Danger (The Driven World)

Ugh. I stand up, and yank the towel from his hands. “You’re a pig.” I stomp into the bathroom, not really sure what I was thinking.

I thought it was a game. And I just lost. I wanted Danger to say no, push me away, know that I’m not one of his slutty women he can do whatever he wants with and never speak of it again.

I’m his girlfriend. Even if it is pretend, he needs to respect me a little. He needs to know that this thing between us can never go there.

There will never be any sex. No kissing. No touching me under my skirt as he speeds down the interstate.

And never any oral.

It just can’t happen between us.

I turn the water on, angrily, and step into the shower, wondering if I’ll make it the next few weeks pretending to be Danger’s girl.

Why can’t he just play by the rules?

It’s not like the rules are hard to follow. Just be normal. No partying. No women. No drugs. No...well, I guess no fun.

There’s other ways to have fun.

I do a quick wash of my body and when I’m done I turn off the water and dry off. Once I’m fully dressed I step out into the room and realize it’s empty.

God dammit, Danger.

Chapter 11

Danger

Ever heard the expression you get what you ask for? Well, sometimes what you ask for isn’t the thing you need. Fuck, I wanted Monterey to suck my dick so badly. I never expected her to go through with it though. I felt like we were playing a game of chicken, and she moved first.

I don’t think I would have let her go through with sucking me off right there in the sleazy hotel we were in.

I mean, don’t get me wrong. I fucking wanted it. But not like that.

The thought of her in the shower pushed me out the room for fear of busting down the door and kissing her senseless before I fucked her silly.

So, I left and searched for a bar. Didn’t have to go far either before I found the little dive bar behind the hotel.

I step inside, checking out the joint before making my way to the bar on the right side of the space. “Miller Light,” I say to the bartender, knowing full well this isn’t the type of place to find a specialty type of beer. I’m sure a Miller Light might be pushing it.

“Got Bud Light, does that work, gorgeous?” the older lady says behind the oak bar.

“Perfect.” I just need something cold and fizzy to calm my nerves.

The small joint is made up of nothing but wood. Wood walls, wood bar, even has a hardwood flooring under wicker bar stools. There’s barely any light, and a few pool tables in the back I can barely make out through all the smoke from cigars and cigarettes.

The bartender pops the cap off my beer and slides it across the top of the bar. I pick it up and suck down a big portion of it, hoping it can calm me down.

Like I said, the moment Monterey lowered herself to her knees I was a goner.

I’m glad she got up before I could stop her. Because right now, I’m not really sure I would have made her stop.

But, I need to. I can’t play this game with her. I need to respect her and her father. And everything they’re both trying to do for me.

This race is important. Hell, this fucking career is important and I should be on my fucking knees thanking them every second of every day.

I sit at the bar, minding my own business when two men step up next to me. “You’re not as great a driver as you think you are,” the taller man spits out.

“And you definitely don’t deserve that Grander piece of Grade A pussy you’ve been given either,” the other man slurs.

“Watch your mouth.” I keep my head down, trying to ignore them both.

“She here with you tonight? Maybe you’d be interested in sharing.”

The other man laughs along with his friend. “Yeah, let her see how a real man would treat her.”

These men are both older, probably about thirty, maybe forty, with beer guts big enough to hold a beer on and a wicked southern drawl even though we’re nowhere near the south.

I keep my head down, not looking to get into trouble here. “I’m just here for a beer, man. Not opinions.”

“Oh, he ain’t here for opinions, Terry,” the shorter man says to the taller man.

I set my beer down, holding up my hands in a surrender. “Look, I’m not looking for trouble here.”

“That Thad Jeffries needs to smoke your ass in Indy. You should go back to whatever pile of shit you came from.”

I crack a smile, and then I twist my hand on my beer bottle, bringing it up over his head and crashing it down over his temple. He goes down and his friend, stunned, watches him go down. I connect my fist to the other man’s pudgy face before pushing them both further down to the ground.