Page 67 of Open for Negotiation
I’m speaking for the little girl with the drunk father. I’m speaking for the heartbroken high schooler who lost his first love. I’m speaking for the college student who trusted someone she shouldn’t have. I’m speaking for the man who dove headfirst into a marriage that should have never happened.
“What are you trying to say, Max?” She rests her forehead on mine and closes her eyes.
“I’m trying to say that we decide our fate from this moment forward. We have ultimate control over everything that happens to us. No more of this running from shit. Dive in with me. Headfirst.”
I’m clasping her face between my hands so tightly that her lips are slightly puckering, but I’m not hurting her, I know this because in an instant, she’s closing the distance between us and smashing her face into mine.
Everything is happening so fast now.
Hands are moving, bodies are colliding when she climbs over into my lap, buckles are clinking, zippers are lowering, and all we can think about is having one another. Right here. Right now.
I fist my hands into her golden locks and tug her head back to expose her neck, burying my face there and sinking my teeth into her pulse.
She gasps and her body instinctively pushes back, causing her ass to connect with the steering wheel, honking the horn loudly into the dark night air.
“Shit!” we scream in unison and she leans forward to hide against my body. We are both quiet for a moment before the laughter takes over.
“Is anyone coming?” she whispers, finally sitting up enough to look around.
It’s so dark where we parked the car, and I don’t hear or see anyone around us.
“I think we’re safe,” I tell her, pushing her hair behind her ear and gently cupping her face.
“Good, because the last thing I want to do is stop.”
Her lips are on mine again in an instant.
It takes some finesse and careful movement and shifting/removing of specific articles of clothing, but eventually, she’s able to sink that delicious body down onto mine, connecting us in the most intimate way.
“Fuck,” I growl, clutching her waist tightly.
“We have a thing for fucking in your car, apparently,” she sighs out as she begins to move, using her hand on the headrest for leverage.
“You won’t hear a complaint from me.”
The windows are just beginning to fog around us when the worst thing we could possibly hear in a moment like this pulls us from our erotic bubble.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Our lips part in a hurry and I look out the driver’s side window to see a police officer tapping on the glass and shining his flashlight into the car.
“Oh my God!” Scarlett dives over the center console, leaving me naked from the waist down with a raging hard-on and balls that have swiftly been sucked up into my body in fear.
“Fuck, fuck. Hold on, Officer.” We both scramble to get dressed as quickly as possible and honestly, it’s impressive how fast clothes can return to normal when fear of an indecent exposure charge is looming.
“Step out of the car when you’re decent, please,” he says through the window then steps aside to give us privacy.
“Oh my God,” she repeats, straightening her shirt and smoothing her hair. “What are we going to do?”
I lift my hips to straighten my pants and hook my belt. “We are going to step out and talk to the cop, just like he asked. That’s all we can do.”
“I’ve never been in trouble with the cops before.”
“We aren’t in trouble now. Just calm down. It’s going to be fine.” I reach across and take her hand. “I promise.”
She nods her head and we step out of the car and onto the wet, Savannah streets. An earlier rain shower has made the air even more thick feeling and humid. The police officer stands just a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest.
“We can step over on the sidewalk,” he says with zero inflection in his voice. He’s all business.
