Flock (The Ravenhood)

“They were all in my family, my uncle collected them, and when he died, we restored them. That’s how we all got started fixing cars.”

“They’re so rare. Aren’t you

guys ever afraid to wreck them?”

“What’s the point of having something if you don’t use it?”

“Good point,” I say, securing the ancient seatbelt around my waist and run my finger over the SS on the wheel. Doubt creeps in and he drowns it out, his reassurance falling easy from his lips. He’s not nervous, which makes me less so.

“It’s just a car. Easy on the turns, these weren’t made for mountain roads.”

“That’s true, so why do you drive them?”

A flash of teeth. “Because we fucking can.”

I shake my head at the pride in his eyes.

“You’re such a man.”

“Thank you. Now, you’ll get used to the give on the wheel, but take your time in figuring it out.”

I nod, studying the gear shift and frowning. “This isn’t like the one I learned on.”

“Take it slow,” he says, running a finger over the hand I have on the shift, “we’ve got all the time in the world.”

I grin over at him, and my breath gets stolen by his expression, the thump in my chest a sign of growing invitation. The cabin fills with tension, the good kind, as he rests comfortably on his side of the car.

“Ready?”

“So fucking ready,” he murmurs, before pulling his hand away.

Within a few grinding seconds of the clutch and a wince on my part, we’re off.

Sean guides me through the first few minutes, his voice gentle and assuring as he helps me navigate my way through the winding roads. Once we’re safely away from sharp turns, I give it some gas, and he gives me a few more pointers, while I memorize the clutch pattern.

“You’ve got it.”

“Not quite.”

“No,” he says, running a hand down my shoulder. “You’ve got it. Open it up.” I shiver under his touch and glance over at him catching his wink in the dim cabin.

Music thrums low through the speakers and Sean lifts from where he sits, turning the dial on the dash. “Good one,” is all he says as he cuts all communication letting me know the lesson is over and I’m on my own.

The Black Crowes begin to bellow, “She Talks to Angels,” as I’m granted my freedom, and I take it, anxious for the high. Between the music and steady buzz of the car, my whole body erupts in goosebumps. I can feel the smile on my face as the wind whips through my hair.

We’re flying, my heart soaring as I switch gears, surprising myself with the ease in the transition before I hammer the gas.

Sean doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move next to me, his trust mine as I begin to sing along with the lyrics, with him. I’m somewhere between screaming and singing when his fingers push away the thick hair at the nape of my neck and stroke down my arm. Senses heightened, my body sighs into his caress. He covers my neck, my arm, and slides his hand down to where his hand covers mine on the gearshift before drifting back up, and then he strokes my chin with his knuckle. My pulse skips when he slides the spaghetti strap of my sundress down, his fingertips ghosting over my skin.

My lips part at the touch, as I begin to slow and peek over at him. One second passes, then another, before I’m turning onto one of a dozen deserted roads and shoving the gear into neutral and pulling the brake. We sit there, feet apart, his fingers stroking, coaxing me into a frenzy as I wait.

“Look at you,” his voice needy and urgent.

“Sean,” I moan hoarsely, already soaked as his fingers draw me further under his spell.

Hesitation coils off him, and I can clearly feel it as he toys with me, leaving me wanton and on the verge of snapping.

The tension builds along with the heartbeat at my core as my eyes implore him to do precisely what he’s thinking. I see the decision in his eyes a second before he says, “Fuck it.” In the next, I’m in his arms for a breath before we collide. His kiss is anything but gentle as he pushes his tongue past my lips and wholly explores my mouth with deep thrusts. It’s as if every look, every touch, every subtle exchange has led us up to this moment. Rightfully starved, I allow my hands to roam, gripping the T-shirt at his biceps as he pulls me flush to him, and I lift my leg and straddle him, wanting to get closer, the rush of adrenaline clashing with insatiable need. We kiss and kiss, alone in the car on a nameless road, hearts hammering, our fast breaths mingling as he hikes my dress up to my hip and I grind on his lap, licking into his mouth, tracing his piercing with my tongue.