The Rideshare Driver Drove Me Home Four Nights in a Row novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: The Back Seat

She takes a rideshare driver in the back seat and sets rules he agrees to; in the morning her ex-husband texts that his account was charged.

He drove around the block, and then he drove around it again.

On the third pass he turned off my street and went down a dark side road beside Washington Park.

The trees met overhead, and the rain came through them in heavy drops.

He stopped under a dead streetlight and cut the headlights.

The wipers quit in the middle of a sweep.

In the sudden quiet I could hear the rain on the roof and my own pulse.

"I'm going to ask you one time," he said, to the windshield. Where do you want me to take you?"

"I want you back here."

He turned in his seat and looked at me over the headrest.

I could see his face in the glow from the dash, young and serious, with his jaw set.

"I don't do this," he said.

"Neither do I."

He got out of the front, and the cold and the noise came in, and he got in beside me and shut the door.

The back seat of a Camry is not large.

His knee pressed mine, and his wet sweatshirt gave off the smell of rain and warm cotton.

I had no idea how to start.

So I took his face in both hands and kissed him.

It was my kiss.

I felt his mouth go soft and surprised under mine, and then it opened.

His hand came up and held the back of my neck.

He tasted of coffee and the mint he kept in the console.

I kissed him until the windows began to fog.

"How old are you?" I said against his lip.

"Twenty-three."

"Jesus Christ."

"Is that a rule?" he said.

I laughed, and it came out wet and cracked and honest, and he smiled, slow, with the scar on his chin pulling.

"I've got rules," I said. "Three. Listen."

"Yes."

"One. You're the driver and I'm the rider, and the ride ends at my door."

He nodded and put his mouth on my neck, under my ear.

"Two. No phone numbers."

"Okay," he said into my skin.

"Three. You don't say my name, and you don't come in."

His teeth closed lightly on the tendon of my neck.

"Okay," he said. "Anything else?"

"Yes," I said. "Take that sweatshirt off."

He pulled it over his head in one move, and his T-shirt came with it.

His chest was lean and smooth, with a tight line of muscle down the middle.

I put my palm flat on it and felt how fast he was breathing.

"You're shaking," I said.

"You're touching me," he said.

I pushed my coat off my shoulders.

He undid the buttons of my work shirt one at a time, slowly, with fingers that were not steady.

Under it I had on the plain black bra I wore on the line.

He looked at it for a while.

"You can touch," I said.

He did.

He cupped me through the cotton, and then he pulled the cup down and put his mouth on my nipple, hot and wet.

I put my head back against the window and made a sound I hadn't made in a year.

"Mateo," I said.

He stopped.

"That's not breaking a rule," I said. "That's mine to say."

"Say it again."

"Mateo. Lower."

He slid out of the seat and down to the floor of the car.

He folded himself into the footwell between my knees, with his shoulders hunched under the roof.

He opened my pants and drew them down my thighs with my boots still on.

My underwear was soaked.

He looked at the dark spot and made a low noise in his throat.

I felt my face go hot, and I didn't care.

"Is it okay if I..."

"Don't ask. Do it."

He pulled the fabric aside and put his mouth on me.

The first stroke was long and flat and slow, from my entrance to my clit.

My heel hit the door glass and stuck there.

He did it again.

He had his hands under my thighs, holding them open, and his thumbs were pressed in the creases where my legs met my hips.

He licked me slowly, with no hurry at all.

"Oh, fuck," I said. "Right there."

He found the spot and stayed on it, with the tip of his tongue circling and then flattening and then circling again.

I got a hand in his hair.

It was short and wet and I could not hold it.

So I gripped the back of his skull and pulled him tighter against me.

He groaned into me, and I felt the vibration go all the way up.

"Don't stop. Please don't stop."

He slid two fingers into me and curled them, slow, and the pleasure came up from my knees.

It tightened low in my belly in a hard, climbing knot, and my thighs began to shake around his ears.

My boot kicked the seat back, the door, the glass.

I heard myself say something that was not a word.

Then the knot let go.

It went through me in long hard pulses, one after another.

I bit my own wrist to keep from screaming the whole street awake.

He didn't stop.

He licked me through all of it, gentle now.

When I pushed his head away with my palm, I fell back against the seat, gasping, with my coat under me and my legs open.

He came up from the floor with his mouth shining and his eyes black.

"Was that all right?" he said, and his voice was wrecked.

"Come here and find out."

I had his belt open before he had finished sitting up.

He was hard in my hand, hot and thick and heavier than I expected.

When I closed my fingers around him, his head dropped onto my shoulder.

"Condition," he said. "I've been thinking about your rules. Can I add one?"

"What."

"You let me hear you."

"Get on your back," I said.

He looked at me, startled.

Then he slid down on the seat as far as the car allowed.

His shoulder was against the door and his legs stretched across the hump.

I climbed over him.

I knelt with my knees on either side of his hips, my skirt up around my waist.

The seat belt buckle dug into my left kneecap.

"Ow."

"Take it out," he said, laughing, and he reached down and wrestled it out from under me.

I had been furious for seven months.

I had not known that I could laugh with a man's cock in my hand.

I rose up and held him against my entrance.

I rubbed the head through the wet, back and forth, until he drew a breath to say something and bit it off.

"Careful," I said.

"I didn't say it."

"You were about to."

He took my hips.

"Sit down on me," he said.

I did.

I sank down slow, and the stretch of him opened me inch by inch, and I felt every one of them.

I took a hard breath and held still with my forehead against the cold roof lining.

He was inside me to the root.

His hands tightened on my hips, and his whole body was shaking under me, and he did not move.

"Okay?" I said.

"Don't move for a second," he said. "Please. I'm going to embarrass myself."

I put my mouth by his ear.

"Then we'll do it again," I said. "Hold on."

I started to ride him.

I rolled my hips in a slow rise and a slow drop.

He watched his own body disappear into mine, and the sight of him watching was almost enough to break me.

The car rocked on its springs.

The glass was fogged white.

The rain ran down it in streaks, and every stroke dragged the thick length of him along the place his fingers had found.

"Like that," I said. "Just like that."

"Yes."

"Say you want it."

"I want it," he said, hoarse, and a shudder went through his stomach.

I liked hearing it more than I wanted to admit, and I rode him harder for it.

He sat up under me and wrapped an arm around my back and drew me against his chest.

His mouth found my breast.

He bit, gently, and I cried out, and he grinned against my skin.

I wanted to hit him and I wanted to keep him forever.

"Faster," I said.

He met me.

He drove up into me, short and hard, with his hand on my hip and the other cupping the back of my head.

The buckle rattled somewhere under the seat.

"Touch me," I said. "Where it's..."

He knew.

His thumb found my clit and moved in tight circles in time with my hips.

"Look at me," he said. "I want to see it."

I opened my eyes.

His face was inches from mine, wide open, with nothing held back.

The second one came out of nowhere.

It broke over me while I was staring into his eyes.

My body locked around him, clenched and clenched, and I heard myself keening against his mouth.

He started to say something that began with a P, and bit it off, and held it behind his teeth.

His whole body went hard.

He grabbed my hips and pushed up into me once, deep.

I felt him pulse, hot and heavy, over and over, while he pressed his face into the hollow of my throat.

We stayed there.

The rain eased.

I could feel his heart hammering against my ribs, and my own going the same speed.

"That's a name," I said, when I could talk. "You almost said it."

"I said I'd keep the rule."

"Good."

"For now," he said into my neck.

He drove me to my door at ten to two.

I got out in the dark, and he didn't ask for anything, and I didn't look back.

I slept for five hours, deeper than I had in months.

At seven the receipt for the ride came into my email, fourteen dollars and forty cents.

Under it, on my lock screen, was the text from my ex-husband.

"Why is my account paying for a fourteen-dollar ride to your house at 1 a.m.?"

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