Page 83 of When Wrecked Meets Ruined
“Around you? I’ve got a permanent boner. It’s starting to feel like a problem.”
“Do you want me to kiss it better?”
He groaned. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”
“Tempting.” I wrapped my hand around the base, and he jerked, cursing under his breath, then let out a hiss when I flicked the tip of my tongue over the slit, tasting him.
His fingers threaded through my hair, and he held the back of my head, steadying me while the truck jostled, moving side to side.
Undeterred, I ran my tongue up the underside, wrapped my lips around the tip, and lightly sucked.
“What are you doing, Cherry?” His voice sounded strained.
“Sucking a Blow Pop.” He choked out a laugh that turned into a groan when I took more of him, as much as I could into my mouth, sucking and teasing with my tongue.
My center was soaked, and I could feel my nipples straining against the confines of my bra. I sucked him harder, spurred on by the deep guttural sounds ripped from the back of his throat and his ragged breaths.
“Shit.” Ridge pulled my head up and practically shoved me away. “Get back in your seat.”
The truck jerked to the side, and I got thrown against the passenger door. I scrambled into my seat and grabbed the door handle to steady myself. What the hell was going on?
“You okay?” he asked, checking the rearview mirror.
“Yeah.” I fastened my seat belt and looked over my shoulder at the headlights of a truck chasing us. It edged closer, coming up on Ridge’s side.
“Get off our damn property!” a guy yelled out the passenger window.
“Fuck that,” Ridge muttered as the other truck swerved, trying to run Ridge off the road. “Ready, Bonnie?”
“Do your best, Clyde.” Maybe I should have been scared, but a thrill shot through me.
Ridge’s truck shot ahead, and I flew back against my seat, laughing as we barreled down a hill and around the curves and bends, past fields and a barn with fenced-in pastures.
We caught air on the dips in the road and bounced on the landing. I gripped the door handle to brace myself. We were flying, the tires kicking up a cloud of dust behind us with a pickup truck full of good old boys hot on our tail.
Shots rang out, and I jumped in my seat, my hand flying to my heart. Ridge cursed. “It’s just BB guns,” he said, and I accepted it as the truth.
Even though there were a lot of guns in Texas, I’d never been shot at, but Ridge had.
My pulse was racing, and adrenaline shot through my veins, making my heart beat triple time.
The other truck gained on us and nudged Ridge’s bumper. I jolted forward, and my seat belt dug into my shoulder and slammed me back against the seat.
“Jesus Christ,” Ridge said. “They’re not playing.”
“Welcome to Texas, city boy.” My words got swallowed up by the wind rushing through the truck as Ridge drove like a madman, and I succumbed to the madness.
I felt soalive.
“This was so much better than the fireworks.”
“Stick with me, baby. I always know where to find trouble. Hang on tight.” Ridge turned the wheel, doing a hard right, and swerved onto a paved road, tires squealing, laying rubber.
We laughed at the moon and gave it our middle finger as we raced through the night. The boy looking for trouble, and the girl riding shotgun.
* * *
We’d barely gotten inside Ridge’s front door when my back met the wood, and he pinned me against the door. Our mouths collided. Lips and tongues and teeth. Our kisses were open-mouthed and hungry. Our hands groping, trying to touch everywhere at once.
