Page 42 of Due South

Her mouth wrenches to the side, and I know in that moment it’s not about me. At least, not all about me. Which is great. I’d hate to think I’d made Lucy believe I could ever be disgusted by something she wanted, that made her feel sexy and alive. I am the president of the Lucy-Should-Always-Feel-Good Club.

“Not just that. It’s…” She’s quiet for a moment, and I let her be. I understand wanting to be careful about what comes out of my mouth. “I grew up in one of those conservative, religious towns. Even though I’m 1,700 miles away, I still…I still hear it in my head. The attitudes about how women should be. How we should dress so we wouldn’t lead good men into temptation. How we should act if we really wanted to spread the word of the Lord.”

My stomach lurches, because even though I’ve never had any experience with religious institutions in general, and Judaism as a whole tends to be pretty sex-positive, I can imagine what that would’ve been like. Especially for a good girl like Lucy who always wants to do the right thing.

“That was messed up. And I hated them for making me feel that way, as if I should be ashamed of my body and my desires. That I was dirty for wanting attention and pleasure. I’ve talked myself out of a lot of it, but it’s wedged pretty deep in there, you know?”

I nod, because yeah, I know. I know what it’s like to feel damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Just plain damned. And the two of us—we try to make people happy, try to do the right thing, but when we get crapped on anyhow, why should we?

I want to tell her something too, that’s private and squishy and make her feel less vulnerable. Or at least that we’re at approximately the same level of squishiness. I don’t want her all alone, crawling around like a hermit crab outside a shell. So I make the confession, something that could turn her off as surely as she thought she’d done me. But I want to do it in a way that’s going to make her feel good, that won’t raise any question in her head about whether or not I’m okay with what happened. So I rustle up that guy, the one who’s got balls the size of a bull’s and who’s cocky enough to believe anything he could possibly enjoy must be okay.

“Actually, I kind of liked that those other guys were there.”

She blinks those verging-on-hazel, kind eyes, and they seem to plead with me:Tell me more, Evans. Make me feel good about this.

“The watching, you know, is…fun—” and by fun, I mean drop-dead sexy “—but knowing all those men wanted you because you were so freaking hot, and I’d had you. Made you come so hard you shook in my arms, made you cry out while I fucked you. And if anyone was going to be leaving this place to strip the rest of you and be inside you, it was going to be me. That got me so hard I almost couldn’t bear it, Luce. I wanted to go up on stage and have you right there. While they all watched. While they all wanted you. Do you like that idea, Lucy?”

By the way her pupils are practically blown out and she runs her tongue absently over her upper lip, I’d know, but she says it anyway: “Yes.”

An idea sparks in my brain, and it electrifies the rest of me. It’s dangerous and oh, god, so gloriously dirty and I don’t know if Lucy will go for it, but it’s worth a shot. “Night’s not over.”

Her pretty mouth drops open, but before she can argue with me, I lay a finger over her lips. “We’re not going to go back inside, but this is a perfectly good parking lot. Not too many lights. We’re in a corner near a brick wall. You’re going to lay down on the backseat with your ass at the edge so I can eat you. I want to taste you, Lucy, and after you’ve come, I’m going to fuck you. Right in this car, right in this parking lot. And if one of those guys walks by, well, all the better.”

She’s still looking at me, her eyes impossibly wide, and I don’t want to draw my finger away from her lips because what if she says no? What if she gets mad at me? What if I’ve gone too far? What if—

Oh. She’s snaked her tongue out to lick my finger and then draws it into her mouth, laving it. The way she sucks on me, it reminds me of how she’d sucked on my cock and I’m epically hard right away. Like, wondering-who-thought-pants-were-a-good-idea hard. My eyes close almost against my will, but it’s as though all my power has been directed to not coming from Lucy tonguing my finger. Because I’m not fifteen, and I promised Lucy a good fuck, so that’s what she’s going to get.

Lucy draws off my finger with an audible pop I’m lucky doesn’t make me spurt like a bottle of freshly cracked champagne.

“What are you waiting for?”

*

Lucy

My heart’s racing,but now it’s not just the creepy beat of anxiety. Nope. Now there’s definitely some excitement and the pulsing of arousal. How does he do that, make me so turned on with words? And where does he even get this stuff?

In everyday life, Evans isn’t the smoothest operator. Nor would I want him to be, because if he were…well, I’d probably be too intimidated to talk with him and joke around. As things are, his awkwardness makes me like him more, but I love this sex whisperer part of him too, like he can read my mind and knows what to say not only to make me feel better, but get me so wet between my legs I hope there’s not a spot on his car upholstery when he finally drags me into the backseat and has his way with me.

Speaking of, he’s practically falling out of the driver’s seat and there’s a softer beat of my heart. In the aftermath of our restroom rendezvous, I’d tried to scrub the word love from my brain, convinced it was just a stain of lust and hormones and adrenaline that had made me stupid and impulsive and not the down-to-earth farm girl who’s far too practical to fall in love with someone she’s only fucked a few times.

But the more time I spend with him, the more I think I may have been right. I have some real…affection for Evans, which isn’t something I say about a whole lot of people. And if we weren’t who we are, and if we didn’t have the responsibilities and expectations and everything we do, we might actually be kinda perfect together. But it’s not worth getting bogged down by wishful thinking.

The only way I know Evans is because we work together. And even if he went out to a bar, I don’t think either of us would be able to work up the nerve to talk to each other. Not even in a grocery store. He’d probably pick up a potato as I reached for an onion and our fingers would graze. We’d smile at each other, fumble, turn the color of nearby tomatoes, and apologize profusely. Then he’d talk himself out of asking for my number because “Jeez, Evans, don’t be the dick that hits on a girl in the grocery store. She probably gets hit on all the time and she’s just trying to get her produce.”

But I need to push that would-be meet-cute from my head because we were unlucky—or maybe lucky—enough to meet through work and that means this has to end before it starts. So I should take advantage while it lasts.

My door swings open and there’s Evans, offering me a hand out of his car, and I take it, eager for the feel of my hand in his, eager for him to make me forget all this wistful nonsense by burying his head between my legs. He hustles me to the back door and opens it so he can use one hand to cradle my head and ease me onto the seat without bumping my head. The urge to swing my legs inside is strong, but he shakes his head as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“Lean back and spread your legs.”

Those words shouldn’t sound as sexy as they do, but I’m not going to argue. I’m going to do what he says, because I know what this feels like and I want more of it. My garters snap against my thighs as he plucks them off my stockings so he can wrestle my underwear off, and then I’m exposed.

Not only to Evans, but to the open air, to the outside, to, well, really the brick wall that’s only about six feet away, butstill. This feels dangerous and thrilling and instead of trying to squash it, I let it wash over me. Let myself steep in the pale glow of streetlights across the parking lot and, yeah, the delirious look on Evans’s face.

He doesn’t waste any time, though, dropping to his knees with an audible thud. I only have a second to worry that his pants are going to need a serious trip to the cleaners before he’s on me. Hands prying my thighs wider, thumbs parting me so he can reach my very core with his…oh, god, with his tongue. Gentle licks over and around my clit before he laps at it in earnest, and then backs away to tease around the edges in a way that makes me grip his hair and half-demand, half-plead, “Evans!”

It could be a hallucination, but I think I feel him laugh from between my thighs, and then he’s taking my clit into his mouth, sucking it and tonguing before sliding his fingers inside me and hitting that—

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