Chapter 367: I’m Driving

The kiss stayed slow.

Rechelle’s mouth barely moved on his. Soft. No push behind it. Lucas matched her and didn’t try to take it anywhere. One hand went up the damp line of her spine and stopped between her shoulders. The other stayed on her hip, thumb sitting in the warm dip above her ass. His cock was still inside her, softer now, and every small shift of her body pushed more of his cum out around him. It ran warm between them and onto his stomach. Messy. Quiet. Neither of them moved to fix it.

She didn’t get off him.

She stayed on his chest, big soft tits pressed flat against him, cheek finding the side of his neck. Her breath hit his skin in slow pulls. Hers evened out first. Then his. The room still smelled like sex and the last of the shower. Past the glass, lights moved across the ceiling in thin strips. A horn somewhere far down. None of it got to the bed.

Lucas caught the edge of the sheet and dragged it up over her bare back. The cotton stuck a little where her skin was still damp. Rechelle made a small sound into his neck and got heavier. Her thighs loosened around his hips. One hand stayed open on his chest, fingers still, palm warm. A few minutes later her whole body went slack on top of him. Dead weight. Warm. Her hair stuck to his jaw and the side of his throat.

He stayed awake a little longer.

His palm sat on her back and followed her breathing. In. Out. Between her legs he could still feel it, wet heat, his cum leaking out around his cock every time she settled.

His eyes closed with her still on him. Still full of him. The sheet over both of them. The city locked out beyond the glass.

He slept.

Morning came thin through the windows.

Rechelle woke first.

She wasn’t on top of him anymore. Sometime in the night they had rolled. She was curled into his side, one bare leg thrown over his thigh, cheek on his chest, his arm trapped under her neck. His other hand was under the sheet on her ass, fingers loose, like they had found the spot in sleep and stayed. Skin warm where they touched. The sheet had slipped to her waist. Cool air on her back. His heat along her front.

She moved her thigh and felt it.

Sticky. Dried a little at the edges, still soft between her legs when she pressed them together. His cum. She left it. For a while she only lay there and listened to him breathe. Lucas was out. Jaw slack. Mouth parted. No line between his brows. In the thin light he looked younger than he had against the tile. She looked at his throat, the slow pulse there, then the spread of his chest under her cheek. The rise of it. The fall.

Her fingers, still heavy, drew a line across his stomach. Muscle jumped under her touch. He didn’t wake. She did it again, slower, from his ribs down to the trail of hair below his navel, and stopped. Her palm flattened over his chest and stayed. Heartbeat under her hand. Steady. She shut her eyes and breathed him in, skin and last night’s sweat and the faint clean of the soap they had used after, and something in her chest pulled tight and then loosened.

She didn’t want to get up.

Not yet. Not back to the house. Not to the doors and the men and the way the rooms went quiet when she walked in. She opened her eyes and shifted higher along his body, careful, and pressed her mouth to the center of his chest. Then again, closer to his collarbone. Her bare tits dragged along his side. The sheet slid the rest of the way down her back. She left it.

Lucas stirred.

The arm under her neck tensed. His hand on her ass tightened, pulled her in a fraction, possessive even half-asleep, and then his eyes opened. For a second he only looked at her. Hair in her face. Cheek creased from his chest. Lips still a little swollen.

"Morning." Rough. Sleep still in it.

Rechelle lifted her face. She didn’t fix any of it.

"Morning."

She didn’t let him sit up. She moved higher and kissed the corner of his mouth. Then his jaw. Stubble scraped her lip. Then his mouth, closed at first, before her tongue found his. Lucas’s hand slid up her bare back and into her hair. His cock, half-hard against her thigh, twitched when she shifted closer. She felt it and stayed. Her fingers kept moving on his chest, small circles, not going anywhere.

She pulled back only far enough that her forehead nearly touched his.

"I don’t want to go back to that house yet."

Quiet. Almost flat. Her eyes stayed on his mouth.

"You don’t have to."

She looked at her hand on him, then up. A small smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. It didn’t last. She traced the line of his collarbone with one finger and watched the path it took.

"I’ve never really taken you around the city."

Lucas watched her. His thumb moved once on her hip under the sheet and stopped.

Her fingers kept going, slow, like she hadn’t noticed she was still touching him.

"You’ve only seen the ugly part since you got near me." Her voice stayed low. "Blood. Guns. My mess. That’s not the whole city." She swallowed. "I don’t want that to be the only thing you know."

She pushed up on one elbow. The sheet slipped. One bare breast came free, soft in the morning light, nipple still a little tender from his mouth. She left it a second, then tugged the fabric up without much effort. It slid back down anyway. She didn’t fight it.

"There are roads I used to run at night when I couldn’t sleep in that house." She glanced at his mouth, then his eyes. "Places most people here never hear about. A bridge that smells like rust. A stretch of coast where the lights stop. I want to take you."

"Where?"

"Around." A small breath left her. "The real one. Not hotels. Not the clean streets they put in the pictures. The one I know." Her fingers curled once against his chest. "If you want."

He didn’t answer right away. Morning light on her face. Swollen mouth. Loose hair stuck to her cheek. Under the sheet his thumb moved along her hip, then lower, over the curve of her ass, and stopped. He could still feel the dried mess on the inside of her thigh where her leg lay over his.

"Alright."

Her smile came slow. Then she looked down.

"Good." She leaned in and kissed him, soft, closed, long enough to taste him again. When she pulled back she stayed close for a second, nose against his, breath on his mouth. Then she shifted toward the edge of the bed. The sheet fell off her back. Cum had dried in a faint line on the inside of her thigh. She swung her legs over and stood, bare, the city pale behind her through the glass, and looked back at him still in the bed.

"Then get up." Her voice was lighter. "I’m driving."