 
Going Solo

Part 1:

Casual Car Sex

Storm Stone

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Going Solo
Part 1: Casual Car Sex

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

About Storm Stone

***

Acknowledgements

I wish to thank Deep Desires Press for believing in me and my writing, particularly Cameron D. James, John Robin and my wonderful editor Dale Lui. I have to mention the gorgeous covers as well, which they so kindly contributed for each episode, as well as the complete, Going Solo, novel. Without their guidance and support this story may never have seen the light of day.

***

First published 2017 by Deep Desires Press

Cover design copyright © 2017 by Deep Desires Press

Copyright © 2020 by Storm Stone

All characters are age 18 and over.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

***

Published by Storm Stone at Smashwords

Copyright © 2020 by Storm Stone

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter One

Jemma sat at one end of the bar sipping on her white wine spritzer. It was her first time here at Alfie's Bar and she'd deliberately arrived early, giving herself time to check out the clientele as the place steadily filled up. She was nervous, her first time visiting this kind of bar, hoping she blended in and no one noticed just how new to this she really was.

As Pink's rough-edged voice pumped loudly through the club, her gaze was drawn irresistibly toward a secluded booth near the far end of the dimly lit room. There were two men sitting at the booth, one slightly older than the other, but it was the younger man her eyes were constantly drawn to. He must be in his early thirties, she guessed, with an aura of lazy masculinity about him, which was attracting the women in the bar like bees to honey.

While she couldn't tell the color of his eyes from this distance, she could distinguish the rugged planes of his bone structure when the flashing lights caught his face; the high cheekbones, the defined jaw-line. His hair was quite unusual as well, dark, yet touched with a streaky golden color. Obviously in need of a cut, it brushed against the collar of the open-necked shirt he was wearing.

There were three women at the booth now. A waitress had arrived, bending low over the table, chatting to him. The other two women were "hostesses" working for the club, Jemma guessed. Both were blonde and busty, simply oozing sex appeal. Jemma sighed, taking another sip of her spritzer. These women were the total opposite of herself; with her small breasts and dark hair, she was way out of their league. Resting her chin on her fist, she continued to gaze at the scene playing out in front of her. The waitress had left while the two blondes continued to do their thing, batting their eyelashes and pouting their painted lips, confident in the knowledge they were every man's fuck-fantasy. They seemed to know the men well, drinks were flowing and every now and again she would hear loud outbursts of laughter coming from the group.

The two hostesses were sitting up close on either side of the younger man, touching him at every opportunity, and she was sure she saw the one on his right slide her hand beneath the table in the vicinity of his crotch. Jemma frowned, surprised to feel a stab of envy toward the women, especially the one bold enough to fondle him under the table.

His air of sexy arrogance fascinated her, stirring up emotions of excitement and unease. The man was dangerous, there was no doubt about it. Beneath his lazy façade lurked a ruthlessness that was both mesmerizing and menacing. Her skin prickled beneath the stretchy black dress and she looked away, willing the unsettling emotions within her to subside.

The dress she was wearing had been chosen carefully for tonight. She knew Alfie's Bar was notorious for its casual sexual encounters and she didn't want to look like a first timer, even if she was one. Spaghetti straps ensured it showed a little cleavage and the length was just above the knee, exactly where she wanted it.

"You ready for a top-up, babes?" Dee, the friendly barmaid she'd met earlier, asked her.

"Thanks, Dee," Jemma responded with a grateful smile. "But can you give me some water on the side please? I'm driving home tonight."

"Sure, honey."

Dee moved off to select her order and Jemma's eyes followed the swing of her hips in the tight jeans she was wearing. With her short bleached blonde hair and strong arms covered in graphic tattoos, it was obvious that Dee was comfortable with herself and her sexuality, having no interest in the men who frequented Alfie's Bar, or any other bar for that matter.

A movement from the booth caught her eye. He was getting up, squeezing past one of the women to get out. The hostess opened her legs and effectively trapped him between them, running her long painted nails along his lower back. He laughed, bracing himself against the table before pulling her hands away and escaping her obvious desire to hold him there.

Jemma didn't realize she was staring until his gaze locked with hers. Her stomach lurched, anxiety spiking. A mixture of regret and relief brought her back down to earth as he turned away, walking indolently through the throng of people towards the men's room.

Well, what did you expect, Jemma? she asked herself as he disappeared from view. The man was a babe magnet surrounded by sexy, hungry women. There was no reason for him to go looking for it.

She sighed to herself; this was not going to happen. Deep down she had known she wouldn't be able to go through with it. Her readers were going to be in for a disappointment...

"Hey there, pretty lady, let me buy you a drink."

Jemma groaned inwardly. It was the guy who'd been giving her the eye for the past ten minutes — now making his move.

"I'm fine, thanks," she smiled politely, glancing at the tall, slim young man leaning against the bar beside her.

He was good looking in a pretty-boy kind of way and he obviously knew it. But she couldn't help comparing him to the man in the booth and somehow pretty-boy's rather obvious charms paled in comparison.

"Well, then why don't we skip the drinks and go for a lil' walk, babes?"

"Buzz off, dude." Dee came to her rescue. "The lady's not interested, okay?"

Jemma gave her a grateful smile while pretty-boy paused, unsure what to do. Dee braced her lean, tattooed arms against the bar, silently challenging him. His baby blue eyes dropped and he shrugged, mumbling something about "dykes" before walking back to his friends with a swagger.

"Thanks Dee." Jemma raised her glass to the barmaid before she moved off to serve another customer.

The place was busier now, even though it was a Thursday night, and Jemma crossed her legs, wondering idly if any of these people had to work in the morning.

Suddenly he was there, making his way towards the bar, his cool, confident gaze holding her in its grip. Jemma grabbed her glass, emptying half the contents in one gulp before he reached her side.

"You're new here, right?" His voice was a deep drawl. Even the loud rock music couldn't disguise its husky edge, hitting her right between the legs.

"Yes," she managed, trying to get a grip on herself.

Her voice was lost in the pumping music but he seemed to have heard her for he nodded his head and slowly, blatantly allowed his gaze to drop down to her breasts, then lower. Studying every inch of her body, he took his time over her crossed legs while Jemma squirmed inside, striving for an air of relaxed nonchalance.

"You working for Alfie now?" His eyes were on her mouth, watching her moisten her parched lips.

"No!" Her voice rose as she realized just what it was he was asking her.

He smiled and her insides melted; the guy was sex on legs. "Good." His teeth were white and perfect, just like the rest of him. "'Cause I don't pay for sex."

Jemma blinked, lost for words.

"So," he paused, his smile disappearing. "You coming?"

"Damon!" Dee shouted over the music and he turned his head. "I think Pam and Niki are waiting over at your table."

His expression hardened as he stared over at the barmaid. "Mind your business, Dee." His sexy voice, just audible above the Guns N' Roses shrieking guitar, sounded cold. "You've got a customer waiting for his drink over there."

Dee glanced over her shoulder at the man holding out a note at her.

"Watch this one — he's trouble," she warned Jemma and walked away.

He straightened up and Jemma's stomach dropped. He was going to go back to his table, to those sexy women just waiting to pounce on him.

But instead he took a swig from the bottle of beer he was holding, raising dark eyebrows at her. "So you coming — or what?"

Jemma shifted off the stool. Without giving herself time to think, she grabbed her bag and followed him through the crowd of people, out of the bar.

It was a warm evening with just a light breeze blowing against his face. Jemma stared. He was beautiful, his expression almost brutal beneath the neon lights flashing above them.

Dragging his fingers through his dark, sun-streaked hair, he looked down at her.

"My car's parked in a good spot." He smiled — a predator's smile.

Jemma held on tightly to the long strap of her bag. She had her pepper spray inside there. But would it be enough to stop a man like him? Was she crazy, coming out here with a virtual stranger? A potential rapist? But she doubted he was a rapist, not with all those women queuing up for him.

"This your first time?" He asked, watching her closely.

She wanted to lie and tell him that she did casual car sex all the time, but she was a hopeless liar. Besides, something told her this man was shrewd and cynical enough to see through any of her lies.

"Yes, yes, it is," she answered, her voice husky, betraying her anxiety.

His eyes were a deep tawny color, feline eyes that seemed to see straight through her. She felt exposed, as if he knew her darkest secrets.

"You talk different," he frowned. "Where you from?"

Jemma smiled, thinking that it was he who talked different. "I'm from England — London, actually."

His eyes darkened, dropping to her mouth again and her smile disappeared.

The breeze blew her hair across her face and he lifted his hand, gently drawing the dark strands back and tucking them behind her ear. The touch of his fingers on her skin was electric, her body responding immediately to his casual caress.

"Beautiful," he murmured.

Settling his hand possessively at her lower back, he urged her towards the darker, emptier section of the car park. The heat of his palm seeped through the fine fabric of her dress and sweet sensation bloomed between her legs.

Suddenly she didn't care how stupid or careless this was, didn't care she was putting herself at risk. All she cared about was feeling his hard body deep inside her, filling her to the max and fucking her brains out like never before. Like one of her wildest fantasies.

The car was midnight blue, big and shiny. Something from the 1950s, she guessed, knowing little about cars. Maybe a Thunderbird? Did she really care? No, except for the fact that it looked spacious inside, which was all that mattered.

As they reached the car he grabbed her, pushing her up against the back door, leaning his tall, hard body into hers. Jemma gasped, her legs ready to buckle. If it wasn't for his strong body pressing against hers, she would have simply collapsed onto the tarmac like a puddle of water.

"You've got a very fuckable mouth," he breathed against her ear, and although those crude words should have scared her, they were having the opposite effect.

Fisting one hand into her hair, he pulled her head backwards, lowering his head to cover her mouth with his. Jemma was expecting a hard, punishing kiss, but he was too good for that. Although he was pulling her hair almost painfully, his lips were soft, playful, teasing hers with his tongue. Circling her lips, he sucked the lower one into his mouth. Jemma moaned, impulsively reaching into his silky hair and pulling him closer, thrusting her tongue between his lips.

Damon groaned, slanting his mouth for a better fit, grinding himself against her. She felt his erection, hot and hard against her lower stomach. Shocked pleasure coursed through her; he wanted her, his body told her so. Out of all those sexy, willing women, he had chosen her.

Lowering his free hand to her hip, he circled round to cup her backside. His fingers dug into the cheek of one taut, rounded buttock as he lifted her up against his groin.

Jemma sagged weakly against the car as his tongue plundered her mouth in a long, drugging kiss. Her nipples tightened painfully against the fabric of her dress, wet heat flooding down to her core. He eased himself between her thighs, the bulging erection beneath his jeans finding her mound, grinding his hips against it.

It was too much. It was crazy, but consumed with lust, Jemma wanted him to take her now, up against the car before she passed out with need.

"Get in the car and take your panties off," he said, his breathing harsh and uneven.

As he stepped back, Jemma felt her knees buckle, but his knee between her thighs held her up. In one smooth move he shifted her away from the door and pulled it open.

"Mind your head."

She hesitated, too weak to move, and suddenly two powerful arms lifted her off the ground, setting her down on the spacious backseat. He was so strong, had lifted her so effortlessly Jemma felt a shiver of fear prickle along her spine. Once he got into this car with her that was it. No going back...

• • •

Damon sensed her uncertainty as he leaned into the car, one hand holding the door open. The light inside had come on. It was a dim light, but it caught her big blue eyes and her swollen mouth as she faced him on the broad backseat of the Caddy. Knees bent up against her chest, her pose was one of obvious uncertainty.

"You're not gonna change your mind now, are you, darlin'?"

He was breathing heavily, his cock hard and ready for her, but he had to make sure she wanted it. There was no way he was gonna pressure her, even if she wanted him to. Not his style.

Her eyes widened and his cock twitched as she moistened her lips. She was gonna put the brakes on, he just knew it, almost howling in frustration.

He must look like some wild animal, more than ready for rutting, uncaring where, who or how. But it wasn't true, he wasn't an animal and he knew he could make it good for her. Didn't he always? But not if she decided she didn't want it. She was new to this, he knew it in his gut. Had known it since she'd walked into the bar, had known it even though she'd been giving him the eye all night.

She was staring up at him now, probably scared he was going to rape her or something, but he didn't move and her gaze dropped to his groin. He didn't need to look down to know that his erection was bulging against his jeans and he wasn't going to try and hide it. It was what it was.

Slowly, she reached out and ran a finger tentatively down the soft denim covering his straining flesh. Damon groaned, his hips jerking forward begging for more. Her eyes jumped up to his, too unsure and innocent for his peace of mind. Then she did it again and his legs weakened. She'd made her move, there was no going back now.

"Oh baby, you are not gonna regret this." Pure male satisfaction seeped through him and, dipping his head, he climbed into the car.

She scooted back toward the opposite door, still skittish. But she didn't protest when he closed his door and the light went out. The car was warm and cozy inside, windows closed, only the sounds of their heavy breathing audible.

"I want you to relax," he murmured. "Just relax and leave everything to me, okay?"

She nodded, taking a deep breath and leaning against the car door behind her.

Damon forced himself to go slow, starting with her feet, gently pulling off her pumps, one by one. Dropping them onto the floor of the car, he caressed each slim foot, taking his time, running his hands from her delicate ankles up her long, supple legs. Her skin was heavenly, satin-smooth, and he heard her gasp, her body tensing when his hands reached her bent knees, easing them slowly apart. But she didn't stop him. Even with her back stiff up against the car door, her hands clenched, like a fearful animal — she didn't stop him.

Gently, he kissed the inside of her left knee, breathing in the scent of her body.

"You know it's too late to change your mind, baby," he said softly, moving to her other knee.

She jumped as his tongue licked at the vulnerable skin, long legs widening, just as he'd hoped.

"Yes, I know." Her voice was husky, either with nerves or lust — maybe both. "I want this, I really do."

It sounded like she was trying to convince herself, but her acquiescence was enough to keep his hands moving along the firm, long muscles of her inner thighs.

His cock was throbbing painfully with the need to bury itself inside her, but he clamped down on it ruthlessly. He would take it slow, even if it killed him. She let out a helpless moan as he ran wet kisses up the inside of her thigh, his senses surging at the sweet sound. He couldn't remember ever being so hot for a woman. She was beautiful, her body lithe and lissome, made for hot, hard sex. And he was going to give it to her until she couldn't move, breathe or think about anything but him, driving her wild.

He could smell the warm, musky scent of her arousal now, weaving a sensuous spell around him. Lifting his head, he opened his eyes. She whimpered and raised her hips, inviting him back. Her sexy, black dress was bunched up above her thighs and he could see the plain, black, cotton panties she had not had the courage to take off. Somehow those simple panties were more of a turn-on than any thongs, or crotch-less, lacy, edible underwear he'd ever seen on a woman before.

Spreading her thighs wider and lowering his head, Damon pressed his face between her legs. She gasped, jerking against him then away, but he held her tight. Gripping the soft flesh of her inner thighs, he covered her sex through the damp cotton panties with his hot, hungry mouth.

Her scent went straight to his head; a clean, sensual aroma, unique and totally hers. He rubbed his nose against her slit, breathing in deeply. Locating her clit with expert accuracy, he pressed his mouth against it and breathed out. She began writhing and moaning, her fingers digging into his shoulders, thrusting her core against him.

"Please. Oh God! Please—" she mumbled incoherently.

The sound of her voice, that sexy accent, drove him wild. He could come just by listening to her voice.

Damon held her still with one hand while his other hand eased inside her sodden panties and found the smooth, slick flesh of her shaven pussy. He had to taste her, now. Her scent, her dampness and her smooth swollen flesh were driving him nuts. He pushed her panties aside, opened his mouth wide and covered her beautiful bare cunt with his lips.

His tongue searched and pleasured the slick folds of flesh, the taste of her going straight to his head. Licking in between her smooth pussy lips, he found his way to her clit. With a slow, steady rhythm he began circling and sucking at that pouting nub of pleasure, using every trick he knew to work her up.

Her hips rose off the car seat, fingers buried in his hair, as she ground her honeyed cunt into his face. Damon circled her moist entrance with his thumb; then swiftly, he pushed a long, rough finger deep inside that sweet opening, hearing her cry out in shocked pleasure.

God, she was so tight!

He felt the moisture gush out as he withdrew his middle finger then thrust it in again, those tight muscles gripping eagerly at him. He growled with the need to feel those clenching muscles around his cock, but still he kept working her with his mouth and finger. Suddenly she let out a high sobbing cry and convulsed, trembling in an orgasm that went on and on and on.

"That's it, baby. Come for me," he soothed against her pulsing clit.

Damon was shocked at how easily she'd climaxed, writhing and bucking beneath him. But he made sure he wrenched every ounce of pleasure from her, sucking hard at that swollen nub while working her with his finger, relishing the taste of her, like warm honey invading his mouth. The woman was fucking addictive.

• • •

Jemma lay shaking and boneless, her naked backside pressing against the soft, smooth leather of the car seat, her brain unable to function. All her senses concentrated between her throbbing thighs. Damon, who had eased her panties down and off, blew softly against her moist, spread sex, sending ripples of sweet pleasure washing over her.

Nothing could have prepared her for the orgasm she had just experienced. Why? Was it him? Was it the circumstances, the car? She had no idea. All she knew was she'd just had the most mind-blowing orgasm, and he hadn't even fucked her — yet.

He was kissing the inside of her thighs now; soft, wet kisses that caused her inner muscles to tighten needily. Despite the shattering climax, her body was still craving more, craving his hot, hard cock inside her. His face was moist and slick against her skin, covered in her juices, and Jemma felt a rush of embarrassment. What must he think of her? But then he pulled back and Jemma was sure he was going to leave. She reached out to him — and stopped short — he was just taking off his shirt.

Dear God, he was beautiful!

His body was solid, like a bronzed statue in the dark shadows. Lean and defined, his sweat-slicked muscles caught the light of the moon. His hair was damp and his face was wet, especially around his mouth.

Suddenly, he was looming over her, big and all too masculine. Once again, Jemma felt a stab of anxiety. This had been just a taste for him, literally, but could she handle any more? She wasn't so sure.

As if he could read her mind, sense her uncertainty, Damon's wet mouth covered hers, his skillful tongue mating with hers, giving her a taste of herself, and Jemma arched up against him. Grasping her hair, he twisted it tightly, forcing her head back as he covered her with his heavy, hard body.

She felt the coarse denim of his jeans rubbing against her sensitized pussy. It was rough and dry when she wanted smooth and wet. But she could feel the hot bulge of his erect cock pressing against the fabric, against her flesh, and she moaned in pleasure.

He grabbed her hand pushing it down to the bulge of his jeans. "Help me, baby," he urged. "Get these damn jeans off of me."

She tried to unbutton them, but her fingers shook uncontrollably. "I-I can't—" she choked, unable to meet his gaze.

"Fuck — I'll do it," he said, sucking in air as she fumbled against the soft denim.

He popped the buttons open with ease, allowing his straining flesh to finally spring free. With a grunt of satisfaction he sat up, shoving his jeans down to his ankles.

She gasped as he reached for her, encircling her waist with his big, rough hands, lifting her effortlessly onto his lap. Jemma bit back a moan, she was astride him now in a position of command. But she didn't feel in command, not at all, especially when he bunched her dress in his fists, forcing her to lift her arms, and dragging it over her head.

He dropped the crunched up fabric onto the seat beside them and was suddenly still. She stared down at him, unease seeping into her pleasure.

"Damn," he muttered softly.

Her body was slim, she knew that, very different from the curvaceous women in the bar, her breasts much smaller than those busty blondes.

"What?" She moistened her dry lips.

"Nothing," he shook his head, his eyes roaming over her body. "Just — damn."

Jemma's apprehension eased. Maybe he was in the mood for something different tonight, something less obvious. She allowed herself to relax, her lids drooping, her body still saturated with pleasure from the prolonged orgasm. Lifting her wayward hair up and away from her damp face, she ran her hands slowly down to her sensitized breasts.

He watched her with dark, hooded eyes, stroking her thighs with calloused hands that felt wonderful against her heated skin.

"Do you have a condom?" she asked, even though she had some in her bag.

"Fuck," he swore. "I don't. Wasn't planning on having sex tonight — not until I saw you."

She reached for her bag, wondering if that was the truth, while he continued stroking her thighs, his breathing labored.

"Well I brought some," she pulled one out of her bag and handed it to him. If he wasn't happy using a condom it was game over, no matter how much she wanted more of him.

"Good girl!" To her relief he took it and placed it on the seat beside them. "I really need to fuck you, baby."

Jemma felt both shocked and thrilled by his crude words. With her legs straddling either side of his thighs, her sex pressed against something huge and hot, she felt wild and wanton and she was doing it with a man! Not alone at home with one of her many sex toys.

Her newfound confidence quickly evaporated as she looked down, down to where their bodies met. He was huge. Fully erect and aggressively bigger than anything she'd ever seen.

Unaware, Damon's hands had reached her straining breasts, cupping the firm flesh, familiarizing himself with her hardened nipples.

"Oh baby, you are so beautiful — I am gonna fuck your brains out," he told her. His amber eyes burning as he watched her tits respond to his touch.

"No!" She gasped, dragging air into her lungs.

"What?" He stilled, misunderstanding her reaction. "I didn't mean—" Then his eyes followed her widened gaze.

"No Damon, I-I can't. No—" She couldn't drag her eyes away from it.

"Shh. Easy baby."

His hands reached up to cup her face, his hot mouth running soft, wet kisses along her jawline before slanting his head and kissing her deeply. She knew he was trying to distract her, and it was working.

Sweet languor was overtaking her again, but a small part of her brain was still working. He was too big. She could never take all of it inside of her. There was just too much of him.

His palms were heaven against her tender breasts, as he cupped and weighed them in his big hands. Her body arched instinctively as he squeezed her nipples hard between his fingers, but the pain retrieved a grain of sensibility and she broke the kiss.

"Damon," she panted. "I don't think I can do it — it's — you're too big."

He looked deep into her eyes for the first time since they'd entered the car. "It's okay, baby," he soothed, rolling her aching nipples. "We don't have to fuck if you don't want to. You can jack me off, suck me off, anything as long as you stay right here."

Jemma felt both relief and regret as he shifted beneath her. That thick pole of flesh now sliding between her wet opening was exquisite torment. Her body began to tremble as he moved his hips between her spread thighs. She leaned back against the front seat of the car and looked down. Her pussy was spread wide by the enormous girth and length of his monstrously, beautiful, cock. She moved tentatively, sliding her hips back and forth. It felt wonderful. His cock was all smooth, slippery skin, hot and pulsing, but hard. Oh God, so hard.

Damon's fingers slid slowly down her torso, digging into her hipbones. Thigh muscles hard beneath her bottom, he drove her yearning vulva down onto his engorged shaft. She could hear the liquid sound of flesh against flesh, a moist, sucking sound egging her closer to climax. The bulbous head of his cock cushioned her clit every time he thrust up against it, driving her almost to the edge.

"Yes. Oh God, yes." She hardly recognized her own voice.

His lids were heavy as he stared down to where their bodies met in a grinding frenzy. With his glossy chest heaving as he dragged in air, Jemma was sure he was going to come, but he didn't. Instead he slid his thumb up against her clitoris and circled it softly. She flopped forward, shaky hands reaching out to lean against his taut shoulder muscles, her body writhing at all these new sensations.

"I need to taste these beauties."

He bent his head to her breasts, nibbling at one pouting nipple before covering it with his mouth and sucking hard. Jemma cried out at the piercing pleasure. His hot mouth was pulling greedily at her nipple, causing her inner muscles to clutch and tighten, needing fulfillment. She thrust her hips down hard, desperate for more.

"Damon, please!"

"Please what?" he teased.

"Please let me come," she whimpered.

"And what about me?" She could feel his hot breath against her wet nipple.

"I'll do anything — anything you want. Just let me come!"

"Oh baby, you are so sweet." He began slowly putting more pressure on her clit, knowing exactly how far to go. Building her up steadily, relentlessly, towards another hot, flooding orgasm.

Suddenly, he gripped her hips and lifted her. "Trust me, baby."

Jemma cried out in frustration. Trust me? What was he doing? She was so close — so close! He grabbed his cock, positioning it at her opening and slowly, with brutal control, lowered her onto it.

"What...?" Jemma moaned, long and loud.

That huge bulbous head found its target and eased into her. She sighed. Oh, that felt good. He pushed in a little more, her muscles forced to stretch and accommodate him.

She looked down, wanting to see how far inside her he was, but he grabbed her chin and lifted it, squeezing hard against her delicate jaw. Then he was kissing her, those hard, punishing kisses she had been expecting before, bruising her soft, swollen lips with his hungry mouth, distracting her while he slowly inched his cock deeper inside her, stretching her tight channel wider and wider, her muscles protesting at the burning invasion.

Gripping onto his slick shoulders, she dug her fingernails in deep as the kiss ended and they both came up for air. His body was streaked with sweat, and she was shaking uncontrollably; whether in pleasure or pain — she wasn't sure.

Dragging air into his lungs, Damon reached down and began teasing her clit with his thumb. Jemma's nubbin swelled at the attention while he pushed that huge pole in even further.

"Damon!" She sobbed, "I can't — I can't take anymore — please."

"Easy, baby," he choked. "I'm almost there." He circled his hips slowly. "Your muscles are made to stretch. You just need to relax—"

"Relax!" she sobbed.

She was stiff, rigid with tension; relaxing was not an option. But he seemed to know her body better than she did, squeezing her clit between his finger and thumb, drenching her in sweet, hot pleasure. Finally, with one last thrust, he was deep inside her.

"Christ," he hissed, strong fingers gripping her hips.

Jemma let out a loud cry, which ended in a long moan. Her body taut, afraid to move, breath coming in short gasps as if she'd just run a marathon.

Damon, too, was shaking with the iron control he was holding onto. She could see beads of sweat running down his face. Yet he managed to keep still, aware that her body needed time to adjust.

"That's it baby," his breathing was ragged. "You're more than ready, just move when you feel like it."

Gently he continued to caress her sex; slow, sensual strokes against her pulsing flesh. Jemma released a long, whimpering sigh, her body finally beginning to give in and expand.

She was still sweating and gasping for air, but a weighty warmth was invading her core. He became bolder, rubbing his thumb insistently against her clit, hot liquid seeping between her legs. Suddenly, she needed more, needed to feel that monstrous phallus moving deep inside her, actually fucking her. She circled her hips experimentally and Damon groaned, mimicking her movements in a slow grind.

Continuing to work her clit with his thumb, the painful pleasure of his throbbing cock filled her, pushing her closer to the edge. Her legs were spread wide, wider than ever before, making her feel wanton and shameless, but she didn't care, it was just too good. She rocked her hips slowly back and forth and they groaned together.

"I can't take anymore, baby," his voice broke. "God, you're as tight as a fist. I've gotta fuck you now!"

Holding her hips hard with both hands, he lifted her high, halfway off his cock before pushing her down onto the whole, long length of it.

"God, Damon!" She cried, her senses exploding.

Burning pain had ripped through her, but right behind it came a sweet sensation of overwhelming need. He did it again, sliding slowly out of her before dragging her down, thrusting his hips up to grind himself into her. He released a long, agonized groan, losing control as her muscles began tightening and squeezing the length of him.

Faster, he lifted her high and pushed her down. Two, three, four times, until she was mindless; he rammed that monstrous pole into her. Forcing her to take it — and just as brutally — forcing her to love it.

"Oh God!" Jemma's head bounced loosely with each thrust, her hands gripping the bunched muscles of his shoulders, hanging on for dear life as he rammed into her.

Faster and harder he moved, until she felt a dragging pleasure deep inside her, flooding up and outwards, engulfing her whole trembling body. She was being swept up by a storm of cruel pleasure, her body bucking and twisting like an animal trapped on a spike. Panic suffused her as she tried to escape the physical force of it.

"Breathe, baby, breathe." He instructed in a rasping voice and Jemma forced herself to do as he said, dragging air into her starving lungs.

Damon was shoving wildly as his erection swelled, on the brink of his own orgasm, while Jemma's spine stiffened into a long arch, a high keening sound escaping her. Finally, waves of convulsing pleasure tore through her body and she let go, succumbing to the force of it.

"Oh yes, baby, that's it. Come for me, come."

Damon was right behind her, thrusting savagely, until suddenly he bucked beneath her. His head pulled back as he climaxed, his body arched and jerking as Jemma collapsed trembling against him. Tears streamed from her eyes, her muscles continuing to tighten and squeeze, milking every last drop out of him.

• • •

Damon's hands were shaking against her slim hips. She was spread out weakly on top of him, her slim body twitching and quaking as aftershocks echoed through her. Still inside her, his semi-hard cock did not want to leave the tight, warm fist of her convulsing cunt. He caressed her silky, damp skin with hands that trembled. They were breathing in unison now, deep, satisfied breaths of air.

She let out a little moan and he sensed she must be in pain. "Sorry, baby. Are you sore?" he asked.

She hesitated. "Yes — uh! A little."

He didn't want to withdraw, wanted to stay like this forever, but she must've been tender now that she was coming down from her orgasm. So he lifted her gently and allowed her tight muscles to squeeze his semi-hard cock out of her.

He'd put the condom on just before entering her divine cunt, and he was sure she hadn't even realized it. Holding onto the tip, now filled with his semen, he pulled it off slowly, knotting the end and dropping it onto the car floor. He'd clean up later.

"You used the condom?" There was relief in her voice.

"Yeah, of course," he breathed. "I don't need any unwanted pregnancies in my life."

He lowered her onto his shaft, groaning with satisfaction as her pleasure juices seeped out onto his cock, oozing down toward his testicles.

His brain refused to function, his body still in shock from the mind-blowing orgasm that had just wrenched through him. Her moist face was buried in his neck, her silky hair spread across his chest and her taut, slick breasts stuck to his damp skin.

Caressing her hips, he familiarized himself with her slim, silky body, moving his hands around to explore her ass. The skin was satin smooth, just like the rest of her, cheeks tight and rounded.

He wondered hazily how it would feel to fuck that ass, but pushed the thought aside — it was not gonna happen. Instead he stroked and cupped each buttock, loving the feel of her spread out on top of him.

He dragged her ass-cheeks gently forward, the flesh of her vulva sliding against his cock, and she moaned softly, seeming to enjoy what he was doing. He did it again, feeling the blood rush down to his cock, causing it to swell and harden, ready for more.

What was it about this woman? Sure, she was beautiful, but he'd fucked many beautiful women. Was it that sublime, tight cunt of hers? The way her inner muscles seemed to come alive; tightening and milking his cock dry?

He'd been shocked by how quickly, easily, she'd responded to him. Her first time in a car with a virtual stranger, and though she'd been nervous as hell to begin with, as soon as he'd started working on her she had completely lost control. And so had he.

And Damon prized himself on never losing control...

He couldn't put his finger — or rather his cock — on it. All he knew was that once the fucking was over he was usually restless, ready to move on. But right now he just wanted to hold her, get to know every inch of her perfect body and then fuck her all over again. Slowly, taking his own sweet time, driving her wild, having her beg and plead for it in that sexy accent of hers, over and over again.

But that wasn't going to happen, he knew there was no way she could handle his penetration again. Much as he craved a long, slow second round, he wasn't that selfish.

"You okay, baby?" he asked softly, wanting to hear that sexy voice again.

"Mm, wonderful," she breathed, sliding her hands from his shoulders down his arms and back up again.

It was the first time he was aware of her really touching him. And the feel of her hands, those long slim fingers stroking and gliding over his damp skin were a direct hotline to his growing erection.

Her mouth was at his ear now, her breath warm and soft, sending inviting signals through his body. Unable to resist, he fisted his fingers into her hair and brought her mouth down to his in a long, languid kiss. Taking his time, he circled her soft, swollen lips with his tongue before delving deep into her mouth. She had a beautiful, fuckable mouth; lush, full lips and Damon couldn't help wondering how it would feel to have that mouth around his cock.

His heart began to pound at the picture in his mind. Gripping her head tightly he deepened the kiss, grinding himself against her slick slot. He wanted to feel those magical hands of hers on his cock, caressing it in the way she was caressing his head and neck right now.

He pushed her hips backwards, settling her spread cunt onto his moistened balls, exposing his glistening wet prick.

"Touch me, baby," he urged softly, against her ear. "Please?"

She hesitated, then leaned back to gaze down at his cock. It was huge and shiny with moisture in the moonlight. Fully erect it rested against his stomach, the bulbous knob reaching past his navel.

She sucked in a breath of air, her eyes glued to it, before slowly, agonizingly, she reached out and ran a tentative finger along the exposed underside. He jumped at that light, teasing caress, his cock coming alive and begging for more. She jerked her finger back, lifting her startled gaze to his face. He stared back at her, feeling like he could drown in those vulnerable sky-blue eyes.

"Please baby," he begged softly. "I'm not gonna fuck you again, I know you're sore, but I'm still so fucking hot for you..."

She bent her head again, long dark hair covering her like a curtain. Damon reached out, running his fingers through its soft silkiness, drawing it away from her face, to lie long and tumbled down her back. He wanted to see her, watch her expression as she fondled his prick.

She reached out again and ran her finger along the pulsing vein of his shaft. This time when he jerked she moistened her lips with her tongue. Damon groaned, resting his head back against the seat, watching her with blazing eyes.

He resisted the temptation to grab her hand and close it tightly round his distended erection. Once again, he was gonna let her take her own sweet time.

Her eyes were glued to his cock and he needed her to relax. He moved his hands, running them gently up to her hips and back down again, loving the feel of her smooth skin. He sensed her loosen up as his fingers ran soothingly over her ass, moving up to her waist and finally her tits. Loving the way she arched and responded immediately to his touch.

That tormenting finger had reached his slick, swollen glans. She took her time, exploring the firm rounded knob with the tip of her finger, before finding and circling the liquid oozing from the mouth of his prick. She was getting into it now and his hands became more urgent on her pouting tits as he tried to hold back the burning lust that was catching fire. She lifted her finger to her mouth and sucked the juice lazily off of it. In, out, in, out.

"For fuck's sake, woman," Damon groaned in torment.

She lifted her head, pulling her finger slowly out of her mouth, and smiled, a sexy, knowing smile that twisted in his gut. She was learning fast, knowledge of her feminine power growing within her. Anger wrestled with lust as he clamped down on the urge to thrust his engorged cock deep inside her vulnerable flesh again and show her just who was boss.

"Don't you like it?" her accent had the same effect as her finger on his knob.

"Yeah," he breathed. "Do you like this?" He ran two fingers along her widespread, glistening vulva, up and down either side of her clit.

"Ahh!" She jerked against his fingers and Damon felt a ragged sense of pleasure at undoing her so hard and fast.

Immediately, her hand grabbed his pulsing flesh, squeezing tightly as if needing something to hold onto. God, she was so responsive. So eagerly ready for more and her hand now gripping his cock in a tight fist was exactly what he needed. He closed his hand over hers and began moving it up and down, forcing himself to keep the pace slow and steady.

"That's it," he managed to keep his voice even. "Just take it slow, baby."

She was rolling her hips now, moaning softly and the sound was sweet music to his ears. His free hand searched the soft folds of her sex, exploring the enticing, slick flesh, spread wide to his gaze. He teased her swelling nub lightly with his thumb, watching her jerk and whimper. Her pelvis thrust against his, her whimpers turned into begging moans. Suddenly her body arched and tightened, her fingernails digging into his engorged penis.

"Fuck!" Damon loosened her fingers carefully from around his cock, determined to keep working her clit. She was coming and he wanted to make it good for her. His time would come later.

She leaned back, moaning loudly, while he used both his hands on her. Pulling up the smooth flesh of her mound, her engorged clitoris pushed out, begging for attention. Damon ignored the lust pumping through his veins, working her just hard and fast enough to push her over the edge.

His cock burned while he watched her come, straining and arching that sublime body of hers. She was made for this, her tits high and full, rising and falling as she rode against his cock. His eyes followed to her long, flat stomach leading to her exquisitely smooth, glistening cunt, spread out wide and proud against his groin.

She was still in orgasm when he grabbed his cock in his fist, pushing the turgid head against her clit, running it up and down her soaking pussy.

"Look at it baby," he ground out. "I want you to watch."

Her eyes slowly opened, glassy and drugged with pleasure, following his gaze down to his engorged cock, the swollen head sliding up and down her glistening flesh, readying them both for the storm. She released a long moan that ended in a whimper, her hips still jerking against his. Damon rubbed his cock up and down over her clit, before carefully circling her tender hole, where most of the warm liquid was.

He wanted to hold back, to prolong the hot pleasure that was threatening to overtake him, but there was no stopping the force of that sweet release from tearing through him. His movements became more and more urgent; squeezing tight, he rubbed it harder and faster against her, the sounds of their slick juices driving him right to the edge.

"I'm gonna come all over your beautiful pussy, baby," he burst. "And you're gonna watch it — and love it."

His balls tightened and his erection expanded, ready to explode. Working his cock hard and fast with his fist, his brain lost its power to function. Hot liquid jets shot out of him, hitting their target. The first spurt hit her clit, the second went high, covering her mound and sliding slowly down into her slit, and the last gush struck her vulnerable opening. Damon couldn't resist smearing his hot cum over those inviting folds of flesh with the head of his cock.

"Oh God, Damon."

Dragging his gaze away, he saw that she too was watching through drugged eyes. He didn't want it to end, waves of carnal bliss shuddering through his body.

She fell forward onto him, their damp bodies sticking together like Velcro, her fingers reaching into his hair.

"God, that feels so good," she breathed, her accent more pronounced. "I think I'm in love with your cock."

Damon released a chocked laugh, running his hands up and down her curved spine. This was dangerous; he needed to get away but his body refused to move, determined to stay exactly where it was.

Chapter Two

Jemma ran her hands from his head down to his chest, over his deliciously hard stomach and back up again, indulging herself in the freedom to explore and caress his beautiful body. He had little hair on his chest and she was glad, disliking hairy men. She found his nipples, exploring the tight nubs with building confidence. He seemed to enjoy it and she felt a thrill of excitement, scraping her fingernails lightly over his nipples and slowly down to his hard abdominal muscles. His skin was smooth and tight, damp with sweat. She could spend all night just caressing this form of masculine perfection.

He obviously found her attractive, sexy even. Otherwise, he wouldn't have come back for seconds, she surmised, wishing she could explore more of his masculine body; his lean back, his tight ass.

They were both breathing easier now. Finally, she felt sated, able to just enjoy the feeling of being sex to sex, with a lot of hot liquid in between.

Jemma smiled, and before she could stop herself, pressed her open mouth to his. His hands rose to her waist, pulling her even closer, as she dared to trace his lips with her tongue before entering and exploring the warm, wet interior of his mouth. Hard, clever fingers found her nipples, squeezing them between finger and thumb, sending stinging pleasure pulsing down to her sex.

She never knew her breasts could enjoy a man's touch so much, her nipples throbbing, responding to his knowing fingers. She continued to kiss him tentatively, and even though she felt sore and raw inside, her muscles tightened with need.

Finally, one hand left her breast to grip her neck, taking possession of her timid mouth. He kissed as if he were fucking her; deep and hard, leaving her weak and boneless. She tangled and twisted her fingers into his thick, damp hair, her tongue mating with his. Their lower bodies were making sweet, wet sounds whenever they moved and Jemma found it dirty and sexy, moving her groin in sync with her tongue.

God, the man knew how to kiss!

They kissed like that for ages. Tiny echoing orgasms trembled through her as she rubbed her tortured nerve endings against his hardening shaft. His hands were all over her; from her hair and neck to her breasts, stomach and then her swollen pussy lips. He stayed away from her vulva, letting his cock do the work there, but he seemed to love caressing her smoothly waxed, sensitized lips.

"I think I could stay like this forever," Jemma murmured, sleepily against his ear.

His entire body suddenly stiffened, hands tightening around her hip bones.

"Shit!" His face had lost that lazy, sensual look.

"What?" Jemma's stomach hollowed.

"Fuck, I just remembered something," he muttered, moving his hands to her knees. "I got a meeting. I almost forgot — shit!"

He shifted beneath her, and Jemma got the message — he wanted her to move. She unglued her sex from his, lifting herself onto her knees, allowing him to straighten up from his sprawled position.

Once again he circled her waist, lifting her off him with ease. Jemma felt abruptly cold and bare, as he seated her down beside him. Her legs were floppy, numb from being in that unfamiliar position for so long. Slowly, she stretched them, a moan of pain escaping her.

"You probably gonna be real stiff tomorrow, baby." He kissed her head as if in apology, but continued moving, lifting his shirt from the floor. The mood in the car changed completely.

Shrugging his shirt on, he pulled his jeans up from his ankles, no underwear to be seen, and Jemma took the hint fast. Her wet thighs were sticking unpleasantly to the leather seat as she searched frantically for her dress.

"I've got some tissues in here somewhere," he muttered. "Sorry baby — I just didn't realize how late it was."

He found a square box of tissues and handed them to her, before arching his back to button up his jeans.

God! Still so sexy.

Jemma dragged her eyes away, chastising herself for ogling him when he wasn't even trying to hide the fact that he wanted rid of her. But her body was still reacting to his overwhelming sex appeal; pulsing pleasure still throbbing deep inside her.

She used the tissues to clean between her quivering legs, embarrassed by how wet she was. She wasn't sure what to do with the used ones, and he told her to leave them on the floor of the car. Although she didn't like the idea, Jemma didn't have much choice and did as he suggested, unable to resist scanning the car floor, looking for used tissues of previous occupants. To her relief there were none.

It took her awhile to locate her panties. By the time she did Damon had buttoned up his shirt and seemed to be waiting for her. He leaned his arm along the back seat, fingering a strand of her hair, while she slipped her panties on. The silence was deafening.

Jemma was in a hurry to leave now, her mind clearing. Without waiting for him to exit the car, she opened the back door on her side and climbed out. Grabbing her bag, she asked him to find her shoes. Her legs felt like overcooked spaghetti, weak and trembling. She held onto the open door of the car for a few precious seconds, urging her body to get with it.

Deep breaths, Jemma, deep breaths.

Her feet were bare, but she didn't care. The blood began to flow painfully back into her aching legs as she watched him locate her shoes beneath the dim car-light. Taking a deep breath, she released a long sigh and felt a little better, probably due to the fresh air.

"Got 'em," he said, exiting the car, holding her pumps up in the air like a prize.

She avoided his gaze, closing the back door, eager to get away. Her car was parked by the bar, and she reached for her shoes, trying not to get too close to him.

"Thank you." She carried them in her hands, enjoying the rough tar beneath her feet, bringing her back down to earth. She was just about to say goodbye, when he began to walk alongside her towards the car.

Ever the fucking gentleman, she thought pettily.

"Which car is yours?"

"The white Toyota." She kept moving until she reached it, feeling like she should hold out her hand, or something. "Thank you for — um, everything — Damon."

"Yeah. Well, the pleasure was all mine." He raked long fingers through his hair then shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "You drive safe, okay?"

"I will." Jemma climbed into the car, fingers trembling as she tried to fit the key into the ignition.

She was just about to pull off when he called out.

Impatient to get away, she wound down the window with little grace. "Sorry, I didn't hear that."

His face looked both cruel and beautiful in the shadows.

"What's your name?"

"My name?"

"Yeah. Your name."

She gave a little laugh. "It's Jemma."

Shaking her head in bemusement, she put the old car into gear and drove off. It may have ended badly, but she'd done it. She'd actually managed to do it!

• • •

Damon walked back to his car in a filthy mood. Reaching into the Caddy for his cigarettes, he swore out loud when he saw that his hands were shaking. Lighting up, he dragged some much needed nicotine into his lungs. He'd been cold and abrupt — brutally insensitive in his haste to get away from her.

Fucking genius, Damon!

Leaning against the Cadillac, he caressed the smooth, polished surface of the car with his palm. It reminded him of her body; smooth and long with gentle curves. He loved this car, it was his favorite. Now it probably smelt of her, the back seat smeared with the juices of their fucking...

Running off was something he never did after sex with a woman, ever, even if he really wanted to. He always tried to be a gentleman, no matter how rough and dirty the fucking was. Women were different creatures and he loved them for it, always doing his best to make sure they felt sexy and appreciated when the time came to say goodbye.

But he'd been spooked. Spooked by the intense sex, by her and the effect she'd had on him. He'd never felt such a strong and immediate desire for a woman — and then there was the sex. God the sex had been incredible! She was made for it, her body perfect and fitting perfectly with his, except for that incredibly tight cunt of hers.

"Fuck!" He ground the cigarette butt out with the heel of his boot.

She — Jemma — he spoke her name out loud, absorbing the sound of it. She was not a woman who'd been round the block, that was for sure. But God knew she couldn't get enough of it once they started — beautiful, innocent and sluttish — maybe that was the lethal combination. Not just physically but on an emotional level as well.

Damon enjoyed sex, sometimes sweet and even tender, usually rough and hard, but this had been so intense, so intimate. Everything about her had hit him deep in his gut; those trusting blue eyes, that sexy, posh accent and that wild responsive body, everything. And it was just too much.

After those explosive orgasms he'd felt like his world had shifted, his mind had shifted, and he had had to get away from her, fast. He had to sort his head and his body out. Because, God knew he was still hot for her...

Chapter Three

Jemma drained the glass of white wine, dropping it onto the bed before stepping under the shower, allowing the chilly spray of water to soak over her head and cool her heated body. Stretching her arms high, she shampooed her hair, savoring the sensation of her body feeling like it finally belonged to her again.

It had been exactly one week since that rough ride in the back of the car with Damon. Her muscles had been sore days after, aching with a hangover from the kind of wild sex that her body just wasn't used to.

She closed her eyes and was straight back there, spread out on the backseat of the car with his cock deep inside her. God! Her body responded immediately, inner muscles squeezing tight as moist heat pooled between her thighs. She reached for the large sponge, soaping it into a thick, creamy lather to rub against her sensitized breasts. The sponge felt slick and sensuous against her hardened nipples and she circled lower over her flat stomach, down to the growing pulse between her legs. Groaning, she spread her legs, allowing the foamy, porous surface to make contact with that swelling nub of flesh pouting from her smooth, wet sex.

Leaning one hand against the tiled wall of the shower, Jemma's legs began to tremble, her heart thumping in her chest. She arched her back, lifting her face to the showerhead while rubbing the sponge back and forth against her hungry pussy. The sponge felt good, soft yet slightly rough. She ran it from the top of her sex down to her moist entrance and back up again. Yes, the sponge felt good, but it wasn't enough.

Letting go of the sponge, Jemma slid her hand down to the hot cleft of her sex and moaned as her middle finger teased her lathered clit, engorged and throbbing with need. She explored the soapy, hidden folds of flesh for a few blissful moments, returning to that sweet, protruding nubbin.

Circling her hips and finger in a grinding rhythm, her mind instinctively pictured a bigger, rougher finger rasping against her needy pussy. I'm gonna fuck your brains out, his sensual voice echoed in her head. Releasing a long, shaky sob her whole body began to tremble. Images of his hands, his mouth, his huge cock ramming in deep filtered through her head, sucking her up and under into a wave of sweet, hot pleasure.

Jemma switched off the hairdryer and reached for the wine bottle — it was empty.

"Shit."

She was feeling pleasantly tipsy, her body cool and relaxed after the shower and the orgasm. She deserved an enjoyable night off; she'd been writing non-stop for a whole week now and she needed a break. She also needed to get out of this motel room, she realized, looking around at the sparse, impersonal space that was her home for now.

An idea popped into her head, probably due to the wine; Why the fuck not? Jemma asked her reflection in the mirror. Without giving herself time to change her mind, she reached for her favorite jeans and fresh panties.

Within half an hour she was at the motel reception, waiting for her taxi to arrive.

After one week away from Alfie's Bar she was going back. But this time she wasn't going there to look for casual sex with a stranger. The only stranger she could even consider having sex with had got what he wanted and had surely moved on to the next available piece of ass by now.

She wasn't angry or upset with him; it may have just been casual car sex to him, but to her it had meant much more, an encounter she would never forget, and if anything, she was grateful to him. He would never know what a life changing experience that session in his car had been for her. Like a precious gift that she held close and opened every now and again, like earlier in the shower, to cherish and reminisce upon.

He may not even acknowledge her if he was there tonight, but something told her he would at least greet her — ever the fucking gentleman. But she wasn't going there for him. She had liked the place. There was an atmosphere of excitement about it and, with Dee behind the bar, she almost felt like a regular. Yeah, she wasn't going to avoid her favorite bar in Vegas just because he might get the wrong idea and think she was there for him.

Jemma giggled to herself; the bottle and a half of wine she'd polished off making her feel young and reckless. The guy at reception eyed her curiously. Get a grip, Jem, she scolded herself. Shoving her hands into the pockets of her suede jacket, she stopped grinning and attempted to look like the sober, mature Englishwoman she professed to be.

Uncertainty reared its head. She began to wish the cab would arrive before she changed her mind, before she realized that going to Alfie's Bar was a stupid idea and seeing Damon glued to some busty blonde may just spoil her evening after all.

"Your cab's outside, ma'am," the receptionist drawled.

Forcing herself to at least look sober and confident, Jemma thanked him and walked out into the warm Vegas night.

• • •

Damon was trying to distract himself by playing pool, hitting the balls too damn hard and losing the game slowly but surely. He was in an ugly mood, had been for the past week, and tonight was even worse because it had been exactly one week since he'd had her — and lost her.

After tonight he was gonna give up looking. It was pathetic, he was pathetic. Coming to this damn bar every night in the futile hope she might be here was downright pathetic. She was not coming back, he knew it in his bones, and it was probably for the best. The woman was trouble with a capital T.

Hell, he'd even stooped so low as to approach Dee, his least favorite dyke in the world, asking if she knew where he could find her — Jemma. Dee had just given him a self-satisfied smile and told him she had no idea where Jemma was staying.

He cracked another ball and watched it ricochet before sinking the white.

"Fuck," he cursed without much feeling, looking forward to going outside for a cigarette once he'd lost the game. Maybe he'd just go home, have an early night, and then get on with his life.

His eyes swept the crowded room as they'd done a hundred times before, but all he could see was the same old faces, looking for instant gratification, be it sex, drugs or money, and he wanted none of it. After this match he was going home and giving up on finding her. Game over.

Just then Jake caught his eye. His friend was strolling towards him, the edgy smile on his rugged face sending an immediate prickle up Damon's spine.

"What?" he asked, as Jake stopped beside the pool table.

"Um — I think she's here..." Jake looked over his shoulder toward the other end of the room and then back at him.

Damon's heart skipped a beat. "You think?"

"Well I didn't get a good look at her the last time—"

"Where?" Damon felt like shaking the information out of his friend.

Poor Jake had been putting up with his nasty, irrational behavior for the past week. The guy deserved a goddamned medal.

"She's, uh — she's talking to some guy over by the cigarette machine—"

Damon was gone before his friend had finished talking. He forced his way through the crowd, sure that Jake had got it wrong. It couldn't possibly be her.

And then he saw her.

She was leaning against the side of the cigarette machine talking to the same kid who'd tried to pick her up the week before. Damon's heart began pounding in his chest. He hesitated, forcing himself to calm down, allowing his eyes to roam hungrily over her.

God, she looked even better than he remembered!

There she stood, like a mirage, in faded jeans that moulded those long, slim legs, a glass of wine in her hand and a smile on her sensual face. The kind of smile that should have a reserved sign on it. Hell, she should have a reserved sign on her — strictly reserved for him!

His heart rate steadied as a vicious need overtook him. He made his way towards them, stopping right beside her.

"Buzz off, kid." He kept his eyes on the boy, his expression flat and cold. "She's with me."

"Damon!"

Well, at least she remembered his name. But he ignored her, keeping his eyes on the kid.

"I said, fuck off." The guy looked to her for support, but she wasn't looking at him. "Now. Before I bust your face."

His voice sounded calm, but Damon hadn't felt this close to violence in a long time. Much as he wanted to break the kid's nose, he knew she wouldn't like it, besides his days of bar brawls were over and done with. As the boy shrugged resentfully and slowly disappeared into the crowd, Damon allowed himself to breathe again, feeling like a bully.

"That was bloody rude of you!" God that accent, what it did to him.

Finally he turned and stared into those wide blue eyes that had been haunting him for the past week.

"Were you planning on fucking him?"

Her expression was indignant. But, fuck, it was good to lay eyes on her again.

"What?" Her eyes were challenging, exciting the hell out of him.

Ignoring her question, he slid his hand possessively beneath her hair, cupping her neck. "Let's get the hell out of here."

Determined, Damon steered her towards the exit. His whole body tense, his fingers aching against the warm skin at the nape of her neck.

"Wait!"

His stomach dipped; was she gonna put the brakes on? And after his aggressive behaviour, could he blame her? What could he do about it, drag her out by her hair?

She lifted the wine glass and drained it, setting it down on one of the tables. "Okay, I'm ready."

Sweet relief replaced the tension that had been eating into him, and he eased her through the crowd of punters toward the door. The cool, clean air steadied his nerves as he turned to face her, dropping his hand reluctantly from her neck.

His eyes drank her in like a relapsed alcoholic. She was wearing a brown suede jacket with a plain black vest, looking more casual than the last time he'd seen her — and sexy as hell. Glossy dark hair fell straight and long, framing that striking face, contrasting with those sultry, blue eyes.

"You look different," he said without thinking.

"Do I?" She tilted her head to one side and swayed, just a little. "And you're acting like a fucking lunatic — threatening that poor guy like that!"

"Fuck! Are you drunk?" For some reason the idea infuriated him.

"No, I am not drunk." She tilted her head to the other side as if seriously considering his question. "And it's none of your business anyway."

Damon felt like shaking her. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to come to a place like this drunk?"

She rolled her eyes and he genuinely wanted to put her over his knee and spank some sense into her.

"I told you," she spoke slowly, her accent more pronounced, as if she were talking to a child. "I am not drunk."

He grabbed the back of her neck again, but this time with more force than feeling. "Let's get to the goddamn car — maybe I can fuck some sense into you."

She giggled and despite his fury, he felt his cock jerk in response to that throaty sound, which enraged him even more.

"So were you gonna fuck him?" He kept moving, his stomach in knots. This was so not how he had imagined things going.

"Fuck who?" She tried to slow down and look at him, but he just tightened his grip and kept moving.

"The kid in the bar — who else?"

She didn't say anything, not a word, and by now they'd reached his car.

He spun her around to face him. "I'll take that as a yes, then."

She leaned back against the Caddy, obviously too drunk to stand up straight, and smiled at him, a tipsy, sexy smile. Damon's grip tightened around her upper arms, furious with her and himself for caring. Reluctantly he let her go, opening the car door, standing back like a gentleman.

"Just get in the fucking car."

"Yes, sir," she said with a smile and climbed in.

He got an eyeful of her tight jean-clad ass as she crawled into the car, stretching her arms so the jacket rode up to her waist. Raging lust ate into him as he followed her, slamming the door behind him.

She twisted round to face him, but before she knew it, he was on top of her. He heard the air leave her lungs in a strangled moan as he leaned his heavy body down onto hers.

"God — Damon—" He didn't let her finish, his mouth covering hers in a hard, punishing kiss, his hand twisting into her silky hair.

All the raw frustration of the past week welled up inside of him, pushing him to the brink of losing control. Then the taste and smell of her hit him, transforming all that frustration into biting lust. He kneed her legs open and ground himself against her soft, warm core, dragging his mouth from hers to suck in some air.

Shoving his hand under the vest she was wearing, desperate to feel her skin against his, he found one of those perfect tits, no bra, squeezing her nipple so hard she cried out in pain.

"Damon!" she sobbed. "Please—"

"Oh, you do, baby, believe me you do." Reaching for her other breast, he squeezed again, not quite as hard, rewarded by her whimper of pleasure.

He was desperate to get inside of her, but those damn jeans were in his way. Bracing himself on one arm he flipped open the stud on her jeans, forcing the zipper down and shoving his hand inside her panties. He needed to feel that divine cunt of hers, smell it, taste it, after one week of waiting, wanting and not knowing if he'd ever get this again.

Finally, he had it, had her, and his brain was still trying to catch up with the fact. But his body was already there, ready to take her and fuck her again and again, until he was sick of the sight of her.

His hand reached that sweet, smooth pussy of hers and he hissed as his fingers dipped inside, feeling the moist heat slide against his fingers.

"Oh baby, you are so fucking wet," he ran his middle finger up and down her slit, relishing the way her hips jerked up to meet him. "Is this for me or the kid in the bar?"

"Fuck you!" she swore, but her body was jumping against his hand.

"You will," his voice shook as his finger circled her tight entrance. "Oh, Jemma, baby, believe me you will." And then he pushed that finger inside her — hard.

Her body bucked off the car seat and she let out a high-pitched cry that drove him mad. He had to get inside her — now. But those tight, fuck-me, jeans were in the way and if he could he would have torn them off of her. He withdrew his finger and she sobbed in despair.

"Damon, please," she begged and he paused to enjoy her torment, sucking on his warm, wet finger while staring down into her dazed eyes.

But his own torment drove him on. Gripping the top of those goddamned jeans, he yanked them down to her ankles. He wanted them off. God knew, he wanted them off of her but she was wearing fucking ankle boots and the jeans were not gonna come off without the boots — and he just didn't have the time. He knelt back between her thighs and unbuttoned his own jeans, staring down hungrily at her exposed sex glistening in the moonlight. Her knees were half bent, but the jeans had trapped her ankles together.

His shirt was sticking to his body with sweat, he wanted it off too, wanted skin against skin, but he couldn't wait. Shoving his jeans down to his knees, his aching erection sprang free, the tip drooling like a hungry animal. Gripping her ankles, he pushed them up, so her knees bent higher and her thighs spread wide, her shaven pussy drenched and ready for him.

"God — yes—" he groaned, mindless with lust.

Lowering himself onto her, he searched her face, needing to know that she wanted this as much as he did. She was looking down. Instinctively, he grabbed his cock, rubbing the weeping knob against her inviting flesh.

"Dear God, I forgot how big—" she gulped, lifting her wide eyes to his. "Don't hurt me, Damon — please."

Fuck. He was ready to ram it into her as hard and fast as his body could go but he'd forgotten how small and tight she was.

"Just relax, baby, you're so ready," he said, sucking in his breath, wanting to soothe her, but his voice sounded breathless and edgy.

His cock was throbbing in his grip as he slid it against her glistening flesh. Feeling her body soften and arch, he forced himself to slow down and make her want it, allowing the thick head to stroke between those lush lips, spread wide and inviting. Thank fuck she was wet, and so was he, as he found her core and eased his swollen knob inside her. Christ, he'd forgotten how tight she was. His hips jerked violently, and without warning, he was deep inside her.

"Oh God — Fuck—" Those muscles were like a vice around him, impulsively his hips began to thrust.

She sobbed his name, digging her nails into his arms as his body surged with the intense pleasure of being sucked in deep. He tried, God knew, he tried to slow down, but it was impossible. His body simply took over, hammering into her, leaving his brain way behind.

She heaved and strained as if to throw him off, but her thighs were gripping him tight. He withdrew and thrust back into her, that high feral sound she made impelling him closer to the edge.

Damon pounded into her, each time driving in deeper and harder. He couldn't breathe but didn't care as agonized pleasure drenched his body. Every thrust was like a climax in itself. He heard a whimpering moan, then her body arched high off the seat, her muscles convulsing as her orgasm rippled around his grinding shaft.

Fighting back the violent urge to come with her, his cock drove him on, but he didn't want it to end — not yet. He kept going, hard and fast, until another orgasm ripped through her, the tight, wet heat driving him crazy. He could feel her squirming and bucking beneath him like a wild animal. Her hands clenched at his hammering backside and when her fingernails dug painfully into his tightened buttocks he finally let go, his cock exploding inside her.

The orgasm went on and on as he continued to thrust into that tight fist of flesh. He couldn't stop himself even after he felt the hot semen gush out and smoothen the ride, he continued to pump into her, gripping her backside and holding her squirming body still to deepen the penetration.

Damon's brain simply shut down for a few seconds; he forced his eyes open as consciousness gradually returned. His body was slumped on top of hers and he could hear her struggling to breathe.

Arms trembling weakly, he managed to lift his upper body off of her. "You okay?" He gasped, his heart pumping, sweat leaking down his face.

"God, Damon..."

"I didn't mean," he could hardly speak, "to be so — rough."

God, rough was not the word! He'd completely lost it, his mind still dazed and unstable. And he couldn't blame it on alcohol, two bottles of beer — or drugs — he'd been drug-free for too many years now. Behaving like a sex-starved maniac was just not him, he thought, breathing hard. She didn't know that, though, didn't know he hadn't even had sex for about six months before her, that he just couldn't be bothered. Basically, she knew nothing about him; he sighed, relief sweeping through him. She knows nothing about you — and he was gonna keep it that way.

Gazing down at her, Damon couldn't resist lowering his head and covering her mouth with his, running his tongue over her soft, inviting lips, then probing deep into the warm interior, tongues twisting and teasing, causing aftershocks of pleasure to spasm through their joined bodies. He didn't want to leave her, wanted to stay inside her and start all over again.

"I didn't think you wanted to — fuck me again," she whispered when he finally dragged his mouth from hers, her fingers moving lazily along his back.

Damon's eyes drooped, his whole body responding to her casual caress. "Why?"

"You seemed in such a hurry to get rid of me the last time we — uh — met," she said softly, still short of breath. "How did your meeting go?"

"What meeting?" He lifted his hand to smooth her hair away from her dampened face, running his thumb from her cheekbone down to her full, swollen mouth.

She laughed, a sexy drunken giggle. "See. I knew you were lying."

Damon suddenly clicked. "Oh — the meeting — last Thursday night," his mind raced for something to say. "I was late, so late I missed the guy."

"Oh dear," her accent was an aphrodisiac to his senses. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be." He ran his hand down her slender side, along the sensual curve of her waist and hip, familiarizing himself with those long, sinuous lines. "Probably a waste of time anyway."

She arched and released a little moan as his hand cupped her breast, rolling her pebbled nipple between his finger and thumb. Still so responsive. He didn't think she realized they'd just had unprotected sex. Probably too drunk to have noticed, but he had to mention it. Dear God, if she was fertile, if she fell pregnant he was fucked!

"Jemma, do you realize we didn't use a condom?" He spoke softly, not wanting to freak her out.

"Oh God!" Her eyes were wide and scared. "Please tell me you haven't given me AIDS."

What fucking cheek! Who the fuck did she think he was? A guy who picks up strange women and fucks them in the back of his car, that's what. Could he blame her for thinking that, even if it wasn't true?

"Fucking hell, woman, do you think I'd do that to you?" he ground out. "How do I know you haven't got AIDS?"

She dragged in a deep breath. "Because I've never done this kind of thing before, that's why!"

"Well, it may surprise you to know I haven't done this kind of thing with anyone else but you in a long time. I don't have AIDS or any other STD's. I've had a full physical recently for insurance purposes." He paused. "I'm more concerned about you getting pregnant."

His stomach knotted at the thought, and he forced himself to withdraw his hardening cock from its warm, wet cocoon, needing to detach himself — physically as well as emotionally — from her. "I'm on the pill," she said, searching his eyes, still not convinced he hadn't given her some kind of disease.

"Why would you be on the pill if you use condoms?" he challenged.

"It's not for sex," she said. "I get — uh — irregular, painful periods, that's why I'm on it."

He believed her, relief flooding through him. Lifting himself completely off her, Damon laid back, resting his head on the car door on his side, his greedy eyes eating her up. Thank God she was on the pill, he didn't have to worry about her getting pregnant. And you can fuck her again — if she'll let you...

"Then we have nothing to worry about, I'm clean, you're clean and you're on the pill." He wasn't sure if she was getting his message, but she seemed to relax.

"As long as you're not lying to me, we should be okay." God, that accent; she sounded like a damn teacher, reprimanding him.

"I don't lie, Jemma," he said. "I may be a lot of things, but I'm not a liar." Yeah like your meeting last Thursday night? He ignored that voice.

"Well, then we should be okay," she agreed.

• • •

Jemma stared at him through half closed lids. She still couldn't believe she was here, in the car with him.

After the last time she had never expected to be back in this car again. He moved and her gaze followed. Unbuttoning his shirt, he smoothed his palm over his gleaming chest, his face filled with masculine satisfaction. Jemma's eyes lowered to his taut abs and hard stomach.

God, but he was beautiful.

As her gaze lowered, she saw the huge head of his penis covering his naval. His cock was fully erect and shining wet with the remains of their coupling; bigger, thicker than ever. She glanced at his face and swallowed hard, he was watching her watching him.

"Like what you see?"

She moistened her lips, too tipsy to lie. "Yes," she whispered.

He lowered his hand and closed his fist around his penis, all the while watching her as he moved his hand up and down, up and down, drawing the skin back, exposing the swollen, bulbous head and glistening glans. Jemma's mouth began to water.

She had never gone down on a man in her life, but he didn't know that. And she wanted him in her mouth now, more than anything else in the world. His hand kept moving slowly, revealing the drooling mouth, the pulsing vein, until the whole long length of it was exposed, inviting and gleaming wet.

She wanted to feel the smooth, throbbing heat of him against her lips, her tongue, deep inside her mouth. The wine gave her courage and she sat up, shrugging off her jacket and pulling the black vest over her head.

His eyes fixed on her breasts, giving her the boldness to continue; she pulled her boots off, one by one. Slipping her jeans and panties down slowly, deliberately spreading her thighs so he could see her sex and the remnants of their fucking.

When she was naked, she knelt down on the car floor. Positioning herself between his spread thighs, Jemma ran her hands from his bent knees to the top of his legs. His jeans were scrunched down around his calves and his bare hips lifted automatically as her hands got close to his swollen shaft. But she moved them back down to his knees, lowering her head and breathing in the erotic, musky scent of their combined juices. Her hair brushed his thighs and he groaned then jerked again, his backside lifting off the seat of the car.

"For fuck's sake, Jemma," he choked. "Just do it — please."

He was holding it in his fist now, away from his stomach, pointing it towards her face, tempting her with the beauty of it.

Jemma ran her hands up close, slowly framing his huge erection, still not touching it. He groaned and jerked his fist down to the base of it, shifting impatiently. She'd read about it, watched how it was done in porn films and now she was finally going to do it. Please God, don't let him realize how green I really am.

Taking a deep breath, she lowered her head and ran her wet tongue slowly along the underside of it, up to the swollen head, swirling her tongue around the drooling slit. Damon growled low in his throat and tried to push it deeper into her mouth, but she pulled back. Loving the sense of desperation coming from him, loving the way his cock felt against her tongue, the skin so silky smooth, yet so hard beneath.

"For fuck's sake, Jemma," he hissed, his fist moving as he sucked air in through his teeth.

Finally Jemma lowered her head and, opening her mouth wide, took the head of his cock inside her watering mouth, suckling with pure, carnal pleasure. The muscles between her legs clenched with need. She would never have believed that going down on a man could be so erotic, but the frantic sounds he was making, together with the sensation of his huge, hot knob inside her mouth, was turning her on like nothing before. She squirmed as her core drenched with desire.

Damon took her hand and placed it where his had been, around the base of it, so hard and thick — thicker than her wrist. How could she possibly get all of it inside her mouth? God, how did those women in the porn films do it? She lowered her head, this time taking the tumescent knob and part of his shaft into her mouth, feeling the tip reach the back of her throat. She pulled back, running her tongue from the pulsing base to the tip and sucking the head back into her mouth.

"Christ — Jemma—"

She opened her eyes and lifted them to his face, still sucking on the distended bulb. Her insides twisted as her gaze met his. His tawny eyes were burning into her, wild and glazed. She popped the head out from between her lips and circled it slowly with her tongue, watching him watching her.

"You love this, don't you?" he breathed, threading his fingers into her hair and cupping her scalp.

She didn't bother to reply — the answer was in her eyes.

Her fist closed around his shaft, moving up and down in unison with her mouth, loving the soft, fine skin covering the rock-hard flesh beneath. She could feel the hard ridges, covered by that fine skin and the thick vein pulsing against her tongue. Lowering her head, she tried to take more of him deeper into her mouth — but God — he was so big, so thick. Tears filled her eyes as the swollen head reached the back of her throat and she gagged, pulling back to take a breath.

His hand was caressing her scalp and she sensed his desire to push, push his cock deep inside, but he controlled the urge and twisted her hair into his fist instead.

"I can't take much more of this, baby," he choked. "I'm gonna have to fuck you again. Playtime's over."

She caressed his thigh with her free hand, feeling torn. One part of her desperate to have him deep inside her again, fucking her long and hard, but she also wanted to continue what she was doing — worshipping his cock with her mouth.

She wanted to take her time, learn how to relax her throat muscles and take it all in, until she felt him come in her mouth, gushing down the back of her throat. But her body squirmed with need, the emptiness between her legs crying out for his attention.

"Enough, Jemma!" He slid his hands beneath her shoulders and lifted her up, ignoring her cry of protest.

Damon set her down hard on the car seat, spreading her legs wide and kneeling between them on the floor of the car. His erection sprung high between his thighs; long, thick and aggressively ready. Jemma's inner muscles clenched at the sight of it and she quashed the shiver of alarm that threatened to overtake her. Her sex was creamed and oozing with his semen, which should've made it easier, but she was still a little sore, her body unaccustomed to such a large and rough penetration. But this time she knew there was no holding back, she'd pushed him too far with her teasing mouth.

"I need to get inside you now!"

Dragging her backside to the edge of the seat, he grabbed his cock in his fist and without hesitation, forced the swollen head into her sensitive opening.

Without giving her a chance to breathe, he rammed the whole length deep into her streaming sex. Jemma released a long cry of pleasurable pain, but he didn't hesitate, just pulled out and rammed it in again. By the third stroke she felt that now familiar pull of orgasm, sucking her in and under with each forceful penetration, then exploding with a hot gush of ecstasy, shockwaves reverberating through her.

"That's right," Damon gasped. "Come for me, baby."

She sobbed as the orgasm continued to wrench through her body, unable to subside as he continued to pound into her, just fast enough to keep her convulsing with each tormenting grind.

"God, you're so tight," he groaned. "Do you know how hard it is not to come when I'm inside you?"

Jemma couldn't answer, her body over-dosed on pleasure. Legs spread wide, her hands gripped the bunched muscles of his shoulders beneath his shirt. Sobbing and shaking, she felt drugged with pleasure, her body a rag-doll for him to do with as he liked.

"Damon — please," she begged, her body unable to withstand much more of this sensual assault.

"I'm not finished with you," the words were torn from him. "I want you to come again; I want you to milk me dry."

He lifted her legs, moving faster, pounding into her, and Jemma felt that coiled spring snap and explode again. She felt his cock expand, hard as rock, and then the warm flood of his semen, spurting deep within her, overflowing as he continued to move.

Finally, Damon collapsed on top of her, his face moist between her breasts, his breathing interrupted by harsh groans. Her hands explored the taut muscles of his shoulders and back beneath his shirt. He moved his head drowsily and began to suckle at her breast, licking and nibbling, then sucking hard, sending darts of pleasure from her nipple to her sex. With his cock still deep inside her, Jemma wrapped her legs tightly around him, amazed at what this man could do to her...

Eventually her breathing returned to normal, glowing in the aftermath of her orgasm, and loving the heavy weight of his body against hers. He'd taken his time at her breast and then went to work on other one, leaving her languid and weak, drenched in the aftermath of his ruthless seduction.

It was a long time before either of them moved.

Eventually Jemma opened her eyes. "I love this car," she murmured almost to herself, gazing lazily around at the size and character of the vehicle. It suited him to perfection.

"Really," Damon leaned back and looked at her, his golden eyes alive with boyish excitement. "Do you wanna go for a spin?"

"A spin?" Her face lit up. "Like right now?"

"Why not — you got somewhere to be?"

"No. I'd love to go for a — spin."

Chapter Four

They drove out into the desert and Jemma felt like a child being given a special treat. Damon had pressed a button that released the hood and suddenly the warm Vegas wind was whipping through her hair. He'd given her tissues to clean herself up, once again, and she'd put her clothes back on while he'd gone back into the club to tell his friend, Jake, to get a taxi home as they wouldn't be coming back.

Was she crazy, driving into the desert with a virtual stranger? He could easily murder her and leave her body in this huge desert where no one would ever find her. She laughed out loud and he glanced over at her, looking like a film star with the wind in his hair, one hand on the big steering wheel, the other bent over the car door.

"What?"His smile was relaxed and sexy as hell.

"I was just thinking," she had to shout over the roar of the wind. "You could murder me and dump my body in the desert. After all, I hardly know you."

He laughed; that gorgeous, husky laugh. "Okay, as long as I get to rape you first."

"Damon!" She slapped his arm, pretending to be shocked; he had a wicked sense of humor.

She could tell he loved driving, loved this car, and she wondered idly about his life. Did he have a job, a wife, kids? Her stomach clenched. Casual sex was one thing, but sex with a married man was a no-go for her. She had to know...

"Are you married?"

He threw his head back and laughed. "Would it make any difference if I was?"

He slowed down and took a left turn off the main highway onto a gravelly road, taking them deeper into the desert.

"Yes, it would," she stated, emphatically.

He laughed again, obviously enjoying himself. "You sound like an old maid."

"And you still haven't answered my question."

He glanced at her, then back at the dark, narrow road ahead. "No, I'm not married." He could've been lying, but she decided to believe him. "Never have been, and don't plan to be." He paused, the car slowing down as the road became rougher. "How about you?"

"Me?"

"Are you married?"

She leaned her head back and smiled. "No. Like you, marriage is not for me."

He brought the car to a halt at the end of the narrow road beside a dried up tree and some bushes. Yet it was beautiful, the arid landscape contrasting with the rich velvet star-studded sky. She lifted her head, hypnotized by its magnificence. Stretching her legs, she felt something knocking against the toe of her boot.

"Oh, look what I found." She lifted the bottle of Vodka, half full, from the floor of the car.

"Shit." Damon lowered his head; he too had been looking at the sky. "I forgot about that, trust you to find it."

"Do you mind?" She screwed open the lid and took a sniff. It smelled strong and inviting. Without waiting for his reply, she lifted the open bottle to her mouth and took a small, careful sip of the raw spirit. Eyes watering, she took another bigger slug, coughing hard. It took her a minute to get her breath back. The neat Vodka spread through her body, leaving her feeling warm, uninhibited and free.

"Haven't you had enough for one night?"

She turned her challenging gaze on him, his eyes darkened and dropped to her mouth as she circled the open bottle with her tongue. "I'm feeling reckless tonight..."

"Is that why you came back to the bar?"

Jemma decided to take another swig of the Vodka. "Maybe."

"So you were looking to get screwed again?"

She felt a stab of anger, recalling their last time together, how eager he'd been to get rid of her after he'd fucked her brains out. "And what if I was?"

He moved in a blur, pinning her to the seat, his fingers digging painfully into her shoulders. "So you were gonna screw that kid!" It was not a question.

"What the fuck is it to you anyway?" she swore. His feline eyes held no expression, cold as ice, but the Vodka was making her brave. "You made it clear you were finished with me the last time we fucked." Her voice rose. "You couldn't wait to get rid of me!"

He smiled, an unpleasant smile, shaking his head. "So that's what this is about then."

"I don't know what you're on about," she said softly, honestly.

Why did he keep going on about the guy at the bar? Sure she'd been talking to him, but she'd had no intention of having sex with him. And anyway what business was it of Damon's? His hand shifted from her shoulder to circle her throat and unease seeped into her bones, her joke about him dumping her body in the desert not seeming quite so funny now...

• • •

Damon stared into those wary, blue eyes; seeming so open and real. He caressed the soft, warm skin at her throat, feeling violently horny. He didn't want to hurt her and he was damn sure sex with pain was not her thing... But God knew, he couldn't get enough of her.

"Christ!" He threw himself back over to his side of the car, searching for his cigarettes.

Eventually he found them on the floor behind him. Climbing out of the car, he lit up, dragging the smoke deep into his lungs. He heard her door open then close behind him and glanced over his shoulder. She was leaning back against the passenger door, taking another swig of the Vodka and staring up at the stars. He followed her gaze, looking up at the sky, puzzled over what it was about her that made him so mad — like he wanted to strangle her and fuck her at the same time. He smiled, recalling what she had said about him murdering her and dumping her body in the desert.

"What's so funny?" She had turned around and was watching him.

"Nothing."

She took another swig of the Vodka and coughed. He felt like demanding that she stop drinking, but it was not his call to make; as long as she didn't throw up in his car — that would really piss him off.

She walked around the bonnet and stopped in front of him, holding the bottle out. "Do you want some?"

He shook his head. "I'm driving."

She tilted her head to one side in that way of hers, as if contemplating the secrets of the universe. "You don't strike me as the type to let that worry you."

"I worry about losing my license, or ending up in prison—" He almost said again, but didn't want to open that can of worms.

She took another swig and coughed. "How very sensible of you, Damon."

Goddamn, that accent — and the way she said his name. He was getting hard and he really didn't want to go there, not with her in the state she was in. But then she leant into him, taking him by surprise, her hips pushing him back against the door of the car, her free hand reaching round his neck, threading her fingers into his hair. His breathing kicked up a notch as she tugged at his hair, sweet, hot pleasure darting down from his neck to his back and his crotch.

Leaning in close, her mouth was hot against his ear. "I want to suck your cock again," she breathed. "I want you to come in my mouth."

Damon's legs buckled as she circled her hips against his, a soft moan warming his ear.

"God you just can't get enough, can you?" He tried to fight the aching lust, pissed that she never failed to turn him on so hard and fast.

"Of you — no," she whispered, running her fingernails along the back of his neck.

The sensible thing to do would be to dump her drunken ass back in the car and drive her home, wherever that was. 'Cause he was in a dirty fucking mood and horny as hell, not a good combination. But he wasn't gonna do that, the sensible side of him was not making the decisions tonight.

With raw aggression he grabbed the Vodka bottle from her hand and threw it into the desert night.

"You pig!" She lifted her hand and slapped him.

Damon's fists clenched instinctively. He couldn't believe it — she had actually fucking slapped him!

"You shouldn't have done that, Jemma," he said in a soft voice and she backed away, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.

"I — I'm sorry—"

His hands shot out; in one move he twisted her around and bent her face down over the front side of the Caddy, arms stretched above her head, like a cop about to frisk her.

"Much as I'd love to come in your mouth, baby," he breathed softly from behind, "I'm pissed as hell now and I wouldn't want to choke you with it."

She tried to fight him but it was impossible, and every time she squirmed her butt rubbed against his aching erection, leaving him even more sexed up. He covered her body with his, pushing her down onto the curved bonnet of the car, grabbing her wrists and making it impossible for her to move her arms.

They were both breathless by now, her from struggling and him from the thrill of holding her powerless beneath him, wanting to punish her for slapping him, and everything else she'd put him through...

He was actually glad she'd slapped him. Besides enjoying the pain, it gave him permission to get back at her and he was gonna make the most of it. Clasping her wrists in one hand, Damon fisted her hair with the other, forcing her head to the side while grinding his erection into her ass.

As she gasped and trembled beneath him, his hand moved insolently beneath her jacket and vest, fondling the smooth, warm skin of her back. He stroked her body lazily, taking his time, ignoring his heart pumping in his chest.

"Oh baby, you shouldn't have slapped me," he said thickly. "Now, what am I gonna do with you?"

"I said I was sorry," she whimpered.

Not bothering to answer, he moved his fingers round to the front of her jeans, popping the button and dragged down the zipper. Forcing himself to take it slow now that he had her exactly where he wanted her.

"Damon — wait—" she gulped, but he guessed the alcohol would stop her from going into a total panic. "What are you doing?"

He shoved her jeans and panties down in one swift motion. "Oh Jemma, baby," he murmured. "Don't you worry about what I'm gonna do — you just lay back and enjoy the ride."

Her ass looked pale and perfect in the moonlight, his hand itching to slap it. She struggled to lift herself, but he pushed her back down, pulling at her wrists and stretching her tight. Her breath coming in short, sweet gasps.

"Now, don't move, Okay?"

She didn't answer, just continued sucking in air.

"I said, don't move, do you understand?"

"Yes!" she croaked and Damon smiled to himself.

He spread her thighs apart with his knee, lifting his booted foot and placing it at the crotch of her jeans, forcing them down to her ankles with one shove.

God, she looked incredible from this angle. Her legs were sublime, long and curved, sweeping up to those sleek, strong thighs and inviting ass, just begging to be fucked hard. Her legs couldn't open as wide as he'd like them to, her jeans restricting them at the ankles, but it would have to do.

He let her wrists go. "If you move I'm gonna slap your ass, hard," he told her softly. "So keep your arms where they are."

Heart kicking with hardcore excitement, Damon crouched down, running his hands along each calf, savoring the smooth, soft skin, before moving higher. Reaching the back of her knees, he swept his palms up to explore that perfectly rounded ass. His breathing quickened as he caressed each cheek, fighting the temptation to slap her and watch them turn pink and hot. Instead, he slipped one hand between her legs and cupped her slick pussy.

"Oh baby," he broke out in a sweat. "You are so wet. You like it rough, don't you?"

She was sobbing softly now, her body trembling. "Answer me, baby," he ran his finger inside her soaked slit and she moaned. "Tell me you like it rough?"

"Yes," she choked, her sex moving against his finger.

"Yes, what?" He circled her clit. "Tell me or I'm gonna stop."

She drew in a ragged breath. "Yes — I — like it rough." A loud cry escaped her as he shoved two fingers inside that tight, streaming, hot cunt of hers.

She was ready to come, but he wasn't going to allow that, not yet. So he withdrew his fingers, loving the way she sobbed in frustration. Unable to resist, he slid those wet fingers up to her sweet, tempting asshole, circling the tight, puckered skin with his slick fingers. She stiffened, but he ignored it.

"You've got a beautiful ass, you know," he murmured idly, running his finger up and down, from her wet sex to her tight asshole. "God, I'd love to fuck your ass."

Her buttocks clenched immediately, pressing tight against his finger.

"No!" There was real panic in her voice. "Damon — please — don't!"

He let out a strangled laugh, moving his hand back down to cup her smooth sex. "Don't panic, baby," he soothed. "I'm not into sodomising virgins."

Her body relaxed a little and he went back to work on her pussy. God knew; she was tight enough down there to keep him more than happy.

His cock was straining against his jeans, wanting out and inside her, now. He popped the buttons open and they fell to his knees, his cock springing free, desperate for relief. He'd had her twice tonight and yet he felt like a teenager getting it for the first time, and he didn't like it, as much as he wanted it.

Easing one hand under her vest, he caressed the smooth skin of her back, her body bent taut over the car. He could feel the sides of her tits beneath her underarms, pushed up hard against the metal. It wasn't a comfortable position, but when he grabbed his throbbing cock and rubbed it against her cleft, she let out a long moan and circled her hips invitingly. She was back on track and he couldn't wait another second.

"Oh baby, you are so ready," his voice shook.

Somehow, he managed to locate her tight, moist opening with his cock. A strangled groan escaped him as he pushed his knob inside, feeling her muscles close hungrily around it. His hips jerked and he thrust the whole pulsing length into her, swearing out loud into the desert.

In to the hilt, he could feel her firm ass against his pelvis. Pulling out just a little, he rammed himself into her again. She let out one of those high-pitched wails and he began to move.

To his satisfaction her cunt tightened and quivered around his cock within seconds as he continued to pump into her. His hands were all over her now, moving from her hips to her ass then up her back to those tits pressed hard against the car. He reached her shoulders and curved his hands over them, pushing down every time he thrust into her, getting in even deeper. She was thrashing about in the throes of orgasm, and he wasn't about to let her down. He wanted her to come over and over again.

He could feel his cock expanding, her muscles sucking and pulling him in even deeper. God, he didn't want to come — it was too good — too good to end just yet. He gasped for air and forced himself to slow down, pulling out and then thrusting in hard, keeping the pace as steady as he possibly could. She was going crazy beneath him, wanting more, wanting it all, and somehow that gave him the control he needed to keep them both on the edge.

"Oh God — Damon," she was begging as he ground himself into her, feeling her ass pushing back against him. "Oh God! Please." The words were wrenched from her, her trembling body flush against his.

Damon swore savagely. Her voice, her body, her pleasure, was pushing him over the edge and he grabbed her hips. She felt boneless, like putty in his hands. Throwing back his head he pounded into her as wave after wave of sweet bliss exploded through him. His orgasm went on and on, knees buckling, he leaned over her as his legs gave way. He braced his arms on either side of her, his hips still pounding mindlessly into her. His chest felt like it was gonna explode but he couldn't stop. Slamming himself against her firm butt, feeling his warm, wet cum oozing out as he ground into her.

Finally, the convulsions eased, and he collapsed on top of her, running his hands up her body, from her thighs and waist, all the way to her outstretched arms and wrists, threading his fingers into hers.

His breathing eventually slowed, but his brain was fuzzy, drunk with pleasure. He couldn't get enough of her, that warm, damp skin covering tight, sleek muscle. He could spend all night just touching her, caressing her, getting to know every nuance of her body while his cock stayed buried deep inside her. It was heaven, but it scared the hell out of him.

"Jemma?" Her body felt warm and limp beneath him.

The side of her head was still pressed against the bonnet of the car, but facing the opposite direction now. She must have moved during all the fucking and thrashing about.

"Jemma, you okay?" He felt a prickle of concern — she was so quiet. Had he worked her too hard? God, he'd been so out of control, what if he'd hurt her in some way?

"Jemma, baby, wake up."

He pulled out of her abruptly, lifting himself off her, his cock dripping onto the desert sand. Lightly he caressed her lower back, but she didn't move and icy dread ate into him, his blood running cold through his veins.

Suddenly she lifted her head, turning to face the other way.

"Jus' ti'ed," she murmured drunkenly and pure, warm relief saturated him.

He smoothed her hair out of her face with shaking fingers and allowed himself a few minutes to breathe, to lose the panic that had suffused him. What was it about this fucking woman? He stared up at the starlit sky, searching for an answer.

After gently pulling her panties and jeans up again, Damon lifted her into his arms and carried her round to the passenger side like a sleeping baby. He managed to open the car door and lay her softly down, buckling the seatbelt. She muttered his name and curled up on her side, tucking her legs beneath her.

He drove slowly back to his place with the hood up, just in case she got cold in her drunken stupor. After his earlier scare, he was gonna make sure she woke up tomorrow with nothing more serious than a bad hangover.

*****

End of Part One

The story continues in

Going Solo
Part Two: Casual Car Affair

Coming Soon!

From Storm Stone!

About Storm Stone

Storm Stone loves reading and writing what she calls 'Hard-Core Romance'. She lives in the beautiful city of Cape Town, with her Italian, 'hero' husband and young adult daughter.

Writing has been a hobby of hers for many years, an escape from the trials of everyday life. As a child she wanted to become a nun, but all that changed when she began reading Mills & Boon as a young teenager.

Reading created the desire to travel, and she moved to London at the height of the apartheid domination of South Africa. Here she met her husband, and together they travelled, extensively through Asia, living a hippy lifestyle.

Now, with a grown-up daughter, and a much more sedate lifestyle, she still sees herself as an 'old hippy' who likes to, sometimes, travel over to the wild-side through her reading and writing.

Coming Soon from Storm Stone

Going Solo

Part 2: Casual Car Affair

Jemma opened her eyes and groaned, her head pounding. Her eyes slowly focused on white walls and — a high ceiling? The ceiling at her motel was low, too low. Where the hell was she?

A door opened and Damon walked in, naked, rubbing his damp, darkened hair with a towel.

"Where am I?" she croaked, her mouth feeling dry and yucky.

He glanced over at her and Jemma saw his cool amber eyes in daylight for the first time.

"You're at my place." He wrapped the towel around his naked hips, dragging his fingers through his hair. "You passed out last night, so I brought you here."

Jemma stared at the beautiful form of male perfection facing her. The sunlight streamed in through the long windows, revealing his smooth, golden-brown skin.

His sensual mouth was a straight line surrounded by sexy stubble, his gaze flat and unreadable. Not exactly a happy camper. But Jemma could not control her hungry eyes; tanned skin covered lean, well-defined muscle, like that of an athlete. A tattoo of what looked like an eagle was inked into his left shoulder and dark hair arrowed down from his navel, disappearing below the white towel wrapped low on his hips.

A rush of heat washed over her, lust replacing the achy hangover she'd woken up with.

"We don't have time for sex now," he stated coolly. "There's some Advil and water next to the bed. I suggest you take two and drink as much water as you can."

Jemma felt like a child who'd been extremely naughty and was waiting for her punishment. She tried to remember what she'd done wrong, her mind skirting over the details of the night before becoming blurred around the time that they'd parked in the desert and she'd started drinking the vodka. Oh God, the Vodka. No wonder she felt like crap!

She shifted herself up in the large bed, relieved to see that she still had her vest on. "Look, Damon, I'm sorry if I've — inconvenienced you but if you'll just call me a taxi I'll be out of your hair and on my way in no time."

He turned his muscular, brown back on her and opened one of the built-in cupboards that lined one side of the room. A movement caught her eye, for a moment she feared there was someone else in the room with them. But it was just her own reflection, one of the cupboard doors was covered by a long mirror.

God, she looked like crap! Her hair was all over the place, the mascara she'd applied the night before smudged beneath her eyes like the bride of Frankenstein.

"Don't worry, you still look quite fuckable," Damon pulled on a white T-shirt and reached for a pair of jeans from the cupboard. "We don't have the time, though. My mother's on her way over."

"Your mother!"

He dropped the towel and Jemma swallowed hard. He was semi-erect, his cock long and thick between strong, brown legs. Pulling the jeans on, he buttoned the fly, watching her.

"We don't have the time," he repeated. "She'll be here in about fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen minutes!" Jemma gripped the sheet and pulled her knees up to her chin. "I need to get out of here — now."

"Calm down, she doesn't bite," he straightened the waistband of those low slung jeans and Jemma's core clenched. "She's just a pain in the ass, that's all."

Walking toward another door beside the long windows, he opened it and hesitated. "Take the tablets, have a shower. You'll feel better," he said, walking out the door. "I'll make us some coffee."

And then he was gone, closing the door behind him.

Jemma stared around the bedroom, her mind in turmoil. His mother was coming and, much as she'd like to, she simply couldn't hide out here in the bedroom like a frightened mouse. Throwing off the crisp white sheet she climbed slowly out of the bed, feeling dizzy and anxious.

She still had her panties on, but they felt disgusting, stiff and dry. God, sex with men was so much messier than going solo. But you didn't mind the mess last night, a snide voice reminded her.

Her jeans were lying at the bottom of the bed, one leg dragging on the polished wooden floor. Jemma felt like crying; how could she go out there and face his mother looking like a tramp? She swallowed back the tears when she saw her jacket hanging over a chair in the corner with her boots and socks placed neatly side by side beneath the chair.

If you can't make it, fake it, her mother always said, so that's what she'd have to do.

After taking the two Advils, she made her way to the bathroom. There were fresh, white towels stacked on a shelf and thankfully she spotted a comb beside the sink. The bathroom was all white, huge and surprisingly modern. Why was she surprised? What kind of place had she expected Damon to live in? Something shabby and untidy? Maybe — yes. But this place was neither shabby nor untidy.

Sure, water was splattered on the tiled floor and around the basin, but that was because he'd just used it. There was also a huge mirror above the sink, which Jemma avoided like the plague.

Stripping off her vest and panties, she threw the soiled underwear onto the floor of the shower and stepped inside, sighing with pleasure as warm water sprayed out of the large square shower-head above her. Jemma grabbed the bar of soap and closed her eyes, the soap smelt of him. She couldn't resist rubbing it all over her body, breathing in his scent, heat hitting her right between her legs, leaving her weak and breathless. Get a grip, Jem, you don't have time for this!

Reaching for the shampoo, she tried to reign in her wayward body. She was going to have to face his mother, for God's sake. But the shampoo had the same effect as the soap, every time she took a breath it felt like her body was absorbing him. Turning the shower onto cool, she tried her best to rinse the sensual, masculine scents from her hair and skin. She could still smell him every time she breathed, but the cool water did help, taking the edge off her craving body.

*****

Dear Reader,

Thank you for reading Going Solo: Part One: Casual Car Sex! Many books thrive or perish based on reviews or a lack thereof. Please consider posting an honest review on the site you purchased this book from and/or on Goodreads.

In these challenging times, when many of us are now forced to stay home and self-isolate, we need to share with others the little things that give us pleasure.

In the words of Mark Coker and Smashwords:

"It is the hope of our authors that you, your friends, and your family might find redemptive strength, comfort, and enjoyment from their books.

If you discover a new favorite author during the sale, consider showing your appreciation by purchasing and reading their other books. The 140,000 authors that publish at Smashwords come from every country and community around the globe. They're your friends and neighbors."

Thanks again,

Storm Stone

*****

Connect with Storm Stone:  
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Email: storm.stone121@gmail.com

Podcast:  
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*****

