The leather interior of his Camaro is black,
like the rest of the car. Damien holds the door for me and I sink
into the passenger seat, lowering myself down, down, until I feel
like I’m sitting on the sidewalk. I’ll have to roll myself out when
we stop. As I buckle in, the door slams shut. With a few wide
strides, Damien reaches his side of the car and falls in beside me.
He catches me in another kiss while I’m bucking the seatbelt, and
laughs as the engine roars to life. “What?” I shout over the sudden
blast of music, half-smiling, ready to share the joke. But he
shakes his head, shifts from first to third without hesitation,
then zooms out of the parking lot. His hand strays from the
gearshift to my thigh, and his fingers tap against my d**k as he
keeps time with the music. E
