Feverish (Bullet #3) (20 page)

She was busy pondering that while listening
to him when he said, “But enough about me already. Don’t you get
tired of hearing me talk?”

She smiled and shook her head. “Nope.”

“Figures. What about you, Emily? What made
you decide to go into Business?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I took a couple
business classes in high school and liked them. Plus when I was
really little, I helped my grandparents on their farm a couple of
summers and hated it, and I also waited tables a couple years in
high school. I decided I didn’t want a job that required me being
in the hot sun or on my feet all damn day busting my butt scraping
by on minimum wage.”

“But do you
like
Business?”

She glanced at the last inch of beer in her
mug and stifled a sigh. “Not really. I mean I like things like
writing letters, working on the computer—”

“Organizing shit.”

She laughed and nodded. “Organizing
shit.”

He sat up a little. “Yeah, but I don’t see
you as the business type. You dress it, yeah. But why don’t I see
you checking out stocks all the time or reading
Forbes
or
the
Wall Street Journal
?” Ooh. He was hitting close to home.
She took a deep breath and swallowed what was left in the mug. “Do
you have a favorite corporation? Any company you’re dying to work
for?”

“No.”

“You just don’t seem the type. I know I
haven’t known you for long, but it just doesn’t fit.”

Yep. He’d read her, all right. “Maybe not,
but when you finally figure that out halfway into getting your
Master’s in it, you’re kind of committed. I have a shitload of
student loans, and working for a big corporation is probably the
only way I’ll ever be able to pay them all off.”

“Life’s too short to do shit you hate, Emily.
Money’s not everything.”

“So says the rich rock star.”

“I wasn’t always like this. You do what you
gotta do. I had roommates and worked shitty jobs, and then when my
wife started fucking around on me, I put all my energy into my
band. I worked part time at a music—”

“You were married?”

“You didn’t know that?”

“Was I supposed to?”

He laughed. “Most groupies do.”

She forced the irritation down. “I might
remind you: I’m not a groupie.”

He nodded. “Right. Well, then, you might as
well know I also have a daughter.”

“By the wife?”

“Ex.”

She nodded. “Still, Clay, I don’t want to
live paycheck to paycheck. My dad did that my whole life after my
mom died. I don’t want—I
can’t
—live that way.”

“So you’ll sell your soul to the man.”

Oh, he knew where to poke her, but she
managed to stay cool. “Whatever it takes to take care of number
one.”

He sat up and reached across the table to
touch her hand. “Hey, I was just fuckin’ with ya. I don’t really
think that.” She blinked twice and then looked at him and gave him
a nod so he knew she understood. “I just…I
know
how you’re
feeling. There’s that good old American dream carrot they dangle
out there for us—you know, if you work hard enough for them, you
can get rich too. But the problem there is that you can never have
enough and you’ll never get rich being a slave. So I just decided
fuck it
. I was going to do what I loved, and as long as I
could get by, I’d be happy. Seriously. So if that meant that I
could never have a nice car or eat out a lot, I’d be satisfied
anyway. I put my focus into my music and got a part-time job to pay
some of the bills. The other shit, the stuff I didn’t care about? I
didn’t waste my time on. That meant I saw my daughter when I could
and paid as much child support as I could. Yeah, sometimes I got
behind on it and other bills, but then I’d have a good gig where
we’d sell extra merch or have a bigger crowd and I’d be able to
catch up.”

“That’s great, Clay, but you didn’t start
with a mountain of debt like I have.”

“How much you got? How bad can it be?”

“Let’s just say I could buy you a new
Corvette, maybe two.”

“What? You fucking kidding me? That much? Why
the hell would anyone pay that much to sit in school all day?”

She started laughing. “I
like
school.
What’s sad is I did a work study two years as an undergrad and also
got some grants. What I owe now is
after
all that. And my
dad said he’d help me pay them off, but that just doesn’t seem
right, you know?”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause he’s done so much for me already.
And, like I said, I know he’s not rich by any means.”

“What’s he do?”

“He’s a high school math teacher. Not a job
you’d get rich doing.”

“Does he love it?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know that he
loves
it. He doesn’t hate it.”

Clay started drumming the fingers of his
right hand on the table. “What’s your passion, Emily?”

She started to answer, but then she knew she
had no idea. None. So there was no answer there. She took in a deep
breath. “I don’t know.”

He furrowed his brows. “Isn’t there something
that grabs you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I loved going to
school. That’s all I’ve ever done that I never hated.”

His expression softened. “What about working
for me? Do you like that?”

She dug deep. So far, she enjoyed it. “Yeah,
but…it just doesn’t feel like
real
work, you know?”

He laughed again. “What’s real work supposed
to feel like? Something you hate? Something you dread doing?” She
smiled. She could see his point. “That’s what I mean. Life’s too
short for that fucking bullshit.” He was right—but there was the
problem of the massive debt she’d racked up going to school. Still,
she wasn’t going to argue with him. She couldn’t hide it,though. He
could see it in her face. “What if I paid off your stupid loans?
Then what? What would you do?”

“You can’t do that.”

“I could. That’s not the point, though. If
you didn’t have that to worry about, what would you do?”

“I really hadn’t thought about it.”

“Then do it…and tell me if you could maybe
see yourself working for me for as long as you wanted.”

She couldn’t figure out if he was teasing or
not, but she was thought he was serious. He seemed sincere. And
just in those few minutes, she’d learned that Clay was more than
just a pretty face.

* * *

God…she’d never liked driving fast, but Clay
could handle that goddamned Corvette like it was part of his body.
The way that car moved on the freeway was sexy. And instead of
being scared, the speed and feeling the way the tires hugged the
road got her hotter than hell.

She felt herself growing warmer, in spite of
the air conditioner in the car blowing full blast. His hand was on
the gear shift even though he had shifted to top gear minutes
earlier. She wrapped her left hand around his and lifted it, moving
it over to her. He looked over at her and smiled, no doubt curious
what she was going to do. The radio was turned loud, playing an
Escape the Fate song, so she wouldn’t have heard him even if he’d
said anything. She brought his hand to her left breast and sighed
when he responded by massaging her.

Her hand was still on his, and she lifted it
closer to her mouth. She licked his middle finger from base to tip,
as though it were his cock, and then sucked the tip into her mouth.
She glanced over at him and saw that he was tense, just like she
wanted him. She sucked on his finger a few more seconds until she
was sure he felt as hot as she did. She kept her eye on him while
she did it and he looked over at her, his eyes dark with desire. It
was twilight out, so she wasn’t so concerned that anyone could see
their shenanigans inside his car, not that she cared at the moment
anyway.

So she sucked his finger deeper into her
mouth, then in and out in a rhythmic motion. He was definitely
tensing up—she could tell by the way he was breathing—but she
couldn’t hear him. She thought he said, “Fuck me,” but she couldn’t
be sure. Oh, she planned to do that later.

He took over, sliding his finger out of her
mouth. She still held his hand but let him move. He kept his middle
finger pointed, dragging it down her shirt. When he got to her
jeans, he managed to get them unbuttoned (how’d he do that so
easily? It was like he’d done it one-handed before) and then pulled
the zipper down.

At that point, she took her hands off his,
and she tilted herself in the chair some, loosening the seatbelt,
because if he’d gone to that much trouble, she wanted him to be
able to get in there.
Ohhhhh
…she’d had her doubts, but he
managed with little effort to get that finger down there. And
without her panties on, he was touching her in just a few
seconds.

God, yes, she was turned on, her own engine
already racing in time to the car and the music. She gasped and
drove her fingers into her hair, not knowing what else to do with
them. She closed her eyes and focused on Clay’s finger, the motion
of the car, and the intensity of the music.

After a minute of enjoying the pleasure he
was bringing her, the rational part of her brain started to panic,
wondering if he was endangering them. She bit her lip and looked
over at him. His eyes were still on the road, although he looked
over at her when he saw her move out of the corner of his eye. He
was in between the lines of the lane the car was in. It seemed safe
enough.

As if the universe wanted to help, the song
on the radio changed and started playing In This Moment’s
“Adrenalize,” and it just fed Emily’s frenzied feelings.

And then she noticed the quality of her
breathing changing. She was close, already close, and she thought
to herself that it was crazy. Still, she let herself focus on the
pressure his finger was placing on her clit and took another deep
breath. She slid her arms down the side of her face, down her neck
and shoulders, and wrapped her hands around her breasts while she
thought to herself,
just a little more.

Then
wham
. She couldn’t hear her own
cries over the song on the radio, could only hear the staccato beat
of the guitar under the vocals, but she felt a glorious wave wash
over her. In that moment, she felt so far away and as though
nothing else mattered, nothing but that sweet feeling of release
buzzing through every nerve.

How he could continue the motion and force of
his finger against her while her legs clamped rhythmically, she’d
never know, but he made her body’s narcotics rush to her brain and
hit her over and over and over, until, at last, she collapsed in a
heap, leaning back against the seat and letting out a long, heavy
breath.

Chapter Twenty-one

GODDAMN, THAT GIRL was like putty in his
hands. Clay whipped his sleek black car into the garage and turned
off the lights and ignition. As the garage door dropped, he reached
over and wrapped his hand around Emily’s neck, then leaned over and
kissed her with as much restraint as he could muster.

She’d just caved around him on the freeway.
He hadn’t expected that. He was simply trying to get her hot and
excited for when they got back to the house, but she’d been so wet
and the look on her face had told him everything he needed to know.
It really hadn’t taken much effort to make her come.

It was gonna be tight, but fuck it. “Lean
your seat back.” He already knew it wouldn’t go much farther, but
it might just give him a little more wiggle room. He maneuvered his
legs from under the steering wheel and over the gear shift so he
was on her side and facing her. He balanced himself on a knee while
mashing his lips into hers. He needed her now, especially knowing
she was naked under those jeans.

Jesus Christ. He felt like a fucking teenager
again. He could hardly think straight.

He knew he had at least one condom in his
wallet. Since he and Abby had broken up, he’d gotten in the habit
of ensuring it, because he never knew when the opportunity to
experience a good fuck would present itself, and he didn’t want to
miss a chance due to shitty preparation. He often had a condom and
yet no dollar bills. He had his priorities straight.

He kissed down the side of her neck, and she
turned her head so he had free reign. Yeah, she was ready again.
God, he loved that about this girl. She acted like she could take
anything he could give to her. She knew what he wanted. He knew,
because he could feel her fingers on the waistband of his jeans,
pulling them open.

He almost sighed aloud when he felt her
fingers wrap around his cock, squeezing lightly, rubbing him. God,
he couldn’t stand it anymore. He felt for the wallet in his back
pocket, because he was desperate. He couldn’t wait. He almost
smiled, because the car had never been fucked in before. Emily had
no idea.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d
slipped a condom on his dick so fast. He felt her underneath him
pulling her jeans down. He wasn’t going to wait, and she didn’t
seem to want him to, so he buried himself inside her, and she felt
like heaven.

He was like an animal then, as though all
sense had left his head. It was all gone, replaced by pure
instinct. She was responding the same way, though, because the
motion of her body matched his, blow for blow. She was like a boat
on his ocean—he would wave and she’d just go with the flow as
though she belonged there and only there. He kept it slow, even
though his body urged him to speed up. He knew he’d come either
way, but if he could prolong it, he knew it would be sweeter, and
there would be a better chance of Emily having another orgasm.

And as if the thought were the catalyst, she
began to moan again. It started as a groan in her throat, but in
seconds, she opened her mouth to let it out, a cry to the world
that Clay was making her feel like paradise.
Fuckin’ A.
She
had no idea how sexy that was, hearing her wails of ecstasy, just
like she’d done in that hotel…