rubbing it in just the right way; the way that I knew would get me off fast.

It was only a couple of minutes before I was fighting the hum that came when I was near orgasm, the steady mmm behind my lips, the vibration that mirrored the vibration going on lower in my body. My mouth fell open, a cry about to roll off my tongue when I remembered I needed to swallow it. I bit my lip to keep the next gasp silent.

Just when I thought I’d figured out the path to mastering my sounds, just as I was about to go over the edge, Nathan raised the stakes.

“Don’t just rub yourself off. Push your fingers inside for me. I want you clenching around them, imagining what it’s going to be like when it’s me.”

Holy mother of hotness.

I practically squealed right then. There was no way I was going to survive this.

But I was determined to try.

I slid two long fingers deep inside my wet pussy and rubbed along the inside wall. With just a brush of my thumb against my clit, my whole body started trembling. Then my climax hit, so forcefully I almost yelped, but I caught myself just in time and turned to bite Nathan’s shoulder instead. I clamped down so hard I would have drawn blood had he not been wearing clothing.

Before my orgasm had finished wrecking havoc on my body, Nathan yanked my hair so my head tilted back and my mouth met his. He kissed my lips forcefully. Punishingly.

“That was perfect,” he said, taking one wet finger and licking it clean. “Really perfect.” He sucked my other finger into his mouth, all the way past the second knuckle. “You’re going to get a reward for that.”

I’d just come, and already I couldn’t wait.

At his apartment, Nathan paid the driver, then scooted out of the car, holding the door open for me. We didn’t touch. We barely talked as he pressed the button for the elevator.

“So you’re not one of those pretentious types with your own driver?” I asked when I couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

Nathan Sinclair wasn’t just the creative director for Reach. He was also one of the owners. Certainly he could afford a full-time employee to escort him around town.

“No, I’m one of those asshole types who’d have you on the back of my bike for a ride if it wasn’t November.” He stared at me with famished eyes, and I had to wonder at what kind of ride he meant he’d give me.