She folds her arms over her chest, pushing her tits up higher as she gets comfortable in my car. I knew I should have kept my fucking eyes closed because they immediately go straight to her tits. This is absolute hell and I know it is only the beginning of my torture. To have something so close that you want but can’t have. I’ve never experienced such a thing.
“I’m not going back,” she huffs.
She’ll be lucky if I let her go anywhere, I think to myself and not out loud. I don’t want her screaming again. At least not in fear. Next time she screams it will be as she’s coming on my cock.
3
Delilah
I peek over at Drake Weston, knowing it was him from the moment he said my dad called him. There is no one else in New York my dad knows, so this has to be him. I thought he’d be older, with the way he and my dad talk on the phone sometimes. Dad is old enough to be his father too. They seem to share a special bond and I know my dad is very fond of him. He speaks highly of him, which shows me that my dad has a lot of respect for him.
I lick my lips, trying to see if I can still taste him on them. I can still feel how his mouth felt on mine, but the taste of him is gone. I wish it would have lasted longer. That was way too fast for a first kiss. Although it only lasted a split second, I will remember it for a lifetime.
I’m curious to know what Dad would think if he knew Drake Weston kissed me. I think about asking Weston about how he thinks my dad would react to the news that he kissed the crap out of me. I decide against bringing up my dad because I want him to kiss me again. I don’t need to keep reminding him of my dad and the reason he came looking for me to begin with. I peek over at him and he looks pissed. Pissed is actually an understatement of how he looks right now. He looks madder than a bull in a rodeo.
Mr. Weston can join the freaking club on being pissed. I’m not exactly sure what I’m mad about. It’s either that I know he isn’t going to touch me again or that my dad sent someone to collect me. Regardless of which of these things are making me mad, I’m not going to put up with any shit from Drake Weston. He can shove his anger where the sun don’t shine.
I try and hold on to my anger but every time I glance over at him and as the seconds tick by it slowly fades away. I was never good at staying mad. I’ve always thought it was a fault of mine. Sometimes it feels like a weakness, but it is who I am. My sweet blood, as Ma always calls it, will not allow me to hold on to anger. Even sitting in this car right now thinking of how my parents sent this big brute in a suit to come and get me isn’t making me angry. I want to be angry with them, but the thought of how much they were probably worrying about me pushes that frustration to the side. I didn’t want them to be upset but what was I supposed to do? They would have never given me their blessing. I felt as if this was my only choice.
As Grams always said, I needed to shit or get off the pot. If I wanted to go see New York then I just had to go and do it. Deal with the fallout. It’s better to ask forgiveness than permission.
“Will you talk to him?” I look over at Weston. It now feels odd thinking of him by his last name when he’s not my dad’s age. Between the two of us I know Drake would be more likely to talk my dad into letting me stay. That thought has me forming a plan within seconds of how I’m going to stay in New York City.
I clip off the seatbelt Drake put over me when I’d folded my arms over my chest and stated that I wasn’t leaving. It oddly felt like he was agreeing with me when the seatbelt clicked into place. His arm brushed against my breast when he moved to go back to his side of the car. My nipple instantly hardened with his brief touch. Maybe this is why I sat there so mad for so long.
I know that he saw my nipple pucker when he put that seatbelt on me. He muttered a few choice words that would make any normal girl blush. I’m not just any girl, though. I’ve heard worse from the farmhands back home. I have to fight the smile that is trying to form on my face and keep up my determined look. I am not going anywhere and if he is trying to scare me away with his vulgar words, he has another thing coming. It is having the opposite effect on me. Every time he whispers something filthy or looks at my tits for a second longer than he should, it makes me want to stay even more.