Chapter 7
“Stay over on your side of the truck and don’t touch me. Don’t talk to me either.”
“But, Jack, I—”
I throw up a hand. “I said no talking. I don’t want our first time to happen in this godforsaken truck of mine. It’s no better than the church. You deserve better, and if I fuck you here, I’ll never be able to drive it again because I can’t have some other man in here sitting on your pussy juice.”
“Oh my God, Jack,” Daphne repeats, but falls silent as I’d asked. Well, demanded. And she doesn’t move, but it doesn’t help much. My cock is still rock hard the entire trip. My head is full of filthy fantasies. I could pull over and have my face between her legs in about two seconds. She could ride me while I drove. She could turn around and stick her ass in my face and I could finger fuck her all the way home. None of those are safe, I remind myself. My cock doesn’t care.
I curl my hands so tight around the steering wheel, it’s a wonder that the metal doesn’t crack. My damn adrenaline is so high, I think I could pull the steering column from the dashboard with only the slightest effort. By some miracle, we make it to her house without an accident.
I barely come to a stop before leaping out of the driver’s seat. When I reach Daphne’s side, she doesn’t even have her seatbelt off. I rip the buckle from the latch and sweep her into my arms.
“Jack,”
“No talking,” I bark. “Unless you want me to fuck you in front of old man Harry.”
“I swear he’s not watching me.”
“Not possible. You’d have to be a dead man to not watch you. I know this for a fact because I’ve tried.” I carry her up the stairs and fumble with the front door. “I’ve tried to keep my eyes to myself. I’ve tried to keep my hands in my pockets. I’ve tried so hard to be just your friend, but, Daphne, I can’t take it anymore.”
She cups my face between her palms. “You don’t have to.”
She surges forward and captures my mouth in hers. I open the door and we tumble inside, managing not to break the contact. My vision blurs and the sound of blood thrumming through my veins fill my head. I kick the door shut and race toward her bedroom, sprinting up the steps. The bouncing pulls her lips from mine. I gasp for air and then I gasp in excitement as she finds a vein near my collarbone and begins to suck.
I barely make it to the bed before my knees give out. I manage to toss her onto the bed before collapsing to the floor. The billowy skirt lands at her waist, revealing her bare pussy to my ravenous gaze. I run my hands up her bare legs.
“Fuck, I imagined looking at you like this for so long, but not one fantasy came close to the real thing.” My cock throbs like an aching wound, but as much as I want to shove my dick inside her hot pussy, I also want to eat that juicy cunt until she’s screaming for mercy.
“I’m dying here, Jack. Get me out of this dress and get that”—she points to the monster trying to break through my zipper—“inside of me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I take one side of her dress in one hand and the other in the other hand and proceed to tear the garment in half. It rips open as easily as a freezer bag. Daphne and I stare at each other in mild shock.
“Fuck. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” I let the torn halves fall to the side. ‘Course you know, you dumbass. You wanted her naked and you wanted her naked now.
Daphne starts crying with laughter. “I look like an orange! I knew this was a cheap piece of shit, but I didn’t realize it was that cheap.”
Oh man. My act of destruction sinks in. I actually ruined her dress. Even though she’s laughing, I feel bad. “I’ll pay for this. Just tell me what it cost and I’ll get you a check right now.”
She howls and bats at the torn cloth. “Are you kidding? I was going to burn this anyway. You did me a favor.”
My heart swells with pleasure. I love hearing her laugh. Daphne is serious a lot of the time. She has a serious job and I’m always so fucking impressed by her. But it’s great to see her let loose. It’s awesome that she can laugh with me, particularly here in bed. It cements the rightness of our coupling in my mind. I think that’s where lots of cops get it wrong. Or, maybe, lots of men in general. They go for a quick fix, a quick rush and they miss out on making a genuine connection with someone.