“Not very,” I manage to say. I’m actually proud of myself for being able to speak at this point, since her hand has made its way down to my throbbing crotch. I arch my hips so that I am planted more firmly in her hand.
She licks my neck.
“You taste good,” she whispers.
I can’t take it. I wish she were wearing a skirt, but she’s not. So instead I cup my hand between her legs, moving my thumb in circles against the outside of her pants. She moves against me, moaning.
I thrust my hand into the front of her pants, finding her panties completely soaked.
I slip one finger in.
And then two.
Then I withdraw them both and slowly rake them into my mouth.
Her eyes widen, exhaling a tiny sigh as her fingers clutch me.
“Are you drunk?” I ask her. I don’t know why, but it feels like the right thing to do, to make sure that she’s not. Please say no, I silently urge her as her fingers spin circles around my nipple.
“No.”
Thank Christ. I don’t ask again. Instead I lift her onto my lap and rock her against my body. The friction is both satisfying and frustrating.
Her eyes widen as I thrust against her through her clothes and she reaches her hand down to skim it over my throbbing dick.
“You’re enormous,” she breathes, her eyes widening in both apprehension and appreciation.
I grin.
“When we get to my house, I’m going to fuck you with that,” I tell her in her ear. “And you’re going to like it.”
Her teeth graze my lip, her hips firmly planted against mine. “You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
I smile against her throat before I bite at it.
“Very sure. In fact, let’s make a deal. If you don’t end up screaming my name within the hour, I’ll buy you breakfast in the morning.”
She pauses, looking into my eyes. “Sounds like I win either way.”
“You do,” I manage to say before I plunge my tongue into her mouth again.
In between panting kisses, Madison manages to ask a question.
“I’ve never done this before. How do I know you’re not a crazy person?” she asks in a near whisper.
“You don’t,” I answer, as I pull up her shirt and suck at her bare nipple, my fingers splayed around her slender rib cage. She arches against me and gasps. “But I won’t hurt you.” I pause and look up at her. “And somehow, I get the feeling that you need this as much as I do. Am I right?”
Madison catches her breath and nods.
“I do.”
I don’t answer and I don’t ask why. I just wrap my arms around her shoulders and kiss her again.
I’m inhaling her feminine scent, sucking it down, when I’m startled by the squeal of tires. Before I can even see where it’s coming from, instinct raises the hair on the back of my neck. I shove Madison onto the floor of the taxi and duck down on top of her.
The impact is shockingly violent.
There is a crunch of shrieking metal as the door next to me is bashed in and our taxi is flung in a spin across the narrow city street, slamming to a stop against the wall of a nearby building. The car rocks to and fro for a moment, then it is still.
We‘re stunned as we sit for a scant second, trying to wrap our minds around what just happened. Steam and smoke begin to pour out from under the hood of the taxi and the driver stumbles from his seat, opening the door next to Madison.
“Quick, get out,” he says in a heavy Indian accent. “Hurry.”
I all but shove Madison out ahead of me and then pull her away from the crumpled car. There’s a hissing sound coming from the engine, then a strange crackle. I know what it means. I know from the acrid scent of gasoline that’s stinging my nose.
“Move,” I snap to Madison, and her heels click loudly on the pavement as we rush to the curb on the other side of the street. We turn when we reach the sidewalk, just in time to see the cabbie duck for cover as the front end of the cab bursts into flames.
“Oh my God,” Madison breathes, leaning into my arm, shielding her face from the waves of heat that roll over us even from this distance.
As I watch the orange flames licking the black night, as the heated breeze brushes across my face, it triggers a response in me.
I feel the now-familiar anxiety coming on and my gut clenches tighter than a vise grip. I can feel my throat begin to close up as it prevents me from getting a full breath.
Fuck.
“I’ve got to get out of here,” I mutter as my chest tightens. Sweat pours down my temples and I wipe at it, squinting as the salt stings my eyes. Madison stares up at me, her eyes filled with concern.
“Are you OK?” she asks, her fingers trembling as they curl around my arm. “We can’t leave. I’m pretty sure the police will want to talk to us.”
She gestures toward the crowd forming, to where cop cars have already begun to congregate. I can see uniformed officers milling about, a couple of them headed our way. Heat from the fire and from my own anxiety begins to overwhelm me.
“I’ve got to get out of here,” I mutter again. Her fingers are too tight now, along with everything else… my shirt, my waistband, my shoes. Everything bears down on me in blurs and smells and sounds. I can’t take it. I’m going to fucking explode. Or implode. I yank my arm from her grasp and stalk away.
The last thing I see before everything turns black is the astonished look on Madison’s face, backlit by the red-and-orange glow of the taxi fire.
The bad thing caught you.