Hitched: A Dark Hitchhiker Romance (Ride or Die Romances)

Lex

Selena stays silent beside me. I’m not sure if it’s because I scared her when I showed her how much control it took to hold myself back in the woods or if she’s starting to realize the gravity of where we’re going the closer we get to her home. She became culpable once she gave me the directions to her house.

“What’s the matter, rabbit?” I ask.

“Nothing,” she whispers. But I know she’s lying.

I smirk at her. “Are you mad I didn’t fuck you back there? Or are you worried about what I’ll do to you once I get you home?” I reach over and brush her hair from her face. “Or are you scared of what I’ll do to your husband?”

She draws her face from my touch.

I drop my hand to her inner thigh, pull her legs apart, and grip the skin where her bruises are. “He sealed his fate when he put those on you and I saw them. Piece of shit like that doesn’t deserve you.”

I hate it but it’s true. She’s the first woman I’ve felt something for. I’m not sure what I’m feeling because I’ve never felt it before, but it’s something. When I saw those bruises, I felt like I needed to protect her and get vengeance for her pain. Why else would I risk getting caught again for some pussy?

She isn’t just that, though. Her pussy may be incredible, but there’s so much more there. Even though we’re from totally different worlds, I recognize some of her pain. I see someone who’s been let down by every single person in their life, just like me. Where we differ is that she swallows it, letting it eat her away from the inside instead of becoming angry and violent. I sacrificed my freedom to make people feel some of the pain I felt.

I’m trying so hard to give her the freedom she deserves.

“Answer me,” I say as I rub her thigh where I’d grabbed. “What’s bothering you?”

She looks up at me, her lips drawn tight. “I feel bad for being excited.”

I smile at her. “Oh, bunny, I’m rubbing off on you.” My hand continues up her thigh. “But don’t let too much of me inside you. You’re too good for him, but also way too fucking good for me.”

The way she pouts her lips at my words makes me want to pull over and rip through her in the most selfish way possible, as if she was the last woman I’d be inside before I go back to prison.

Which she probably is.

“Why didn’t you sleep with me back there?” she asks. Finally.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

I love that she asked me that. Fucking love it. It means she wants it. She wants me however I need to give it to her. “Remember when you said you didn’t really trust me? I don’t trust myself, either. I was going to hurt you back there in the woods. Not intentionally, of course, but I was just a wiggle of your hips away from being beyond the point of control.”

I expect her to flinch or become scared of me, but her expression remains soft and a little curious. It slightly angers me as images of my past flash through the front of my mind. She doesn’t realize what she’s flirting with or what losing control really means. She’s so naïve to the dangers of a man like me who has nothing to lose and absolutely everything to gain. She doesn’t realize I could have shoved her face into the car’s hot metal and fucked her until she begged me to stop. Her pleas would only make me savor every thrust. She doesn’t grasp how little I cared about having to kill her in the beginning, or that even though I care now, I would still kill her if I had to.

She may have gotten the dirty and feral dog to lick her hand, but I’m not the sweet little pet she wants me to be. I’ll still maul her, no matter how much I appreciate her kindness.

“I need you so fucking bad, bunny. I want to pull over on one of these rural roads and bring you into the backseat and—” My breath catches in my throat, silencing my voice. A cop car drives by, and the officer stares at me. I don’t breathe again until I’m sure he won’t turn around.

“Bad idea, huh?” she asks, though it’s clear.

“In the daytime? Yeah. Seems so.” I groan and rub the front of my pants.

She reaches out and replaces my hand with her own. She rubs up my length, the denim causing such pleasurable friction beneath her hand. I grab her wrist and stop her. “Not now, bunny. I want to feel this frustration for a while longer. I don’t want to come in your hand. I want to be inside you.”

It’s odd because I almost enjoy the frustrated twitch of my cock. It’s something I haven’t felt in a while. I didn’t wait to get my pleasure when I felt it in the past. I got instant gratification, one way or another.

The ache of staying off her almost feels . . . good. The control feels foreign.

I know I’ll get to her eventually, and it will feel amazing when I spill all of myself inside her.

She looks at me with a similar longing, and I wish I could give her what she wants, but it’ll have to wait.

She gestures to an exit, and I take the turn that brings us closer to her home. I pull into a fast-food parking lot just off the exit. She looks at the building with a mouth-watering stare. We’ve been getting quick and easy things to eat, mostly from gas stations, since the beginning. I always thought the less we were seen, the better, but I know she’s hungry for a real meal when I hear her stomach growl beside me.

I park the car but instead of getting out, I lean over, grab her face, and pull her into me for a kiss. Her lips spread on mine with a similar hunger. She grabs my hair with one of her hands, as if she’s remembering how it felt to pull me into her pussy with a similar grasp. I growl at her touch, struggling to control myself as I remember how she felt when she came around my fingers.

I pull away from her. I have to before I lose myself—or rather, find myself.

“Goddamn it, bunny,” I whisper before giving her a final kiss, her lower lip between my teeth as I ease away. “You just wait until I can get my hands on your pussy again.” My hand drifts up her thigh and I palm her, making her tremble. She’s so warm and wet. Even through her leggings, I can feel it. It’s addictive, and I don’t ever want to pull my hand away from her. She melts into my touch, and I hope she’s only thinking of how I make her feel.

I glance around the parking lot. No one is paying attention to us. I won’t fuck her or let either of us expose ourselves, but she’s so in need of her orgasm, and I don’t want to deny her.

I move my seat back and help her onto my lap. She straddles my waist the best she can, and I pull her mouth to mine. “Grind on my dick, sweet bunny. Make yourself come.”

She bites her lower lip before kissing me.

She. Kisses. Me.

She rocks her hips on my lap, and I feel her warmth through not only her pants but my own. I groan as she moves over my hardened length. It’s immature, like two teenagers not ready for sex, but it feels so goddamn good. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m already so frustrated, but she rubs back and forth, and it hits the head of my dick every fucking time. I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her closer and trying to keep her from hitting the head so I don’t bust. I’m much too old to come in my jeans.

She feels so good in my arms, like she’s exactly where she should be. The world grows hazy until all I can see is her and the motions of her hips and chest as she chases her orgasm.

Her moans. Those goddamn moans as she gets herself closer drive me crazy. Her body tenses and the motions of her hips grow ragged.

“Come for me, bunny.”

She grips my hair and grinds on me, panting in my ear. She leans into me and moves her hips in a shallow motion as she pushes herself over her edge. Aside from a subtle twitch of her pussy as she rides out her orgasm, she keeps still. Her moans and the warm throb of her on my lap almost make me come, too.

I kiss her and reach between us to feel the wet spot that soaked through her pants and into the front of my jeans. “You made such a mess,” I say against her mouth. “Such a good girl. So fucking wet.”

I reach down the front of her pants, feeling just how much she came. She looks down at me with the sweetest and most satiated expression I’ve ever seen.

She looks . . . happy.

I pull my hand from her pants and lick my fingers. She tastes incredible. She always tastes better after she comes for me. I run my wet fingers up the curve of her neck and lace both of my hands behind it. I bring her forehead to mine and hold her there. I never thought I’d be so attracted to a woman like her. She’s spoiled but not spoiled rotten. There’s still so much good inside her, a brokenness that keeps her from becoming what I hate. She’s become something I want with every fiber of my being.

It will be so hard to leave her once I kill her husband, but living on the lam isn’t for someone like her. As much as I don’t want to leave her behind, at least I can leave the states knowing she’s safe at home. She can find someone who makes her feel like I do without being me, the dog she can’t trust because he can’t trust himself.