Dad's Capos Swore to Guard Me, So I Made Them Break Every Oath novel · Chapter 4 of 24

Chapter 4: The Back Seat

"Tie," I said.

Quino pulled the knot loose from his collar and slid the silk out from under it in one pull.

The garage door was down, and the only light came from the dome lamp in the roof of my father's black Lincoln.

It was Monday, the third night, and a little after midnight.

I had told him to meet me here.

He was standing beside the car when I came through the kitchen door, with his hands at his sides and his jacket already off.

He held the tie out to me in his left hand.

"Get in the back," I said. "Sit in the middle."

He opened the rear door, because he had been opening it for ten years, and then he stopped and looked at me.

"No," I said. "Tonight I hold the door."

I stood aside, and he got in and sat in the center of the long leather seat.

He had backed the car in, so he faced the garage door.

I climbed in beside him and shut it, and the air inside smelled of leather, cedar and my father's cigars.

"Give me your hands."

He gave me both wrists, and I turned them over.

His forearms were hard and brown and lean, with a ridged scar on the left one, and the tendons moved under my thumbs.

I looped the tie around both wrists twice and drew it up through the grab handle above the window.

I tied it off, and his arms stayed raised above his head.

"Rule three," I said. "You don't speak unless I tell you."

He looked at me.

He was forty-one, with cropped black hair, a nick through his right eyebrow and a face that gave away nothing.

He gave a very small nod.

"Ten years you called me Miss Tina and held my door," I said. "You never once said what you wanted."

His jaw moved.

"Tonight I don't want you to say it."

I knelt up on the seat and put my hands on his face.

His skin was warm, and his stubble rasped my palms.

I kissed him.

He held perfectly still, with his mouth closed and his whole body tight, and I realized he was waiting for permission.

"Open," I said against his lips.

He opened his mouth under mine.

He kissed me slow at first and then not slow at all, and his bound hands shook against the handle.

I pulled back and bit his bottom lip, and he let out a rough breath through his nose.

"Good," I said. "Quiet. Like that."

I unbuttoned his shirt.

He was leaner than the other two, with a flat, hard stomach and a small silver medal of the Virgin on a chain.

I put my mouth on his throat and then on his chest, and I felt his heart slamming against his ribs.

He made no sound.

I worked down his stomach with my tongue, and I opened his belt and his fly.

His cock was hard and long and slightly curved, and it jumped when I touched it.

I took it in my hand.

Quino turned his head and looked at the garage door, at nothing, with his lips pressed together.

I stroked him slowly.

"Look at me," I said.

He looked.

His eyes were very dark, and the effort of staying silent showed in every muscle of his face.

I liked it.

I liked it so much that I felt myself go wet, and I pulled my slip over my head.

I was naked under it.

I watched his gaze travel down me, once, slowly, and I watched him swallow.

"You've watched me in that mirror for years," I said. "Now watch this."

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