She sits up and slides back along the bench seat, smoothing her sleek mahogany hair that falls in a curtain to midwaist. She’s so incredibly gorgeous. All soft edges and beautiful curves, and I tell myself—as I do nearly every hour of every day—that I’m a lucky fucker. It’s taking everything I’ve got not to pull to the side of the road and fuck her limp, but it’s the middle of the night, and as much as I want her, she’s too precious for me to let anything happen to her. I reposition my cock into as comfortable position as I can manage and zip up; the next twenty minutes are going to kill me.
“C’mere.” I move my arm so Emily can slide into the crook.
She doesn’t accept my invitation though. Instead, she turns and smiles at me, and something about her smile seems off. The familiar twinge I’ve been feeling lately niggles in my gut. I don’t know what exactly is bothering me—just something nagging at the back of my mind. There’s been something different about Emily, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. Things have been intense, and settling into our new life now that we’ve hit it big has been an adjustment, so I keep thinking maybe it’s that. I’m hoping when things quiet down, I can take her away for a couple of days and we can settle back into our old routine. From my peripheral vision, I see her biting her lip and running her hands up the inside of her thighs. She’s wearing a short black layered skirt which reaches to about midthigh with a fitted red tank. Coupled with knee-high boots, she’s incredibly sexy. Her long nails trail up the inside of her thighs slowly, and it’s a challenge to keep my eyes on the road.
That challenge becomes near impossible when I see her fingers slip into her panties and she lets out a sigh that’s barely audible over the roar of the engine.
I let out a nervous chuckle. “What are you doing?”
“Having some fun.” She lifts her hips slightly off the seat and moans. “Do you want to see how wet I am?”
I groan, but the sound barely makes it past my dry throat. I flick my gaze to Emily as she places her feet as wide apart as she can get them on my dash. I can’t see exactly what the deal is, but by the sounds she’s making, I’d bet my left nut she’s just pushed her fingers inside her pussy. “See how wet I am for you, baby?” She confirms my suspicions by showing me her soaked fingers illuminated by the dash.
“Fuck!” The word rushes out my mouth as every ounce of oxygen is sucked out of me.
She lifts her fingers to her mouth and sucks the juices coating her skin. “Hmmm, I taste good. No wonder you want to eat me out all the time.”
My nerves amp up. This isn’t like Emily, and there’s something not right about this whole situation. She goes back to sliding her fingers inside her pussy and moaning softly. The soft mewling sounds coming from her lips are fucking torture, and my cock is relentless in its attempt to free itself from my jeans. I shift in my seat and flick my gaze to her again. Her fingers are thrusting in and out of her pussy, and she’s rubbing furiously at her clit with her other hand.
Then I hear it—the hiccup in her breath, the catch in her throat, and the sobs that tear from her chest. She places her feet back down and tugs at her skirt.
“Em? Angel? What’s wrong?” I look for a place to pull over so I can hold her and talk to her, but there’s no shoulder.
“I can’t do it. I can’t do this for you, Kade. I’m sorry. I’ve tried. I’m trying to be more for you, but I can’t.”
My gut twists. Emily is fun and sassy and sexy to dangerous degrees in bed, but the one thing she’s always had an issue with is touching herself in front of me. It’s something she’s self-conscious about, and I’m trying to get her out of it. She’s fucking gorgeous, so gorgeous it hurts to look at her sometimes, and when she comes, she is out of this world. But I don’t want her to fuck herself out of some voyeuristic fantasy. (Although I have jacked off to the thought a time or two during the tour.) I want her to be free, let go of her inhibitions, trust me enough to be more vulnerable than she’ll ever be in her life. But I also want that to be something she does for herself and only if she’s comfortable.
I clear my throat. “I only want that if you want it, Em. You know that.”
“I bet all your groupies would gladly spread themselves for you, show you how deep they can take it.” Her sobs intensify.
Fuuck! I need to pull over.
“I bet the girl you were whispering sweet things to tonight is thinking of you right now. I bet you’d like to be there when she comes screaming your name.”
I round the bend and let out a relieved breath when I see a shoulder. Pulling over, I unbuckle my seat belt and scoot over. Taking Emily into my arms, I hold her as she cries, marking my shirt and my heart with her tears. This isn’t like Emily; she’s never been jealous, and suddenly it all makes sense. The shift I’ve felt in
