Heat up your weekend with this steamy excerpt from Casual Car Sex, part one of an eight-part serial by Storm Stone! Want to read the whole story? Click here to purchase your copy.
“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.