The whoop of the sirens make my stomach dip and my heart thuds heavy as I use my blinker, beginning to navigate over to the curb. What did I do? Tears that were held in check before now begin to fall freely. It's the middle of the night, and no one else is on the road. Did I forget to signal? Was I speeding? I can't remember what I've been doing, so lost in my own mind - I was driving to clear my head, but it hadn't worked. I climbed from bed barely dressed to drive the ocean cliffs and try to calm myself, try to become sleepy. Now I shiver as I roll down the window before turning off the ignition - it is much too cold for my state of undress. I hope he doesn't notice I am barefoot. Fuck.
"Ma'am. License and registration please." The voice is deep and harsh, I turn away with the excuse of obeying. I dig through my glove box, easily finding my insurance and registration, and then it hits me. I didn't bring anything, including my wallet. I feel the blood drain from my face, the tears well again. I am just so fucked. I duck my head and dry my cheeks, then straighten my spine and hold out the paperwork.
"I forgot my license. I'm so sorry, I know the number if you-"
"Step out of the car, Ma'am. Hands where I can see them."
I am suddenly frozen, unsure of how to proceed. Dangling with uncertainty. Fuck. Fuck shit fuck. Move. I snap out of it, dropping the ignored scraps of paper and raising my hands in front of my face. I slowly move my left hand toward the door, bracing myself for any possibility, tension in my every muscle. The handle gives and I take what feels like forever to push it all the way open. Left foot, then pushing out with my right, fighting to stay balanced without using my hands. He shuts the door as I wobble out of the way. Finally I am standing, and I find myself facing the man who has ordered me before him.
He is beautiful. Or, that's what my body immediately whispers. It is hard to say what might make a man beautiful, but he is stunning, cold and angles, firm and present. I feel like I am staring at a glacier - immovable, centuries old, brutally untouchable. My mouth is dry, my nipples are pebbled. The salty breeze suddenly feels like a caress and the hairs on my skin stand up to reach for more sensation.
"Turn around and place your hands on the roof." I notice the bass rumble in his voice has an answering throb in my gut.
"Now." Quieter, more threatening than if he'd shouted. I was still staring but now I flee, turning so abruptly I am glad to have the car to catch me. I absently give thanks that I washed it yesterday, as my hands rest on the damp but clean surface.
"Spread your legs. Wider." I feel him step up behind me, he throws off such heat. How can someone so cool be so hot?
"Lean forward. More." He finally reaches up and pushes between my shoulder blades until I find my cheek pressing against the cool glossy paint. My back tingles where his hand is firmly planted. My cunt begins to throb.
"I'm going to search you, not that you have much room to hide anything. Where the hell are you going without clothes on?" I rolled out of bed without putting anything on but a slinky robe - enough to be decent on the dash to and from my vehicle, but not stand up to scrutiny. I am hyper aware that my bare breasts are one false move away from parting the fabric and freeing themselves at my precarious angle.
"Nowhere." It comes out as a whisper. I lick my lips and try again. "I was just driving, I wasn't going anywhere."
His hand lightens on my back. Does he trail his fingers over my sensitive skin on purpose? Am I imagining the energy I feel zipping from his palm? His hand slips to the side and runs over the shape of my waist, down my hip, pauses. I hear his boots on the gravel beneath us, as he shifts to stand between my feet. I am shivering harder now, despite no sense of being cold.
His other hand takes a matching hold on my hip, and then they are both moving upward, passing over my shoulders, running up my arms. Down down down the ticklish and sensitive insides, slowing to inspect the indent of my underarms, then passing lightly along the sides of my breasts to travel back down my sides. His boots creak as he crouches behind me, pads running along my outer thighs, then tracing the curve of my calves.
"Not even the sense to wear shoes." I hear something other than disapproval, but can't pin the emotion. Suddenly I am holding my breath as he passes his hands up the insides of my legs, in agony of anticipation as he comes to my thighs, but then a gush of air releases as grazes my ass and up my back. Am I disappointed?
The path of his exploration meets the nape of my neck and then fingers are pushing into my hair, inspecting my scalp, lightly tugging my head back. I contain a whimper. This, my body cries, more. I am barely able to contain my pleading. My head is released and it lolls to the side. His hands roughly pat down my front, collarbone, chest, efficiently judging the weight and shape of my engorged and throbbing breasts, tapping over my aching nipples, chasing my nerves down my abdomen, to where the riot of sensation seems to originate. I feel my breath sawing in and out and know it must be audible. His hands still low on my belly, thumbs coming to rest and wrap around my hips.
"Why were you crying?"
"I am lonely," is out before I knew it was the answer. "I can't sleep and I need..." I don't know what the rest of the words are, because his hands are tugging of the sash of the robe and slipping inside to touch my flesh. Yes. Oh thank you God.
"I'm here now." He pauses until I swallow and nod, acknowledging the truth of the matter. He is here and I am not lonely anymore, though I still need... what do I need? What do you need? I realize he has spoken when the refrain in my head continues.
"I need you to touch me. Make me come." A second later he is sliding his hand under my silly panties and cupping my soft curls. His large and weathered palm presses against my mound as the digits reach further, completely covering my swollen lips. He is so still, and I am so close. My hips wriggle on their own accord and he immediately pulls his hand away.
Sharply, he growls. "No. I will give you what you need, but you cannot take what you want. Turn around."
I pres myself upright and shake the hair out of my face before I turn. Again I am struck by his face and figure. His presence dominates the space, making my tall and lush form seem practically dainty in comparison. His gaze falls and I remember that I am exposed to his eyes now, the robe covering only my arms and brushing my sides.
