Fighting Solitude (On The Ropes #3)(58)

“Here. Put this on.” He lifted a blindfold my way.

I stared at it dangling from the tip of his finger. “Where’d you get a blindfold?”

“Flint said Ash likes to get crazy in bed sometimes,” he said nonchalantly.

Curling my lip, I slapped it out of his hand. “Ew!”

He laughed and scooped it off the floor. “I’m kidding. I bought it today.” He stretched the strap over my head. “Come on. I want to surprise you.”

I glared at him until he finally understood.

“Oh, right.” He cranked the noisy truck and flipped the radio on. Then his hand anchored to my exposed thigh. “I’m right here. Nothing to worry about.”

He was wrong. That was exactly why I was worried in the first place.

Open mind.

No guilt.

It’s not a competition.

Of course I can trust him.

We can do this.

I sighed then pulled the mask over my eyes.

Minutes later, with a blanket thrown over my lap since the heater didn’t work, we were roaring down the highway.




“Don’t take it off until I tell you,” Quarry ordered as the truck slowed to a stop. He put the car in park but didn’t cut the engine.

“Okay,” I agreed, shedding the blanket and straightening my dress in preparations to exit the vehicle.

Only that didn’t happen at all.

“Um…yes, I’d like two chili dogs. No onions. Two large fries…”

“Are you kidding me?” I snapped as he continued to rattle off a mountain of fast food.

I went for my blindfold, but he caught my wrists in one hand and locked them together in my lap.

His voice was filled with humor as he finished ordering. “What’s wrong, Liv?” he asked when he was done.

“You made me put on a dress and blindfolded me for chili dogs?”

“Hey, I’m wearing a suit. Imagine my disappointment.” He released my hands and glided his fingers up my thigh. “Fine, I’ll confess. The dress was for me.”

I sucked in a sharp breath when he brushed the bare flesh at my core.

“Oh. My. Fuck,” he whispered.

My mind forced me to back up in my seat in order to escape his touch, but my body had other ideas and uncrossed my legs to offer him more access.

“This…dress doesn’t exactly look good with panties,” I said breathily.

Actually, that might be why I picked it to wear tonight.

After our moment in the kitchen, guilt couldn’t even trump my desire for him.

I could feel guilty for the rest of my life.

I only had one date with Quarry. Or so I’d told myself as I’d removed my panties.

His finger deliciously ran up and down my slit, and I felt the blanket fall back over my lap.

“Are…are,” I sputtered when he found my clit. “Are we in a drive-thru?”

“Drive-up. But no one’s around.”

Oh…I was classy.

I was with my friend’s man, letting him finger me under a blanket at a drive-up restaurant. How old was I again? My thoughts started to win out over my desires. However, just as I convinced myself that this had to stop, he dipped inside.

Screw my thoughts.

My head fell back and my legs spread wide.

“Fuck,” he cursed as his hand disappeared.

He growled loudly. Then his mouth covered mine. The faint flavor of my arousal lingered on his tongue as it snaked into my mouth.

He’d licked his fingers. Dear lord. Why was that so hot?

Slanting my head, I gripped the back of his neck, attempting to pull him impossibly closer.

I felt the blanket pull taut on my lap, but it still covered me. It was as if he had crawled under it with me.

“Shit. I should have ordered more food,” he mumbled as he suddenly moved away.

I heard the manual crank of the window, and then a female voice joined us.

“Hey. How’s it going tonight?”

I giggled as Quarry bit out a frustrated hello.

The crinkle of plastic bags sounded just before they landed in my lap.

“No change. I’m good. Thanks. Have a good night,” he gritted out then promptly rolled up the window. His hand found its way under the blanket again. “I did not need to know you weren’t wearing any panties.” His fingers brushed between my legs again, but he quickly removed them and pulled my dress down.

It was a good thing he was stopping. We didn’t need to be doing that—regardless of how much my body was screaming for more. For a minute there, even my mind had been begging for it.

Which reminded me: I needed to start packing in the morning for my one-way trip to Hell.

“Can I take this off so I can eat?” I pointed to my eyes.

The truck shifted into gear.

“Not yet.” He was reversing when I felt his hand start digging through one of the bags. “Open up,” he ordered.

My legs immediately obeyed.

He barked a loud laugh and then amended, “Your mouth. For now, at least.”

“Shut up.” I rolled my closed eyes and followed his instructions. A french fry landed in my mouth before he dug back into the bag—I assumed for his own appetizer.

Moments later, we were once again roaring down the highway.