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“Give me a reason to trust you.”

“Ha. I know what this is about. While I’m being told stories that imply you fuck groups of women in strange positions like some people buy assortments of chocolate,” I laughed at my own joke, “your manager has been telling you I’m another creepy soul-sucking witch journalist à la Jim Morrison, and I’m going to bring you down. Nice.”

He looked out the window. Direct hit, I’ve sunk your battleship.

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

He was silent, his lips a thin line of distaste. The car was entering London, and the traffic had brought us nearly to a standstill. The Great West Road. Not so great.

He finally turned to me. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe this is a bad idea.”

I felt all the blood rush to my feet. There were black spots in front of my eyes. Shit. I couldn’t handle this. “I didn’t say that!” I grabbed his arms and made him face me. “Why were you so happy to see me this morning then? Why?”

He just stared at me. His eyes were dark and intense, almost hypnotic. I felt as though he was examining me, searching through my mind and finding all my secrets. All the events of the past few days came rushing up at me, the dinner, Dave, my determination to avoid thinking about Tristan, my blind panic and fear at the airport, the warm bliss I felt when I saw him smile. The last thought made me smile.

His eyes lightened when he saw me smile. “You’ve got a secret,” he murmured. “I can tell.”

I regarded him steadily. He could be so intimidating, so quickly, grabbing all the power out of the air and wrapping it all around himself. But I wasn’t going to let him. This wasn’t the disengaged rock star; this was the beautiful man, the complicated artist, the demanding lover, and…I needed him. But to be with him, I was going to have to take risks. Big ones. What to say? Where to begin? It annoyed me that I still didn’t know what to do, getting in my own way.

“Yeah, a big secret. And it has to do with you. All the rest of it, my dinner with Dave, what he wanted, what kind of sushi I ordered, the strange stories about the groupies and your weird sex life—that part,” here, I paused for effect, “I’m happy to share. What do you want to know?” I smiled, winningly, I hoped.

His face changed, and it wasn’t an expression I recognized. Not from the pictures, not from our times together, it was something new—all of those, but different. His eyes looked bigger, more brown and grey, and was there—sadness—in them? He shook his head, his hair in his eyes. Then he raised his hand to my face and ran his long fingers over my skin. Then he was running them down my neck, into my cleavage, over my breasts, and descending to the heat between my legs. I gasped, but he only stopped there for a moment, then carried down across the top of my thigh, and made a line along the outside of my leg, past my knee, tracing my calf, right to the tip of my booted foot. The whole movement couldn’t have taken more than a minute. It woke up my body like the splash of cold stream water in the middle of winter. I was shivering.

“You’re mine. Ah, you forgot. But now,” and here he took both his hands and placed them on the inside of my knees, and started to spread my legs apart, slowly, “now you remember. And we both have a new reason why that’s so.” He stared at me. “Get on me.”

He pulled my leg over him, and suddenly it was like the limo in New York, that first time, all over again. The rush of heat that sped through me was an unexpected sensation, and the strange ache, almost painful, sending electricity running down my legs, was getting stronger. He sat me down on him, and I could feel him, hard, gratifyingly so, close to where it hurt. I shifted my hips and pressed against him, and we both groaned.

“Shit, girl, you drive me crazy. Why do you want to hurt me? No, don’t answer…” And he thrust up against me hard, while his huge hands dug into my ass and held me against him. He got bigger if that were possible, and I could feel him pulsing against me.

“Hold on,” and he bit my neck and he pressed the intercom button to the front of the long black car. “John,”—I was amazed he could remember the driver’s name, I could barely remember my own, and he was tickling my nipples with one of his fingers while he spoke. “Look, slight change of plans, could you just drive around for a while, then we’ll go to the hotel. Ok?” There was a mumbled assent. “Great. Thanks.”

He turned his face back to me. “Now,” he muttered, “as they say, where were we?” He began moving against me, in a slow almost off time swaying back and forth, every roll of his hard cock and his hips, going over my clit and making me jump.

I hissed out a curse.

He licked a trail from my breast to my ear, and bit down on the nape of my neck, making me shudder against him and moan. He whispered in my ear. “Why would I need all those stories, if this is so good like it is? More importantly, why would you want anyone else? No, I’m not going to ask. For now, we’ll do this the way it plays.”

And he pulled me to him suddenly, forcefully, and licked my mouth, his tongue wet and slow. He was almost muttering to himself now. “I can’t help it, I want to fuck you, just like this.” His voice was almost pleading, and his eyes looked deep set and lost. He licked my mouth again, and bit gently on my lower lip. “Say yes. Little words.” Then he moved me slowly away from him, and started to unbuckle his belt.

I moved off him, and he looked confused for a moment. But I was all business. I couldn’t wait to give him what he wanted. I needed him and his eyes on me. I sat on the seat and quickly took off my boots, and started pulling off my jeans.

His voice was dark again. “That’s it, darling. Strip for me.”

The sound rolled through me like a wave. I wanted to make him want me. If teasing him did that, then I could tease. I left my panties on and pulled off my shirt, slowly, and dropped it behind me. I rolled down the straps of my bra over my shoulders, one at a time, and ran my hands over my breasts, pinching my nipples until it hurt, first through the satin, then pulling the cups down, exposing them to his view.

He sucked in his cheeks and whistled. His hands went instantly to the zip on his jeans.

“No.” I barely recognized my voice. He looked up. “No, not yet—when I tell you.”

His mouth opened into a slow, slightly dangerous smile. But his hands stopped. I carried on. “I want to see you naked.”

He twitched in his seat, then almost as though he couldn’t help it, he opened his mouth, and ran his tongue carefully over his upper lip, leaning forward, his eyes black. “You? You’re telling me what to do? What is it, the English air? Or did they feed you something on the plane?”

I laughed. Out on the edge for my whole life. I was going to tell him what I wanted.

“Shut up, Tristan. Skin.”

He licked his lips again, and gave me a look that made me wonder if he wasn’t just going to leap on me from the seat there and then. But he kept his eyes locked with mine, and breathed out.

“I like it,” he muttered, as he bent down, his huge hands skimming over his body to his feet.

He started with his black leather boots, then removed his jacket. He pulled off his vintage t-shirt and then his chest was bare, pale and creamy, his skin begging to be touched. He pulled open his belt and leaned over, pulling his jeans down over his ass. He stopped to peel them over his calves, they were that tight, and finally pulling them over his long, elegant feet. He sat there in his underwear, hip hugging and silky, wide purple and white stripes, his cock at an angle under the fabric, waiting to be released. He looked like sex. He sat back, his body on display, his legs slightly spread.

“You first,” was all he said.

With that I unclasped my bra and threw it with my jeans. Then I slowly took down my panties until I was sitting there bare assed on the leather upholstery of the car. Looking at him. Waiting. Now it was his turn.

He tilted his head slightly and grinned. “You take them off,” as he reached for a condom out of the pocket of his jeans. “And while you’re down there, put this on.” He flipped it to me. I glanced up at his face after I caught it, but he only looked amused. I frowned for a moment, and his expression changed, and just for a second, there was something else there, almost tenderness, but it was gone before I could tell.

I knelt in front of him on the scratchy limo carpet and pulled off his underwear. “I love these. Purple stripes, crazy.” I ran my hands over his legs. My voice was still coming from a long way away. “You’re sexy as fuck, you know it?”

“Yup.” He smiled. “Get on with it, I can’t hold out much longer.” I ran my hands over his cock. It was hot, against the cool pale skin of his legs, throbbing, the veins sticking out. I breathed out, the idea of him about to explode making me throb. I couldn’t help it; I leaned over him and licked the wetness off the top, slowly. God, the taste of him went right to me. I licked again.

He groaned and grabbed my head. “Fuck I told you, no.” My only response was to place my hands over his and make him push my head all the way down on him. I took the whole length down my throat and he let out a ragged moan. “Oh my, clever, but oh no, fuck, not yet.”

And he pulled me off him, grabbed the condom out of my hand and put it over himself with an incredible speed. He leaned over and pulled me towards him, but stopped.

“Turn around.” And he held me on his legs, carefully. “Now listen to me.”

And he opened the window, just an inch or two. “We’ll both look out the window, and try and concentrate on other things, and then maybe I’ll last long enough to make you scream my name. And while you’re doing it, I want you to look out the window. Don’t even think about looking away.”

I started to protest. “We’re in traffic, someone will hear us. See me.”

He pulled me back against him and placed his hands on my breasts and started slowly circling my nipples. It was a direct current to where I wanted him, and I wriggled against him with a sigh. He laughed. “That’s the idea. But only if you catch their eyes. And I want you to. Somebody. Make them watch you losing it, on me.”

I still wasn’t sure. “They won’t want to. They won’t do that.”

He ran his hands delicately up and down my sides, making me shiver under his touch, humming gently. He brushed against my ear with his tongue, and spoke very softly. “Darling, there isn’t a man in the world who isn’t willing to watch a beautiful woman have an orgasm. I’ll prove it to you.” He turned my head and kissed me, the heat of him, the softness of his lips making the hurt worse.

And with that, he held me up over his lap and lowered me down onto his cock, slowly, so slowly, slower than I thought possible. His fingers were pressed into my hips so hard, I knew there would be marks. Tomorrow, later, I didn’t care. I could feel the tip of his cock just teasing my lips apart, and then he was there, and I was sinking into him, lower and deeper, opening me up, almost too tight, then pushing all the way through.

And at last he was in me, completely in me, and I squeezed around him. “Oh fuck, darling, there you go again. I want to come all over you, in you. Fuck—do that again.” His hand moved to my clit, and began teasing it, then his hand sank lower to caress his balls, heavy and tight between his strong thighs. I tried to look down to watch, to see him in me, playing with the two of us, joined that closely, but he hissed out a command.

“Look out the window. I told you—find someone to watch you come—or you won’t.” He began circling my clit with his long, practiced fingers, and at that moment I didn’t care what he had done before, as long as he didn’t stop what he was doing now. I couldn’t control the moans coming out of my throat –loud, and I didn’t care. About anything. I just wanted to thank the universe for letting him be this good. For me.

“Tristan, you’re too fucking hot, it’s too much.” He slowed down his movements. But the thrusting became more out of time, and I could feel it both creeping up on us. Oh god. The feeling was overwhelming—his hands on me, everywhere, his cock filling me up, his dark tone.

He stopped. And his voice held my attention. “Find someone. Now.”

“You know all my secrets. And I don’t want anyone else to watch me come—except you.”

He wasn’t moving and I could feel him, huge and still in me. I squeezed against him and he moaned. “I know, that’s what you think. But you’re wrong.” I clenched against him and tried to move, my eyes shut, feeling him deep inside me. And he moved just a little and I pulled in against him again. He stopped again. “Do me again like that, yeah, oh god, that’s it, shit, babe, trust me, you’ll like it.” And he began thrusting into me, faster, over and over, teasing my clit and hitting that spot inside me at just the same moment and I cried out. Loud. So close.

His voice in my ear. “Look over there, darling. He likes it loud.”

I looked out the window. Oh, I had gotten someone’s attention.

And the man was riding in the back of a large black BMW, not a limo, but being driven, and he still held the paper that he had been reading. I could see his elegant suit, his well-groomed greying hair. And I knew he could see just enough of my face, so close to orgasm.