Page 120 of Losers, Part I
She walked away, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder. I’m sure she knew all about being sneaky; I’d done everything in secret when I was a teenager. At the time, it had felt fun, risky, like stealing freedom I wasn’t supposed to have.
But having to sneak around as a twenty-two-year-old woman was tiring.
I met Manson at the curb, sliding into the front seat of his Mustang and giving him a kiss on the cheek. It felt natural to do; I hadn’t even thought about it. But he still looked at me in surprise as he put the car into gear.
“What’s that look for?” I said, taking my mirror out of my bag and preening more in an attempt to hide the blush that tinted my cheeks.
“You’re in a good mood today,” he said, chuckling as we pulled out of my neighborhood.
“You should see me after I have my caffeine,” I said, turning up his music. “I’ll really be in a great mood then.”
I recognized the song as one he’d played the night we went to the lookout, and I found myself humming along as we drove. He parked outside the coffee shop instead of going through the drive-through, explaining, “The engine is too loud and they can never hear me order over the speaker.”
We ordered and took our coffees to go; a white mocha latte for me, a regular mocha latte for him, and six shots of espresso over ice.
“For Lucas,” he explained. “Black as his heart is.”
He took the long way home, driving us through the back roads that wound past farms and fields. He avoided the dirt roads, however, unlike Vincent. But I couldn’t imagine the Mustang would do very well bumping along the rutted dirt.
“Did I take you away from work?” I said as we cruised along at an easy speed. He had one hand on the wheel and the otherdangling out his window, relaxed as he kept his eyes on the road. Another summer storm was rolling in today, the thick gray clouds blocking the sun but not its heat. There was electricity in the air, and lightning flashed in the distant clouds.
“I needed a break anyway,” he said. “Your new engine should be arriving soon. At the end of next week, or possibly the week after. Lucas and I just have to get it installed after that.”
I bounced in my seat. “Yes! Oh my God, finally, my baby is almost home.” I didn’t say anything about the pang of uncertainty that knowledge caused in me. Getting my car back was the entire point of all this, wasn’t it?
Manson turned, pulling off onto a little winding road that led back into the trees. I noticed a sign saying the road was closed, and weeds were growing through the cracked asphalt.
“This is near the old bridge, isn’t it?” I said. Right on cue, I spotted the bridge ahead through the trees. It was built entirely of wood — an old covered bridge that led over Wickeston Creek. It was narrow, only wide enough for one car to drive over at a time, but it certainly wasn’t safe for cars to drive on anymore. A chain with a danglingCaution – Do Not Entersign was strung across the bridge, preventing us from going any further.
“They say it’s haunted,” Manson said, nodding toward the bridge as he parked and turned off the engine. Birds chirped in the trees, the breeze rustling the leaves as we sat in the shade.
“I heard that rumor,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee. “Ashley and I came out here one Halloween with a Ouija board and tried to make contact. Nothing happened, but I definitely don’t recommend coming out here after dark. It’s creepy.”
He smiled. “Did you really? You’re full of surprises, Jess.”
He’d pushed open his door to let the breeze flow through the cab, leaning back in his seat as he sipped his coffee. His hands and arms were blackened with grease stains from work, and he smelled like motor oil and rubber. He was wearing blackcoveralls, but the top half was unzipped and pushed down so only his undershirt covered his chest.
He looked so damn good I practically salivated.
“So my car is almost done,” I said. “What about my bill?”
His eyes brightened, a crooked smirk tugging the corner of his mouth. “You’ve made good progress with your payments. But you still have a long way to go.”
That smile turned me on even more. “Do I? Damn, I guess I should start trying harder, then.”
The leather creaked as I leaned toward him. His lips parted slightly, his eyes caressing down my body as if his gaze alone could peel away my clothes.
“I was looking at your list again the other day,” I said. I trailed my fingers down his arm, watching a smattering of goosebumps break out over his skin. I absolutely loved knowing when I had an effect on people. These men, as dominant and overwhelming as they were, had little weaknesses I was slowly beginning to figure out.
Manson liked a challenge, but I knew what he liked even more.
“Worship,” I said softly, my lips leaving the word like a caress near his ear. “You like it, don’t you? To have someone on their knees for you, worshiping you, pleasuring you, savoring…” My fingers had trailed down to his hand, and he caught my wrist, using it to jerk me even closer.
“I do like that,” he said, his voice having darkened to a growl that made my spine tingle. “An angel should worship her God.”
“Tell me how to worship you,” I said, so close I could kiss him, but I didn’t dare. I waited for permission, for instruction, ignoring the inner voice that wanted so badly to remain in control.
He set aside his coffee and caressed his hand over my face. “Strip for me. I want to see that beautiful body.”