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Auto Erotica

By: Ben Nichols



The hot sun scorched the afternoon commuters. Tempers rose with the temperature. People just didn't drive like human beings anymore. No one appeared to be interested in giving anyone a break. So here he sat stuck in the right lane. His estimated time of arrival had long past, he was just plain late. There was nothing else to do but go with the flow of traffic. As he eased the clutch of his truck out for the hundredth time that afternoon, he began to take in the other commuters around him. 

He wasn't the over the road type. Local delivery was steady work, honest work. You were always moving, in and out of your truck. The only down side was the traffic. On the way into the city in the morning, and on the way out in the afternoon, he endured the congestion.  This is the only way to be stuck in traffic, he thought, from the cab of his truck he sat a good deal higher than the rest of the cars around him. Less claustrophobic this way, gave him a chance to sneak peeks at women on their way to and from the office. A little glimpse of thigh went a long way on afternoons like this. He was better off than the tractor trailer drivers, he could see a lot more from this angle, he was high enough to see their legs, and low enough to see everything else.  It was a perverse pleasure, these women had no idea he could see them.  But there were times he would swear some were putting on a show for him. 

He first noticed her in his mirror, it was the hair he noticed first.  Long, flowing, framing a beautiful face. The car was nothing of note, except for the fact the windows were down. It was good to know he wasn't the only one out here without air conditioning this afternoon.  As she inched up beside him in the crawling traffic, he swore he saw her shift her position a little in the mirror. When she finally rolled slowly along side him, he looked down and was pleasantly surprised.  Today was a good day, she was gorgeous. Apparently she had loosened her clothing a bit for the drive, and she knew he could see her. The skirt looked like it had just been pulled back down, the jacket pulled closed again. She obviously endured some discomfort wearing a silk suit like that on a day like today, but from what he could tell it was worth it.  The skirt was short, the legs long. The jacket fitted nicely around her breasts, and the green shade of the suit set off her beautiful hair. 

She must have been readjusting her clothing as she pulled alongside him, that was the move he saw in the mirror. He stared never the less, there was nothing else to look at. He loved the way her skirt rode up just a touch when she shifted. And luckily, considering the heavy traffic, she shifted frequently. The lanes were all moving in unison now, and she remained right next to him. He was happy for the diversion, it had been a long time since he had seen such beautiful legs. She seemed to be daydreaming, the skirt was not pulled down after each shift as it was before. As they eased through traffic, her skirt shifted up more and more. He hungrily stared at her shapely thighs, and with each moment, he saw more of her tanned flesh. She had slipped off her high heels now, and moved to loosen her jacket. He saw just a bit of her lacy bra now, this was really getting interesting. 

He was sure that she knew he could see her. He couldn't see her eyes, he sat just a touch too high for that. He could however see the bottom half of her sweet face. The full lips, the delicate sweep of her neck, her cute little nose were all evident as she turned her face to see her.  A faint smile crossed those full lips now, and she leaned down just enough to catch his hungry stare. It was a veritable feast to look at, her jacket fell away from her full breasts, he saw her deep brown eyes, and a really big grin now. She blew him a kiss, and eased up in traffic again.

She was performing for him! This was too good to be true, women like this didn't do this sort of thing, or so he thought. Maybe she was more like him than she appeared. Perhaps her idle time was filled with sexual thoughts as his was. He didn't have much time to ponder this possibility, the show was just beginning. Her right hand dropped from the steering wheel now, down into her lap. Her long fingernails traced a line up her stocking clad thigh, stopping just short of her skirt. It had really ridden up now, she was in danger of showing him the object of his desire. Little did he know the surprises she had for him waiting beneath her seductive clothing. He watched as her small fingers slid under the hem of her skirt. She pulled on it gently, pulling it up just far enough to show the lacy tops of her silk stockings. His mind was blown now, this wasn't a woman, she was a fantasy. He was amazed at her choice in undergarments. There was a school of thought among women, that you are only as sexy as you feel. She apparently felt very sexy, because this woman was the definition of lust and sensuality.

He jolted back to reality as the car in front of him stopped short. He looked up in just enough time to slam on his brakes. A vehicle the size of his did not stop so quickly in a quiet way. The rear tires stopped rolling long before the truck actually stopped. The squeal from those tires cut through the rush hour noise, everyone turning to see what had caused the racket. She laughed out loud, knowing what she had caused.  This was very amusing to her, that she could distract this man so. Men always looked at her, she was used to this, but something primal was rising in her now. Maybe because it wasn't the normal suit type looking at her now. This man was definitely blue collar. She could see his callused hands, the deep tan on his well muscled arms. He didn't appear to be the iron pumping type, the arms looked this way due to the long hours, heavy lifting. He didn't achieve this appearance in some snooty health club, he looked this way because of sweat, hard work and long hours. He wore a short sleeved, button up shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to show just a little more of his bulging biceps. He wasn't a hairy man, she was glad of this. Just a touch of dense black chest hair showed from the three buttons undone on his shirt. His hair was dark and thick, and she could tell he had spent a long day working. He looked generally rumpled, but tight, tanned, and more than capable of rocking her world to the roots of it's very existence.

The teasing was getting more serious for her now, she was becoming genuinely aroused. Maybe it was the heat, perhaps it was the blatant lust in his stare. The only thing she felt was the incredible heat of her desire. While she was capable of maneuvering her car through the heavy traffic, every time her hand left the gearshift, she was caressing her stocking clad thighs. It was almost involuntary, she wasn't sure if she was doing it for his benefit or hers. A little of both seemed to be the answer. She was clamping her thighs together tightly now, and each time she eased the clutch out, they rubbed up against themselves deliciously. Her audience wished she would part them, show him the treasure nestled between those trim thighs. 

The traffic had picked up somewhat, although they were still crawling along at a very slow pace, the irritating stop and go had ended. Her hands were free now, at least her right hand. His was as busy, gently pressing on the front of his jeans. His erection had grown to immense proportions, this was the only thing to ease the ache. As this scene continued to unfold in the small car next to him, the throbbing only increased.

He watched her and paced himself to fall in right alongside. Now that the traffic was no longer stop and go, she had pulled her left leg back up close to the seat. She felt a cool breeze between her legs now, she had broken a small sweat rubbing her thighs together like that. He groaned at the sight of her slightly spread legs. Her hands seemed to take on a life of their own now, no longer did her right hand just caress the outside of her right leg. It stole up over her knee, up the inside of her thigh. She pulled her skirt the last few inches to reveal herself to him. She was glad she had removed her panties at the office, it was so hot today. That was the original reason, but now another reason became apparent. There was no way she could have removed them while driving, so it was very convenient, nothing to stop her fingers from combing through her downy curls. She first reached down to the opening of her channel, moistening her finger in the honey oozing from there. She gently slid her finger, quite slippery now, up onto the taut bud of her arousal. She heard a gasp escape her lips, her hips jerked forward to meet her hand. After tracing a few small circles there, her hand slipped inside of her jacket. Not having enough room to palm her ample breast, she withdrew her hand to loosen her jacket just a touch more. Her one man audience watched in amazement of her brazen actions.  She undid yet another button, and her hand once again slid inside her jacket. 

She wasn't looking at him anymore. She knew he was there, knew he was watching her every move. Any question of him still being there was quickly answered. All she had to do was check the corner of her eye, yes, the truck still matched her pace. She only hope that his hands could match the pace of her own. She took a deep breath as she pulled the lace of her bra aside. The taut nipple grazed the lace as it popped free. The breeze tickled it but for a moment, her fingers quickly captured the erect bud. Her red nails dug into it gently, and then rolled it between. She only wished both hands were free, her whole body was crying out now. Her breasts cried out to be touched, and as her wetness seeped onto the seat beneath her, the folds of her flower screamed for attention. Reluctantly she dropped her hand back to her lap, parting her thighs yet further. With her left breast exposed, she found that the shoulder harness rubbed against her hard nipple just right. With just the slightest movement to either side, the shoulder strap rubbed coarsely across her taut nipple. This was getting dangerous, with her fingers tangled in her soft curls, in her wet folds, and the strap rubbing across her nipple, she just might come.

This was getting to be too much for him. Just rubbing his erection through his jeans wasn't enough anymore. With one hand on the steering wheel, he reached to unbuckle his belt with the other. The moment he pulled his cotton briefs aside, his throbbing cock popped out and hit the steering wheel. There was no way he could pull his jeans out of the way, he had to hold his underwear down with his left hand, while his right fist closed around his throbbing erection. He smeared the pre cum leaking from the tip around the head. He was really gushing, and this made things far easier, his hand glided up and down the length easily.  This woman was masturbating right in front of him. The only thing kinkier than that was the fact that he couldn't touch her, taste her.  The only way he could continue this was to keep driving, thus keeping him from her. To look was enough, at least enough for now. The display of lust, flesh and desire laid out in front of him was more than any man could hope for.

She was grasping the steering wheel white knuckled now, it was all she could do to keep her mind on the road. Her fingers flew over her erect bud now, the same tiny circle over and over. Anyone looking at her long enough in traffic, while they could not see what her hand was doing, would have little question as to what was going on. Her mouth fell open repeatedly, half out of lust, half as she imagined the cock of that man sliding in and out of her mouth. Her cheeks were flushed, as was the flesh down her neck, and between her breasts. She almost tore the steering wheel from the column as her orgasm tore through her. Her left foot, the shoe had been kicked off long ago, braced itself against the dashboard as she thrust her hips up into her hand. She only glanced at the road momentarily, then closed her eyes again, letting the wave wash over her. Her audience wasn't far behind, the come spewed forth from his organ like a gusher. As his hand flew, his seed flew forth coating the steering wheel, with the last few drops landing on the front of his jeans. He only looked away from her for a moment, to grab one of the napkins left over from his lunch to wipe the sperm from his hand. One wasn't enough however, he had never made a mess like this masturbating.

She sped up now, and turned on her directional. She was trying to get in the lane in front of him. Reluctantly he fell back, sad that this was over. Her exit had apparently arrived, the interlude had finally come to a close. She fell in front of him, waving thank you, he thought. She had other ideas however. 

Never before had an orgasm left her feeling this way. Usually when she pleasure herself, she fell into an immediate sleep. She had to be incredibly wanton to pleasure herself, and the orgasms erupting from her own fingers always satisfied her. Today however, it wasn't enough.  While the throbbing of her clit had ebbed slightly, she cried out with her whole being to be filled. Taken hard, taken fast, grabbed by the hips and pumped silly. She knew this man behind her wanted her like that, wasn't sure how she knew, but she was positive all the same. She exited the expressway, and as she had hoped, he followed. Little did she know this was his exit also, fate was playing a crucial part this afternoon. 

She got out in front of him, not too far, still well within sight. The park was as she had hoped. This time of the evening, just before dark, all of the other guests had long went home. There were only a few cars in the lot, probably some late joggers, or perhaps people with the same thing on their minds as hers. 

He watched as she made the turn, signaling again long before she needed to. She must want me to follow, he thought. He geared the truck down and touched the brakes, following her as the daylight faded. Most of the parking lot was well hidden from the road, and her car kept driving.  She didn't stop until she reached it's furthest corner. The trees were dense here, guarding both sides of the parking lot. She stopped her car in the very last space, and quickly got out. As he pulled up, she leaned back against the fender of her car, still giving him the same wanton look. He was somewhat nervous, what did this woman want? He hoped she longed for him as he did her, but he was unsure. He pulled his truck into the space next to her, shielding her car from view to anyone passing by. He shut his truck down, and hopped down to what he hoped was yet another encounter for the afternoon. 

She spoke no words as he approached her, she only stood up from where she was leaning. As he walked the last few steps to her, he watched her hands undo the jacket of the suit she was wearing. He stopped now, again content to watch for the moment. She wanted him to look, she needed to show him as much as he needed to see her. She didn't remove the jacket, only slid it back on her shoulders. He watched as her fingers undid the clasp on the front of her bra, her firm breasts finally tumbling free. She grasped both her breasts in her hands now, her eyes never leaving his. She spoke to him now, asking him to show her how much she had excited him. He closed the distance between them quickly, as he undid his belt again. He pushed her back onto the hood of her car. She held onto his shoulders as his mouth sought out her taut nipples. As his teeth sank into the nipple, she dropped her hand to his erection. She knew he had what she needed, she could barely wrap her fingers around it. She could feel his heartbeat pounding in the flesh. She grabbed his hair now with her free hand, pulling his head up sharply. She kissed him hard, separating his lips with her tongue. She pulled on his member harder how, she was going to get what she needed from this man.

She pushed him away abruptly, his cock slipping from her hand. She watched for a moment as it popped back up, hitting him in the belly. He was definitely ready, the time had come. She turned away from him how, and bent over the hood of her car. The moment her nipples touched the warm hood, her hands went back to her hips. She rested her weight on her aching nipples, and reached for the hem of her skirt once again. He stood behind her and watched. Yet another feast for the eyes unfolded for him. She had put her heels back on before getting out of the car, and her feet were placed far enough apart to push her tight behind into the air. After she had pulled her skirt up, she parted the cheeks of her ass and looked over her shoulder back at him. 

He required no directions, no requests. There was no question what she wanted, and he was more than happy to provide it for her. He stepped up and ran his throbbing prick down the cleft of her ass. He wanted to tease her a bit, she however had other ideas. She reached between her legs quickly, and captured his member again in her grasp. She held him there while she rotated her hips to slip him inside her. The moment she felt him at her opening, she pushed back towards him, impaling herself on his cock in one fluid motion. He stood there now, watching that incredible tanned ass grind on his thick cock. Her hands were palm flat on the hood of the car now, she was trying to get leverage to push back onto him. He rested his hands on her shoulders now, pushing her down further onto the car, crushing her breasts beneath her. She couldn't move now, she was pinned to the car, helpless to move. He didn't disappoint her, he withdrew from her slowly, feeling her spasm slowly around him. The first thrust rocked the car, he pushed into her as deeply as she could take him. From that point on, his actions were not his own. This was primal, they were rutting like animals out here. The breeze chilled their moistened flesh, but the heat continued. His hips were a blur, with each thrust she spasmed around him again. His balls were slapping against her erect clit now, this provided her with some additional relief. She had never been filled so completely, never been taken so violently. She was rocking with him now, her nipples rubbing on the hood. She was so close, right on the edge. 

Her answer came, he scalded her with his come. She could actually feel it squirting from him, filling her to overflowing. As he pumped his seed deep inside her, she felt her orgasm. She braced herself now, pushing back against him, needing just a few more thrusts to finish. He held her hips in his callused hands, watching as she ground up against him. She finally fell forward when she had finished, her long hair splayed out on the hood of the car. He backed up a few steps, just gazing at her beauty. He couldn't see her face, only the firm ass, the long legs, and his come running down the inside of her thigh. She rose, straightened her skirt as she walked to him. She kissed him lightly, her hand going to his cheek. She turned and got back into her car without a word. 

That's where she left him, jeans around his ankles, a single drop still dangling from the tip of his spent organ. She only said one thing as she pulled away, and it's the one thing he remembers most. "You can drive me home anytime Mister."

Auto Erotica: A Fantasy



We're in the back seat of my car — a '66 Chrysler — a car with a broad, soft and very wide seats. We're outside the city limits, on a turn-off road in total isolation, with the moon and stars overhead, and the sounds of a brook and nearby crickets are louder than the far-off highway. We came here on our date, to talk, to kiss, to romance and listen to music on the radio. I am wearing jeans, a soft flannel shirt with a blue plaid pattern. My body is clean and my skin warm and the muscles sensuously move beneath it. You are in a short soft, furry sweater, buttoning up the front, a white pleated skirt, and your hair tied back with a pink ribbon. You wear no hose, just ankle high socks inside of your black mary janes. Your perfume is light, sweet, and maddeningly inviting. You're wearing almost no make up, and your eyes sparkle in the moonlight. You see the same shining light of romantic passion in my eyes and taste it in the hunger of my lips as we kiss.

My body shift toward yours on the bench seat, and your mind grumbles at the uncomfortable way that human bodies are designed, ("If only we swiveled at the hips; we could press together more closely!" ) you think. Your hands press flat against the warmth of my shoulders, I seem larger around the back than you remember, and you pull my body to yours as we press our lips together in an endless, ever more exciting and thrilling kiss. You feel my tongue touching your lips, pushing at the opening ("He's trying to kiss-kiss me!" ) you think with a thrill that is half-fear, and half willing abandon. Abandon wins out, and my tongue is welcomed into your mouth; you feel it, taste it, nip it with your teeth and wrap your lips around it, gently sucking at it. Your own tongue, innocent and shy, slowly waits it's turn to enter my mouth, and you feel me moan softly with desire as you give your tongue to me.

We slide our arms, shoulders and bodies to more comfortable positions together; leaning back against the corner of the seat back and the car interior, the open windows venting our bodies' heat out into the cool night air. You look up into my eyes, feeling the animal need coming from deep within me; your eyes, your face, your lips, give the open innocence of a young woodland creature, a rabbit or fawn, looking upward with curiosity and surrender. We kiss, and you feel my fingers in your hair, allowing the countless strands to fall like rain through my fingers. My hands gently move down your neck to your shoulders behind you; my chest is pressed against you, and you feel hair from my chest against your bare skin at the open V of your sweater. My arm is around you, and you feel my free hand move slowly around your body, palm pressed against the back of your ribs, then at your side, then resting gently in front, on your sweater, just below your breast. Your mind swims in the combined sensations of my lips on yours, the feel of my hot muscular arm about your, and the inquisitive hand on your body, wanting to stroke, to explore, to feel you.

You close your eyes, press deeply into my kiss, and slide your body imperceptibly downward, bringing your breast to my hand. I freeze for an instant, then tentatively begin to cup and press my hand on your breast. Eyes still closed, you moan low, as if in a pleasant dream, and my hand increases its exploration of you. I begin to feel you with deliberateness, massaging and lightly pinching your skin through the bra and sweater that you wear. You feel your nipple hardening from my sensual touch, and let go of my mouth long enough to look into my eyes, breathing a sigh of passionate longing, longing for more, and more, of this wonderful feeling. My fingers stroke their way up to your bare skin at the neck of your sweater, and your close your eyes to concentrate on the feeling. My fingertips curl under the material, finding more skin, hidden from my sight, but available to my touch. Your mouth forms a silent "yes", and I move my fingers deeper into your sweater until my fingers can reach no farther. 

I move downward to kiss you, and you feel my fingers work the top button through its hole, the thought of me opening your blouse, of freeing your body to my eyes is beyond thrilling. You pull my face closer into your kiss, as you lower your body to allow my hands to move more freely. The button comes loose, and you feel me reach for the next. I stop after the third and slowly spread the front of your sweater to feel your hot, naked skin. You feel my fingers reach your bra, and as your chest rises and falls — rapidly, with longing — you feel me work my fingers into the cup and my fingertips stroke your nipple. You lose control for a moment and break our kiss, pulling your face to my neck, gasping for air with passion that threatens to stop your breathing. I stiffen in your arms and you hear me whisper, "Should I stop?"You hoarsely breathe,"NO. I'm just trembling, please don't stop!" you pull your face around to mine and kiss me greedily, devouring my lips and tongue. You feel the remaining buttons slip out from their holes, and your sweater falls back, away from your chest and stomach. 

Your arms around my neck hold you up, as my hands hungrily stroke, press, massage and feel your body. Your mind swirls with the truth; that I am feeling your body for my own, and your pleasure. You feel the cups of your bra lifted and your bare tits fall exposed into my waiting palms, you press your tits to me, feeling the nipples harden against the warm, damp palms of my hands. I move a hand around to your back, but feel no clasp, you take my hand and guide it to the center of your chest where your bra unhooks, and feel me softly open it, allowing it to spring apart, freeing your hot flesh. My hands immediately cup your naked tits, and squeeze them gently, massaging the hot, clean-smelling skin. I hold your nude breasts in both hands as my thumbs circle and stroke your erect nipples, flicking them back and forth. Our kiss parts, your head is filled with a buzzing and you feel like you're floating on a cloud. We look into each other's eyes and you watch my gaze travel down to your naked chest; you pant and my eyes grow wide at the experience, my eyes first seeing your bare breasts, and you letting yourself be seen. We're both excited beyond speech.

Your fingers grab the front of my shirt and begin frantically unbuttoning it, pulling it out of my jeans, exposing hot, bare skin. When you have it open, you pull me to you even as I struggle to shrug it off of my shoulders; pressing your naked chest to mine, wrapping your arms around my torso, wanting to feel skin against skin, arms around shoulders, nipples touching nipples. I push your sweater all the way off your arms and allow it to fall to the seat behind you; you shrug your bra off of your body, showing me your topless beauty as you slowly reach up and around my neck. You bring a leg up to my side, kicking off your shoe as you do so, and we feel the rustling as your skirt slides up your thigh. My hand finds your thigh, and we pull closer, moving together, your leg crossing my lap and my hand sliding to the inside of your thigh. Your eyes are heavy-lidded with desire, your breath a sensuous pant, as you feel (and will) my hand travel up the inside of your thigh. ("He'll be stroking my pussy",) you think ("I want to have his hand on my cunt, and have him finger my clit.") my fingers stoke with excruciating slowness up inside your skirt. You feel the tickling, tingling feeling as I approach your panties, now drenched with the flowing juices of your pussy.

I reach your waist, and stroke you through your panties, following the lines of the waistband and leg holes, then curling under to feel your bare skin underneath. You shift on my lap to allow me greater access to your slit, and I put my hand directly on your hot pussy lips. You gasp with lust and kiss me hard, raking your nails across my back and chest, and stroking my nipples. I gently remove my hand from your snatch, and take one of your hands and guide it to my lap. You feel the long shape of my erect cock pressing hotly against the material of my jeans. ("He's making me feel it!") You've heard your girlfriends talk about touching, feeling, freeing their boyfriends cocks, even making them cum, but nothing prepared you for the erotic thrill of having my hand press yours on my stiff shaft. You grab, stroke, and rub the thickness of it, even feeling dampness at the end of it ("That doesn't mean he's cum already does it?") you think ("no, I think he would have said something, he's just as excited as I am.") your hand finds the button and zipper of my jeans, and you feel the thrill you give me as you open my jeans and reach inside for my cock.

I shift on the seat to allow you to open my pants fully and free my throbbing cock. As you work the shaft out of the confines of my clothing, you feel the incredible thickness of it, the huge swollen head, and feel the heat, the softness of the skin surrounding the shaft, and the slipperiness of the cum leaking out of the head. You grab it and stroke it up and down in your hand, pumping it, feeling it, letting the sensation of your first naked cock drive you insane with lust. My hands roam freely over your body, feeling your tits and softly massaging your wet pussy lips and clit. I slide down the side zipper on your skirt, and pull it off your body, down over your slender, beautiful legs, then reach up to take your panties by the waistband and pull them off you. You watch intently as I take from you the last of your clothing, making you naked with the theft of your soaked panties. You reach out for me, sitting sideways on the seat, legs spread, opening your most secret place, your pussy, for anything I want to do. As I shift sideways toward you, you pull my jeans down, exposing my hips, my thighs, my legs, and looking at my hard cock the whole time. This stranger mesmerizes you; a part of my body, but a very new thing to you, yet still, something you want to get to know very well. You pull my naked body to yours, your hand still encircling my cock. Many times in the past, when staying at your best friend's house, you knelt silently at the keyhole to her brother's door, and watched him stroking himself as he looked at a Playboy magazine. As you watched, you memorized the long, fast strokes holding the loose skin around the shaft tightly in his fist, and the feather-soft minute strokes just at the rim of the head. Many times you watched this happen, and every time got hotter and hotter as you watched your friend's brother bring himself to orgasm, hardly breathing as his semen shot wildly straight into the air from his stiff cock.

You laying on your back, legs spread on the seat, my body supported by my knees and one elbow as I finger your spread-open cunt. My fingers massage gently the soft lips and my thumb circles your erect clit. I begin to press a finger up into your wet pussy, but your eyes narrow and you say, "No -- I don't want your finger to be the first thing in there." You watch me pant as though suddenly unable to draw breath, and my cock swells even greater in your hand. You begin to stroke it unconsciously just as you've seen your friend's brother do. I sway back and forth, and my eyes close with uncontrollable desire. "If you don't stop that, I'm going to...to...to come"

"I want you to" you breathe softly, "All over everywhere!" I open my eyes and bend down to kiss you. You arch your back as I lay my hand on your breast, and you begin to strongly and sensuously stroke my hard cock. You hold my face in your other hand, loving the total control you suddenly feel over me. You pump my naked dick faster as you see the lust building in me, you know your hand has complete control, yet you can't wait to see it end in an explosion of my cum, squirting all over your belly, tits, and arm. You rake your nails down my chest and hear my breath hissing out of me, I'm as excited giving up control as you are taking it. You slow your hand and gently circle the head of my cock; it seems a big as your fist, with your thumb and fingers, and massage, with the slightest pressure, the rim of the head. My entire body strains at the erotic thrill of my girlfriend jerking me off, waiting to feel me shoot off all over her, and you lower your hand back down, grasp the shaft, and wildly begin to jack me off.

My eyes fly open, you've put me on the plateau instantly, and I have no control, I'm only waiting to be pulled over the edge. I try to hold my cum back, but your erotic masturbation is too much and I suddenly lose all control, squirting huge, thick ropes of cum that splatter across your bare belly and arch up over your tits and reach your throat. The feeling you have is a blanket of hot, sticky cum covering you, and you continue to pump my naked prick, milking the clean-smelling sperm from my balls until I grab your hand and stop you from over-exciting my cock. I melt into your arms, French kissing you hotly, wanting you badly. My semen coats our bodies and we make sticky sounds as we slide together and apart, feeling each other's naked bodies with our own. "That was SO much cum!" you manage to say. "You had me so excited; I've never shot so much before."

"Will you be able to cum again?"

"Yes, but not for a little while!" you run your fingers through my hair, stroking, feeling, grasping. You hold me no longer as a boyfriend; I'm now yours, I belong to you, and you know it. And you want to exert your ownership even further.

You feel your hungry cunt aching for my touch again, and bring my shaking hand to your mouth and kiss it, then pass it down along your body to your wet snatch. I bring myself up to kiss you and you feel sticky cum on my chin where it rubbed off from your throat. You run your tongue down to taste my spunk, loving the feeling, the flavor, the heat, but mostly, loving the thought of yourself drinking my cum. You lick my neck and upper chest clean of my jizm, and scoop it off of your tits, licking your fingers clean, much to my erotic delight. I move my own body down to suck at your nipples, and gently kiss and nibble your tits, as my fingers work their magic on your anxious, naked pussy. You feel me move further down your body, and look down to realize, ("He's going to eat me!") 

You watch, breathless as my head moves down, then close your eyes and lean back as you feel my breath on your wet pussy. You tremble with desire as my tongue first touches your pussy lips, your hands find the back of my head and you spread your legs to be eaten as you push down on my head to hold me between your legs. This feels so incredible, so erotic, so thrilling, so fucking sexy that you can't, you won't let it end without cumming. You spread your legs wider and arch your hips up to give me your snatch more completely, feeling my fingers gently spread your pussy lips and your clit getting sucked into my mouth. Your whole body shakes with the need of the orgasm you know is coming. Your breath is a ragged hoarse gasp, your fingernails dig into my scalp, and you force your pussy closer to my mouth. You feel me spread your ass apart, and your eyes search the ceiling wondering why, until you feel my breath on your hole. ("He's going to tongue my ass!") You can't believe the sensations as my hot tongue slowly enters it and my tongue slowly fucks your hot, virgin ass. You're a trembling mass of lust, you barely manage to pull my head back up to your cunt and before you can plead with me to finish your cunt, I have sucked your clit back into my mouth.

Your hands lock in place behind my head, your legs unconsciously tighten around my neck, and your lips pull back, baring your teeth in a silent scream as the orgasm explodes from your pussy out in all directions. Your back arches and your head lifts up and hammers down on the car seat, then whips back and forth as your hotly eaten pussy screams with sexual fulfillment. You buck, pant, and drive my face against your pelvis, fucking my tongue, needing my lips on you, my sucking of you hot clit. You want this forever, now, tomorrow, every day and night you want this, first thing in the morning, last thing at night, you want me to please you. You pull me up onto your body, needing to feel my cock on your stomach, my chest on yours, to taste your pussy on my mouth and to share the taste of my cum with me. You rub your snatch against the base of my cock, your orgasm subsiding, but not over. As my arms brace myself, your legs spread around me ("I'm spreading for him — I always want to do that!") and your hand finds my still rigid cock, and you wonder how long I can stay hard, how long you can keep me that way. Your hips lift from the seat, bringing your pussy to me, and you kiss the huge head of my cock with your cunt lips. Your lust, your need for more sex, your insatiable desire to please and be pleased speaks to me from an elemental, animal part of you. You gently whisper, your eyes wide and swimming with desire, "Fuck me."

You see the effect of the words on me immediately; my breath stops short, my cock in your hands jerks uncontrollably, my eyes look unbelievingly at the totality of your lust. "Fuck Me." you repeat, feeling more confidant and more excited each time you hear your voice say it. "You know you want it... tell me you want it" My dry mouth clicks as I struggle to talk. "I want you."

"What do you want?" it's a game to you now, to make me say it, "You don't get what you don't ask for..." I'm panting with lust, able to say the words, but so taken with the eroticism of your words that I'm stumbling with it. You slowly stroke my head back and forth across the wet lips of your snatch, stroking yourself, your clit with my cock. Your eyes narrow wickedly, loving the control. "I want you..." I stammer, losing breath, unable to continue; you know, but play with me some more. "What do you want, some of this?" your hand spreads your pussy lips apart and inserts my cock a half-inch into you, making us both gasp with pleasure. 

I take a breath, kiss you hard, and look deep into your eyes. "I want your pussy. I want you to spread your hot legs so I can fuck you — fuck you like you want it; my hard cock deep inside of you. You want my hard cock so deep inside your hot pussy, and you want it right now!" Your eyes show your naked lust, your loss of control, and you barely manage to guide me into your hot cunt as I push in slowly. "OH! GOD YES! FUCK ME! FUCK ME JUST LIKE THAT! YES, YES, YES! DON'T STOP FUCKING ME! FUCK ME AS DEEP AS YOU CAN!" My cock penetrates you with incredible slowness, the swollen walls of your cunt offering great resistance to my entry, wet though you are. Your hands reach down and your fingernails dig deep into my ass pulling my cock into you, your legs spread wider and your hips reach up to fuck me back.

I rise up on my hands, your arms wrapped around mine, you bring one hand to your mouth and you suck your finger sensuously for me. "Want me to do that to you sometime? I will, whenever you want!" My legs are wrapped around yours on the seat, our juices covering everything. Your pussy is incredibly tight, so tight that every stroke fucking in and out of you threatens to cause us both to orgasm. We look deep into each other's eyes as slowly, sensuously we fuck each other. Your eyes look down between us to watch my thick shaft penetrating your hungry pussy, your lips swallow it whole. "I didn't think it could fit me!" you gasp, "but it feels sooooo good!" You push your hands against the side of the car and force your cunt further onto me, your clit grinding against the base of my cock. I move foreword, rolling around, stroking my cock back and forth against your hips as we slowly fuck, gradually building up speed and tension. "Yes, you fuck so good!" Your eyes are lust-filled; your whole body is fucking me back. "I love how tight you are, you've got the greatest pussy I could imagine" Your hands find my shoulders and you pull me down into a kiss, my cock pistoning in and out of your inflamed cunt. "Don't ever jack off again, I want your cum in me or on me whenever you're horny. Just call and I'll cum over and fuck you like this any time you want it!" My breath becomes shallow; my body buries my cock deeper into you. "Yes, fuck me deeply! Feel my cunt sucking at your naked cock; get ready to shoot into me, I want your whole load of cum in my pussy!" 




Auto Erotica: A Fantasy



We slide back and forth, fucking wildly on the car seat, your legs wrapped around mine, my finger beginning to explore your open asshole as we fuck. You break our kiss to whisper, "I want to ride your hard dick!" I move up, your pussy still sucking greedily at my cock, and pull you onto my lap where you straddle my cock and ride up and down on it, your hands on my shoulders, fucking me slowly, tightly, and erotically. My finger finds your asshole, and begins to penetrate it again. Your back arches and your head goes back as I finger-fuck your ass. "You're incredible!" you whisper, "your cock feels so good in me, I never want to take it out." You slowly ride up and down my naked shaft, looking slowly into my eyes like a snake eyeing its prey. "I've always fantasized I was a nude dancer, and I fucked you in the middle of my club in a dark corner, eating your cock with my snatch! Now we can live out all our fantasies." I gasp at the naked admission of your sexual fantasies; is this my sweet innocent girlfriend? 

You sense my thoughts, "Don't worry" you whisper in my ear, still slowly fucking me with your wonderful pussy, "I'll always be good around other people, but when we're alone, your cock is MINE!" You kiss me hard, press your naked tits to my chest and fuck all the way down my cock. I struggle to move up and down, stimulating us until your lips part from mine, and you whisper, "Yes, you're making me come! Make me come with your wonderful cock!" I feel my own unbelievable orgasm building and I wonder if I can last until you explode. I needn't worry, almost as soon as you've said it, you throw your head back, clawing my back and scream "I'M COMING!" your body lets go it's control with violent spasms of erotic passion, coming and fucking me at the same time. A second later, you feel me pull your shoulders down, forcing you onto my cock and your face, breathless with desire, looks in my eyes as I hoarsely growl, "I'm coming, coming deep inside you!"

"Yes, god yes!" you murmur, "Shoot into me!" We look deep into each other's eyes as my orgasm comes; you feel my cock throb as the hot load squirts out, filling your naked hot cunt with my equally hot sperm.



Auto Erotica Ch. 01



This story will have many chapters look for them to appear every 3-7 days (this is a novella broken down; each chapter will contain explicit sex).

*** 

The night was warm, clear; perfect for racing. The heat of summer was just weeks away and the stars were out. The underground racing scene had been good to me, my partner Cal and I had run our game three times that night.

My 1967 Mustang Shelby GT500E had 400 HP, 350 lb/ft of torque, and nothing in these modern rice burners could beat it, not even the Hemis. Still these cars were run by gangs and enthusiasts, and enthusiasts knew better than to try and race me. 

So my partner and I had to race drug dealers for pink slips, and Cal always collected the cars and drove them to our impound lot. The gangs got one month to give us thirty grand or we kept their cars. It was neat, clean, and untraceable. The racing was the fun end.

I had gotten three in one night, and it wasn't even one a.m. yet, so the night was mine. Cal had taken a Supra weighed down with every piece of chrome the owner could get add to it into the night, and so I was cruising around looking for trouble.

It came to me the way trouble always does. Waiting at a stoplight was a suped up Saturn Sky, chromed out, neon- lined, painted a deep blue with ghost flames so there was no mistaking the gender of the owner.

I came abreast to it in my deep green car, my tinted windows looking mysterious enough that the seat cover in the car leered at my window. She was young, younger than me, blonde, wore a water bra and hot pants and she was willing to dump the Sky for a GT500.

I rolled the window down just as she finished the come on and smiled. "Sorry sweetie, I don't swing that way. Not bad, for a Sky," I said to the driver.

He looked around the girl and gave me a cool look that had withered many a better man, but had never gotten rid of any of us girls. "I ain't racing for the P," he told me.

The girl whined and stroked him but he kept his eyes on mine, and I could tell he didn't like my smile. "How about a simpler bet?"

I'd raced a few times for money in my other cars but I knew that wouldn't get him this time. He needed a sure thing and the girl was close enough. "Like what?"

"Loser goes down on the winner." I rolled my window up letting him know I meant it, and I'd race him if he wanted. Rumor said he had Nitrous on that thing and if I wasn't careful or steady he might just win. I revved the engine, pushed up the Tac, and he smiled.

The girl made some fuss as I turned back to the light. Hell, she could watch for all I cared, when I said I wanted trouble I meant it. A good fight was almost as good as a fuck.

The light turned and I slammed the gas down with the clutch, popped into first and burst forward. It was better than a six second car but Patrick had his tuned to the nth degree. If the girl was still in the added weight would help, but in the end his car was plastic, mine steel.

He was right there but I didn't look. I shifted into second, third, fourth, climbed towards eighty, then hit fifth and he was behind me. We swung onto LSD now and I had three lanes to block, laying rubber as I went.

He was good at feinting but I was a pro. Sure, he had six or seven years on me but I had been racing since I was nine, and it was never legal. I didn't just run those streets, I owned the fuckers.

The end was coming up and I had the pedal to the metal but he was slipping past. Any moment now and he'd hit the Nitrous and only a good block would save me. That and sixth gear.

He hit it and I blocked but he slipped to the left and came up alongside me. I popped the clutch and slid into sixth and ran to his nose. The end was racing up but I never looked at him, pressed the gas in and roared ahead by half a car length.

We hit the brakes to a stop light and I looked over. The girl stormed out of the car and flipped us both off, but Patrick kept his eyes on my window. He couldn't see me and I couldn't read him. All the time we'd run the streets I'd wondered about him, and tonight I'd know.

He had a garage over on Western, and what he tuned out was better than anybody else north of the loop. He was thirty three, white, dark haired, muscled, with a couple of prison tats. No one knew anything about him except that he charged fair and made money hand over fist, and he looked like a demon. 

I led him to an empty lot off Wacker I knew for a fact was secure. It was surrounded by three warehouses, my impound "lot," and the front had a high wall. Cal had already dropped off our kills save the Supra so that meant he was off finding his own trouble.

I parked the 'Stang and stepped out, stretching. Racing culture demanded you dress like a 'ho' but I didn't want to look like a seat cover, so I dressed carefully. The boots were leather, black, came up over my knees and fit like a second skin. My skirt was short, but not indecent, plain black with a little flounce. My shirt was tight, black, with a little sparkle at the deep V. I'd get into any club but nobody would think I'd cost anything per hour.

Hard to tell if he liked what he saw, but he'd taken the bet so that meant something. Patrick himself was six four and built like a brick shithouse, muscles everywhere. He wore motorcycle boots, a white denim button up with the sleeves ripped off, and pants that let me know he dressed to the left and he was, it turned out, happy to see me.

His hair was pure black and long to his collar, his face all perfect angles save a nose that had been broken at least twice. He didn't smile at me, but I didn't think he ever did.

"What is this place?"

I looked around and smiled. "It's mine, that's all that matters."

He looked from car to car to concrete. "Aileen, none of this looks comfortable."

It surprised me he knew my name. I raced as Elle, short for Eleanor, what most people called the car since that damn Nicholas Cage movie. I just raised an eyebrow and smiled. "And here I was hoping you'd have imagination."

He closed the few feet and grabbed me, hauling me against his chest until I felt like I was smushed against a brick wall. His lips brushed fleetingly at mine as his hand hit the Beretta in the small of my back. "Babe, this brings new meaning to 'protection.' "

"I can lose it if you want."

He pulled it out and tossed it. I heard no noise so I assumed he'd gone through my open door and landed on the leather. I didn't want to kiss, that felt too intimate, so when he came closer I smiled and said "Gonna welch on the bet already, Patrick?"

I found myself whirled around, dragged a few feet, and dropped onto his hot hood like he was a cop about to frisk me. 

He kicked my feet apart and then I felt his warm breath under my skirt. Two rough hands smoothed up my inner thighs and froze when he realized I was naked underneath.

"Jesus," he breathed out heavily. Then the skirt was up and I felt his tongue.

Jesus was an understatement. I hadn't really thought he'd go through with it, this was, after all, a fantasy, but he sank in with a vicious swipe of his tongue that let me know he was willing to do what it took.

We'd never raced, the only time we'd ever spoken had been when Cal and I lost our grease monkey for re-tunes. Cal had wanted Patrick but he wouldn't touch anything that even smelled illegal so we'd passed him over for another. I'd seen him on the streets but he raced enthusiasts, never touched the seamier games we played.

Jesus, he was good. He licked, back to front, fucked me with his tongue then flicked the clit. Hell, I was creaming, my legs tight and my knees weak, thank God I had the hood to lean on. Hell, it was happening too fast, I wanted it to last, but all I could do was clutch the hood scoops and whimper. 

Just when I thought I was going to burst he jerked my legs up and over his shoulders, surprising the hell out of me. Then he stood up until I dangled there, face to exposed penis. He'd unzipped his pants while he'd been doing clever things with that demon's mouth and now he was holding me upside down.

"Glad to see you're creative," I purred and stroked his cock. It was slightly long and perfectly straight, and very, very wide. I fixed my mouth on it and felt his return.

The blood was rushing to my head but too much stayed in my pelvis and the novelty of the situation did me in. I sucked him in deep, felt him groan into my pussy, then shafted him three times, purring and moaning myself, and then I came. I was noisy but I had my mouth full, so the sound had nowhere to go.

I came down to feel him walking, and I had the good sense to let go of his cock as he bent down. I was lowered across his hood, which was cooler now but still hot against my skin. Hell, this was too fun to pull up stakes now so I grabbed his cock and slipped it back into my mouth. My head was hanging off the car so my throat was straight and he slammed in.

I'd been waiting for it and suppressed the gag reflex. I wished his pants were off, I really wanted to feel that ass, but he grabbed my hands before I could do any damage. He pinned them there, hunched over, and fucked my mouth.

God, he was huge, and it almost hurt, but it was a good pain. I felt his balls tighten up and expected him to unload but he pulled back and let go of my hands.

"I want to fuck you," he whispered, as if he were unsure.

I scrambled to sit up and face him, pulling the foil packet from my skirt. I tossed it to him with a smile and didn't bother to say anything. He ripped it with his teeth and sheathed his cock, stepping to me and jerking me to the edge of the car until only the barest fraction of an inch of skin was still on it.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and kept my hands on the car for balance as he held the tip of his cock from entering me. He rubbed my clit with it and my breath hitched. When he heard that he dipped his knees and slammed in.

Fuck. He realized his mistake but didn't bother to apologize, just smiled a Devil's smile in the moonlight. I hadn't had sex in a long while and I was too fucking tight for such an entrance. He pulled back and sank in and by now I had adjusted, but it was clear he was closer than I.

He shoved me back and I let go of the hood to grab his shoulders as he fucked me, driving it hard and good. He put one thick thumb on my clit the movement of our bodies rocked me against it. I tightened up with him and when I came I cried out. He was silent, but shuddered heavily in his own orgasm.

I felt heavy, sleepy, and he still felt thick. His body surrounded me, pure muscle, and I realized I recognized the tattoo on his left arm, but I couldn't place it. "Thanks for the ride, Patrick."

I'd hoped I'd sounded flip and he let me go, pulling out and stepping back while I hopped down. I smoothed my skirt and gave myself a moment to make sure my knees worked. My car was three short steps away but they felt like miles. At least my gun was in my car and I slipped it back into place.

"Aileen?"

"How do you know my name?"

He shrugged. "Don't know your last name, if it helps."

"So what did you want?"

"Why do you race thugs?"

I smiled at him and put my right foot inside. "Raced you, didn't I?" Then I sat, closed my door and revved the engine. He stared for a moment but got in his car and drove out. I followed behind, made sure the lot was closed, and blew past him onto Lower Wacker and left him in the dust.

Hell, that had been more fun than I had expected. If I was honest, the best soulless fuck I think I'd ever have.

So why did it feel like a mistake? 



Auto Erotica Ch. 02



After careful review, this chapter contains no sex, but it does, however, explain the characters and sets up the plot for the remaining chapters which should all have explicit sex in them. You can still skip this chapter if you prefer and pick up the basic plot.

Author's note; this story is fiction and you will find several things altered. The gang known as the Latin Counts originated in Chicago's Back Of The Yards neighborhood but for fictional purposes does not currently exist in Chicago.

***

I'm Aileen Reilly. I'm five feet, ten inches tall, one hundred fifty pounds, a white chick with a big chest and unusual coloring. The red hair and pale skin was owed to my Irish ancestors, the purple eyes a fluke of nature that said little about myself as a person, but they were what everyone associated me with.

I kept in shape; I ran three miles every day, lifted weights twice a week, and I didn't eat a lot of crap. I smoked too much and I drank heavily, but I was in good health. I grew up in Detroit and knew by the age of eight how to boost a car, by nine I was doing it. By ten I could take one apart by myself in an hour and put it back together in three. At age 11 I was in the can, juvy, for boosting.

I got out after three years, worked my way though high school. Since it was all above board there was no money for college and I went to work in a garage in Chicago. I tuned for enthusiasts but did after hours works for boosts. Cal Runningwolf joined the garage and then he joined the night racket.

I made enough to get my car and started racing for P's legit until they all knew me on the circuit and no one would race. 

Cal had served real time as an adult and we both knew who ran what drugs in the city, and who boosted what. So we started racing gangs for P's and holding in "escrow" for 30 G's or the car. We sold those for fifteen to twenty-five under the table and within a year we started our own operation.

So now we took one to three cars a night two or three nights a week. There was always fresh blood and the cars we sold were tuned perfectly. The buyers knew we had clean VINs and made them risk nothing. We dealt with cash, gave guarantees, and our reputation was gold. Who could ask for more?

Cal had two lives, just like me, like most racers, but I knew nothing about his private face. Mine was just as secretive to him, to everyone I thought, and Patrick had shaken me that night.

Still nothing bad happened in the next month, no one came in the night, no cops banged down the door. Didn't mean I wasn't jumpy, but I was safe.

I lived on Lake Shore Drive, LSD, in a brownstone with my brother and his kids. His wife had taken off for parts unknown and Andy was stuck raising his kids alone. Katie was five and Andrew Jr. was three. Andy Sr. had a trust fund still, one I managed but never touched for myself. He had his own flat with four bedrooms, three baths, everything he needed on the second floor. On the first floor were my home office and the public rooms, as well as the servants' quarters. I employed a cook for us all, a maid for us all, and a nanny for the kids. The third floor was mine.

Weekdays I was Aileen Reilly, a woman who lived off a trust fund that had been liquidated before I learned to walk, but no one knew that. My brother and my neighbors thought I did charity work. I'd leave the house in a tasteful skirt suit with a briefcase and drive to a small safe house, one of three I kept around the city.

There I'd change into my street clothes, lose the glasses and heels, put on the boots and tie the hair back. I'd lose the SUV and take a junker to work. Every house was different, my weekday one had a 1970 Dodge Charger engine hiding in a '89 Nova, a beauty if you ask me.

I'd drive to the compound off of Wacker where Cal waited in the same condition. He always drove in a F150 with a hidden Hemi and wore rumpled clothes and coveralls that matched mine.

Weekends I lounged, played with the kids, and at night I left in sweats and headed for house two. House two was more secure. I drove the Volvo (super tuned, of course) to an underground garage. At the bottom was a door no one but I could get through and that night I parked in it next to the 'Stang. I rode a private elevator up the tower to my condo and dressed carefully from the outfits there.

Night races meant I had to dress sexy but I avoided slutty. I teased my hair, slid into my boots, did my makeup carefully, and rode back down. The 'Stang went out the other door into another underground garage that was a public lot. I had a monthly pass registered to a Nancy Reynolds and swiped on my way out.

Cal and I met up in front of a garage on 158th and Chicago, a legit operation that a friend of his ran during the day. That night Cal drove a Solstice that could blow the doors off of almost anything. He raced enthusiasts but his reputation was approaching mine and soon no one would take him in legit circles.

Cal was six one, broad shouldered, rangy, and his hair was a solid black always braided, hanging to his waist. I had no idea what a full-blooded Navajo was doing in the city but for all I knew he was on parole and couldn't leave. All I knew was he had both a Semper Fi tattoo and friends with big muscles and bigger guns who'd run bodyguard duty.

It was a simple life; the week spent tuning cars, the weekends with family and making money. And for a whole month I had worried that it was going to dry up, but nothing happened. I didn't see Patrick on the circuit but I didn't ask Cal for fear he'd know what I did.

The end of June slapped the city with muggy heat and it came alive at night. It was Friday night and I rolled up to the garage dressed in black, but I'd left the leather at home save the boots. It was all cotton and for once I regretted driving a classic car with no AC.

Cal was in his Solstice, cherry-poppin' red he called it, and looking bored. Women threw themselves at Cal and yeah, we'd gotten bored early on when we were still working for Harry in his garage. He was good in bed, if a little tame for my taste, and I too submissive for his, so we'd long ago decided friendship was best. Since then I'd seen him snap a man's neck and he'd seen me knife a woman in self defense. Friendship was safest.

"Hey."

"Hey, Cal. What's the word?"

"There's some new blood in town, smellin' on the down-low. Nobody likes them, so nobody warned them."

"What aren't you telling me, Cal?"

"Aileen, they're LC."

Shit. He'd seen me naked, he knew the small tattoo on my tailbone was LC. LC didn't run in Chicago where they'd started out, they'd spread from LA to KC to Houston and Detroit. If they were here they were looking to spread further and I didn't want that. It had been over ten years since I'd seen any, hell if any of the ones I'd run with were still alive I'd be surprised.

"Let's find them."

He shrugged but fell in behind me as we cruised. The first stop was the main circuit. It always moved but a safe bet was the huge empty lot of the old K-Mart off Western next to Vig's Garage. Vig was an old man, retired, and his shop was run by Li'l J. J was five feet eight inches tall, but his afro gave him an extra twelve inches. He was mocha skinned, gold-toothed, and a smooth talker. Nothing legit happened without his finger in it, nothing underground happened without him knowin' about it.

By the time we got there it was packed. I slid my GT into position to be admired and new faces turned, many familiar ones too. Cal slid in behind me and angled his red sex machine so all the girls at the edge would notice. Most people expected a man to be driving my car and always did a double take when I stepped out. Any men who might have tried bit their tongues when Cal came to stand menacingly by my side.

The people that knew us knew we were partners, nothing else, but he was a good deterrent. He wore a white t-shirt, deceptively simple and I knew it cost ninety bucks, his jeans just as designer but looking dark and almost cheap over his cowboy boots. They were real and old, and I knew he could sprint in them if he had to.

My boots were designer, needle thin on the heels, and I'd had to practice but I too could sprint if I had to. They were only three inches. Whereas Cal's white shirt made his bronze skin look dark my black wrap top and black miniskirt made my skin look milk pale. It was too bad the sex just hadn't clicked, we made one hell of a striking couple.

I caught myself looking for Patrick Crilly and bit my tongue. It had been just sex, it shouldn't have stuck in my mind, but maybe it did because it had been a good year or two between the last soulless fuck and Patrick.

"Do you see them?" I asked Cal.

He nodded to my right and off in the crowd I saw them. Hispanic, dressed in blue and gold, their cars matching. We had a Viper, a Saturn Sky, even an old Chevy Camaro. All American, all Detroit.

"Let's wait, and if I can I'll take on two. Sniff out the Viper, see if you can take it or the Sky, but that Camaro is mine. Got it?"

He was a good enough mechanic to know his car wouldn't take it. "Got it, the Yenko Camaro is yours. So where do we start?"

I looked over the cars to see if there was anything interesting. There was, a '68 350R, super-tuned. I salivated, even if my car could take it. "See the 350R?"

"What is it with you and 'Stangs?"

"Detroit thing. C'mon."

We took two steps before Suki found Cal. Suki was the child of a Japanese woman and a white-bred American man, the result was a five foot nine inch goddess, a size zero almost outweighed by her curtain of jet hair. She was a professional dominatrix, no kidding, and her kid sister raced a Honda. The second Cal saw her he was lost, and I left him there to play tonsil-hockey.

The 350 had a crowd around it, unusually mixed in gender. I nodded to a few people I knew and worked my way to the hood. The engine had been tweaked, it looked like a 428 standard racing 8 cylinder, intake super clean, and, surprise, surprise, a super-charger. If he put in a Hemi it might take mine.

The engine was sexy, the body well cared for. The paint was midnight blue with wide white stripes, the signature look of the Shelby. I wanted one.

"Like it?"

"Got room for a Hemi?" I asked the deep voice without looking up.

He chuckled and I finally turned and looked up. And up. He was six feet seven, my guess, how the hell did he even fit in the car? He looked like a Viking, all broad shoulders and blonde hair.

"Next on the menu. I'm Gunnar Oakenhorse, miss..."

"They call me Elle. I own the '67 GT500E back there." I shook his hand firmly and his eyes drifted to my car and I saw his body tense and relax in the admiration of a fellow 'Stang lover.

"What have you done to it?"

"Super-charger, upped the torque to max output, reinforced the frame, retrofit for Nitrous but never installed. Seeing yours I just might upgrade to a Hemi and tweak a little."

"Who's your garage?"

"I do my own work."

"You race?"

I smiled up at him. "You'd lose. Everyone here would lose. I'm not bragging; ask anybody."

Gunnar turned with an indulgent smile to the man across the hood from us. "I could take her, right?"

It was Bobby Lee and he laughed. "Elle? Nobody takes her, she races thugs. She takes their P's man, total shark."

Gunnar lost his smile and looked down at me. "Dangerous game for such a little woman."

I laughed; only a Viking behemoth would say I was little. I was a size eight and just shy of six feet, one inch over in my boots. "Bobby Lee don't know what he's talking about. I race whoever's willing, and who knows? Maybe someone out there can out-drive me."

Bobby shrugged and moved on. Behind him several girls were glaring at me, presumably for hogging Gunnar's attention. He wasn't gorgeous, merely pleasant looking, cute perhaps, but too big to qualify. I guess you could say the hard angles of his face were arresting and the body was promising.

Over their heads I caught a familiar figure in the distance, leaning against his blue and ghost-flamed Sky, watching me. Our eyes met and held a second too long. Shit, he was coming over, I had to escape.

"I'll race you when you get the Hemi." I brushed my hand down his arm and searched the crowd for Cal. He was over with Suki's crew so I left the 'Stang for the enclave.

"Cal, let's get going on the American cars, 'eh?"

Suki pouted. "Come on, take a night off. Jeeze, Elle you work him too hard."

"He's a grown man, he can take a night off if he wants. Cal, you want?"

Suki slipped her hand inside his pants pocket and squeezed, and I knew he was done. "Elle," at least he remembered to use the right name, "I'll catch up, okay? Take the Camaro."

Jesus, so much for friendship when pussy was involved. He must be harder up for it than I had been.

"Elle?"

I stiffened, knowing Patrick's silky voice anywhere. I'd once had a conversation with this man over the specs of the cars I needed tuned, and then last month we'd fucked something furious. How the hell was I supposed to act?

"Patrick Crilly. Roadsters are over that way; this here is rice burner territory."

Jesus he looked good. Black t-shirt, black jeans, black boots. He looked like the devil, except I knew my bible and Lucifer was most definitely a blonde. Perhaps Patrick was the head demon just below who ran the dark prince's operations on Earth. I'd believe it.

"And where do I find American Muscle Cars?"

"Try the new '68 350, it's supercharged and I think that's an honest-to-God Viking running it."

His mouth quirked and his eyes flicked to the kids around Oren's car, then Suki's hand in Cal's pants. "Can I speak to you, alone?"

Cal moaned softly and Oren and I both flinched in mutual disgust. Suki's sister wanted to bear witness to the mating as much as I did. "All right. I'll walk you back to your car."

His lips quirked again, the most animation I'd ever seen out of him. "How novel."

His boots added two inches, mine added three, so now he was only five inches taller instead of six. As we walked our bodies fell into perfect rhythm together and evoked memories I didn't want except in the dark of night.

"So what do you want?"

"You're very curt, aren't you?" he asked softly.

"I don't like to waste time."

"I noticed." He lapsed back into thoughtful silence as we made our slow way through the thick crowd. Someone had hooked up loudspeakers to their stereo and TLC's "If I Was Your Girlfriend" pumped out with its weird, funky beat. 

His Sky had its hood up and when we reached the car I gave it a thorough once-over. "Nice. Real nice. What's the torque?"

"Three hundred and climbing."

"Hell." I was surprised. "What have you done to the frame?"

"Steel reinforced, all after market."

"Why go to the trouble on a Sky?"

He shrugged. "I only race the Sky, it's not my favorite car."

I looked back at mine. If I was going to have sex with a car, it'd definitely be mine, but I wisely kept the comment to myself. "So how do you know my name?"

"Joe Cready."

"Joe?" I was surprised. We'd worked together at Harry's, but he'd left before Cal came on board. "How is Joe?"

"He's a great mechanic. I think he has a crush on you, but he knew you before you became Elle."

"That's what people call me. I just don't correct them."

He smiled at me and more than one woman sighed. His teeth were even and straight, no jail-house dentistry to match the tattoos. Joe Budden's "Pump It Up" came on and the crowd cheered. Everyone who'd gotten into the scene after watching "2 Fast 2 Furious" started dancing.

"I wanted to warn you away from these new people." He nodded at the LCs, my target.

"Don't worry, I can take the Camaro."

He put his hand on my back and pulled me towards him until we were pressed close. Shock held me pliant and I looked up into his eyes, and it felt very intimate. "I know that. Do you really think this will keep them honest and let you take the P?" He stepped back and I saw my Beretta was in his hand.

I stepped back and made a decision. I wanted to scare him off. I turned around and grabbed the hem of my shirt in one hand, the top of my skirt in the other. "No, but this will." I turned around and pulled them back so he could see the unmistakable gang tattoo on my skin with my initials.

I turned back and he looked surprised, but cool. Patrick didn't fight when I took my gun back, and I slipped it into my waistband.

"How?" He asked and I knew what he meant. You couldn't find a more Caucasian woman than me and the LC was the Latin Counts; no one but Mexicans and Puerto Ricans need apply. 

"Long story, and it's all in the past."

He looked at the cars and back at me. I turned to leave but the bastard was quick for such a big guy and he caught my wrist in his grip, holding tight. "Is it?"

"What the hell do you want? You know I roll with Cal. I take these fools and I get the P on a Yenko, and they won't set foot in this city. Don't mess with it, Crilly."

"So what? You're a crime fighter now? You sell stolen goods at underground auctions. Look up criminal mastermind in the dictionary and there's a picture of you next to it."

I smiled, somehow pleased with that. "My parole officer would love that," I said before I thought. When I realized I kept the smile on my face. "If you don't let me go I promise you, you'll regret it."

He thought about it for a moment, and had we not been surrounded by people he might have pushed it, but at long last he dropped my arm and I went to run my game. The way the night was going, I would love a good down and dirty fight.



Auto Erotica Ch. 03



Sheridan Avenue runs the North Shore and makes a few twists and turns onto Lake Shore Drive. I always raced there, it was like a highway in the middle of the city. I didn't know any of the LCs and I had the Camaro and the Viper with me. To my chagrin the Viking had muscled his way in and that made four cars in three lanes. Fucking tough.

I'd called at 30Gs and the Viking put up cash, the Yenko Camaro and the Viper put up the P's. Cal and Suki held them and parked next to them was Patrick. Cal gave me an odd look when the other man pulled up, but I just shrugged.

Patrick for his part was staring at Gunnar like he'd like to start a pissing contest with me in the middle. That appealed to me about as much as the imagery.

Suki and her crew blocked LSD behind us, and she alighted with a wink. I revved the engine and stroked the dashboard, enjoying the Zen-like calm that flowed over me in those final moments. 

Suki raised her pink scarf, very dramatic, and dropped it. I slammed the gas and clutch and Gunnar and I shot forward. We held even as we shifted first into second and I went for blood. I swiped at him and he dodged, letting the Viper slip into second.

In the mirror I saw the other three cars behind me, and far beyond them Cal and Patrick following us. I punched into third and saw Gunnar had swiped the Viper in the side and nudged his way back, gaining on me.

The Camaro vied now and the Viper dropped back to let it in. I ignored them and slipped into fifth, neck and neck with the 350. The Camaro went to nitrous, a surprise, and shot past us.

"Fuck this," I said and popped into sixth. I claimed the lead by a nose, the Camaro and the 350 finished right behind me, the Viper behind them.

I pulled off and led them back to another circuit already gathering in the loop. It wouldn't last long, but it would work. Just when I felt good the Camaro turned and took off. Cal broke off and sped after it and I left it to him. I knew he wouldn't catch him with speed, it had to be skill, but it wasn't likely.

Patrick wisely blocked the Viper in and I alighted right away.

The LC in it was Maria, hard boiled, only twenty two, packing. She got out ready to fight.

"Cal's got your P, so walk away nicely."

She rattled off Spanish and I could tell I was the only one who understood. I stepped closer and smiled as Gunnar and Patrick watched, unsure what to do. I don't think either would hit a woman, but I would. 

"Call my mother a slut one more time and you'll be eating breakfast through a straw. You got me?"

She went for her gun and I sighed. I faked with my right and she fell for it, blocking while my left slammed into her skull. I busted a knuckle on it but she didn't go down. Guess she'd been hit in the head one too many times.

Someone in Suki's crowd yelled "Fight!" and rather than gathering around us the kids ran to their cars and took off. No one wanted to be there when the cops came.

Maria kicked at me and I gabbed her foot and twisted. She'd expected it and the other foot came up. I moved, but not fast enough, and she clipped my shoulder. Gunnar started towards us and I shook my head. "Back off!"

She came up swinging and I blocked, feinted, and she went for my gut. I took the hit so she was left open, and cracked her so hard in the eye socket that bone crunched and her head snapped back.

She went down like a sack of potatoes and the night was quiet. There were only us four and our engines, the men staring at me with a small touch of revulsion.

She cursed me in Spanish and told me the men would never want me. I smiled, turned my head and spit blood. "Fine by me, if neither one wants to see me naked I won't lose any sleep." I hauled back and kicked her in the stomach. 

"That's for insulting my mother." Kick. "That's for trying to pull a gun on me." Kick. "That's for your friend trying to run." Kick. "And that's so you know you never set foot in my fucking town again. Comprende?"

"Si," she coughed out, but there was no blood so I knew she was okay.

I ignored the men and walked back to my car and got my cell. I pressed the button that made it slide open and hit speed dial. "Carlos, I'm in the circuit lot in the north loop. I need a pickup and you'll have to drive her to Cook County. Five? All right." 

I hung up, bent down, and took her gun. "You men can leave now."

Gunnar looked recovered first. "This is what you do?"

"I don't have to justify myself to you. Everything we do in this world is against the law."

"But it's not violent!"

"What are you? Some kind of cop?" I clicked off the safety on her gun. Gunnar stepped back and swallowed.

"You have my cash, I'm leaving."

"Please do. No one invited you and I told you you couldn't win."

He looked down at the coughing Latina. "How could you do that?" 

Patrick's expression said he was thinking the same thing.

"Neither one of you speaks Spanish?" Two shakes. I pointed the gun at her head and kept my eyes on them. "Tell the nice men, in English, what you said to me."

She stayed curled up but spoke. "I said her mother is a filthy whore who would fuck any man. I said her hair marks her as daughter of the devil. I said she is a liar and a cheat and my sisters would come and gut her pretty face. I said I would carve her up so that no man would ever look at her again, but my brothers would still rape her until she begged for death. I told her this was the beginning, that my brothers and sisters are coming and we will cover this city, she can never hide from me."

I looked at the men and saw rage there. Good. "She means it. She's LC, they run coke. In less than a month they could blanket the city, cull out the competition, and the neat thing about mutilation and rape? It's their calling card. The women cut and the men rape. It's charming, really."

Gunnar's hand reflexively made a fist and uncurled repeatedly. Patrick was looking hard at me and I knew what he was thinking. "This is a new idea from the last five years. I believe they learned it from some Haitian gangs in Kansas City," I said.

Patrick relaxed a little but Gunnar seemed enraged. I knew what he was thinking. "Forget it, Gunnar. She'll need a buddy to drive her back to Detroit and spread the word."

"What about the Camaro?" Patrick asked.

"It's probably in Indiana by now, outrunning Cal. If not, who knows?" I left it unsaid that Cal would kill him for running.

Luckily Carlos came up then, dropped off by an unseen driver. He took one look at me and my gun on Maria and picked her up. "Which one?" he asked.

"The Viper." I found the trunk release and he dumped her in. "Get rid of this." I handed him the gun and he nodded, got in, and drove off.

"Gentlemen, it's been grand. I suggest that if we cross paths on the circuit, you politely just keep walking and pretend you don't know me."

I got in my on car and drove away. Only when I was around the corner did I let the tears fall. The bitch had hit me hard, too hard. My shoulder was going to have a huge bruise and my stomach would ache for days. I was taking the next night off.

My eyes burned until I found the public garage and I had to fish for my card. I slipped it in, nodded to the attendant, and then I saw it. A blue Sky in my rearview. "Shit," I swore under my breath and gunned it.

I slammed into the hidden parking spot and decided to greet him. The wall closed and I ran up a flight of stairs in the other lot, emerging from the stair well to see his headlights. What was with this guy?

He stopped and then started again, pulling into a spot and turning the engine off. I opened his door and sat in the convertible. "Why are you following me?"

"You all right? She hit you hard."

"I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Jesus. You really think that will stop them from moving in?"

"Hell no."

He looked at me in surprise. "Then why bother?"

"They won't race again. That'll make it that much harder to make contacts. Now it's up to the fucking cops to stop them."

"You don't like cops much, do you?"

"Do you? I know you spent time in the can."

He shrugged, man of many words.

"I deserve my privacy, Patrick. Leave me be."

"It's not fair."

That wasn't what I expected to hear. "What?"

"You know my name, my shop, you can find me any time you want. You drive a limited edition car and the plates lead me to a corporation that matches the lot. No one knows your real name, took me a year to learn your first name. I've been trying to figure out a way to even talk to you for another year and one night you just pull up and ask to race."

Okay, if he kept talking there was going to be a problem. Even as hurt as I was he was making me cream to think of that night. "Shut it, Crilly. Why don't you just go back to the circuit and find yourself an easy blonde? There's hundreds of them who would sell their soul just to be sitting here."

"Yeah, I know."

Jeeze, the guy never said what I expected. "You wouldn't be so interested if you would just realize how boring I am."

"Boring? I'd hardly say that."

"Look, Crilly, I grew up in a bad place. I joined a gang like a lot of stupid kids. I was good with cars, magic hands on a Ford. I did something stupid, I got pinched, and when I came out of the can I decided to go straight. Too poor for college I started fixing cars. I met Cal at Harry's, same place I knew Joe from, we went into business on our own. That's it."

He laughed. "That's still a thousand times more interesting that most of the stories out there. Too many damn suburbanites who watched some movie and want to watch people race. Hell, there's only a handful of women who race and nobody with a car like that."

I leaned back and groaned. "Compliment the car all you want but I'm not fucking you tonight. I'm gonna go home and try and shove my liver back down to where it's supposed to be."

He turned to face me and we were close, too close, and I was afraid he'd kiss me but he just smiled. "I'll let you run, again, but someday you're going to come clean. Aileen."

"In your dreams, Crilly."

"As usual. I liked it better when you called me Patrick."

I got out and didn't look back as I went into the stairwell. When the door closed I went downstairs and out into the other garage. No one was waiting so I went in my private elevator, and then stripped down into a warm bath. I called Cal and he said he'd gotten the Camaro, but the driver was dead.

I hung up, got out, dried off, and dressed in my sweats. I pinned my hair up and tucked it under a baseball cap. I'd popped some major Tylenol and felt slightly better, but I was looking forward to sleep.

I drove the Volvo out and saw the Sky on the street, Patrick watching the exit. I tried to figure out what my normal mannerisms were and do the opposite, and then I realized he was waiting around the corner from the exit he assumed I'd leave from. His car stayed behind as I drove off and I sighed with relief.

At home there were lights burning. Andy was waiting for me in the kitchen.

"Late night, little sis? Who was it this time?" He was clearly drunk, but even sober he assumed my late weekend nights were because I was a slut. 

"Andy, shouldn't you be getting to bed?"

"Don't you fucking tell me what to do. You're not mom, so stop acting like her!"

Yeah, if I was my mom I'd probably fight him for the bottle. "I'm tired. Don't let the kids see the bottle or see you drunk. Good night."

He cursed at me as I climbed up to my floor. I collapsed into bed and felt miserably alone.

#

By Monday I felt better. I had bruises but I was no longer stiff and I went to work with grim determination. We had to strip the Camaro down, remove serial numbers, anything that would identify it. Our man at the DMV could rush a new VIN but it was going to cost half of Gunnar's thirty grand. The Viper could wait a little longer, that VIN only cost five grand.

Cal and I worked together on the Camaro and took it apart completely in an hour, but it would take two days to clean it. I put on my headphones to cover his wailing heavy metal and let TLC spill out and into me.

I went Zen and spaced out, cleaning methodically slow and thorough until Cal put his hand on my shoulder. It was noon and I slipped my phones off. "Yeah?"

"Someone's at the door."

We went to the security monitor and saw it was the Viking, Gunnar. 

"What is it? You have beer flavored nipples?"

I rolled my eyes. "This from the man with his own fan club? You're one to talk."

"Yeah, but pussy don't come sniffing around."

"Crass. I'll get rid of him."

The main building was connected to the far one we were in and I wiped the grease from my hands as I went, but my nails were still black. I locked Cal in safely and opened the door. This building had the legit cars with no questions, tunes we did for ourselves, the cars that came our way with all the right papers. Pink slip didn't mean much these days.

In the light of day Gunnar was handsome. He looked clean and wholly masculine, his skin golden and his hair a lighter shade of the same color. I swallowed and for a moment wished I was cleaner and not dressed in coveralls. "Hello. How did you find this place?"

"I asked around."

That meant he'd asked Patrick. I wondered what the devil thought of that. "What is it you need?"

He held up a bag. Costello's, my favorite, but he couldn't have known. "I brought lunch."

Just then my stomach growled. "Then come on in."

He stepped inside and I did a cursory look. No gun that I could see, just tight white t-shirt and jeans. Okay, he looked like a wet dream in the sunlight, too bad the night hid the lines of his face and the green of his eyes.

I led him to a bench with a radio playing Soul Asylum on it on the 90's Café All Request Hour show. He set the bag down with two drinks and I kicked out a bench which we both sat on, each looping one leg over.

I sniffed heaven. "Mmm, cheesy beefs, heart attacks on buns."

"It's the best they have."

"Glad they brought it back. So what brings you here bearing food?"

He blushed slightly. "You're very curt, aren't you?"

What was it, was 'curt' on some word-of-the-day calendar somewhere? "So?"

"Makes it hard. Men like women to be a little more coy, you know. It's not so challenging."

"I'm a challenging woman. Men have to get used to that."

"Look, would you have dinner with me?"

I blinked at that, the concept of a date so foreign that it took a moment to sink in. "I'm flattered, but I don't think that's a good idea, Gunnar."

"What is it? You have something going on with that Patrick guy?"

"No. Look, you're new to the circuit, but everyone there, it's a secret life. For most of them, they're in school right now, or working, like me. People have spouses, parents, siblings, friends who don't know about the world. We none of us mix business with pleasure."

"You work with Cal." He said strangely and I realized he must be jealous.

"Cal and I have worked together for a long time. We own this together. It's all business. I don't know where he lives or what he does when we're not here or on the circuit."

"Than what is it with Crilly?"

"None of your business, but nothing current, I can assure you. Now let's eat the damn sandwiches before they get cold."

Thank god I ran every day, because a cheesy beef is beef, cheddar, mushrooms, and cream cheese on a bun. There were chips and soda too, he'd thoughtfully gotten me a diet.

When we were done we sat in silence for a moment. Then he said "What's your real name?"

"Patrick didn't tell you?" He shook his head. "It's Aileen. Is Gunnar really yours?"

"Yes. I was born in Denmark, but my family moved here when I was two."

What the hell did I say to that? Until a month ago my life had been spent working with a man who said barely three words a day, coming home to listen to my chatterbox niece and nephew, my brother who only yelled, and help that never spoke. My social skills were rusty.

"Gunnar, look, like you said I'm curt. I don't date, I wouldn't even know how if I tried, so let me try to be honest here. I like you, you're nice, you have good taste in cars, and you seem to have...handled that night well. I'm not looking for a boyfriend, but I do find you attractive. The next twenty minutes is as good as any time."

He wore his expressions naked and he was clearly surprised. I stood and went to the first aid kit at the end of the bench and opened it. I pulled a condom from Cal's stash and turned. He was quiet, stealthy for a giant, and right behind me.

I passed him the condom in a way I hoped conveyed that I was willing and that I wanted him to take charge. His eyes were so dark they almost looked brown, but they were definitely green, and lit from within as he palmed the packet.

He went for a kiss but I turned my face and gave him my neck as I splayed my hands on his chest. He felt huge and warm, not quite as hard as Patrick, but lean. He set the condom down on the table started to unbutton the coveralls. 

He kissed my collarbone and I knew the moment he realized I wore only my bra and panties beneath it by his groan. I stepped back to pull off my shoes and back towards the lounge. He shoved the foil packet into his pocket and followed me, but shucked his boots at the door.

Inside the lounge we had couches and I settled on one as he locked the door. I don't know what I expected, I guess a more gentle approach from his expressions, but he looked hard. "Take them off," he ordered me gruffly.

The thrill of submission made me hurry and from his reaction I knew he knew this game just as well. I wouldn't have to explain anything and the thought made me cream. He tugged his own clothes off until he was naked and he was gorgeous.

My traitorous mind compared him to Patrick and found just different enough that the leaner physique and paler coloring didn't seem like a handicap. His penis was long, very long, possibly too long for me, and a little thicker than average with a curve at the end, very slight.

"Eyes up here," he ordered and I met his gaze. He seemed pleased at my nerves. "Take off your bra."

I peeled it off and let my breasts spill into the cool air, the nipples pebbling. Something felt off and in the back of my mind reason was taking root. I didn't fuck strangers. I knew Patrick, where to find him, who he ran with, I knew nothing about Gunnar except his car and his name.

Something must have shown on my face because he moved quickly and knelt between my legs. I could only watch and gasp as he bowed his golden head and ripped my panties off. His tongue was a flash, an odd first move for a dominant man to make, but not for a desperate one.

He had talent, neat tricks with the tip of his tongue and measured pressures increasing until he found my ultimate comfort level. The orgasm built up quickly, centered completely in my clitoris. Just as it approached his phone began to ring.

He swore but did not stop and the phone stopped. I built up again but the phone began to beep. "Emergency," Gunnar said and pulled back. I tried to close my legs but his shoulders blocked the way as he opened the phone. "Speak," he commanded and buried his head in my pussy again.

I was aghast but it didn't help. I came and he slipped his free hand up to clamp over my mouth. I had never felt so divorced from my pleasure, so used, so low, and so humiliated to know I loved it.

"I have to go." He shut off the phone, rose up, and kissed me. I sat there, dazed, as he dressed hastily and slid out. As I sat there my mind wandered to Patrick, and for a mournful moment I realized Patrick wouldn't have given in. He'd've made me wait for it, and beg for it.

Angry, more at myself than Gunnar, I dressed, smoothed my hair, and rejoined Cal. "What was that all about?" he asked softly.

"I think Gunnar's a cop." 



Auto Erotica Ch. 04



This chapter is "filler" with no explicit sex. The character development is important to the overall story, however you can skip this and come back. The next chapter has heavy sex.

***

The Camaro was done by late Wednesday night. Cal took off right away for a date with Suki, and I took a smoke out back in the lot. Had it really only been a month? And why had such simple sex felt so changing?

I pulled out my cell, the top slid up into position, and I pushed a speed dial.

"Marcus here," the other end said.

"It's Aileen. I need you to do something."

"Who is it?"

"Patrick Crilly."

"It's six now. Nine ok?"

"Fax it to my home office."

He hung up which meant that was fine. I had three hours before I'd know everything about Mr. Crilly, but it didn't mean I felt any better.

#

"Annie Iween!" Andrew Jr. raced up and attacked my knees.

"Oof!"

"Auntie Aileen!" Katie called and hit the other leg.

"Hey midgets!" I ruffled their hair with affection. Andy and I shared the same mother, and that's where my red hair came from, but on Andy's father's side there was more. Katie's hair was auburn, like a dark flame in the night, her eyes a deep brown that were startling. She was very pretty and some day would be the crown beauty of the town.

Andrew Jr. took after his mother, with a lanky build and white-blonde hair that would mellow to golden with age. His bones were strong and his eyes were blue but any day I had the feeling they'd turn lavender like mine. It made me wonder what my kids would look like, if I ever had any.

"How was school today?"

"I learned fractions," Katie yelled.

"I made a new fwiend," Andrew said shyly. I ruffled more hair and walked with them on each leg into the kitchen.

"Hey Marta, Ingrid." I greeted the cook and nanny. "Marta, that smells divine."

"Lemon chicken. Ingrid, get the kids washed up, you too Miss Reilly."

The kids were herded upstairs and I followed but went to the top floor. I pulled on jeans, swiped on some deodorant, washed my hands and face and scrubbed my nails clean, and at last slipped on a new bra and a lilac tank top.

Downstairs the table was set, and we all ate together. The children had set it and would clear it, and Andy and I did the dishes. Andy was seated at the head of the table, sipping Chablis and looking reasonably sober.

"Dear sister, we have a function Saturday night." This meant his date had cancelled.

"Andy, I don't do the public appearances. That's your department. I'm the money manager."

"The foundation would love to have you since you signed the check and sent your own money along."

"I can't. You know I'm busy on weekends."

"It can't be important." He sounded dark, on the verge, and I knew to avoid his black mood to give in. Marta, Ingrid, and Luisa the maid all pleaded with their eyes at me.

"Fine. Is it formal, black and white, AIDS, what?"

"Formal."

"Fine. I have to make a call, I'll be right back."

I excused myself and the kids naturally filled the silence. My office was in the front and I unlocked the two deadbolts and then locked the door behind me. I turned on the low banker's lamp and sat in the desk to stare out at LSD and the night drivers racing along in family sedans and deranged taxicabs.

I pulled out one of the cells and called Cal.

"Go."

"I'm busy Saturday night."

"Cop?"

"Family."

"I hear you. Want me to run the circuit?"

"Keep your eyes open, race for fun if you want. Hang with Suki's crew in case the LC pulls around. I'm going to take tomorrow off too, you may as well. See you Friday; we'll work on the Viper."

"Cool."

And we hung up. This was no good, having to change my plans. I felt nervous with the Viper in the garage and a big blonde cop skulking around out there. I dialed another number from another phone.

"Carlos," he answered on the fourth ring.

"Aileen. Cops are sniffing around, put three on tonight, two tomorrow, watch the V. Clear?"

"Crystal." And he hung up. 

I was closing the drawer when a phone inside started ringing. The number said it was familiar but I answered cautiously. "Yo."

"Marcus here."

I looked at my watch. "It's not yet eight. You're early."

"Don't need more time. Can I fax?"

"I'm right there, and alone."

"Good."

And he disconnected. I closed the drawer and selected the phone for the next day and pulled it from its charger to slip into my pocket. The fax machine whirred to life, the screen telling me there were ten pages. I waited until they were all through and pulled them.

Patrick Crilly, born thirty three years ago in October, died November of the same year. Next appearance on the map was five years ago when he bought the garage from a Kyle Mulligan. A year later he bought three cars, one of which was the Sky, that was it. 

Technically, Patrick Crilly did not exist.

#

Friday night and Cal and I were out in force. I'd decided to take a Solstice we'd won and suped up, and the little convertible felt sexy and prowly under my hands. I wore my boots and signature black in a cami and skirt, and Cal wore jeans and a white T. Suki knew trouble was coming and all her brothers came to hang with us, her crew all packing.

The circuit was on the West Side tonight in an old empty lot that had never been made into anything. It spilled into the streets around, all lined with warehouses and small plants that were closed and shut tight for the night.

The music was hot, the neon was on, the low riders were showing, and people milled about. There was no American muscle present, no LC, and no blonde cops. The night might be mild after all.

"Hey Cal!" some girl called and when he grinned Suki growled. I rolled my eyes, wishing those two would just admit they were going out and stop the games.

We were stopped by a few people, old friends, most who wanted to know about the Solstice, and it took two hours of trading specs before any real races started. A few on the side streets and the main one was a 10G buy in.

Suki decided to go for it, so of course Cal went too. This left me with Suki's sister Oren, her man, and Oren and Suki's six brothers, all ex-Yakuza, their tattoos proclaiming it loudly. Oren didn't mind me much, but she didn't like Cal and Cal and I were partners. So I felt alone. Some bodyguards these made.

At the start of the race I had an appointment to keep and I made my way to the edge by the start line. Marcus was waiting there for me. He was German, five feet eleven inches tall, blonde, angular, and ruthless.

"Is he here?" he asked me.

"Drives a '68 Shelby GT350, he's six seven, blonde, can't miss him."

"I see him."

I turned and saw Gunnar across the street, scanning the crowd. "I'll distract him, fall back."

He melded into the shadows and I made sure to stand up, knowing my red hair stood out in the crowd. Gunnar saw me and I pretended not to see him and walked to Cal. He revved his engine as the last car slid into place and Li'l J was counting the last buy in while six girls vied to be the starter.

I leaned down to Cal. "Marcus has him, I'm drawing him over and he'll tag the car."

"Got it."

"You really gonna take Suki's money?" I asked with a smile.

He looked at her. "Maybe I'll let her win."

I snorted and heard my name. Li'l J was calling me and I walked in front of the cars and ignored a few catcalls from people who didn't know me. I was no follower, I was the top here.

"My queen!" J kissed my cheek and slapped my shoulder. "Would you be starter?"

"All good?"

"Every buy-in. Favors on Cal but the smart money says Suki will win."

"Put me down five on Suki."

"Got the vig?"

"I pulled the roll from my cleavage and he smiled. "You hold it, baby. Gonna start?"

"With pleasure."

I stepped out between Suki and an orange Honda driven by Mikey B. He winked at me and I smiled, pulled the scarf from my neck that J had slipped on with the pat and raised it. The crowd stilled as I looked at the line and then I dropped it and went to my knees.

The cars raced past me within inches and it took all I had not to flinch, not easy. A cheer went up and people started to hop in cars to move to the finish and help block streets.

"Are you all right?" Gunnar asked and helped me up.

"Yes. Thanks." Despite my best efforts I blushed. Once again in the night he seemed plainer and I realized it was that his expression was schooled. Total cop.

"Sorry about earlier, I, uh-" he started.

"No need. So, are you going to the finish line?"

"Where is it?"

"On Foster, half a mile away. You can ride with me."

"I'd rather take my car."

"We'd better hurry," I said, banking that he'd walk me back to mine.

"I'll walk you back, where's is it?"

"I took a Solstice tonight."

He walked me back in silence and I saw Marcus get into the passenger side of an armored pickup. We were clear.

"Elle-"

"Aileen. Call me Aileen."

"Aileen, could I..." He seemed lost.

"Gunnar, look, things are really complicated now. Best just to leave things as they are."

We stopped at the car and he looked down at me. "Are you sure there's nothing between you and Crilly?"

"If there was, it's nobody's business, but no. There isn't."

"Then a word of friendly advice." He kept his hand on the door as it shut behind me and I pulled the seatbelt on.

"Shoot."

He smiled at that. "Somebody should tell Crilly that."

I didn't know what to say to that so I just drove off.

#

Suki pulled in just ahead of Cal and I took my 5 from the pot, while Suki took her new 30 Gs and waved them about before slipping an awful lot of tongue to Cal. More races were starting up and the feeling was loose. Music pumped out with a heavy bass and people danced, drank, and talked shop.

I caught a grinder from behind and let him go with a laugh, and made my way to the action. "How much?" I asked Xcali who was collecting for a race. 

"Nothin' for a muscle like yours."

"I'm running that Solstice tonight." I pointed. "Standard issue, Nitrous added, tuned, but no super charger, Hemi, or any other tricks. I'm even with all the rice burners."

"Let her run!" Chrissy called. One of the only other white chicks in there she was four years my junior and a mean racer. She ran a Celica that was sweet but she herself had yet to learn the difference between sexy and trashy.

"Five G buy in." X told me.

He wouldn't take my word so I slid him my new wad and watched him count. "That's three, Elle, Chrissy, and TT, anyone else?"

"Where we runnin'?" somebody called.

"I sent some blockers up to Wacker. That joint is ours!" X called out and a cheer went up. Bets were being traded before a fourth was even in and people were climbing into blockers to head off.

"I'm in," a familiar voice called.

Patrick walked up to X, gave him five, winked at Chrissy, and gave me an unreadable look. I turned over my shoulder and saw his Sky there, and suddenly I didn't feel so confident. We were evenly matched, and that meant this was a contest of minds and skills.

The call went out and we went back to our cars, nudged them up the line, parting the crowds. People clapped the car as I put the top up to reduce wind resistance. There was a clear shot down some side streets to Wacker and it was three a.m. but there could still be traffic.

X's girl, Shan-something was the starter. Her skin was almost pure black, her clothes pure white, and the scarf went down fast. Rubber screamed out as we shot off and quickly Chrissy and I had the lead. 

We whipped along the lines and through red lights, blockers leading the way. I turned a tight corner and suddenly TT was in front of me. He blocked well but another turn and I regained the lead, but now I shared it with Patrick.

Behind us we heard a crash and TT had hit a car that had gotten past the blocks, the blockers scrambling to get away before the cops came. We all shifted faster.

Wacker is short and basically a double-decker bridge that snakes along the river skirting huge buildings. Patrick and I slammed through and Chrissy was behind, we blocked, but we couldn't swerve too far or I'd hit his rear quarter panel and send him into a spin.

I hit the nitrous just a split second after Patrick and nudged forward. The bastard must have had a double shot because suddenly he blew past me at the finish line. We all screamed to a halt and Chrissy and I gave each other sighs and looks of commiseration.

Patrick collected the money and walked over with a cocky smile. "Rematch later, ladies?"

"Screw off, Crilly," Chrissy said and went to find her crew.

"What about you?" he asked me.

"I won't be out here tomorrow night."

"What's with the new car?"

"I wanted to race legit."

He smiled wider. "You wanted to lose."

"Wasn't skill, Crilly. It was the extra Nitrous you're packing."

"I installed it with you in mind."

"How nice."

Cal came over with Suki hanging on, and the world would never really know just who wielded the whip there. "There a problem?"

"None at all. I'm going to split, see you Monday. Suki, Crilly."

I don't know how I knew, but the Solstice was dirty, a tracer or camera or something was on it. I left it in a bad neighborhood after calling Carlos and caught a ride back. I'd won 5, lost it, and lost a forty thousand dollar tuned car that would have sold dirty for twenty five. What a night.



Auto Erotica Ch. 05



The Pediatric AIDS foundation was having a ball. I hated it. Everyone there was trust fund, or old money, or new money that had married old names. No one really worked for a living and none of them would come within ten feet of a child with HIV or AIDS. They were there for the booze, the gowns, the food, the name dropping.

The speaker was an actress who'd grown up outside the city and had been nominated for an academy award, but was best known for her tan lines and fake blonde hair. My brother was getting properly drunk and still looked resplendent in his tuxedo, even dancing with old Mrs. Howell and keeping steady.

His hair was that dark brown that almost looks black but under direct light is red and brown and an explosion of colors. His tux had a navy and maroon vest that made him look less pale and he had his share of followers. I myself was cornered early by the event chair, Susan Hornsby and her hangers-on Marcia, Ellen, and Jane, who wanted me to pronounce her name "Ja-Nay." Freak.

I wore a floor-length Dior in lilac silk, my hair piled up in curls, the only jewelry was the amethyst earrings, short but heavy in a flower arrangement, and the heavy matching necklace. The set had been my mother's but it looked far better on me.

My mother had been a Hyde, as in Hyde Park, a section of Chicago. She was old-world Irish and had married my father, a poor steel worker. She'd descended into alcoholism and other things, taking my brother and I to Detroit to live in the ghetto rather than face her old friends, these people.

I buried her when I was seventeen and for my brother's sake I had come into this world. For his kids I made nice but I was not getting up on stage. No matter how these people begged.

At long last dinner was about to be served, the ten minute warning came, and I made my way to Andy's table. He was sitting, and he was soused, signaling for another drink. I caught the waiter's eye and shook my head, nodding to the water glass.

"Fuck you, I can drink if I want."

"Don't make an ass out of yourself. Look around the room. Someday Andy Jr. and Katie will be marrying the kids of these people. So make a good impression."

The waiter came back with water and went to poor but Andy threw his hand over the glass. "She doesn't speak for me," he slurred as water splashed off his hand. "Bring me champagne."

Our table was still mostly empty, just the Howells and us, the others desiring a fashionably late entrance. The waiter nodded. "Of course sir." He left, refusing to meet my eyes.

I stayed standing, to enjoy the greater height and authority it gave me. "Andy, fine. Just sit there, drink yourself to death, but be quiet."

"You're such a bitch."

I bit my tongue as Mrs. Howell gasped.

"Am I interrupting anything?" A man said behind me. My heart froze as my brother looked up without a spark of recognition.

I straightened and turned slowly. Sure enough, wearing a crisp tux, clean shaven, hair manicured, and looking nothing like himself, was Patrick Crilly. Or, the man pretending to be Patrick Crilly.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked harshly.

"I might ask you the same thing."

Well, hell. I had never expected to find anyone from that world here. My head was swimming and I couldn't think straight. Patrick looked around me to Andy with a forced smile. "Might I borrow your wife for a moment?"

What?!

Andy choked. "Wife? My god," he shuddered. "She's my sister."

The raging tightness left Patrick's shoulders but he still looked at my left hand. I bunched it into a fist as he grabbed my wrist. "Excuse us, then."

"Who are you?" Andy said, standing.

"Patrick, a friend of Aileen's from...work."

"Andrew Reilly," Andy said and shook his hand. Patrick's eyes slid to mine with triumph at learning my last name.

"I'll be right back, Andy." I let Patrick strong arm me to what would soon be the dance floor, but for now was the congregation space for the meet 'n' greet.

"Well, well, well. First and foremost, Miss Reilly, you look good enough to eat."

I blushed and stepped back. "What the hell are you doing here? This is a thousand dollar a plate benefit for people who've already donated at least five grand."

"Answered your own question."

"There is no way that little garage of your makes that much money."

"There's no way your operation does."

"That's where you're wrong. Don't lump me in with all these trust-fund babies. Everything I have I worked for."

"I know your brother by reputation. He's spoiled and pampered, and definitely a trust-fund baby."

"He's my half brother. His side is rich, mine wasn't."

He cocked his head. "I just learned more about you in one minute that I have in a whole year."

"What do you want, Crilly?"

He stroked my arm and smiled that devil's smile. "That should be obvious."

I yanked my skin from that tempting touch. "I was willing to pork the mechanic, but I don't touch old money."

"You have such a way with words, Aileen."

"I'm curt, remember?"

"I remember lots of things."

Oh, hell, my knees were going to give out. "Well, hope that gets you through the night. Goodbye, Crilly."

He grabbed my arm. "Call me Patrick."

"I don't think I'll call you at all."

He only smiled as I pulled away to my boring table. 

I was complimented on my beauty, as I should have been. The women picked in my mother's family for generations had been picked like prize horses, not to fill coffers, but to provide beautiful children. Even my brother had chosen a wife who was mentally unhinged but gorgeous, a California blonde, all legs and boobs and no brains.

Dinner was good, as it should be for that much money, and as coffee and dessert was rolled out the speeches began. The major contributors were thanked with a spotlight, and Andy and I got ours and had to stand. The next contributor was one Patrick Wolfe, AKA Patrick Crilly. 

"You work with him?" Andy asked.

"Why?"

"The Wolfes made their money in shipping in the south. They financed half the civil war, tried to buy into steel, and settled on Wall Street. That man is richer than Croesus, sis, way to go."

I felt ill. Every other woman in the room was preening for the young man with the mega bucks. Why the hell would a trust fund kid own a garage? Well, to be fair, if his family didn't make anything what did he have to do other than sit around and accrue interest?

Fuck. I'd been intimidated enough when he was just a mechanic, but now?

"I'd like to leave."

"No," Andy said gruffly. "We're dancing and then you're going to charm that man there, Michael Marks." He pointed to a well built man in his fifties with silver hair next to a young woman with fake red hair almost my shade. "He runs the school I want Andrew Jr in, and I'd really like to pork his wife."

"You want me to play wing man for my own brother?" Gross.

"You promised you'd be good." The threat was always there. He knew things, things that would bury me. He knew less than he could, more than he should.

"Fine then."

When people began to stand and the band started up we made our way over and Andy introduced us. The man was James Montgomery, and he was leering at my breasts. We shook hands and he led me out while his wife Jenna made googoo eyes at Andy.

I tried to make intelligent conversation but he wanted to take inventory of my breasts so I made really loose allusions to sex if Andy Jr. got into his school. He promised to have his secretary put my call through, somehow forgetting it was my brother who'd be calling.

Just when I felt ill because of the small thing poking my hip I saw Patrick behind James, tapping his shoulder. "May I cut in?"

James looked at me as if I'd argue and for a moment I wasn't sure who was worse, and then James stepped aside. The next thing I knew I was looking up at Patrick and feeling a little bewildered. 

"Wolfe, hunh?"

"Don't hold it against me, Reilly. Why don't I know that name?"

"My father was poor, and he worked in steel. His parents were born in County Cavan, the name wouldn't mean much to you."

"If your brother is a half, why the same name?"

"My father adopted him." Damn it, I hadn't meant to say so much but my brain felt sluggish. He was so warm, so hard, so thickly muscled that everything inside me was feeling twitchy and feminine.

"So who were your mother's people?"

"Hydes."

He danced well, surprising, hell, shocking, but when I thought of him as a Wolfe it made sense. When I thought of him as Crilly it was bizarre. "And yet you say you had to work for every penny? No trust fund for you?"

"None of your damn business, but no, no trust fund for me. I didn't grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth."

"Is that what made you join those...people?" I stiffened, and he sighed. "All right," Patrick continued, "we'll keep that separate and talk like a Wolfe and a Hyde. So do you summer?"

"Obviously not."

"My family does. I like to stay here."

"Why the garage?"

His dark eyes flashed. "Separate, remember?"

"Not fair."

"Ask me whatever you'd want to know about a Wolfe."

I felt every inch of him against me and to my horror my nipples seemed to stretch towards him seeking more. Why hadn't I worn panties? Oh, to avoid lines. Rats. "That's just it. I hate this. If I didn't have responsibilities to my family I'd leave here. I wouldn't set foot in a place like this, I wouldn't worry about causes like this, I wouldn't talk to people like...you."

"You hate the rich."

"That's putting it mildly."

"Well, Aileen, you put me in an awkward position."

"I don't want you in any position."

"Liar," he said with a laugh. "It's awkward because I'm filthy rich and I like it. I didn't use a penny from my family's money to open that garage and I'm proud of that, but I'm not turning my back on all this. I was born to it."

"Fine. Stay in this world and maybe I'll stay in mine." I left him awkwardly on the dance floor and walked to my table, grabbed my purse, and went into the lobby. I stopped in the bathroom and emptied my bladder, washed my hands, tipped the attendant. 

The powder room was separate but accessed through the lounge in front of the actual bathroom, and I stepped inside. The hotel had it done in gold and red, there was a counter with gilded mirrors and red velvet benches. Around the room were comfortable looking couches.

The door closed softly behind me and, alone, I sat down to touch up my makeup. Just a light cream color on the eyes, some mascara, some powder on my t-zone. I fluffed on more and just finished when the door opened, shut, and I heard the lock click.

Patrick was standing there, looking ridiculously masculine and dark in the room.

"What are you doing in here?"

"You can't pretend there isn't something here."

"I might have been interested in a simple mechanic who understood the life, but not a rich boy who likes to slum it."

He walked towards me and the heels and dress made my scramble to my feet awkward. I straightened up to find he was close, as close as he had been when we were dancing.

"God knows I don't ask for much," was all he said before he kissed me. Kissed me! I never kissed! I tried to fight but he wrapped his arms around me and just held there. Damn, okay, it felt nice, well, better than nice, but it was against the rules.

I thought about biting his tongue when he licked my lips but he growled at me and I let him slip inside. God, it was good, I had forgotten just how good it could be. I'm not sure when I gave up, but I kissed him back, slipped my tongue inside his mouth and tasted brandy and smoke and man. 

I rubbed against him like a cat and put my hands on his shoulders, exploring his muscle through his thick coat. Oh, God, he was so strong and a wicked thrill went through me knowing I couldn't stop him if he really wanted. Somewhere in my mind I knew I wasn't sure if he would stop if I asked and for some evil reason that only thrilled me more.

He pulled back only enough to whisper against my lips, "I want to fuck you."

I responded by shoving off his coat and he let go of my face to help. I kissed him until he was all tangled and let go with a victorious laugh. "I want to touch you," I whispered back against him.

He cursed low but unbuttoned his shirt. I touched the skin that was exposed, all bronzed, hairy, his abs like cobblestones, his body free of marks except that strange prison tattoo on his arm, which I knew now was for show. I petted and stroked while he fumbled with his cuff links until they popped off, pinging against a mirror.

When he was shirtless I touched all over, his biceps were huge, everything about him thick and powerful. He grabbed my hands when they went into his waistband. "Take off your dress."

It wasn't a request and that thrilled me. I stepped back and reached for the zipper under my left arm. It slid down the bodice and the strapless gown fell. I stepped out of it and slung the dress over the round bench in the middle, enjoying the blazing heat of his gaze.

I wore a corset to accommodate the low back and deep v of the bodice, and I favored stockings which were held to the corset with bands. I never could figure out if panties went over or under so I went without.

He just stared at me for a moment, taking it all in. The bulge in his pants was answer enough if it was hard to read his expression, and I felt the adrenaline in my veins surge past reason. "What now?"

"Sit down." He motioned to a couch against the wall.

"It's a little dirty."

He tossed his jacket down and I sat on the lining, facing him and kept my knees together. "Spread 'em," he ordered.

I hesitated. "Be a good girl and I'll reward you. Be bad...maybe I'll spank you."

Hell, my pulse leapt at that and I couldn't even hide how much the thought turned me on. He was there in a flash and somehow I was face down, yet again, but this time on his lap. There wasn't time to collect my thoughts when the first slap hit. He kept his hand on my flesh and slipped it down to tease my pussy, moving against the labia like he would penetrate me but stopping short of it.

He slapped me again then tickled. Slap, finger, slap, finger. With each one he moved deeper and stroked out closer to my clit. I was creaming wet and his finger made slurping noises with each stroke.

I was soon on the verge of orgasm when he stopped and lifted me, turning me like a doll. I was tall enough that this was a novel sensation for me. I could feel the bulge of his erection meeting my pussy and I knew his pants were being ruined. The juices were smeared all over his front and leaking down to his jacket. He'd reek of sex.

"Hardly seems like punishment," he murmured.

"Torture more for you, I suspect," I replied. He smeared his finger on my lower lip and kissed me so I tasted myself on him. Suddenly I was hot and I ached.

As our tongues met he dug my breasts from the corset and thumbed the nipples. I cried out and arched against him, grinding my pussy into him and begging silently for release. "Jesus, Patrick, are you going to fuck me?"

"Damn it woman, I'm trying to think here. You have a condom?"

Shit. "No, I don't carry them to these things."

"Neither do I."

I waited a heartbeat. "I have an IUD, have for a year, and I'm clean, but if you want to stop, I understand."

He stared into my eyes, the brown so dark that his eyes looked pure black. I have no idea what I looked like, other than one horny redhead, but it was enough. He unzipped and adjusted with a speed never before seen on earth and then he thrust up into me.

Too late I realized this meant I trusted him, hadn't even asked if he was clean, and many a good person had gotten an awful disease from the same mistake. I thought he was clean, I trusted him to tell me if he wasn't, what the fuck had happened to me?

He was huge, so thick it almost hurt and I threw my head back when he was seated, moaning low. "Fuck," he swore, and began to move slowly.

It was incredible, chills ran up and down my spine and my pussy felt like it was on fire. I clutched at his shoulders, his fingers dug into my hips, and Patrick was clearly in the driver's seat. That neat bulge at the tip stroked my G-spot with every turn and within seconds I was mad.

He kept me on the edge, bastard, and when I tried to move faster he leaned forward, bit my nipple gently. The pain only added to it, and I whimpered, right there. "Fuck," he swore again and began to slam into me.

I hit the peak right away and he pulled my mouth to his, kissed me, and swallowed the scream of pleasure. He stopped moving and tensed before I was even finished, and I knew he was close. His control was great, and I came down with a smile.

"Hang on," he whispered and moved us. Somehow he brought his legs up and swung around until he was laying down. He lifted me off him with a smacking sound that made us both groan, and together we moved my body around until I faced his feet.

I waited, braced my hands on his hips, but he jerked them back. I was forced to fold my arms into the small of my back and he pinned them there with one hand, wrapping the other in the free hair now spilling from my up do.

He thrust purely from the bottom and it was fucking in-cred-i-ble. I made noises I never knew I could and he grunted, holding back. I wanted a hand free to stroke my pussy but I was forced to move with him. At least he moved so fast his balls swung up and slapped my clit in time to his thrusts and my nipples grazed the top of my corset.

I couldn't hold back, I came like a freight train, but at least I bit my lip to keep quiet and ended up squeaking. He gave a muffled shout as he came and I felt it deep inside of me. The orgasm went on and on and on until he let me go and I slumped forward, sweaty and tired.

Reality returned with horror. He didn't fight me as I scrambled off and dove for the tissues from the box embedded in the counter. I cleaned myself off, tossed a wad at him, and shoved my bunch in my purse. I straightened my tits and jerked my dress up. I put some powder back and shoved the loose hair up.

When I was done his pants were buttoned and he was working on his shirt.

"We have to stop doing this," I muttered and grabbed my purse to go.

"I don't know what you think we have here, Aileen, but I will have you again."

Grimly I faced him with a sigh. "You'll have to catch me first." And then I left him in the women's bathroom covered in my juices knowing he was going to have a hell of a time getting out without an explanation to the ten women waiting in line. 



Auto Erotica Ch. 06



Another "filler" chapter with no sex but important character development. You can, however, skip to the next chapter which has explicit sex if you prefer.

***

I was quiet on Monday and Cal was too, I guess it had been a rough weekend for us both. When I thought of letting Patrick spank me I blushed scarlet to think of how much of a slut I'd been. What was it about that man? Every time we got together we turned into animals, and I couldn't afford any distractions.

My parole had been transferred to Chicago and though I was twenty five, Michigan law had me on parole until I was twenty six. I had one year left to go and a plan to see through then. I needed money, as much as I could get, and when the end was near I was going to commit Andy. Once I had power of attorney, the kids were going to their mother's family. Andy's trust fund was getting split in 3, 1 for him, 1 for each kid. Cal was getting the business and I was going to disappear. 

Until then I liked knowing I could keep the LC from coming into Chicago. I liked keeping gang members tied up, it was a hobby. Still, if the cops were onto me, then maybe it was time to move on. I don't know where I could go, anywhere I supposed. I'd miss the kids, some of the people on the circuit, but that was it.

The Viper was proving hard, everything was custom, after market, had a stand alone fuel system, a hell of a way to blow 10 Gs, and too much for an LC. Cal didn't seem to notice, but that meant little.

I spent half the fucking day ordering parts, and Cal pulled the beast apart. The knock came at four. Cal just looked up at me and went to the door. 

"The cop," he said as he came back.

"Fuck." I wasn't ready for anything.

"What do I do?" Cal asked, lost.

"Close the curtains and pretend we're not home." The last time I'd let the wolf, ha ha, no, Gunnar the wolf, in, I'd almost fucked him too. Cal blinked at me so I just pointed to the car.

He left at five and I left right after, my eyes out for a tail. I had the Nova but I didn't take it to the safe house where it was kept. There was no one in the mirror, but I did think I was being followed.

I drove around for a while until I found myself outside Patrick's garage. Fuck. I parked on the side and wandered in. There were three bays and they were all filled, and I saw Patrick in the back.

I walked over and peaked inside the Supra he was bent over. "Two JZ engine, nice."

He stood up and grinned. "Told you you'd be back."

"Don't congratulate yourself just yet. You need a ball bearing turbo to make this one great."

He looked at the kid staring at me in wonder. "Knock off, Mike." 

The kid scrambled and Patrick turned to me. "So what is it, Aileen?"

"There's a cop following me. Actually, it's that Gunnar." That wiped the smile from his face.

"What do you need?"

"A car. I've got a man coming for mine, and I'll drop whatever you can give me off in a hour."

"Don't worry about it. Take whatever you want out back."

I looked past him through the barred window. "Tempting, but simple will do. I'll take the F150 if that's all right."

"Fine. That piece of shit yours?"

"Yeah, the Nova's mine. Don't bother tracing it, it really belongs to a friend."

He smiled, the only man I knew who could look sexy in coveralls. "Figured. You'll have to owe me, then." He leaned in close but I looked around and no one watched us. They liked the boss, then.

"Fine, just don't go overboard, Patrick."

"I help you with your needs, you help with mine. Simple."

"Maybe I made a mistake. Maybe I'll walk."

He grabbed my arm. "Lighten up. Maybe I want to race the 'Stang some time."

"You'll lose, you know."

"I meant I'd be driving."

"Shit, that's more personal than sex. How about my first born?"

He smiled the devil's smile. "Dibbs."

I blushed and stormed off but had to turn around when I realized I didn't have the keys. He held them up, jingling, and laughed. Fucker. Carlos was outside and I tossed him my keys. He took the Nova left, I took the Ford right.

If Patrick was any good there was a tracker on it, so I went to where he already knew. I parked in the public lot and went up to my condo. I showered, called home, and flopped on the couch to watch TV.

Nine o'clock came with a nock on the door and I pulled the gun out. It was a Glock 17 and it would stop a rhino if it had to. I checked the video and the peep hole. Fuck.

I opened the door to Patrick who smiled. "What the fuck do you want?"

"It was easy to find you. There's a common wall between the garage and the one for this building, this building even rents overflow spaces. So I ran a check and found six Reillys in the building, but only one apartment that was owned by your brother's company. Nice place." He pushed past me and came in.

I stayed at the door staring out. "Make yourself at home." I meant it sarcastically. 

He was out of his coveralls, I was still in mine. My day clothes were at the little house, all I had here were my racing clothes and this. He wore the usual t-shirt, jeans, and boots. How the fuck did he look so good? Oh, yeah, that's right. He went home at night to a mansion, showered in Burberry soap and expensive shampoo, and had everything money could buy.

"Tell me one thing, what's with the tattoo?"

He looked at his arm and shifted his body to hide it. "Long story, I'll tell you some other time."

"So why are you here?" 

He looked around at the sleeper sofa, the TV on the milk crate, and the closet exploding. "You don't live here."

"No, I just keep things here."

"Like clothes and your car."

"Like clothes and my car, yes. Are we playing Trivial Pursuit, passive aggressive edition?"

He chuckled under his breath and sat on the sofa. "Hardly. Got anything to drink?"

"Beer, for me. Pop, also for me. That's it." I set the gun back in the cubby by the door.

"So nice to guests."

"I don't like guests."

"Give me a break, I'm trying here. You want the mechanic? Well, here I am."

Want was not strong enough a word. "I don't want anything. Thanks for the favor, what do you want in return?"

He sat forward, found the clicker, and turned the movie off. "Why are you so keen to avoid the cops?"

"Mainly I'm not sure what's the most illegal. The betting, the racing, the extortion of gang members, or receiving, transporting, or selling stolen property. I'm not anxious to make their acquaintance."

"You screw over crooks, the cops won't care."

How much did I trust him? "I can't afford any trouble, let's just leave it at that."

"God, woman, what is it? You're rude, you're pushy, I don't even think you like me, and you are up to your ears in bad shit. Why can't I stop thinking about you? Why is whenever you're around I turn into this mindless animal?"

"I'm pushy? I'm rude? You burst in here, you cornered me at a dinner. Why the hell can't I stop thinking about you? Why do I seem to go into heat whenever you're around?"

For a moment he stared and then his face broke into a grin. "Well, hell, at least I don't suffer alone. Why the hell does it have to be complicated? I want you, you want me. What's the big deal?"

"You are fucking Patrick Wolfe. Your family owns half of New York and a quarter of this town. It doesn't matter what you mark your body with or how much dirt you get under your fingernails, you'll always be a Wolfe. And don't let my car, my brother, my name fool you. I am a little punk off the streets of Detroit. I'm the one fucking crab that got out of the basket and any day they'll pull me back in."

He came to his feet and the smile was all gone. "Is this about the LC?"

"There isn't anybody I ran with left alive. Nobody knows me from Adam back there, but it's the life. My brother tolerates me because he can't handle his own money or his own kids. He needs me. And me?" Fuck, in for a penny, in for a pound. "I'm on parole for another year. I have to live with him so I have a keeper on paper. Okay? That's why I can't stand cops. I get collared and it's not a slap on the wrist, it's hard fucking time. I'll die before I go back. I mean it."

And that was the most of myself I had ever shared, and I hadn't meant to. I stalked off into the tiny kitchen and pulled a beer from the fridge, pulled the cap off and slugged a pull back.

"Just tell me one thing," he said behind me. I turned and Patrick was leaning against the door jamb, looking dark and pensive. 

"What?"

"Why would you go into what you do, if you're on parole?"

I pulled another beer out, popped the top, and passed it to him. "I got collared when I was a kid. Old enough to get tried as an adult. I served time in juvy but the parole lasts until I'm twenty six. I have to have a relative, and my old man took off when I was four to parts unknown. I buried my mom when I was seventeen, my brother was all that was left.

"He took off when he got married six months later and left me alone, and broke. I was on the streets, I had no money for college, but I knew cars, inside and out. Harry gave me a chance and a place to stay, and a few of us made some extra money after hours. Cal came along, had a good head for business, and we made enough to open our own place. 

"Cal's always been a racer and he trained me. You get into the lifestyle and you can't get out, but at first it was just tune ups, trick outs, things like that. We raced for the vig on weekends, and then Andy came back with no wife and two kids.

"I swore I'd never touch his money and because of the divorce his fund was shut off for at least a year. I bought the 'Stang and raced legit until no one would take me, and made enough to put a down payment on a place. Upkeep in that neck of the woods is fucking expensive, so Cal and I decided to race the newbies with the illegal wheels.

"Andy came through with the cash and by then I needed money to keep this place up and a few others. You get into a habit, no matter how bad, and you don't break it. What the hell could I do? I've only got one year of high school that wasn't in juvy or through the mail, who the hell would hire me?"

"So you're saying what you did was right?"

"Fuck your judgments. I'm saying I did what I did, what I thought was right. I have one more year I'm trapped in this state and then I'm free. I don't want anything tying me down."

"What are you running from?"

"Why did you buy a business in the name of Crilly?" He didn't answer me. "Exactly. You didn't want people thinking 'here comes pretty boy Wolfe with his money' you wanted to make your own way. Same for me."

"Pretty boy?"

"I think you have selective hearing. The point is I'm shit, and if you're smart you'll stay far away."

He stepped inside, set his half empty bottle down on the counter, and rolled up his sleeve. "I got this in the Brig, Pendleton."

I recognized it at last. Marine. "Shit." My father had been stationed at Pendleton when he was heading off to Vietnam, it was not easy. "What did you do?"

"Doesn't matter, I learned my lesson. Three years in the military prison system. My parents were so pissed, almost disowned me."

"Why did you go into the Marines in the first place?"

"I hated being a Wolfe. I hated having my ass kissed, I hated women dating me for my wallet, I hated never having real friends. I wanted to go somewhere where no one cared who my parents were or what my great granddaddy did."

"Three years, I'm guessing at the very least you didn't like blindly following orders."

"To say the least. The point is, Aileen, no one should be judged by their parents or siblings, or held to the past. I was twenty three when I did that, and I'm not the same man any more."

"Yeah, well, I'm not the same person I was when I was twelve, but here I am, still on parole, and in just as deep as I was."

"Twelve? What the hell did you do?"

I'd gone so far, in for a penny, in for a pound. I drank the rest of my beer and forced myself to meet his eyes. "I beat a man to death."

#

My mother married the bad boy, a Vietnam vet she'd met in college when she'd gone for journalism. They'd married before she dropped out and my grandfather cut her off, my dad not knowing she'd done it because she was pregnant by a professor who was already married, and who had no intention of leaving his wife. 

All she had left was a trust fund she'd used up, and two for her son and later me. Somehow my mother decided my brother would be the great hope, be the one to go to college. After all, his father was a professor, mine a steel worker. I was pretty, what did I need with an education?

So she blew through mine by the time I was two, and when the money went my grandfather restricted her access to Andy's. With no money my charming father took off with a bowling alley blonde. 

My mother sank into alcoholism and moved to Detroit following one in a string of lovers. We were lucky if we had a roof over our head, rarely did we have food, and I began to run with a gang for money. I was tall, I was white, I made a good driver, and I boosted cars.

But I hadn't just been boosting when I was eleven, almost twelve. I was a runner. The day was clear and at five thirty I made my pick up. I went to a house on the edge of Mexicantown and walked through the gates, the armed guards, the snarling dogs.

Inside I stripped down and was given the product, cut for sale. My clothes were searched and when they were clean I redressed with the package. I was dropped off near Greektown and went on my route. Drop off the coke, pick up the take from the previous day. Drop, pick, drop, pick, ten of twelve down.

He came out from a blind alley and swung the pipe at my head. I went down and my vision swam, I saw double. I wasn't going to fight it, I gave up the dope and the cash, expected him to leave me alone. He was homeless, jaundiced, smelled like ten days of shit. He had Hepatitis and probably HIV and I wanted him gone.

But he thought I was pretty with my milk skin, my bright red hair, those pretty eyes everybody seems to love and nobody's ever seen. I was five ten but starving thin, he was over six feet and grizzled.

I felt his hand on my ankles and I knew. I'd gone almost twelve years being pretty and delicate without being violated, and I'd rather die than suffer that. I fought with teeth and nails, I did everything I could but he had my pants off. People walked by the alley but no one stopped to help, no, two men spit on me and said that's what a snow white bitch got for coming into the city.

He unzipped his pants and I kicked, I got his nuts and scrambled away. He followed but I found the pipe. I hit him but he didn't go down, so I hit again. He still wouldn't go down. I didn't want to keep hitting him but I didn't stop until I couldn't lift my arms.

I tried to run but I got tangled up in my pants, and this man came out a doorway and held me until the police got there. They decided I'd been robbing the man of drugs and money, had pulled down my pants to fake the attempted rape story. I couldn't force it, if I had I'd have to admit I was carrying drugs and drug money.

The man lingered but his family was too poor to keep him on life support long and he died just before I went to trial on battery. They went to murder and the trial was fast. I begged my brother for money for a good lawyer, but my family wouldn't talk to me.

I got ten years and sent to juvy. They called it Children's Village and it was mixed sex. I was right in there with rapists and murderers who'd gutted children with knives for pleasure. The white kids called me a race traitor and the LC was afraid I'd talk. I spent the first six months in solitary because of the fights. It seemed like every minute someone was trying to kill me, or mutilate my face, or corner me in the showers.

I don't think I slept a full night, or ate a meal in peace in five years. There are places on this earth where it's a curse to be pretty, and that was one. No one came to visit, no one sent anything, no one helped me. I kept my back to the wall and my nose as clean as possible, and they paroled me when I was seventeen.

My mother died two days before that, and my nineteen year old brother got my custody. I buried my mother, finished up high school, and then Andy took off for Chicago. My parole officer got me transferred to Chicago to be with him and six months later he called me from Ireland to say 'good luck.'

I found Harry when I was hours from something really stupid and since then I've built my life up. There isn't a night that goes by that I don't wake up to some noise and worry some creepy guard is watching me sleep, or some LC is inside my room with a knife. There isn't anything I wouldn't do to avoid that, anything.

#

Patrick didn't say a word at the tale and I kept my chin up. "I'm not trying to be poor, pitiful Pearl. I just haven't been shown much in my life in the way of stand up behavior."

"Jesus, what about your grandparents? Wouldn't they have helped?"

"They knew my mother was an alcoholic, they knew we were starving. They arranged for my brother to go to school and get fed regularly, but they could care less about me. I was just the daughter of a bastard who abandoned his wife and kids. Why would the Hydes want anything to do with me?"

"Jesus, no wonder you hate rich people."

"Not to mention they only think of women as breeding tools. They've married women to breed like horses. Until jail the hope had been to offer me up as some sort of prize. I believe the reasoning was I didn't need much of an education and the thinner, the better."

"Jesus."

"Look, forget I said anything. I think now you can appreciate that there's nothing here for me. And I don't want any cops within a hundred yards."

He crossed the distance between us in two huge steps and pulled me against him. I don't know what I was expecting, but I burst into tears. I hadn't cried since I was a small child, and he held me while I made a noisy mess of myself. He held me and stroked me back, smoothed my hair, and made it too damn easy.

I wanted anger, revulsion, anything but calm acceptance. It felt like forever but when it was over he let me go and I shut myself in the bathroom. I ran cold water, splashed it several times and waited ten minutes until the redness and puffiness wasn't too bad. I dropped in some Visine and massaged under my eyes, and stalled another ten minutes.

Finally he knocked on the door. "You don't have to be embarrassed."

"Easy for you to say. I swear I haven't done that since I was a kid. It was stupid."

There was a pause and then the door opened slowly. "It's not stupid to have feelings."

"Jeeze, now that sounded stupid."

"Come home with me. I promise you can just sleep in a spare bedroom and I'll leave you alone. I can't let you sleep here in this crash pad, and if you want to go home I'd have to drive you and I'm liable to kill your brother. Come home with me."

Opening the door I steadied myself and looked into his eyes, searching for something I couldn't name.



Auto Erotica Ch. 07



He didn't live far from me. His home was also on LSD, also old, four stories tall and all his. We were quiet because of servants and he led me into a little elevator and pressed the button for the top floor.

"I have three spare bedrooms, if you like."

"What would I do with all three?"

He smiled, but it was a patient smile, the smile of a man who recognized defense mechanisms. "This is my room. You can join me or not," he said simply and stepped inside.

I took a breath and followed him. It was all in navy with a soft cream carpet. The paintings on the walls were originals, the fabrics expensive, the view pure. He pulled off his shirt and sat to tug off his boots. I stood there in my greasy coveralls and felt massively out of place.

With a steadying breath I kicked off my boots and pulled my socks off, and then unzipped the coveralls. The zipper hit the crotch and I realized he was watching me, shirtless. 

I stepped out into my bra and panties and for a moment remembered Gunnar, with a guilty flash. I don't know what Patrick was to me, but I knew I didn't want to think of Gunnar at that moment.

"You actually work like that?"

"Long story, but yeah. Keeps me cool."

"It would drive me crazy inside of five minutes. How the hell does Cal work?"

"Nice to know seeing me like this makes you think of another man, Patrick."

"Can't blame me for being curious."

"You know what I like in bed. Cal likes it too, and I don't want to wield a whip."

Understanding dawned and he reached for me. I stepped to him, between his legs, and let him look his fill. "Do you always need a whip?" he asked softly, meeting my eyes.

I smiled. "No, just wimps need not apply."

He smiled and grazed his teeth on my stomach. "Fair enough." With his arms around my waist he fell back, and I fell on top of him, only landing on my forearms kept me from slamming into his face.

I rolled off him and he followed, moving up until he laid between my legs, face to face. My breath caught and he lowered his mouth slowly, so I had plenty of time to say no, or pull away, but I did neither. I closed my eyes and leaned up, kissing him as much as he kissed me.

I relaxed into it and felt his hand cup my breast gently. Nothing of the anger, the power, and I understood. He knew I needed this, now I knew too. No one in my life had shown me any real concern except a man who'd given me a job and a parole officer who'd given me a break. Patrick wanted me to know it could be something else, something more than a soulless fuck. 

I arched into that touch and let my hands seek every muscle, every line, enjoying the pure strength of him. He kissed my cheek, my jaw, and moved to my neck. My breath caught when he found a particularly sensitive spot and nipped there. He laved it with his tongue and when he nibbled again he brushed a nipple with his thumb.

I stroked my feet up and down his legs, eager to feel more but trapped in the pleasure. It was so gentle, so unassuming, I had never known it could be as good as it was.

I reached for his belt buckle as he found my clavicle and he rose up, pressing my hands between us. "I'm trying very hard to be a good boy and go slow. Take the pants off and I'm afraid that ravening beast will come out."

I kissed the top of bent his head and brought my hands to feel his arm muscles ripple as he moved. When he kissed the tops of my breasts I reached up, reached behind me, and he brushed my hands away to undo my bra for me. We slipped it off and I tossed it, letting the conditioned air kiss my breasts.

His mouth was hot and wet on one nipple, his hand hard and firm on the other. I writhed there, twisting one hand in the sheets and letting the other clutch at him. His abs were hard and delicious against me as I rubbed my hips up and down and teased my clit through my panties, pressing tight against him.

He suckled until my nipple was sore and I was mad with desire, then he moved to the other. I was wetter than I had ever been, and still he made me wetter, hotter. I was begging him, mindlessly, without shame, and then he kissed my navel. Never had such an innocent kiss been so indecent, but at least his hands were shaking when he reached for my panties. 

He peeled them down my legs and I kicked them off, and then he rolled back between my legs. I was panting, my nipples hard, my body tight, my pussy creaming under his hot breath. 

He kissed me there as if he were kissing my mouth, the lightest touch, slipping his tongue against my clit and I came like a rocket. Mindless to everything else but his mouth I called out his name and bucked wildly as he suckled and drew it out.

I came down panting but he didn't stop. No, he moved lower and thrust his tongue inside me, in and out quickly, and then moved back to my clit and flicked it. I gasped and pushed at him instinctually as if to escape but those strong muscles held me prisoner. 

Then he suckled again and I came like a noisy freight train. I screamed out something, I had no idea what, and when I came down he was standing, stripping, and in the moonlight he was a god.

I scooted back and kicked the covers down and then he knelt and crawled towards me. Another kiss and before I knew it I was on my back and he was huge and hard and poised to conquer. Patrick held himself outside of me. "Look at me, Aileen. Please."

I looked into his eyes, held it as he slid in but when he went deep my eyes fluttered closed as I moaned. The orgasms had made me tight and it felt incredible, like if he just could move a little this way-

"Aileen, look at me," he whispered.

His eyes were so dark and it was hard not to close mine as he pulled back and sank in. It was erotically charged, a totally different kind of domination, and my breath hitched with every movement.

"I can't...much longer...I'm going to...oh, god!" I moaned.

He let me close them as I dug my nails into his back and wrapped my legs tightly around his waist. The third orgasm built deep inside and spread outward like a burst of sunlight, and he kissed me, swallowing my cries.

This time when I came down I let my hands slide to his ass and the muscle there was incredible. I moaned from the sheer pleasure of touching it. "Aileen, you have to stop for a second, I'm too damn close."

"You've been good, let go."

"No, I shouldn't, I-"

"So you'll demand it of me and not offer it in return?"

He groaned, kissed me deep, and began to thrust like a jackhammer. Somehow my body responded, weak and tired as it was, and we came together in a hard, guttural peak that was a combination of sweat and pure pleasure.

When I came down he rolled us onto our sides and stayed thickly inside me. I nestled onto his shoulder and yawned. "So this is what they meant when they talked about making love. It's nice."

#

A startled shriek woke me and I rolled over to see a maid kneeling, cleaning up a breakfast tray that had fallen. Behind me Patrick sat up and kissed my shoulder. "Ana Lucia, don't worry about that. I'll ring you if we need anything."

She nodded and took the tray back out.

"Hell, what time is it?"

"Eight."

"I have to get to work."

"You're the boss, take the day off."

"I can't."

"Sure you can. I will too. We'll stay in bed."

"We can't fuck all day."

He traced my right breast over the sheet. "Wanna bet?"

"I'm going to be late, Patrick."

"Please stay, Aileen. Please. I've waited so long to see you here, to have you in my bed. And I know you, when you leave you're going to pull back, pull everything inside you. Stay here, just a while longer. Please."

He was right, and it was tempting. I rolled over and looked for my coveralls, dragged them close and opened my pocket, grabbed the cell phone and dialed Cal.

"Hello?" A female voice answered. 

"Suki, it's Aileen. Tell Cal I'm taking the day off, and he can too, if he wants."

She squealed in joy and I hung up. "What now?"

"Let's go back to sleep." 



Auto Erotica Ch. 08



It was a nice dream. The sun was shining down on me, and beneath my toes was all sand. It wasn't Lake Michigan, it was the ocean, and the sand was dotted with palm trees. I turned and he was there, Patrick. His skin was golden brown in the sun and mine was as dark as it got, the lighter side of peach.

He smelled like coconut oil, and his hands were dripping with it. I laughed and he smoothed up my stomach and over my naked breasts with it. I turned my face up to the sun and felt his mouth slide over my nipples, moving quickly as his hands slid down. Then a meaty finger entered me and I woke up with a gasping moan.

I opened my eyes to see him leaning over me. The sun was high in the sky and the curtains were open to the light. The sheets were around my legs, around his waist, and I was on my back with my legs apart and his hand between them.

Before I could open my lips to ask he pulled out and sank back in. The pleasure was startling and I moaned, deeply, watching his eyes darken. Another finger joined the first one inside me and they were so big I twisted the sheets and moaned louder. 

"Touch your breasts," he ordered softly, and I held no illusions that this was to be gentle and sweet. 

I moved my hands slowly up my sides as he fucked me with those fingers. "Faster, Aileen."

I cupped them and didn't move. God help me, I wanted to test him, I had, after all, loved the last punishment. 

"Show me what you wish I was doing."

I stroked my nipples, twisting and rolling them, and the flesh tightened in quick response. The brace of his shoulders tightened, and then my eyes closed as the pleasure swelled.

"Look at me. Aileen, look at me."

I did and he smiled a demon's smile. "You can't come until I give you permission."

"P-"

"You may not come," he said and pressed on my g-spot. I moaned and tried to close my legs but he wouldn't let me.

Again and again he pressed and merely rolled his fingertips against the spot and I felt a wall fall inside me. Moisture rushed out and soaked his hand, my thighs.

"P-"

"You may not come," he repeated and smiled wider, pleased with himself. Through the sheets I felt a drop of moisture fall from his penis and I rubbed my leg against it.

He growled and the sheets were ripped away. At last, I thought, he'd fuck me, but he didn't. Instead, Patrick crawled up and straddled my neck, his huge cock bumping my nose and leaving wetness there.

"Lick it," he growled and I opened my mouth. My hands rose to cup his ass but he grabbed them and held them down. This made his penis go into my mouth, down my throat, and I almost chocked.

"Lick it," he growled again and I did what I could. I could barely breathe and just when I felt dizzy he pulled back. I got one gasp of air and then he began to fuck my mouth.

At last I had the power to make him come, and I did all that I could until his beautiful body was taut, veins rising to the surface, his head thrown back fighting surrender.

"Take it all," he said weakly a split second before his balls shored up and the come spurted down my throat.

When he pulled back and let go of my hands I sat up and coughed. "Pl-" 

"You may not come," he said again with a smile.

#

He was right. We fucked each other all day, but that wasn't right in my head. There were times when it was tender, making love, when there were no tricks, games, or family names, when we were just Patrick and Aileen. I liked those times too much.

I was achy in a pleasant way, still naked after my shower, my hair drying down my back as I stared out over the lake looking towards Michigan.

Patrick was in the shower and the scent of his expensive body wash rose and teased me. I'd lost count of my orgasms and still my flesh fired to life.

The shower stopped and the strains of his baritone song quieted. It was a ditty from the old country, one I'd heard my father sing nightly in those only two weeks of time together I could remember.

My heart winced and when I heard him pad out on the carpet I didn't turn. Instead I felt his hot, wet body press behind mine, his arms come around to fold under my breasts.

"Should I even ask if you're thinking of another man?"

I smiled and decided to be honest. "My father used to sing that song to me at night. The only memories I have of him are that song and peppermint candies."

He kissed my temple and hugged me tighter. "Have you ever tried to find him?"

I had Marcus do so once. "He has a new family in California. They're happy, he's stable. I once dialed eight of the nine digits of his phone number but I felt like an intruder."

Suddenly he jerked me back against his chest, lifting my feet off the ground, and as I gasped he sat down on the window seat so I landed between his legs. He pulled me even closer, his soft penis cradled against the small of my back. "Jeeze, all you had to do was ask," I muttered.

"We should get something to eat, Aileen. I can have something brought up, or we could sneak out somewhere nobody would see us."

I twisted around to meet his eyes. 

"What?" He asked and smiled.

I'd expected a long lecture about being proud of who we were, a lecture about adult behavior. "Nothing," I said.

"Jesus," he said and glanced down at my chest. "I can't handle seeing you naked."

"Would you rather I wear the bra and panties, or the coveralls?"

He leaned back and I felt the unspoken laugh. "You don't like rich people, you probably don't care much for fancy food. Why don't I order us a pizza, and then I'll find a spare bathrobe?"

He was sliding out from behind me so I awkwardly scooted to let him out. "Pizza sounds good. How about Giordano's deep dish Chicago Seven?"

He stopped and smiled down at me, naked and wet like a dark god. "Aileen, what if I offered you escape?"

I raised my eyebrow. "How?"

"I could get you away from your family, the LC, cops, we could go anywhere in the world you want."

"Together?" I squeaked out and he sighed heavily.

"It's just a thought. Think about it. Would it really be so bad?" 

I didn't know what to say but even I knew the fear was in my eyes. I knew nothing about him save he was rich, he had secrets, and he fucked like a demon. "Patrick," I began but he held his hand up.

"Don't answer now. Think about it, long and hard, that's all I ask."

I nodded and he relaxed. Something began to trill and he turned and jogged over to his pants and fumbled for a little phone. I'd never noticed it before and he checked the screen to see who was calling, then flipped it open and stepped into the sitting area.

Something raised alarm bells in my mind. After all, what did I know about him? There was no real reason for him to be living the life, his explanation seemed flimsy. 

I followed him and leaned against the doorway as he turned from me.

"Yeah. Yeah. No. Tonight? No. Yes, with me. Yeah. Okay." He hung up and immediately hit a speed dial. When I heard the pizza order I left and grabbed a towel for my hair.

"One Giordano's coming up," he said softly behind me. I hadn't even heard him move.

"Thanks." I slipped into the bathroom and brushed my hair with his comb while my heart raced. Who had he been talking to? Why had he obviously told them I was with him that night? Had he asked me what I thought he'd asked?

"I'll be back in a few," he said behind me and I jumped. Patrick left the doorway and I followed him out to see his bare ass being covered by his jeans as he closed the bedroom door.

I needed to know who he'd talked to, who knew I was there. I found his phone tucked in a cubby in the sitting room and turned on the screen, and searched the menu. The last number was "Gun" so I called it.

"Yo, dude, go ahead and fuck her, I told you I'd tell the cap." At the familiar voice I hung up, my heart hammering. Gun was Gunnar, a cop, and it didn't take a genius to know the cap they both knew was their captain. This meant Patrick Wolfe, aka Crilly, was a cop.



Auto Erotica Ch. 09



Patrick Wolfe, aka Crilly, was a cop.

I didn't freak out, I wanted to, but my sense of self-preservation was too strong. Instead I dialed Marcus. "Go," he said by way of greeting.

"I'm in the townhouse of Patrick Wolfe, nee Crilly. I need a pick up in ten, it's on LSD, can you find it?"

"Got it," he said.

"Marcus if I'm not out in front come in and get me. I don't think he'll let me leave."

Marcus said nothing, just hung up and I knew he'd come. I got my underthings on as well as the coveralls, unzipped, and was pulling on my boots when Patrick came back, pink robe in hand.

"Hey I-"

I looked at him levelly and stood up to zip up the coveralls. "I'm leaving. Don't try to stop me."

He started to ask why so I pointed at his phone on the plush bench at the foot of the bed. He tossed the robe down and stuck the phone back in his pocket. "Nice girls don't sneak into other people's things. I'm going to have to punish you."

Through even the sense of betrayal those words made me cream. I folded my arms and raised my chin defiantly. "You're a fucking cop."

"No; I'm a fucking detective," he said calmly and moved to block the door.

"I'm leaving, don't try to stop me. A friend is coming, one who will break your damn door down if I'm not out front in five minutes."

"Cal? I can take Cal."

"I have other friends, now move."

"Aileen, I-"

"Oh save it. What makes you think I want anything to do with you? You're everything I despise; a rich lying cop."

"It's not like that."

I narrowed my eyes. "What is it like? Did you fuck me so I'd tell you all the juicy details of my work? Is it Cal you're after?"

"No, Aileen, stop." This he said coldly as I tried to pass. When he grabbed me I went still.

"Don't confuse what I like in bed with who I am, Wolfe. I. Will. Fuck. You. Up."

He smiled as if it were a challenge. "You are going to stay and you are going to listen to me." He dragged me by the arm to the bed and shock held me pliant. When he tossed me down I rolled and tucked my legs up knowing he'd lean down to grab my hands. When he did I slammed the bottom of my feet into his chest.

Patrick flew into his dresser and I scrambled to the floor and sprinted, but he recovered quickly and snatched my ankle from under me. I slammed into the plush carpeting and then he was there.

We were both panting as he lay across my back, pressing me into the carpet, and I could feel this had all excited the sick bastard.

"Aileen, I have the money and the connections to give you a new life."

"It's not worth it if you're in it."

He stilled. "Fair enough. What if I promised to give you that and you'd never have to see me again?"

"You'd only do that if I gave you something." It was true. For all that he must be after some big fish, bigger than my small time operation. "Shit, you're after the LC aren't you?"

Before he could answer the door slammed open. We looked up to see Marcus there. The German was only six feet tall and one-seventy soaking wet, but he had Glock with a silencer and a deadly look in his green eyes. "Let her go, or you die Mr. Wolfe."

Patrick waited for a breathless moment, then he rolled off of me. I scrambled to my feet and Marcus let me pass, the gun never wavering.

"If you tell me you're fucking her, I'll kill you," Patrick said behind me in a low and deadly tone.

Marcus laughed, the only time I'd ever heard the mercenary do so. "She pays me quite well."

"Whatever she's paying you to help her leave I'll double it if you make her stay."

I opened my mouth to yell but Marcus held his free hand up to me. "You could outbid her on any score, of that I have no doubt, but she has the added benefit of being my friend and on more than one occasion, my savior. Good night, Mr. Wolfe."

We left quickly and Marcus peeled away from the curb in a Maserati. I'd never seen Marcus' personal car but this one felt like him. He was good at killing people, and he could find anyone anywhere. I knew almost nothing about him except the one time I'd had to float him half a million.

Apparently that was his price.

"I'm not going to ask you why you were there, but I am going to ask if you want him dead."

I looked down at my lap feeling somehow ashamed. "It doesn't matter. And he's a cop, we don't kill cops."

His jaw clicked audibly. "I always wondered where you went, what you did the rest of your life. You always get mixed up with cops?"

"Hey lay off. I thought he ran a fucking garage, for chrissakes. I just found out about the money and I just found out about the penchant for law enforcement. I already feel like an idiot, I don't need your criticism."

After that tirade we lapsed into silence and Marcus drove me to the garage. He probably knew where I lived but he was too polite to let me know. I watched him go and unlocked the door, shut off the alarm, and flopped on the couch in the lounge. 

I'd almost fucked Gunnar there, presumably Patrick's partner. I'd been flirting with disaster. I had six days until my birthday, six days until I was free. Six days to keep from getting arrested and dragged back into a life I had tried so hard to escape.

I had no one I could trust, and there I was feeling shattered. I'd started to feel hope and something...deeper with Patrick, and it had all blown up into something horrific.

Suddenly feeling so alone I leaned my head back and began to cry. And Patrick Wolfe was still the last damn thought on my mind before sleep claimed me at dawn. 

#

I was scared Cal would know, that Marcus would tell him, or I'd wear my guilt like a hat, but he said nothing. In fact he was quiet just as much as we loaded the parts onto the Viper.

It was Monday evening and the serious racers would be out and about, the kids would be at home. Cal asked if I wanted to hit the streets and I agreed, even though I knew Crilly, no, Wolfe was out there.

I dressed extra slutty in a leather vest and mini, topped with my boots and trench I looked like a slut-bunny assassin. Cal raised an eyebrow, and I just shrugged. 

"Jesus, rough weekend?"

I looked at the rope burns on his wrist and neck. He'd had his shirt off earlier and I'd seen the welts on his back. "You too?"

He actually blushed. He never blushed.

I looked between 'Stang and the Yenko Camaro. "Fuck it. I'm taking the Viper."

"Aileen, that's waving a red flag in front of a bull."

I stopped and stared at Cal quietly, for a moment my mind on Patrick. Then I remembered just who I'd beaten to get the car. "I want the LC to find me, Cal. I'm sick of this waiting around shit. I want a fight." It was stupid, but it was true.

"You're going to get yourself killed."

I sat down at that and thought about the plan that had been mulling in my mind all day. Six days to freedom, and with his help we could both be free. 

So I simply said "I am," and for once I treated my business partner like a friend.

#

The night was calm, cool, the only racers out were full-timers. Many of the guys we used to work with were there, and Cal and I chatted with them as the races progressed. We ran blockers for Li'l J, I started two races, and Cal came in second to Oren. I didn't take the Viper out, instead I spent most of my time scanning the crowd.

By midnight no LC, no Gunnar, no Wolfe. I was disappointed but also relieved, and it must have shown.

"Aileen," Cal said quietly as we helped block Western Avenue. "It doesn't make sense him using you to get to the LC. I mean, if he wanted them all he'd have to do is use his garage and his cred to race them. Crilly, Jesus, Wolfe must actually be interested in you, let's face it, you're a lot of trouble for a guy like him. Maybe you should hear him out."

I stared at him, that having been the longest speech I'd ever heard leave his lips. "What's gotten into you?" I asked as Oren pulled up, triumphant in another win.

"He proposed to Suki," she answered for him, and revved her engine with a glare for her future brother.

"Holy shit," was the first thing on my mind. "Holy fucking shit," was the second.

He blushed scarlet and Oren shook her head. "You hurt her and my brothers kill you." With that she sped off, and she was right. They were ex Yakuza, and they would kill him if he harmed a hair on Suki's head. Since she wielded the whip I wondered if I should give her the same threat.

Before I could say anything Li'L J came over and invited us back to his garage for a party. There was a party at a club downtown where J's other scene roamed, and this was to be their after-party. They were relaxed, and fun, so we both agreed to come.

I followed the line of rice burners, muscle cars, and sporty European racers to the garage by the K-Mart.

The garage had a back room stacked with old bench seats that J pulled out for his after-parties. Beer in bottles littered the room in ice-filled tubs and the music was low but energetic, great for talking.

Cal neatly avoided follow up questions by settling into a group with two of our old coworkers and I was dragged in. I was into my second Corona when Wolfe walked in the door.

He didn't play coy, he looked pissed, and he scanned the room until he found me. He took one menacing step towards me when a large hand appeared on his shoulder and stopped him. Gunnar stepped inside the garage right after him and directed the man towards Li'l J.

I watched them walk until Cal cleared his throat. I turned back to Kenny, a good mechanic, and thanked him again for the advice on the Viper's rear suspension.

Cal's eyes warily watched me, and I couldn't read them. I thought he might be telling me to go over there but I refused. Instead I downed the beer and slipped outside.

I nodded to Oren and two of her brothers and slipped the keys out for the Viper. A hand made of iron stopped me.

"Drinking and driving?"

I turned to see Patrick right there. Inside Cal was watching, so I gave him my fuck-you face. "Sober as a churchman, fuck off Cr- Wolfe."

His face schooled up instantly. "It's Crilly, Elle," he said pointedly. I jerked my arm from his grip and shook my hand.

"Call yourself Captain Kangaroo for all I care. Move it or eat Viper, Crilly."

He let me get in but my victory was short-lived. When I pulled onto the street there was a Sky behind me, navy blue with ghost flames. "Shit," I swore and gunned it.

He stayed behind me so I swerved and barely made a turn, but he stayed with me. I weaved through traffic and he was there. Concentrating on him made me lose direction and I wandered aimlessly, turning back north.

Suddenly he pulled up alongside me and the look in his eyes was hot, far from the cold cop face he usually wore. He was angry, he was excited, he was aroused. Shit, now I was too.

I slammed the gas and popped the clutch, shifting on the fly into top gear and he caught up. We were going south now on Foster, heading for the split with Ashland. I wanted to go left but I was on the right side of him, and he paced me as I sped up and slowed down.

He was good, hell, he'd never been this good before. The man had held back. I saw an opening and went for it to cut him off, but he lunged forward And I jerked right to avoid him. I overcorrected and cut across two lanes, hopped the curb at the split, tore up grass, and popped down to cut off another three lanes.

I pulled into the parking lot of a church, my heart hammering. The car skidded to a halt and the engine was still purring, but there were branches from a bush trapped beneath the hood.

"Fuck. Fuck! FUCK!" I screamed and hit the steering wheel.

Just as my anger burned itself out in a flash and embarrassment spread two low-slung headlights pulled in behind me.

Feeling testy I pulled my Glock from beneath the seat and shoved it inside my trench. Behind me he alighted, and I watched his tall frame move in my rearview until it disappeared, then he was knocking on my window.

I rolled it down an inch. "Fuck off Crilly. You won, now leave me alone."

"Aileen, you shouldn't have tried to race me in anything but the 'Stang. You're a different woman in the 'Stang."

That surprised me, and I didn't like surprises. Pissed off I swung the door out making him scoot back. Without pausing I pulled my Glock and clicked the safety, pointing it right at the center of his chest. "What part of fuck off needs to be translated?"

His eyes glanced at the gun and came back to mine, warm. The fucking pervert was getting aroused and that was pissing me off big-time. "Such a big gun for a little woman. I'll have to punish you later for that, the racing, the cursing, and the outfit."

I lowered the gun and shot at his feet. The explosion was a loud pop, deafening, and ricocheted off the concrete and stone walls around us.

He jumped, it was human nature, and swore viciously.

"I said, what part of fuck-off needs to be translated?"

He looked at me and I knew what he was going to do before he did it. He went for the gun so I guarded the trigger but held on tight. Unlike the movies, in real life the barrel was hot. He yelped but didn't let go and we struggled.

I was grim and silent, assessing, but in the end he was stronger and could take more punishment. Quickly he had the gun, my wrists were pinned in one of his fists, and we were both panting.

The gun he slipped into his jacket and then he fumbled in mine, feeling for weapons.

"What the-"

"Shut it," he cut me off. He'd removed my cell and dialed a number on his own as I watched, grinding my teeth.

"It's Wolfe. I'm at Ashland just off Foster, Trinity parking lot. Shots fired was a bad call. Car backfiring. I'm on scene. Yeah. Yeah. Bye."

He looked at me with a murderous glare and then started searching my phone's information for something. He pressed a speed dial and put it to his ear.

"You're the one Aileen called last time to get the Viper, right? It's in Trinity parking lot, Ashland and Foster, keys next to it. Be here in ten."

With that he hung up and jerked me along as he reached in and shut the Viper off. He shut the door, activated the alarm, and dumped the keys behind the driver's side front tire.

"If you say one word I'll really punish you."

"So I assume it's to be kidnapping and rape?" I said, snarky, truly terrified that that was the case. 

He stopped and the look in his eyes was true rage, but then what I said sunk in. "I won't touch you if you don't want me to, but it will take a lot for me to believe you don't want me."

I was strapped into the Sky before he popped open the glove box and cuffed my hands around the seatbelt. I struggled but it was useless. My hands were tied, and I was tied to the belt. I was in the car unless I had the key to the cuffs of a knife for the belt. 

And so I just glared at him as he swaggered in front of the car and got in. The car hummed to life, obviously perfectly tuned by a master hand, and as we pulled out another car pulled in. In the side mirror I saw Carlos get out and watch the Sky disappear.

Tied up in a car with Crilly, and no one knew where I was. In a little while I'd know if it was heaven or hell, or at least I hoped. 



Auto Erotica Ch. 10



Every attempt at a question was cut off as we drove to his home. Again we slid into the underground garage and were shut into the dark.

He undid my cuffs but growled as I looked around and contemplated escape. "After your friend's last stunt I let the staff go for vacation. It's just you and me here, Aileen." With that he jammed the cuffs back into the glove box, surprising me.

I shivered, scared while wondering what came next, and slowly opened my own door. He waited for me until I followed him into the house, his hand outside his pocket, covering my gun menacingly.

"P-"

"Not one word," he said as he had done with every attempt of mine to speak in the last fifteen minutes. I sighed and followed him down a hall and waited as he pressed a button by some French doors and then opened a security panel.

The code was entered and secured, it was too dark to see it. I felt trapped, and then the doors parted. I'd been expecting perhaps a dungeon but what I got was a large personal elevator.

The marble was rose and gold, there was a marble-tile-topped table in the middle. He pushed the button for three and the doors closed leaving us in dim romantic light.

For a wild moment I couldn't help but wonder at the number of women who'd taken this ride before me. This was posh, well designed, and hell if I liked him better I probably would have hopped up on the table and demanded he take me there.

I caught his reflection in the mirror trim and he was smiling. Bastard.

The doors opened and we emerged on the top floor. The lights were off, casting shadows as he took me to his bedroom. The walls were dark wood paneling, very Edwardian I knew, and hid shadows too well. I couldn't outrun him in the hall, so I was going to have to wait.

Inside his room he turned on the light and again I felt lost just as I had the last time I'd been inside. The light came from a large chandelier, clearly crystal, and it hung over the center of the room. The cream carpeting was plush beneath my boots, the navy walls looked satiny.

His dark mahogany furniture was sparse in the main room, merely a bed, a bench at the foot, a chest of draws supporting a bar, and two chairs beside a table under the large picture window.

The window was open to the city noise and if I had to, I could go out it down twenty feet to the porch roof.

There was a large arched doorway leading to a dressing room and his bathroom, no escape there.

Patrick locked the door behind me and I turned to see a shiny new lock, one that required a key on the inside to lock it. He stretched up with his arms onto the tips of his toes and slid the key onto a ledge too high for me to reach. He turned down the lights and went from being a demon in moonlight to a devil.

My phone joined the key on the ledge, my gun he stuck in the chest of draws and locked it tight. The message was clear; I was fucked.

So when he came towards me I dug in my heels and tried to look bigger, prepared to fight my way out. "You kn-know what happened to the last asshole who tried to f-fuck me without consent. I'm not p-playing around." Shit, my voice broke.

Without speaking he stepped past me, peeling off his leather jacket as he went. It landed on the plush bench revealing a holster over his navy shirt. The gun in it was large, and flashed as he crossed back to the chest and poured himself a scotch, neat.

He swallowed it one go and didn't bother to offer me anything. "I joined the Marines at seventeen. I didn't go to college, much to my family's shame. Wanted to work my way up, didn't want to start as an officer."

I leaned against on of his bed's posts and took a deep steadying breath, unsure of what the rules were to this new game. "What do I care?"

He sighed and gave me a withering look. "I was at Pendleton as a recruit. Long story short, I found out some guys on base were selling weapons. I tried to stop one, we got into a fight, I won, he died. I got pinched for murder and trafficking weapons. I did three years of a fifty year sentence when I got a deal.

"They thought I had contacts which I didn't, and offered me a clean record if I tracked down the buyers for them. I got that clean record, put away twenty scumbags, and came up with a recommendation.

"When I got home I joined the force, severed contact with my family. The money I have is mine, left to me by my grandfather, the rest I've earned. I've worked my way up to detective undercover, the shop has let me into many worlds; drugs, extortion, gang activity. I'm well decorated."

"Bully for you," I said but inside I was softening. This wasn't the spoiled rich kid I'd assumed. He was no nice guy, but he wasn't a total bastard. Didn't matter; he was still a cop. And cops always wanted something from people like me. Usually my friends, or worse, my enemies.

"I guess I'm supposed to feel sorry for you, promise to help you collect all the LC in town."

"No."

I almost laughed at his expression. Serene, arms folded, eyes tired. "No?"

He shook his head and his dark hair tumbled. "No. The cops and everyone else think that's what I'm after, but I'm only after one person."

Fear for my freedom began to crawl up my spine. "Who?"

"Someone is working for the LC, feeding them department information. This got my last partner killed just three months ago. Gunnar, his replacement, is helping me."

I almost choked. "You don't think I have anything-"

"Not you, Aileen. You're clean. No, but every attempt we've made to penetrate the LC has met with failure. My orders were to get into the racing scene, see who would take on the LC. When it was you Gunnar was supposed to get close to you, no one knew we'd already..."

"Fucked?" I said callously. "Gee you sure do plan ahead."

"Hey, you raced me, you made the challenge sexual, all right?" His jaw was ticking, a sign I'd learned meant he was on the edge. "That's not the point, the point is we're wrapped up in some dangerous shit."

"Well how the fuck would I know who's working for them? All I know is they send a few scouts out, and when they take over a town drugs triple. It wasn't like that when I ran, and no one I ran with is still alive."

"Aileen I'm not going to lie to you but that tattoo on your back says someone there has to be willing to talk to you. Listen these people, Aileen, do you know why they let you join?"

I rolled me neck and wished I could take my boots off, the spike heels were killers. "I'm called a cover. Nice, clean cut, good looking, white. Cops usually don't suspect us."

He nodded. "Exactly. Aileen their current cover somehow knows all our moves. We've got dead DEA agents, and the Bureau is breathing down our necks."

I raised my eyebrow. "Why aren't they out there racing? This is organized crime, not a matter for local cops."

He smoothed his hair back and gave me a daring look. "I break this case and I'm in the Bureau."

I gave a hoot of laughter. This was just getting worse and worse. "No wonder you said you could give me a new life. On Uncle Sam's dime. No thanks, Cr- Wolfe. Good luck finding your cover, but I know what you're going to ask and the answer is no."

"And just what am I going to ask?"

"You want an in. You want me to weasel my way back into an organization that has sworn to kill me. All that protects me is the fact the current runners don't know I ever was a part of that. They see my tat and I'm dead. As long as I'm simply Elle I'm safe."

"Damn it, Aileen. That's not why I raced you that one night, that's not why you're here."

"Then why am I here?"

"Because you're not safe and you have to get away. The LC are planning to kill you, they already know who you are. Do you know that?"

I snorted to cover the achingly deep fear that coursed like a comet through my veins leaving a trail of ice. "Why do you care what happens to me?"

"Because I love you."

The hard blood from my head dropped to my knees, leaving me in a vacuum. My leather felt tight, my knees almost buckled, and my vision swam in a swirl of cream and navy until all I saw was the dark god before me. "Fuck."

His jaw ticked, harder than before, and his eyes were hard as amber. "Just what every man longs to hear in response to the first time he says that."

"You manipulative bastard!" Pushing from the bed I lunged at him but he caught me with embarrassing ease. We struggled, I kicked, he bear-hugged, and soon enough he pinned my arms to my sides.

Trapped I stilled, and together we panted. This close, nose to nose, it felt intimate like a lovers pose. I breathed and he smelled like scotch and peppermints; combined with my leather it was homey, it was heady, I was lost. For a moment the thought of a kiss must have played in my eyes because he smiled that demon's smile.

"Let me go. Let me go home. Take a cold shower and get over yourself." I jerked back from his lips as I growled out the orders.

Instead he peeled off my trench and tossed it carelessly on the floor behind me. I felt naked, and suddenly regretted the short skirt and brief top. His eyes took it all in, warm as whiskey, and I felt naked.

"If you were my woman I'd never let you out of the house like that."

"Then it's a good thing I don't belong to anyone but myself."

He smiled in a way that moved up my spine. "We'll see."

He dragged me backwards to the bed and when the backs of my knees hit it I went down. He didn't fall with me instead he pinned my hands down and bent over me, watching, waiting much as I was.

He'd had chances to hurt me and yet he hadn't. He'd scared me, dragged me around, but he hadn't hurt me. I trusted him, and that's what scared me most of all.

"You said y-you'd l-let me go if I a-asked you to."

He jerked my hands until my wrists met and with one hand he pinned them down yet again, stretching me out on my back. His free hand dug between my tightly pressed legs and his fingertips stroked along my panties feeling the damp there.

"Convince me you don't want me to fuck you, to take you, to make you come when I want. Convince me, Aileen."

I whimpered at those words of domination, words I longed to hear. More fluid released from my body, priming me for an animalistic claiming, and my hips thrust against his hand, seeking more.

When he pulled away I almost cried out, bit my lip bloody to hold it in. "You're mine to do with as I wish," he said softly and yet it was edged with fierceness.

His hand now unbuttoned the leather vest and the heft of my breasts made the material gape until it was completely parted. Awkwardly he made me move until it was off and I sat there in my skirt, panties, and boots, blushing.

He knelt on the bed and I was forced back, moved up. Then Patrick straddled me, my arms pinned yet again. He reached to the nightstand for something and his gun came close to my nose. I eyed it warily, wondering, and then I felt the snap of fur-lined cuffs around my right wrist.

"What the fuck?"

He leaned down to smile at me, nose-to-nose. "No trick cuffs, sweetheart. Standard issue, though I softened them up with you in mind."

Against my will my nipples tightened into hard peaks even as rage suffused my face with blood. "I'll kill you."

He kissed me, quick and innocent, and lunged for the other hand. I struggled in vain; soon enough I was cuffed to the other bed post. I snarled at him, seeing red, too aroused and angry to form coherent words. 

Patrick just sat back to survey his work and apparently I didn't fit.

Walking around to the foot of the bed he stopped and leaned forward. My skirt was peeled off like a fruit skin and tossed with my coat and vest on the floor. He smiled, but it apparently still wasn't enough, and then the boots were kicked away to the pile of clothing.

Resigned to the coming ravishment I let go of the fear and felt arousal course through my system. Darkly I was more thrilled than ever, hoping it would be rough, fast, and impersonal.

Wearing only my lilac panties, my arms pulled taut, my breasts heaved up, I knew, or at least hoped, that I made an erotic picture, but he just turned and left. His back disappeared into his dressing room and I heard cabinets and drawers being opened and closed.

My imagination went wild picturing crops and gags, but he emerged with only three thin black strips of fabric. His shirt was off, his feet were bare, and his jeans hung low and temptingly on his hips.

I squeezed my eyes shut to avoid drooling and heard him chuckle. "Easy enough," he said cryptically and then the bed dipped.

He raised my head and I opened my eyes to see him focus on letting my hair loose, arranging it widely across his pillow. 

He concentrated as if I weren't there and when I whimpered his dark eyes flicked to mine. "In time, sweetheart."

I was lost. I hated him, but I desperately needed him. In that moment no one else on earth would have done. Somehow he knew it, somehow he truly owned me, and that made me hate him all the more.

And then he pulled it out. A Blindfold; one of the strips of fabric had the telltale curvature to fit comfortably around the nose and completely cover the eyes.

"No." I said flatly. "Don't do that; anything but that."

He leaned down to my ear and breathed heavily as he spoke. "I said you were mine, what part of that didn't you get?" Then he tweaked a nipple.

Without volition I arched up into that touch only to hear him laugh under his breath. I jerked my head side to side but he managed to get the blindfold on and secured it tightly with what felt like a complicated knot. I was plunged into darkness; no more mahogany bed, cream sheets and carpet, navy walls and blanket.

"Patrick, don't do this," I begged.

Upon hearing his first name he stopped. "Aileen I'd never hurt you. This is about trust. You won't give me yours so I'll have to prove to you it's there."

"How ironic," I said dryly, trying to pretend I wasn't terrified.

I felt him leave the bed, heard him move, but I couldn't place the sounds. I felt more vulnerable then ever before, and then he grabbed my ankle.

"Wait, stop, I'll do whatever you want just don't tie me completely up."

He responded by kissing the inside of my ankle and binding it tight. I moaned and begged but the other one was captured and bound the same.

At last I was frozen, barely able to move, and completely unaware of what was going on. The only warning I had was a slight dip in the bed and then he grabbed my panties and brutally ripped them off. I gasped, terrified; excited, waiting for the onslaught.

Instead I felt his fingers gently part my folds, and his tongue licked me gently. I cried out in shock and waited for pain, dominance, but there was none.

He slid between my legs and his hands went beneath me to cup my butt and raise me. It felt possessive and fierce but he made love to me with his mouth.

The act itself was so sweet, transposed on what began as a game of domination. He licked slowly and softly, tracing every fold and line, skirting the sensitive places that ached and swelled for him. 

His tongue moved slowly and steadily, he moaned as if I tasted like fine wine, and then he buried his mouth in my pussy. He licked and sucked at the same time, the pressure steady. My body tightened, my breasts swelled, and I thrashed against my bonds fighting the rising orgasm, as violent as Patrick was gentle.

The forbiddance of normal overtook me and when he began to suckle at my clit, I came screaming. Waves of pleasure radiated from his mouth outward over my body, tingling my flesh as I struggled not to beg and plead for more.

I expected it to stop but he dipped his head again and it began anew. He never spoke, just moaned with pleasure at little things; the hitch of my breath, the moans I couldn't suppress, the roll of my hips against his face.

Twice more he brought me with his mouth alone, and then he used his fingers and tongue together. Three more that way until I was sweaty, sticky, panting, and sated yet desperate for more.

At long last his hard body covered mine and I cried out in relief. The bastard didn't take me, instead he laid across me heavily, settled firmly between my legs, his cock poised at my entrance.

"Aileen, I want to look into those violet eyes when I take you, but you need darkness. You need to concentrate on what you feel, on what I make you feel."

When he entered me it was as if he sank in. Inch by inch I was made to feel all he had. His arms were like steel bands around my rib cage, his legs were hairy and rough against my thighs. His abs rubbed me as that thick cock sank to the hilt.

I couldn't hold back, awash in sensation I crested, and screamed his name as I came. The simple pure joy of feeling completely filled by him was enough, and the emotions that came with the waves of pleasure were fireworks. I screamed mindlessly, wordlessly in frustration as I fought the feeling, the emotions that threatened to overtake me whenever he was near.

At long last I came down to a kiss on my lips that was gentle and tender, but left no doubt in either of our minds that he was claiming me.

Then he began to move and the swell of feelings was too much. He moved with the barest of thrusts, his hips swiveling more than thrusting, and then I was there. Just as I felt it, the final, the ultimate crest rise, he began to slam into me.

Blissfully when the orgasm overtook me, I passed out.

#

I awoke to the blindfold. I didn't know how much time had passed between the moment of coming to and the last time I'd passed out, but the window was open and LSD was quiet. It had to be the wee hours of the morning.

I tested my arms and felt I was still bound, but the binding was much looser. I rolled my shoulders, moaning with stiffness, and this made Patrick stir. At least I hoped, assumed, and prayed it was Patrick who palmed a breast and went back to light snoring.

I took a deep breath and counted his, listening for a pattern. Not much of one but when he sounded deep in sleep I began to work my left hand. It was more limber, less muscled, and the wrist more flexible.

After several minutes of blind, desperate fumbling and twisting I was free. The handcuff had scraped some skin but I was none worse for the wear.

I took off my blindfold to see the room was dark, the window open to the night. Patrick and I were naked, he was asleep beside me, and as I watched, breathless, he rolled onto his side, back to me.

Over his hip I saw my clothes were folded on the dresser, my boots in front of it, my panties in the trash, and my jacket on a chair beneath the window.

My right hand took twice as long to free and bled onto the sheets, but I managed to get it out. My left foot I freed easily but Patrick's feet laid on the binding leading from my right foot to the post.

After a long moment of concentration an idea took form and I carefully unwound my foot and wound the binding around his right foot loosely. All I'd have to do is give it one hard tug and he'd be bound.

I slipped from the bed and waited until he rolled onto his back, breaths steady. I repeated the binding for his left foot and then came up to the head of the bed.

On his nightstand stood the keys to the cuffs and carefully I opened the left one. It creaked and I froze, waiting, but no movement came.

I started to close it around his wrist, leaning over the bed, my breasts falling with my hair close to his face. I was moving quietly, carefully, but he was better.

Suddenly my hands where yanked and I tumbled across him. He was like steel and I could barely move from the crushing bear hug. Groaning in defeat I still struggled in the dim light.

"What the fuck?" I heard him say and his grip slackened in surprise. Taking advantage I crawled for the foot of the bed and yanked on the loose binding of his left foot, pulling it taut.





Auto Erotica Ch. 10



The move was awkward and I fell onto the plush carpeting with a thud, landing on my shoulder.

My brain recovered quickly and I didn't go for the door or my clothes, I looked for his. In the dressing room I found his gun on top of the clothes and I checked it. Loaded.

I brought it back just as he freed himself, though he didn't notice until I flicked on the light.

"Freeze."

He did, though his eyes remained molten. "Why?"

I almost dropped the gun in surprise. "Why? Why what? You raced me, kidnapped me, locked me in here, tied me up, and..." I lost my voice, unable to name what he did.

"And what? Made love to you? Made you come damn near twenty times?"

"Say it as nicely as you want, but it was against my will, you bastard."

"All right then, what do you want? Do you want to tie me up and have your wicked way with me too?"

His sensual smile made my blood boil for any number of reasons. "I don't think you'd enjoy it, Cr- Wolfe."

A raised eyebrow was his only response. "You said you love me. I don't love you," I almost choked at the wincing feeling in my chest but continued, "and I'd be using you. That would be cruel, and I'm many things, but cruel isn't one of them."

He barked with laughter and I got pissed off. The shot landed in the mahogany post just two inches to the right of his head. His eyes were astonished.

"Untie your feet and fetch my phone and the key. Unlock the door." He didn't jump at the order so I shot the other post. "Move it!"

He jogged there and I quickly grabbed my trench coat, desperate for covering, and buttoned it clumsily with one hand, keeping the other and the gun trained.

He came down with an open door, my gun, and my cell in his open palms. I could see he was simmering with rage and hurt, and despite the absurdity of the situation, the emotions worn on his naked body made me flush with arousal.

Shit, I was a prisoner of my own desire for it held me far more tightly than he ever could.

"So what next?" He asked tersely.

"Put them on the nightstand and take both handcuffs off the top of the bed."

Puzzlement flashed through those whiskey eyes for a moment and then he moved to do my bidding. When they were free I ordered him to set the key down on the nightstand and move to the foot of the bed.

Another eyebrow raised when I ordered him to secure one side of each pair of cuffs to the bottom of the pineapple in his bed's lower posters. I made him tug on them and when they were secure I stepped closer, gun up, and ordered him, "cuff your right hand."

"No," he said flatly.

I squeezed the trigger but he held up a hand. "Fuck! This bed is an antique and you're ruining it."

"Then cuff your right hand, Wolfe."

"You wouldn't kill me."

"I'm bitch enough to shoot you in the leg and dial nine one one for you so shut up and do as I say."

He moved slowly but cuffed it, leaving the cuff absurdly loose. "Tight, Wolfe. I want it on the edge of pain."

His nakedness clearly displayed how much he liked hearing that and I had to wonder if the dominator wanted to be dominated. The thought filled me with a rush of arousal until my thighs felt sticky.

With a very slight flush he tightened and twisted his hand around for show. "Tight."

I stepped towards him, wary, and kept the gun on him. "Hold out your left hand. Any funny moves and I shoot your thighs. Got it?"

His eyes were lava now but he did as I asked. I snapped the cuff tight and he was pinned. Eager and feeling safer I set the gun down on the chest and began to unwind the strips from the posts.

"What are you doing?"

"Shut it," I said tersely much as he had the night before. I thought I saw him smile but I ignored it, concentrating on his difficult knots. When they were undone I brought them around and knelt at his feet.

"That's what I like to see."

My eyes shot up but froze at the sight of his penis. It was long, mostly straight, the very tip curved slightly and he knew just how to use that. The flesh was tinged with red, otherwise a very normal fleshy color, the head bulbous but proportionate to the thick shaft. A drop of moisture slipped from the top and I licked my lips.

"Suck it," he said and that at last drew my eyes up to his face.

Without saying a word I stood and began to unbutton my coat. His eyes watched me like a cat sighting a mouse and I smiled. When the buttons were all undone I slipped the coat from my shoulders and let it drop to my feet, pooling. 

I smoothed my hair over my shoulders and let my hands fall to the heft of my breasts. I cupped them, and watched his eyes darken. I stroked them gently and rolled the nipples between pinched fingers. Patrick's erection grew to epic proportions.

I let my breasts drop and stepped between his spread legs. Eagerly he caught a nipple with his lips as I bent past him. I let him suckle, let him believe in the illusion of control for just a moment.

Then I pulled back and slipped the blindfold on. Before he realized what was happening I tied the first knot and even through his yelling and struggles it was easy.

"I demand you stop this stupid game, Aileen. Goddamnit I only tried to make you trust me!"

I laughed bitterly. "You took me against my will. I begged and pleaded and you only insisted you knew what was best for me when I didn't."

"Aileen," he said on a warning growl.

"Shut it," I said, bemused, and wrapped the loose ends of the blindfold around his head, stuffing his mouth.

Once tied he was blind and mute, just what I wanted. Unfortunately his erection was flagging as he yelled incoherently behind the gag.

"You probably think I'm going to blow you to get it up, right? Wrong, wolfe."

I dropped to my knees and pressed against him, flesh to as much flesh as possible. I massaged my tits against him, feeling my nipples harden. I was determined not to give in, and to my surprise it was working. When he returned to semi-erection I used my hands and within long minutes I had the prize back at nearly full staff.

"Good enough for me," I said and climbed up.

I straddled him, my knees outside his thighs, and sank down. This was the first time the sex was on my terms, my plans. He whimpered when I was halfway down his length, I moaned when I was fully seated.

I wanted to just sit there, so I did. For long, drawn breaths I enjoyed the feeling of being filled, and when I moved, I simply rotated my hips.

His moan echoed my own, but mine was far more intense. I closed my eyes away from his beautiful face, shrouded in back, and colors filled my eyelids. As we ground together, sweaty bodies aching to thrust but denied, I saw red, green, and gold. With every pivot my breasts scraped his chest hair, teasing my nipples, and I felt the slow burn ignite into a fire.

I gripped his shoulders for steadiness but kept the pace slow. He felt ramrod hard inside me, deep, but if I wanted that tip on my g-spot I needed to thrust, so without preemption I began to move with my thighs. He yelled behind his bonds, his muscles drawn taught, his hands white-knuckled on the chains.

He caught the spot and I was lost. It built in a quick succession of a few staccato thrusts and when I came it was powerful. I didn't pass out but my eyes rolled back as I jerked against him. It felt glorious, soul crumbling, it felt- hollow and empty I realized, looking at his black shrouded head.

He was still ramrod hard inside me, his pelvis trying to thrust. I felt dirty, ashamed, and so I lifted off, ignoring his muffled cry.

I dressed quickly, pocketed my cell phone and used the key from off the nightstand to open the drawers and get my gun.

Then I took the cuff key and unlocked the left cuff but left it loosely clasped. I placed the key on the pillow at the other end of the bed.

"You'll have to untie your legs and walk around to get the key to your right hand. I'm leaving, Patrick. Don't contact me again. Good bye."

And with that I turned and left.



Auto Erotica Ch. 12



The message was clear. On my front door was an X; one line yellow, the other blue. They'd found me and I was marked for death. The LC had marked my family for death.

I paid the cabbie and stared, looking around, but there were no LCs around. Just the early morning light and the ugly X.

Shit. In three days I was twenty six and finally free. I had it all arranged; Andy would be declared mentally incompetent, I had the papers drawn up, the children would go to their maternal grandparents, the company would be in my name, and I'd be free.

Three fucking days and they found me.

I called Markus and had him find someone to replace it, hopefully before the children noticed. There was nothing else to do but slink in and wait for the tantrum that Andy would throw for staying out all night. I buttoned up my trench, hid my gun, and prepared.

It came faster than expected. I stepped into the house and I met the back of his hand. The action sent me sprawling back and I landed on my butt, half outside the house.

"Where the fuck were you last night?"

"W-what?" I asked and found my feet. No one was outside but dozens of anonymous cars getting an early start to their day. It was no use fighting; he'd remind me that all he had to do was make one phone call and I'd be in prison.

"The Marks were here. You were supposed to entertain Michael so I could get at his wife Juliet. You might be enough to get Andrew Jr into his school, but no more dressing like a slut. Were you whoring all night?"

Rage gripped me. Rage at him for my prison, rage at Patrick for making me do what flashed through my mind as guilt.

I pulled my gun. "Back off, Andy. Three more days until I'm free of you. I will not be insulted, slapped around, or whored out."

Casually he smiled and pulled a cell phone from his dark suit. "One call and you go away, for- what the hell?"

I didn't want to turn around, I suspected I knew who was behind me.

As I watched all of Patrick's height and bulk moved like lightning and Andy flew back, smacking his head into a banister. His cell phone fell out of his hand and he landed limply on the floor in a pool of blood.

My gun clattered to the ground and I rushed to his side. Patrick stood over him, fists curled, his face a mask of rage. Andy's pulse was strong; he was knocked out, and all the blood was from a mild scratch. Head wounds always bled but Andy had been drinking which made it worse.

"God damn it, Wolfe, what the fuck did you think you were doing?"

His rage turned on me, barely leashed. "He hit you. You pulled your gun. I heard him threatening you. Aileen I was trying to help."

"Daddy?" A plaintive cry came.

"Kids! Get out of here, daddy took a spill. Go get Marta, please."

"Annie Annwe?" Andy Jr asked.

"Captain Murphy," a voice said from Andy's cell. Fuck; he'd dialed. "Mr. Reilly?"

"Detective Wolfe, sir," Patrick said scooping it up.

"Marta!" I yelled and she came quickly, wiping her hands on her apron. When she saw Andy she turned ghostly but when I nodded she scooped the kids up and dragged them away.

Andy moaned and Patrick scowled down at him as he spoke. "Andy Reilly's phone dialed when he fell down the stairs. Drunk. Yes sir. Yes. An ambulance. Thank you sir. She- no, sir. Really? Yes sir. I will. I can. I will. I'll call my lawyer. Yes. Thank you."

"What have you done?" I growled.

"Aileen, you have to get out of here now. They're sending over uniforms and you'll get hauled in. You have to go. Now!" he said at my blank look.

I didn't have a car handy and dimly followed him to his. We sat down and he tore off, and for a brief moment it was like the night had never happened.

"Patrick," I said at long last when I realized he was driving to my condo. "I meant what I said. I'm not helping you, and being seen with me can only hurt you."

"Aileen, don't you think I know that? And I meant what I said, I love you. Screw the bureau, if you need to get lost I'll use my own money, my own connections, I'll do whatever it takes. And of it means never seeing you again, fine."

I winced, feeling like a monster. "Things have changed. Did you see what they did to my door?"

He nodded and pulled up to a wolf pack at a stoplight. "I told you they know who you are and they want you dead."

"On my door, on my brother's door. That doesn't mean they want me dead; it means they want my family dead, my brother's employees. My niece, my nephew! I'm not going anywhere now."

He gripped the steering wheel so tight I thought it might pop off. "We'll get you lost, I can take care of your family."

"How?"

"The kids can be made wards of the court, I just need to get a warrant from my cap-"

"No. No, this is my fight, I started it, I'll finish it."

"Do you know how crazy that sounds?" The light turned and we crawled forward into Chicago's morning rush hour.

"They won't stop. By the time you get those kids somewhere through legal channels they're as good as dead."

"So what are you going to do?"

"They want me dead, they want revenge. I left, I left with some of their money, and I've been embarrassing them at their attempts to gain ground in Chicago. What they want is blood, but they want everyone to know what they did."

"Jesus, you think racing them and getting killed will solve this?"

"Maybe. Look, Patrick I..." The words were difficult on my lips. "I need a favor."

"Jesus I should just cuff you to the dash again and drag your butt onto a plane for Mexico."

"But you won't do it because you know I'm right."

He screeched to a short halt at another red light, earning a few horns behind us. "So what's the favor?"

I took a deep breath. "I'm not asking the cop, I'm not asking the mechanic, I'm asking the rich pretty boy." He smiled at that, bitter saccharine. "I need you to get in contact with a good lawyer. I need my brother declared legally incompetent. Then I need access to a private plane so my niece and nephew can get to LA without having to appear on a manifest."

The light turned and he shifted into gear, his mind working almost audibly. "All right. Just promise me one thing."

"And that is?"

He slowed down to another red light. "You won't do anything stupid without talking to me first."

"Don't worry," I said with a little laugh. "except when it comes to you, I'm usually pretty smart." And with that I opened the door, hopped out, and jogged down Jackson, leaving him behind.

#

I stared into the mirror at the woman there. I wasn't like my mother, not in any way. She'd been five six, with dark brown hair and blue eyes. She'd been called beautiful until I'd grown up. Then I was called stunning and she was called quite pretty. 

The bones of my face were my father's family, my coloring my mother's, but no one else I knew had the same. Still, the woman in the mirror was familiar and a stranger to me. I took extra care with her that night, having hidden from the world for a week I wanted her to look in control and distant.

Black leather boots, short black skirt, tight black top, and as the rain had cooled the night, black leather trench. I left my hair loose in the back, tied the front up to keep my eyes clear. The effect was nice, though a little too soft for me.

I lined my eyes and put the barest hint of green shadow above, making them pop. To balance it out I actually put on lipstick, a very natural shade, but my skin looked pale, and the black made me look great.

The earrings were silver, dangling like icicles, and as a last resort they detached from the hoops and could be knives. I wore my Beretta at my back, and the Glock 17 was coming with me to the car. God willing Patrick would stay away and that cop Gunnar wouldn't be there. God willing Cal, Carlos, and Marcus would wait in place.

It ended tonight.

I made it from the condo down to the car, and there I stopped. God, I would miss her. She was beautiful, and no one could ever love a GT500 like me. No one. I stroked her slowly, loving the green paint, the white stripes, the pure beauty and raw power. If I popped the hood I might cry, so I refrained.

I sat inside and put the Glock under the seat, strapped it in a loose holster so it wouldn't slide around, but I could pull it out real quick.

The warehouse was clear of anything of value, everything was set up. I had spent the last few days getting everything together. Andy was in rehab, the kids were safe in LA, and I hadn't seen Patrick since that...day a week ago.

I pressed the remote and revved the car to life. Showtime.

Li'l J wasn't too happy to see me. The circuit started at Vig's tonight and I pulled up at the edge of the rice burners and stepped out. He still wore coveralls, and his hair was in a afro.

"Don't you bring that here, Elle. I don't want no LC fuckers here. Word on the street is some nasty shit is going down."

"I'll wait for them here, where they know I'll be, and we race away. Nobody watches, no real cash."

"What shit you trying to pull, girl? Damn you hot, but you crazy."

"Best you don't know. You see Crilly around?"

"Not recently. Shit girl, you took all the fight out of that horse. You ruining my best racers."

"He'll be around long after I'm gone. You'll always make money off that one, J."

"Where's your shadow?"

"He's waiting. J, those LC are bringing blood here. Send out the word to keep loose, stay away, and send them my way if I don't find them first."

J shook his head and hit my shoulder playfully with his fist. "You keep safe girl. Those LC, they got blood from out west. And those muthafuckers love a cover, you know?"

Yeah, I nodded my head. I had once been a "cover," a person in the gang no one in the outside world would suspect. And what J was telling me was that it could be anybody.

Well, shit. Marcus would sell his soul to the highest bidder, Carlos went where Marcus went, and Cal...I didn't know Cal well enough to know anything. And that meant Patrick was the only one I could trust, since I already knew all his lies.

If I saw him, well, I wasn't so sure I could just up and leave. If everything went to plan tonight, Aileen Reilly would be dead, to everyone.

"Stay smart, J."

"You too. Say Elle," he said, stopping me as I turned.

"Yeah?"

"What's your real name?"

"What's yours?"

He grinned, showing gold. "James."

"Aileen."

"So what do I tell people who want high end work now?"

I smiled. "Send 'em to Crilly."

Suki was in the crowd and nodded to me, shit, that meant Cal had talked. Well, the fucker was going to cash in on a two million dollar insurance policy, guess he'd rat to the bitch holding his leash. And I guessed that meant he was loyal to me, the LC couldn't top two million bucks.

That meant Marcus or Carlos had turned. If it was Marcus, I was dead. If it was Carlos, I had a chance. Shit, Carlos would never think of it on his own.

There had to be a way to take Marcus out, some way. The light bulb went on when I saw the other 'Stang roll up.

I hopped over, didn't even let Gunnar get out, just leaned in. "Listen, Gunnar, I know you're a cop. How would you like a cache of stolen goods, and someone with more than a few warrants?"

He raised his eyebrow as he got out. "And hello to you too."

I just stared at him, waiting, and at last he nodded. "Maroon Maserati, waiting down at Orleans and Lower Wacker. Guy inside is Marcus Schellner. He's gold."

He flipped open his cell phone and started to dial, pausing to look at me askew. "You racing down there?"

"Might be. Look he's there now, you'd better move quickly."

"Doesn't he work for you?"

"Look, you want the collar or what?"

He nodded and pressed the phone to his ear.

I turned from my last hope, and found my worst nightmare coming towards me. Suddenly it all made sense.

She wasn't tall in stature, but the way she walked she seemed a giant. Her shoulders were broad and squared, her face precisely made up just short of Kabuki, her clothes long, dark blue, with touches of gold here and there. 

Behind her walked the girl I had beaten the night this officially began, behind her were the foot soldiers. Male, female, strapping, tall, short, wide, lean, they were all covered in tattoos, wearing the colors proudly. 

"Aileen, you grew up nicely for someone from the streets. Rich brother, good house. The cute kids were a...nice touch."

I kept my face impassive. "Catalina, I would have thought you'd be dead by now."

She reached up and drew a blue fingernail across my cheek. "Puta, I thought you'd be dead, but I won't worry. You will be, soon."

All I had to do was draw her in for a race. Then Cal, Suki, and her crew would take over. "Why are we talking? Why not just kill me now?"

Catlina pulled back and brought the other girl forward. "You have her car. She wants it."

"I'll race for it, otherwise, no go."

Catalina cut off the other girl's reply. "Your car for hers...I like it."

"No," I shook my head and stepped closer. "I win, you leave Chicago, don't come back. You win, I'll go with you, willingly."

She had no intention of honoring the promise I knew she'd give. She nodded.

"I'll get it set up."

She let me go but had two foot soldiers follow me. J's eyes widened but when I told him it would be me and the LC, he nodded, and took my share of the vig.

Gunnar was gone, Marcus was taken care of, I had 30 minutes to wait, and no sign of Patrick Wolfe. Things were going scarily well, my way.

I was nervous as the other racers set off, and finally it was my turn.

Catalina, the other girl, and two men from the LC were up against me. We all put up two grand, never believing we'd see the vig if we won. This was a race of life or death.

Suki was the starter, and when the scarf came down we punched out.

I was up against a Challenger, a BMW with heavy after market work, a Thunderbird, and Porsche. It would take lots of concentration.

The route took us over to Western, and we all damn near fishtailed as we turned onto it. The Porsche was in front, I was second, and I had to watch carefully for any hits from behind.

We sped through red lights, traffic screaming all around us, and I shifted into fifth, my heartbeat thrumming through my head.

Montrose was coming up, and here you could take a bridge over the intersection or stay low and go through. The bridge was tempting, but there was construction on it, I knew, and so I let the out-of-towners take it. I went below, between sidewalk and parking.

Suddenly lights flashed ahead and a car pulled out. I tried to swerve, hit the brakes, but it was too late. My car hit it, the sound exploding. Glass flew and we spun, my twisted chasse impaled on another.

My mind slowed, each second flashed by. I was thrown against the seat belt and my chest felt like it had been stomped. My head whipped back, hitting the head rest hard enough my vision went black.

Glass flew towards me and I closed my eyes, glass cutting my cheek. Metal crunched like a freight train, and my foot felt agony.

Finally, I came to a stop.

All I could think was that I had to run, I had to get out of there. The race would go on as planned, they'd never be lead to Suki's crew. She was dead.

The door was stuck, sobbing in pain she pushed it open and spilled onto the pavement. I lay heavily on her side, bruised and bleeding, my sight filled by wet pavement and flames from the cars.

Suddenly boots walked into view. "Aileen...so predictable."

I recognized the voice and struggled to sit up. "Wh-what?"

"Come on, we have you now. The LC just needs one more thing from you before you die."

"Wh-who?"

Gunnar knelt down until his plain face and long blonde hair filled my vision. "We need Crilly to come after you. And when you both die, Chicago is ours."

With great shame, I gave into my body and passed out.



Auto Erotica Ch. 12b



Two apologies to my readers:

1- Sorry, "Chapter 12" is really Chapter 11, I mistyped when uploading. 12b is truly 12

2- I was supposed to submit this to be posted Friday 8/8/08 but forgot and uploaded 8/9/08.

For more information on story postings and upcoming schedules, be sure to visit my biography here.

***********************************

I swam to consciousness. Slowly, painfully, I found the world gray. A blindfold was over my eyes, a blinding light behind it.

My hands were tied as well as my legs to a cool metal chair. The air was drafty, the smell of lube, grease, brake fluid filled my nostrils.

The gag in my mouth tasted like an oil rag, making me nauseous. I struggled against it, moaning, and felt a large hand cup my cheek.

"Awake at last. We're alone for the moment. Care to finish what we started that one day? I'd offer to untie you if you were a good girl, but my partner likes to talk and I know you're into some kinky shit."

Gunnar's voice made me go cold, and he laughed.

The bindings on me were standard cop-issue, and without a free hand and a knife there was no way out.

I started to talk, knowing it would drive him crazy in a few minutes. He'd either hit me, and I hope so hard I fell back, possibly loosening something, or he'd pull off the gag.

An eternity later he loosened the gag. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Cal, is he safe?"

Gunnar made a strange sound and shoved the gag back on, tying it tight. I knew this meant Cal had run. Smart man.

How the fuck could I have ever thought it was Marcus? If the police hadn't gotten him, he'd know I never made it to the meeting spot, and he'd find me.

I had no idea where I was, or how the LC planned to lure Patrick out. I could only hope he was either too smart or too dumb to follow their breadcrumbs.

I began to wonder why I was still alive. Torture? Bargaining chip? Nothing held any appeal, but I had to stay sharp, take advantage.

From the echoes of Gunnar's movements the warehouse was empty. I heard a distant train crossing bell ding and closer an El line rush overhead.

I was in my own warehouse. 

I kept my face tight, my breathing steady. I wanted to give nothing away, but I had a plan.

Taped to the underside of the office bathroom toilet tank was a knife. A lifeline. Something I could use.

I began to speak, wiggling in feigned discomfort.

After torturous long moments, the gag came off. "What?"

"I have to use the bathroom."

He snorted. "So piss yourself."

I frowned. "It's not piss."

"Fuck."

He started to untie my legs, but slowly with one hand, the other kept a gun jabbed deep in my ribs.

"I'll tie your hands in front. Door open, blindfold on, I'll stand and watch."

"Now who's into kinky shit?"

Just as I hoped he backhanded me suddenly. The chair slammed back, landing on my hands, and it took almost all of my concentration to take the pain. I had enough left to turn my head to the ground and rub, loosening the blindfold.

I was hauled back up, still tied to the chair, and he held me and the chair by my upper arms. It hurt like hell and I bit my lip.

"Get funny bitch all you want. We've got time alone, and when you're done, I'm going to make you pay."

Rape. I had a feeling.

He slammed me back on the ground, the metal chair reverberating, ringing through my body.

The blindfold was loose enough I could see his knees. The floor was clean, and he had a goddamn buffalo knife in his hand. He used it to cut the ties on my hands and feet, but just when I thought I was free he grabbed my hands and tied them again, in front this time, but still tight.

Gunnar jerked me up, knife to my ribcage, and walked me to the bathroom. He lifted the seat, yanked up my skirt, and used the knife to slice open my panties. I was naked from the waist down and felt his eyes on me. It took everything I had not to vomit.

"Sit, door open, and I'm watching, bitch."

I resisted a smart-ass comment. I needed him as complacent as he could get, if this was going to work. I was not the kind of girl to wait around for a rescue, and I hoped, really hoped Patrick was smart enough to stay the hell away.

I settled on the toilet and I could see his feet. Gunnar wasn't moving.

"I can smell your cologne, I can't shit with you this close."

He chuckled darkly, but backed up. It was all I needed.

I kicked my feet out of slammed the door closed. I used the momentum to throw myself to the floor and gunshots peppered in a line where my head had been.

He had two in the clip.

I threw on the lock, ripped off the blindfold, and got the knife.

"Aileen, what do you think you can accomplish?"

Again, I resisted smart-ass comment. Silence was the language true tough-guys spoke, and it would unsettle him. Still, I didn't know when the LC was due back. I found myself wishing Cal might come back. Fuck, I didn't need a rescue, but I needed a partner, backup.

"Come out now, Aileen, and I'll leave you with use of your legs."

I snorted, I couldn't help it. That was an empty promise when I knew they were going to kill me.

The knife cut through the ties, but with my hands bound it was slow and awkward. Gunnar was laughing, moving around, and I had a feeling he was looking for a spare clip.

"Aileen, you're such a bad girl."

The way he said it I knew he was imagining raping me. Now I really wanted to vomit.

Shit. My knife was smaller, I had no gun, and he was a helluva lot bigger than I was. One solid kick and the door would open. I looked around for a weapon.

Top of the toilet tank. In the movies that knocked people out, but not so in real life. Room spray, toilet paper rolls, cleanser, a sponge, matches Cal had left, and soap. All I had.

"Little bitch, little bitch, let me in."

A ha! Hairspray behind the spare rolls of toilet paper. "Not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin," I said, grabbing it.

There was a slim space between the door jamb and the wall. I took it, sucking in as much as I could, and waited for it.

Time slowed to a crawl, and I tried to listen for every sound but my heart was thumping, the blood rushing like thunder through my ears.

The door exploded and I struck the match on my nail and started the spray. Gunnar walked right into a fireball, and his gun went off, wild. The toilet tank exploded, water and porcelain rained out, and another bullet ricocheted off the mirror frame, missing my head by less than an inch.

He was down though, out of bullets, screaming as his long hair burned in a sickening smell.

I kicked him as hard as I could, and ran for it. I had guns in the office, maybe, if Marcus hadn't cleaned them out as he was supposed to. I wasn't going to find out, the LC could be headed back and I had to get the fuck out of there.

I ran for the door, and behind me Gunnar howled, but scraped to his feet. I threw open the door- and ran right into Patrick.

"Aileen!"

He grabbed me by my arms and looked down in horror. I realized my skirt was still hiked up, my panties gone. Clutching my knife awkwardly I tugged the skirt down.

"I'm okay, but your inside man? Patrick, it's Gunnar! He's inside, the LC is coming back, we have to get out of here!"

"Did he-"

"No," I said quickly, with relief. I didn't want to hear the word.

This made no difference, it seemed. Patrick was a ball of rage. "Did you hear me? We have to run!"

"Stay here," Patrick said, and moved me like a small child. He just picked me up and moved me.

I wasn't merely outraged, I was terrified. Ii turned and watched him draw a gun from a shoulder holster, click off the safety.

Behind me was his Sky. I could take it, take it and run. Disappear forever. But if I did, so would Patrick.

"Fuck."

I went back inside, headed for the office. To my left came low, angry voices. Patrick had been betrayed, by his own partner. I understood his anger, but there was so much more at stake.

There was one gun Marcus had missed. It was a Browning Hi Power, not the best gun, and Cal had found it on a car we'd gotten from a race. The thing was probably dirty as hell and the last thing I wanted was my prints on it, but I took it and checked. Four bullets, including the chamber.

Outside the sounds of fighting broke out with shouts. Something crashed, and Gunnar laughed. Shit, if Patrick was getting his ass handed to him...fuck.

I was hurt, I knew I had at least two ribs cracked clean, my left ankle was barely functioning, and if I didn't have a concussion, I'd be shocked.

Fuck.

I dragged my weakening body over to find the men rolling around on the ground. They were nearly matched, but for all Patrick's rage Gunnar was just plain bigger, and he was landing several good punches to Patrick's head.

Fuck nobility, I thought. Fighting double vision, I raised the Browning, steadied it, and aimed. One shot, and Gunnar went limp.

"Aileen?"

I hobbled over to where Patrick climbed out from under the body. "Yell all you want, we need to go."

"Fuck!" He howled like a crazed wolf after the expletive, long and wordlessly.

I slumped against a pole, my head throbbing. Shit, I was hurt worse than I thought. "Patrick, I don't know how much longer I can make it without a doctor."

I'd said it quietly, I don't know how he heard, but suddenly he was there, supporting me. "Aileen, you just killed a cop."

"A dirty cop who was selling out this city."

"Still, we can't get away clean."

"Can't we? Look, the LC will be here any minute. We get them in here, with him, burn it to the ground...how will anyone know?"

"Cold-blooded murder?"

I wanted to slap him. "What the fuck do you think they were going to do to us? Look, you can stay here, deal with them, fill out the paperwork. But I need a hospital, now."

"They brought in Marcus, I got him out, but he knows you sold him out. If that weren't the case, I'd call him for a lift."

I raised an eyebrow. "Money talks. Look, how often do I ask for a favor?"

"Aileen, if I get him here, get you patched up, get the whole damn force here on the LC, what guarantee do I have you'll stick around and wait for me?"

I was probably bleeding to death from a dozen wounds, and this was his concern? I laughed. "Crill-Wolfe, whatever. Decisions, fast."

He finally looked into my eyes. My night was there. A horrible accident. A kidnapping and near-rape. I was beyond tired.

"Come on. The LC can wait."

He picked me up, cradled me in his arms, and a part of me was pissed at how me-Tarzan-you-Jane it seemed, but then I realized I couldn't walk too well.

When we were in the Sky, pulling out, I let the darkness claim me again.

***

I woke to a dim light. What the fuck happened? Where was I?

"Aileen?"

I turned my head and damn, it hurt. Patrick looked back at me. His beard stubble so thick I could barely see half his face. His bright eyes were tired and red-rimmed.

Suddenly everything came back to me, and I felt my eyes widen.

"Three days, if you're wondering how long. You've been sedated. You broke six ribs, dislocated your knee, lost a lot of blood, and had a bad concussion. 

"I'm sorry I didn't pick up on it. I was so angry, but when it sunk in just how...unlike you you were acting, I brought you to my personal doctor."

"Water," was all I said.

He produced a pitcher from outside my field of vision, and it was crystal, or glass. Not hospital issue, and neither was the cut-crystal glass.

I gulped it down and sank back into the pillow. "Where am I?"

"In my house. Aileen, we got the LC. It took a lot of money, but Marcus framed them. We have a Miguel Sanchez in for Gunnar's murder. The rest bonded out."

I nodded, but the name Sanchez meant nothing. The real big dogs were still out there.

"Aileen, your brother, his kids...we- I found Cal. You were leaving."

I closed my eyes. "Nothing personal."

He didn't even laugh. "Aileen, I love you."

My heart winced, and more than just an expression, I felt a pain in my chest. I probably loved him too, but I knew better than to try and figure anything out. I was done with his world, I had some loose ends to tie up in mine, and then we'd part ways.

"Wolfe, this isn't about you. It'd about me. There are things I have to do, and one of them is be free. I've never been free."

"And just what about loving me back would get in the way of being free?"

I laughed now. "You have a name, a life, a very public one. It's not for me, I want no part of it."

"Then what next?"

I had to think on it. "I heal up enough to get out of here, get a room someplace and heal some more. I tie up loose ends, you get your job with the bureau, and that's that."

"What if I don't want it?"

I finally looked back at him, and he seemed honest. "You can't mean that."

"My family turned their backs on me a long time ago. I owe them nothing. I wanted that job as a way to prove to them, to everyone, that I was innocent all along. But it's cost me a lot. And it's costing me you."

"So what do you want? Disappear with me? Live life off the radar?"

"Why not? Aileen, despite my many adventures, my life just wasn't...fun until you came along."

My laughter was real. "Fun?"

He laughed too, and despite the heavy tone of the conversation, for a moment we were simply a man and a woman in a moment only we could understand.

When it died, I kept my face turned towards his. "Patrick, don't you understand? It doesn't matter that you love me, it doesn't matter if I love you, we have lives to lead, and they're just too different."

"Excuses, excuses," he said quietly, but his tone was lighter than it had been. "Stay here until you're better. I'll get you a suite, hotel of your choice, and stay there as long as you need, on my tab. I won't look into what you do, neither the man nor the cop. Leave if you want."

I looked at him, really looked at him, and he meant it. I was so tired, so weak, I nodded.

I woke some time later, realizing I'd dozed off with him still in the room, but now he was gone. There were fresh flowers on the table next to me, purple roses, backlit by the sun.

Damn me, they made me smile, and sleep claimed me again.

***

I was in Patrick's room. Night complemented the colors all too well, and the moon was full. The windows were open, and below us the city moved, further out the lake shone in the bright light. This was a layer of blue and white and black, the perfect framing in any light for Patrick Wolfe.

Wind moved the curtains, caressing my body, and I was naked. I felt whole, healed, and it made me smile. Something seemed off, but I couldn't figure it out. I stroked my torso, amazed at the smooth feel, yet something wasn't right.

"Better?"

I turned, and Patrick was there, naked too. Stepping to press his body against mine, he wrapped his arms around me and drew me tight. He was warm, his skin rough, and he was happy to see me, only mildly so.

"What's going on?"

He kissed my neck, below my ear. "You're leaving tomorrow, it's all over, and you agreed to give me tonight. Any way you want it, but I know you want to leave, and if you want me to take you roughly, tie you down like I want to, desperately, I don't think I can let you go."

I turned and his hold loosened, letting me. I put my arms around his waist and laid my head on his shoulder. "That's just sex, a fantasy. I like to be tied up in bed, you know I want nothing of the sort in real life."

"Neither do I, Aileen, I just don't know why you think I want to keep you in a cage."

Pulling back I looked up into his dark gaze. "You still don't get it."

"Then explain it to me."

"I've been trapped in a life and all I ever dreamed of was freedom. Taking things as they come. Everyone else complains about that, the unpredictability of life, and they just don't know how lucky they are. To not have a script to follow, to know the choice is always yours, that's a precious gift."

He pulled away, and I stood there, watching his naked back retreat, the muscles shift and flex as he stopped and leaned a hand on a poster of his bed. "Aileen, you're so wise in many, many ways, but so naïve in others. You can't even listen to your own words. Me? I'm a choice in your life. And you had this dream of being free, wandering, alone. It's a script you're following, and I'm not part of the plot."

There was anger there, barely leashed, and a sexual thrill trailed down my spine. "No arguments tonight, Patrick. Your promised me a night, and I want it, all of it."

I'd taken two steps when he whirled around and grabbed me. He fused his mouth to mine, seared me with his tongue, and I could only moan and clutch at his back.

My mind filled with images of making love, the first night in his house had shown me a tender side to the physical act I had never before experienced. I wanted to run my fingers all over his body, through the sworl of dark chest hair, over the tight bunching of muscles, across all the various textures.

I wanted to ride him while he sat holding me tight, my hands plunged into his hair, gripping tightly and stroking as I moved. I wanted to feel his mouth all over my body, I want mine all over his.

Then he growled.

It was a true animal sound, and I found my arms ripped from him and pinned behind my back. "What are you doing?"

"If tomorrow will be on your terms, tonight will be on mine."

With that he dragged me to the bed and I was thrown across it. Before I could move he was across my chest, dragging my left arm to the corner. The cuffs snapped into place, cop-issue, and this time it was set tight enough I couldn't wriggle out of it.

He repeated the motion to my other arm and then to my shock, shackled my feet. No loose scarves this time; I was trapped.

"Patrick, please."

He stopped, silhouetted by moonlight. "Please stop, or please don't?" 

I blushed, unable to answer. No one had ever made me confront this side of myself before. I had never thought about why this turned me on, it was simply a dark corner of my mind.

With him I couldn't hide. My whole life had been lived like a speeding freight train, stuck on tracks. With Patrick I felt powerless, and somehow it was freeing. With him I found respite, I could give up conscious thought and accept things as they were. And I trusted him, really trusted him to make sure everything was all right.

I trusted him, and I loved him. My eyes went wide and finally he looked away. "No blindfolds tonight, Aileen, I want your eyes on mine. Keep them open. I will see every secret you want to hide, I will read every desire and I promise you, you'll receive it."

Shivering at the erotic threat, I jerked a nod.

He crossed to the armoire and opened it up, considering. I watched as he began to remove things; a small box, a medium one that matched, and something wrapped in black cloth.

Patrick strode with grace to set them on the nightstand. I watched as from the cloth he unfurled two candles, long black tapers, and crystal holders. Though his body language was harsh, he gently set them up and withdrew a lighter from the nightstand and lit them, leaving both on one nightstand. I wanted to ask why, but his stiff stance forbade any questioning.

He opened the smaller box and withdrew something very small, then stopped to look me over.

His eyes glittered, and his erection grew. I found myself blushing as if complimented, and indeed I supposed I was. 

From the small object Patrick pulled off a cap, and I saw it was a pump. He put some gel on a finger and with his eyes never leaving mine, stroked his finger across my clit, parting the lips.

Immediately a chill spread there, icy, white-hot, and I gasped, arching.

"You're moving too much."

"Sorry," I said quietly.

"No speaking unless you're directed to."

He moved to pump more onto his finger and in turn he spread the gel across my nipples. I gasped, feeling the air currents strongly.




Auto Erotica Ch. 12b



He put the bottle back into the small box and opened the larger one. From it came two small objects and as he worked with them I recognized clamps.

I could only stare openmouthed as he set them onto my nipples, clamping them tight. With a little twist at the bottom he turned them on and to my shock they vibrated.

Pleasure and pain combined, searing my body, slowing my heartbeat to a throb. My clit ached and my body burned, my flesh felt ignored, and all he did was watch me.

For a long moment our eyes held, pleasure and pain grew and shrank in undulating turns across my body.

Some imperceptible signal moved him, and from the boxes he drew another tube, and what I recognized as a vibrator. 

The tube was a thick lube, and he spread it over the vibrator, then moved to spread more on my anus. I was shocked, my heartbeat now a drum, and I was thrilled and terrified that he meant to do this.

Patrick gave me no quarter. The vibrator had a strange shape, knobbed and bulbous, the protrusions large towards the bottom.

He turned it on and trailed the tip against my anus. Sitting on the bed beside me, his other hand fathered the lightest touch at my clit. I gasped, and my muscles clenched, the clamps almost hurting in response, and the pain was sweet.

Coming down I felt the vibrator sliding in, turned off. "Push out," was all he said and his voice was rough, Patrick wasn't as removed as I thought.

I did as ordered and it went in deeper. The stretching was its own kind of pleasure/pain, the feeling icy cool, burning hot, and immensely filling.

I was trying desperately not to squirm but it was damn hard. With every small movement the clamps felt tighter, with every brush of his fingertips orgasm threatened darkly, and the violation of the vibrator was sheer ecstasy.

At last it was in and I felt full, my pussy strangely stimulated. Then he turned it on and it took everything I had not to scream in swooning pleasure.

"You will not come until I allow you."

My eyes had slipped and I jerked them back to see a glinting dark amusement. I watched as he crawled up the bed and straddled my stomach.

Reaching across to the small box he drew the vial of minty stimulating gel and reapplied to my nipples and clit. More pain, greater ecstasy, and I bit my lip to hold back a whimper.

He replaced the small bottle with one of lube, different from what he'd used on the vibrator. I watched his eyes as his hands slid down and he began to stroke himself. 

I would have given ten years to watch, but he didn't let me. When I was ready to beg, he threw the bottle on the bed and brought my breasts together. The tension pulled on the clamps and searing pain shot through my nipples, pleasure blooming in its wake. 

I bit my lips again as his heavy cock pressed between. The lube was slippery, and he moved back and forth quickly. I wanted to watch, I wanted to see his cock swell, but he held me with his eyes.

For long breathless moments I watched those eyes, the pupils dilate, the set of his face tighten, and then he threw his head back. His breath hitched into a groan, I caught my name slightly, and his cum exploded onto my chest.

Hot and sticky, my body was perched on the edge of orgasm, but I held back. I had to do calculus in my head and recite the preamble to the constitution, but I did it.

He raised his head slowly, smiling at me, and though it was the dark wolf's smile, his eyes showed true joy.

Patrick massaged his cum into my skin, dragging it across my breasts, spreading it onto my nipples. I gasped audibly and arched my back as the blood flow was stimulated and buzzing clamps seemed to grow tighter.

"I want you to feel everything," Patrick said and climbed off to stand.

He grasped a candle, pulling it from the holder, and brought it close to the bed. I widened my eyes as he held it by his face, smiling a pure wolf smile now. Then he upended it.

Hot wax dripped onto the skin above my breasts and intense heat burned me. The pleasure that followed was so intense, my eyes fluttered closed.

"No, Aileen."

More wax, this time on my breast, then another drip, another, and another. They came in succession now, circling towards a nipple, and I was writhing. Torn between wanting it stop and never stop, I was perched on a dark edge.

Then hot wax dripped onto a nipple. The pain was intense, but the pleasure was there before it subsided. I felt hot, faint, and orgasm was leashed out of sight, roaring at me for release.

His eyes were almost as black as the candle now, and wax dripped down my body. I balled my hands into fists, my nails dug into my own skin and I bit my lip. I felt full, but my pussy ached to be filled, my clit was swollen, demanding to be rubbed.

My thighs were covered in the wax, and I was trembling with dark pleasure. "So greedy, Aileen. Well then..."

The candle went back into the holder, but I was stuck to his eyes. Again he straddled me, higher, and smiled devilishly.

"Open."

His cock was swollen slightly, and he slid it along my tongue. I closed, and sucked deep, delighted when his penis jerked and swelled.

He dragged it back across my tongue, moaning softly, his eyes locked on mine. I wanted power, I wanted control. I wanted Patrick to fuck me, and I was afraid he'd come in my mouth, but the fear was an aphrodisiac. I trusted him, I knew I wouldn't be left unattended, and it became a game.

He moved faster slightly, his cock harder, and I had to concentrate to keep my throat relaxed. He went deep, fucking my face, and the act shadowed what my body craved.

Everything was combining and climax was dangerously close; he must have read it in my eyes.

"Enough."

Patrick jerked out and climbed down. His face now close to mine he leaned in and poised his hard cock for entry. I thought he was going to kiss me, breathlessly waited to close my eyes and surrender to the kiss, but his penis speared me.

With the vibrator I was stretched to capacity, the force tugging the hood over my clit. I cried out, unable to hold back, as orgasm came dangerously close.

He held still, seated completely, and smiled. "Good girl."

With that he began to move, and my brain went into what I'd only heard of. "Sub space." I was powerless, victim and reveler in the pleasure, lost for a moment. For that brief moment, I was unaware of Patrick, the feel of his sweaty body against mine, the feel of his cock plunging deep inside. I was unaware of the toys on me, the pain and pleasure that had blended into something beautiful. I was unaware of anything, other than I wanted this. I wanted this for the rest of my life.

He began to move faster, his body tight, and I realized my eyes had closed. I opened them to see his right there, and it brought me over.

I screamed out, and suddenly Patrick disappeared.

Lights came on, and someone stood in the doorway. "Are you all right?"

She looked like a nurse, and rushed to check my vitals. Pain racked me now, broken ribs, a swollen knee, aching bruises all over my body.

But none so much as the fear. Fear I was losing Patrick, fear that my dream of a life was all a sham. Fear that I was the most destructive force in my own life.

"No," I simply said to the strange woman, and I began to cry. 

I had to find a way to discover what I truly wanted, and the strength to take it.

"What can I do?" The nurse asked. "What hurts?"

Strangely at that, I began to laugh.



Auto Erotica Ch. 13



This is the final chapter, the conclusion, of the story of Patrick and Aileen. I hope you have enjoyed it, and thank you to my fans for waiting so patiently for the end. I welcome your ratings and comments.

***

In the end he had kept that last promise. I hadn't seen Patrick again while at his home. I had asked for him after two weeks, but the nurse inquired as to why and all I could think of was a hotel. I was moved to the Drake and the nurse came with.

It was a bit much, I wasn't dying. Broken ribs and dislocated knees were painful, slow-healing injuries, but I was okay. I moved stiffly, and I was bored out of my mind.

I read the newspapers and the main players of the LC were awaiting trial. I found out my niece and nephew were safe, my brother too in his own way, at least he was sobering up.

There was no mention of Patrick anywhere, though the story of a double—dealing cop who'd been killed made the papers. Surprisingly, my own death had too.

Cal got the payout and last I'd heard he and Suki were in Vegas, he was opening up a shop out there, legit.

The last of my own money went to grease the wheels to keep my connection to the racing world and Gunnar's murder under wraps. The Drake was high class but it was Patrick's dime, and perhaps that's why I lingered there another two weeks.

After a month I was feeling better. Good enough I had the front desk set an appointment in the salon and despite the horror expressed by the stylist I dyed my hair black. It suited me, strangely even better than my natural red.

I charged some clothes that afternoon and headed back up to grab some lunch, and let my nurse know she could go. I didn't know where I'd go or what I'd do, and that was strangely thrilling.

And if I'd miss Patrick Wolfe...well, too bad, I guessed. Hell, maybe the dream hadn't been that far off, maybe I could get one more night before I left.

Whistling I stepped off the elevator. Palomar, my nurse, I was sure would be glad to be rid of me. I'd been quite grumpy and snippy, and she was a very patient woman. I hoped Patrick would pay her well.

I pulled out my key card and went to slide it in the slot, but the door was open. Instinctively I went for a gun but there was none on me, none in my life now. I should have called security, but I didn't want to draw notice.

I slowly opened the door and the first thing I noticed was the wind pushing back against it. It was humid with the dog days of summer sunshine, and it was blowing papers around the poshly appointed room.

There was nothing in the living room except blown papers and a set of keys on the floor by the door. They looked like Palomar's, making my nerves tingle.

I grabbed the poker from the little fireplace, the only weapon handy, but I had a feeling it wouldn't help me much.

The open doors to the balcony seemed to be in the bedroom. I crept quietly on the carpet and hoped if I had to fight, I could. My knee was better but my ribs were still healing and moving my left arm too far was a Herculean task.

My heart froe when I leaned around the jamb far enough to see the floor to the foot of the bed. There amongst torn sheets lay Palomar in a pool of blood. Her face was twisted with pain, but that wasn't what stopped me.

Standing by the open balcony doors was Catalina, and she was holding a gun.

"Aileen, I've been waiting for you."

"She was innocent, she knew nothing. You are such a cunt."

The slim woman only smiled at this, and with her heavy makeup the effect was chilling, like an evil clown grin. She scratched her temple with her gun, trying to intimidate me with her carefree attitude. Damn it, it was working.

"You stole from me. You left us without asking, tsk, tsk. And when we come here to claim what's ours, you beat Maria, you killed Javier, you stole their cars, and you framed us. Do you know what's in store for you, puta?"

She had not mastered tough guy silence. The gun was still hanging loose, she was guarding the trigger, so I crept forward, the poker behind my back.

"I know you came here alone, you're the only one who could make bail. That's all I need to know."

I lunged at her and the gun came up. Just as the tip of the poker hit her shoulder she fired. The sound was deafening and I flinched as something whizzed through my hair. Only when I landed did I realize how close the bullet had come.

The poker stuck and I couldn't pull it out, but somehow she'd held onto the gun and was swinging it up. I landed on my side, breaking open one of my ribs, and despite the scoring pain I kicked her.

The gun flew out but she grabbed my foot and brought it to her mouth, biting my ankle. I howled and tried to shake her loose but Catalina was determined.

I brought my other down on the poker, ripping it out, and that worked.

I could have fought longer, drawn it out, but damn it I was tired. I struggled to my feet and grabbed her with my good hand. Dragging her to the balcony as she kicked and screamed I brought her to the edge and struggled, but eventually she went up and over. Eight stories down, and that was the end.

I slumped down, panting in the wind and hot sun. I wanted a cigarette, I wanted a shot. I now had two choices; I could disappear and leave this mess in Patrick's lap, guaranteeing I'd never see him again, or I could tip him off.

I crawled back into the room and tried not to look at Palomar as I rifled through her pockets and found her phone.

Wolfe was in her speed dial and his phone was ringing when I heard the sirens. I debated for only a second and hung up. The cops would need time to figure out where she fell from, but it wouldn't be much.

I grabbed my few clothes and a hand towel and wiped all the doorknobs, lamps, remote control, anything I could remember touching. I shoved anything identifiable into the shopping bags with me and the rest I stuffed in the trash and set fire to. With luck there was no way they'd know I had been there.

I went down the elevators like nothing had happened and dialed Patrick again from the lobby.

I got his voicemail.

"It's Aileen. They killed my nurse Palomar, and I shoved Catalina out a window. There should be no sign I was there but the room is in your name. Look out."

I hung up when I was outside and it was a short walk to the lake. I earned a few curious stares as I wound up and flung the phone as far out as I could. And with it I left behind yet another life, but much harder to take was the loss of Patrick.

I thought of that as I walked along, a new woman, truly free. And free meant alone.

***

"You seem bored."

I turned and my partner Mike Dumas sat next to me on the bench behind our shop. He, like me, had a beer. It was Friday night and it had been a good week. We ran a clean shop in a small town outside Silicon Valley. 

We'd started it six months ago and it was already doing well. We specialized in classic Fords.

"I'm used to big city life."

He wiped summer sweat from his mocha colored skin and took a deep swig. "I suggested LA but you already said you're not the type. Why live in a small town when you're not built for one?"

I polished off my bottle. "I'm even worse in the city."

"At least think about racing. I know it's not what you're used to, but we have a good seen up north, and we have some new blood. It's good money too. Business has been good but we're in debt up to our ears."

That was true. And it was all in Mike's name, since my ID was fake. We were turning a profit but we had a mortgage and business loans to pay back. Mike had put hiss house up as collateral. Not that he was in danger of losing it, but it did make me uncomfortable.

"All right, where is it, when does it start, which car should I race, how much is the vig, and what should I wear?"

Mike smiled at me.

***

I'd make fifteen grand that night and I'd lost count but I thought Mike had made twenty. He'd decided to stay in town with some girl he'd met which meant a 30 minute drive back to my sleepy burg alone. 

Sure I was free, but I was lonely and miserable. In the time I'd been on my own I'd once looked back. Things had not gone so well for Patrick. There had been suspicion and accusations, the CPD had let him go and it seems the FBI hadn't taken him. I think his money had been all that kept him out of jail, but he'd long since disappeared.

He had the resources to get out of the country, I did not. And so I'd worked at a few shops, hitched some rides, scraped until I'd met Mike almost nine months earlier. We'd both worked for a garage in Oregon and saved up enough to open up our own shop with some loans.

Maybe I'd buy a cat to keep me company in my double wide. Quite the opposite of my former life, but I was happier this way.

I was heading out of town for the long winding drive down the Pacific Coast Highway when a car pulled up beside me. I was driving a new Mustang, more powerful than my classic, but not nearly as sweet. It was all black with tinted windows, and as usual I glanced over to see the other driver's reaction.

First off I noticed the car. It was a classic 1964 Corvette, a sweet little roadster. The man driving it had a dark ponytail on and a wide brimmed leather fedora. He motioned for me to lower the window which I did with the electric switch.

"Nice car," said a familiar voice.

"What?"

"Race back to your place, I know the way, and the winner gets one request of the loser, no limits." 

"Patrick." I revved my engine. "And what if my request is for you to go away? Or what if I ask for cash?"

He raised the brim of his hat and those piercing eyes gazed back at me. "I guess we'll find out."

The light turned and he beat me turning onto the highway. I tried to relax, it was a damn long race, but my heart was pounding. How had he found me? Just what did he want? Hell, just what did I want?

We sped around the curves, sheltered by pine trees, and I had the feeling he was playing with me. If there were no special tunes like nitrous on his I had a fighting chance, hell, more than. I was lighter and more powerful, but he had better handling, and it showed on every curve.

I thought as we drove. I did what I'd recognized I tended to do and that was over-think and get scared. And so I plotted. I feared he would ask for my help in clearing his name, which meant my old identity, my old life, my old problems.

I couldn't do it. It wasn't worth it, it was too dangerous. And so I knew what I would ask for; the one last night I never got with him, and then with Mike's help, we'd figure out just how to make Patrick disappear.

Determination put the pedal to the metal and by the time we reached the turnoff to my little town I was ahead. When we hit my trailer I had to slam on the breaks so as not to hit my propane tank, but I won.

The longest race of my life. The longest and hardest in any ways. I'd spent every mile trying not to think of Patrick's warmth and strength surrounding me, filling me, trying not to recall the intense pleasure I'd felt with him. I'd tried to concentrate on my fears, tried to ignore the voice that whined in my heart that fear was all I had, and I was wrong.

I stepped out on shaky legs not helped by the heeled boots. I wore a skirt and top like I used to on the circuit back in Chicago but now in softer colors, no leather save the boots. Even they were soft and brown.

He stood and closed the small door on the car that looked ridiculously small next to him. He stared at my hair, once long and red, now black and to my shoulders.

"I like it," he said at long last. "It suits you."

I touched my hair subconsciously and cleared my throat. "So I won."

"You did." He came towards me and it made me feel small, a feeling I normally hated but with him felt somehow right. "Nice trailer."

Embarrassment threatened to bloom inside me and I tamped down on it, gritting my teeth. "The last digs came from illegal money. This is what comes from honest work and I'm proud of it."

"I would be too, you're doing well for yourself."

"And I'll keep doing that."

He stopped close enough to touch me and I merely raised my chin. "Aileen, don't you want to know why I'm here?"

I folded my arms, ignoring the shivers that came when my elbows brushed his hard chest. "You're here because we raced and I won. And I believe I get a request."

He stepped even closer until my arms were trapped there and his warm breath brushed my cheek. "Want to know what I would ask?" his voice had dropped impossibly deeper and was soft, bringing up all the erotic images I'd been fighting.

"It doesn't matter. What I want is one night. One last night and..."

"And?" He raised a brow and leaned even closer as if to kiss me but stopped.

"The second part can wait until morning."

He braced his arms on the room of my car caging me. I wanted to drop mine but I was afraid I'd lose control if he pressed his incredible body against mine. "I take it tonight is on your terms?"

"Damn skippy," I flippantly replied and finished off the distance, claiming his lips.

It knocked his hat off but I barely noticed. He was warm, his lips firm yet soft, and he tasted like Scotch and man.

I finally dropped my arms but only to hold him. Patrick pressed me back against y car and it felt so damn good I almost cried. He was all hard warm strength, and I rubbed against him, damn near purring the way a cat would.

He broke it off with a groan, panting as much as I was. "Do you want to go inside or stay out here? I kind of like the woods."

This was supposed to be on my terms. "Too close to my partner's trailer and he might be back with the girl he picked up tonight. Let's go inside."

I remembered my purse inside my car and opened the door when he backed off, half expecting him to press against me lewdly, but Patrick refrained. I closed it up and pulled my keys out and headed to the short set of stairs.

Inside it was sparse but clean. The living room was after the entry which was closet and a tight turn. In the middle was the kitchen and bathroom, and at the end was the bedroom. It was a double wide so the rooms were nicely sized, but there were still only three.

I owned a couch, recliner, some pots, pans, a toaster, a double bed, nightstand, two sheet sets and two towels. Quite a collection and it looked positively Spartan.

"Not bad," was all he said, rather graciously for a man who'd been born a billionaire.

"Need to use the bathroom?" I asked and set my things down on the kitchen counter. He shook his head and so I just turned and went to the bedroom, sliding the pocket door closed once we was inside.

I had two choices for lighting; the glaring fluorescent overhead or moonlight, so I opted to open the blinds and let the moon in.

I didn't want to talk, I wanted to leash the animal inside me, but it was damn hard. In the small space he seemed even larger and that aroused me beyond words.

I grabbed him about the neck and pressed him back for a kiss. We slammed into the wall with a thunk and I kissed him with everything I had. I had never been big on kissing but again, with this man it felt right.

I tore at his clothing, a dark cotton button-up and plain jeans that seemed so much simpler and cheaper than what he used to wear.

I got him naked first and while I did my damndest to plunder his mouth my hands were everywhere. I was desperate and it showed, my nails scraping him carelessly as I memorized the planes and ridges of muscle with my fingertips.

He groaned into my mouth when after long minutes I reached his erection. Maybe I groaned, I couldn't tell and I didn't care.

I tried to pull off my shirt while still kissing him and he helped, ripping the tank top. I pushed his hands away from the clasp on my bra so he didn't rip that and hastily undid it.

Now his hands were on me, brutally kneading and caressing, driving my fever higher and higher. I grabbed his shoulders and tugged him away from the wall. Patrick didn't seem to expect my next move, which was to jump and wrap my legs around his waist.

His hands came down to cup my ass as we slammed back into the wall. It hurt my feet but I didn't care. With some wriggling I got high enough that I could slam down onto him.

Jesus was all I could think. I was tighter again, it had been long enough, and he felt like the most welcome pain I'd ever experienced.

He was all heat and strength around me, his muscles bulging as he moved my ass. I pumped with my thighs, my eyes squeezed shut, our moths hotly slanting across one another's, sounds of pleasure escaping us with grunts and moans.

This was not a soulless fuck, I realized in the back of my mind, this was desperate, this was animal, but it meant something.

My back bowed on that thought and it brought my clit to rasp on his rough skin. It pushed me over the edge and I screamed out wordlessly, the waves of pleasure coursing through me over and over until I whimpered.

The fog cleared to realize he was walking, and suddenly we fell onto the bed. He was still incredibly inside me and leaned forward, bracing his heels against the wall.

Patrick began to move like a jackhammer and it brought him strongly against my nerves. It was pain, it was pleasure, and the pleasure quickly grew. The unique angle made him brush against my sensitive nubbin with each thrust and I built quickly, clawing at his arms, my legs trying to encircle his waist.

He pressed further down and drew one aching nipple into his mouth, and I felt like my body exploded. Orgasm claimed me and again I screamed, this time mindlessly I heard his name. It was soon joined by a ferocious growl and then he was coming inside me, pounding into me with sheer violence.

It seemed to go on an eternity but ended all too soon, and Patrick collapsed onto me. 

"Oof," I grunted, the mean was heavy.

He responded by rolling off me but took me with him and I ended up straddling him as he laid back, legs over the edge. "Wow."

I cuddled into him, wanting to enjoy the feeling and ignore what would come with the morning light.

"So just this for the rest of the night?" He gruffly asked.

I opened one eye. "Is that a problem?"

He reached up to draw my face up and I felt him harden, still inside me. "Not at all."

***

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was morning light filling the room. I went to rub my eyes but my hand wouldn't move. Rolling over I expected that it would be under a brawny chest, instead it was tied with rope in knots and anchored to an eye bolt in the wall.

"What the fuck?"

I tried to sit up but the other was tied in the same way. "Patrick!"

The door opened and he came in, freshly showered but not shaved. His hair was long now, longer than mine and so wavy it almost curled. His chest was bare and damp, rivulets trailing from his hair, down to his jeans which were unbuttoned and low on his hips.

Goddamn he looked good, even if he was a low life tricky bastard who was going to ruin my life to save his. I opened my mouth to rail at him but he held up his palm and barked out my name.

I settled for a glare.

"Damn it woman, I heard you on the phone. I know what the second part of your request was going to be. I know you asked your partner to follow me to the airport, and I knew you would ask me to leave for good.

"Now you're going to listen to me. I know you Aileen, and if I didn't have you as a captive audience, you'd run. So will you listen to me or will I have to gag you?"

Rage turned my skin red. "Untie me you bastard!"

He sighed and pulled a strip of familiar black fabric from his back pocket. I squirmed when he knelt beside me, jerked my head to evade his hands and tried to bite his fingers, but he got the gag into my mouth and tied it tight. All I could do glare daggers at him.

He sat back with a smile and trailed his fingertips up my hip, over my stomach, and across the tip of one breast, hardening the nipple. I gasped behind the gag and tried to fight the arousal, but I failed. He smiled the wolf smile deeper and did the same to my other side.




Auto Erotica Ch. 13



"I lost my job. I couldn't explain everything away about Palomar and Catalina. It seems Catalina called the police, my guess is she was going to kill you and have the police arrive before I could do anything. If it had come out I'd helped you fake your death I'd be finished, and I guess that's what she wanted.

"I spent a lot of money quieting things up and tying up loose ends. In the end I had more than enough left over to live comfortably, nothing like I used to, but comfortably. But I was alone. Without you, it wasn't worth it to try and rebuild things.

"So I took my time and sold everything off, my garage, my home, everything from both my lives. I just finished last week and called in a favor to find you.

"Aileen, I know what you're thinking. I'm not here to have you clear my name. I have a new one." He pulled out his wallet and slipped a California license out and showed it to me. His picture, but the name on it was Patrick Meyers. It looked real.

"Aileen, I'm free. I have a little investment money, I'm a good mechanic in need of a job. You could use an extra pair of hands and an investor who won't cheat you or charge interest."

My heart began to pound, doubt still firm in my mind.

"I'll sign whatever I have to get you to trust me. I know you don't have any reason to, you were always so damn surprisingly honest with me, and all I did was lie to you. I'll make it up to you in any way I can, but ultimately, Aileen, I want you.

"I want you in my life, I want every night to be like last night, I want every day to be laughter and hard work. I want to be by your side in bad times, and share good times with you. If you need me to keep some distance until you feel comfortable somehow I'll figure out how to do it and not go mad."

My head was pounding. He was asking a helluva lot, more than I thought I could give.

"I know the business side you have to discuss with your partner-" I nodded and he paused. "Aileen, every instinct tells me to pleasure you until you can't think and convince you we're right for each other. But I know you're a very different woman in the bedroom and on the street. So I'm going to untie you and take out the gag, but I want an answer now. Do I stay or go? Will you have me in your life fully, conditionally, or not all?"

He undid my hands first then beat me to the gag and removed it. His bright blue eyes were tinged dark with worry and his muscles were tense.

"Let me get this straight, what exactly are you asking me?"

His hand came to rest on my thigh, trembling. "Aileen, I want to be with you. Date you like a normal person. See where this goes, though I mean for it to go somewhere very serious. I'll go at your pace, but I don't want to lose you. Please don't send me away."

I scooted back against the headboard and brought my knees up, feeling vulnerable naked as I was. His hand stayed with my thigh, gently resting.

It hit me: he was giving me the choice. With him there had been so much force, so much for me to fight in a life spent fighting. I had always dreamed of choosing as I wanted, being free. And Patrick understood.

It wouldn't always be perfect, there would be times when he would force me into something, but damn it, there would be times I would force him. And if it were any different, I wouldn't love him.

"Yes," I said with a shaky sigh.

He blinked disbelievingly. "Yes to what?"

"Yes to you, yes to everything. I can only live one day at a time but I want you by my side."

Patrick's kiss was bruising and crushing, and with it everything clicked into place.

The race was finally over for me, but a new one was just beginning.