“Man,” I say, trying to keep my voice low and discreet. “I don’t have a license. I just got out.”
James rolls his eyes. “This shitty parole system, am I right?” he says.
A-fucking-men to that.
But I stay quiet about all of it while they sort it out for themselves. Daphne gives me a look, but Joan points her finger at us both.
“You want me to go get your father? Tell him you’re going to go drink beer then drive home? You’re a slow learner sometimes, James Foster.”
“I’ll go, Mom.” Daphne bends over, putting the last of the plates in the dishwasher, and her ripe, round ass makes my balls twitch. “I’ll be the chaperone.”
She nibbles into her bottom lip as James grunts but heads towards the door. Daphne eases past me, giving me a quick wink and I inhale her sweet, peaches and cream scent.
Waiting for my release date was bad. But waiting for midnight is worse.
Way fucking worse.
CHAPTER 5
Dutch
“You okay?” James smacks my shoulder in brotherly camaraderie. There’s NASCAR on all the TVs and everyone’s mesmerized. But the only thing that’s mesmerizing me are the way Daphne’s lashes flutter with every blink.
“Yeah. Just. Crowds. Not used to it yet.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t have come.” Daphne gives me a concerned look. I hate that she’s worried about me. I can see it in the furrow of her brow, the way she’s darting her eyes from me to anyone that comes close.
The need she’s ignited inside me is fierce. As much as she seems to be looking out for me, I’m giving hell-fire looks to any guy that’s even glancing her way. If any of these motherfuckers so much as buy her a drink, I’ll be back in jail for manslaughter.
I’ve never felt this sort of protective force before. It’s like a switch has been flipped inside me. I don’t ever want to be away from her again.
I can’t be away from her again.
“It’s fine.” James nods, looking over the crowd. “Hey!” He holds up a hand to someone standing against the far wall. “I’ll be back. It’s Jerry Maples. I’ve been talking to him about expanding the garage into custom hot rod and bike work. He has a shop over in Eastwood doing really well.” He stands and snakes through the sea of people in the small, packed bar, filled with the tinny sounds of roaring engines coming through flat-screened TVs.
“I don’t give a fuck who Jerry Maples is,” I tell Daphne. “I’m just glad I get you all to myself. Finally.”
She smiles at me, eyes sparkling. Her dark hair shines in the dim lights, curls loose around her face, and the memory of how it felt in my hand earlier makes me ache deep down. That same feeling of wanting to kiss her at the dining room table comes back. I need to let the whole world know she belongs to me.
“So,” I start, scooting my chair closer to her as the waitress sets down the Cokes we ordered, Daphne’s with a maraschino cherry on top, and the waitress gives me a wink and a flirty smile. I glare back and she turns away, not bothering to have us pay as she retreats into the crowd.
I don’t want anyone winking at me unless it’s Daphne.
“So…” Daphne repeats, watching the waitress go. “Are we having an uncomfortable silence? Because about earlier, Dutch, I never intended…” She stammers. “If I went too far or too fast…”
I cut her off. “Nothing is uncomfortable about you baby. Nothing was too far or too fast. I would have fucked your slippery little cunt if I could have.”
She bites her upper lip. “You would have?”
I nod, lost in the golden flecks in her beautiful irises. “I will. I want all of you, Daphne. This is it for me. I knew you were beautiful on the inside from your letters, but fuck.” I shake my head on a deep breath. “I’ve never imagined someone would light me up the way you do. I feel like I won the fucking lottery.”
Her hand slips onto my knee under the table and my dick practically flips it over, turning to a lead pipe in my jeans.
“It’s just hard to think we really know each other from a bunch of letters.”
“Then don’t think so hard.” I put my hand on hers and place it on my dick. “Plenty of other, better things that are hard.”
I lean in and catch a hit of her soft perfume, making my chest tight as she starts to move her hand up and down over my cock, pulling the denim tight
“Big and hard,” she says on a coy smile, showing off that dimple. Fuck. Fuck.
My muscles all feel as hard as my cock as I lean close, her lips right there, so close. So easy.
Just as I’m about to kiss her, a waterfall of stinking cold beer rains down, ruining the moment. The piss-colored liquid soaks the front of Daphne’s dress, and splashes into her face as she pops up from her chair with a shocked yelp.
“Jesus!” She tosses her hands up, turning toward the guy who is to blame. And she’s got to look up to see his face because the motherfucker is huge.
He’s huge and unsteady. A leather-vested three-hundred-pound ZZ Top impersonator with a beer belly the size of a sheep hanging over the front of his belt.
“What the fuck, man?” I’m on my feet, stepping into his space as he stares at Daphne, licking his lips.
“Nice nips,” he slurs, ogling her chest.
Here we fucking go.
I glance her way and see what he’s seeing, the soaking fabric clinging to her skin and turning translucent.
Nah, man, nah. Nobody drenches my girl without paying for it. Without even thinking, I go for him. In an instant, I’ve got him by the throat, my grip solid around his windpipe as I shove him against the nearest wall. His empty glass falls from his hand, shattering on the floor as people scream and move away, finally more interested in something besides the dizzying cars going around the track.
“You don’t fucking look at my girl. You got that?”
Rage clouds my vision as I cock my arm back, fingers clenched into a fist, ready for the blow that will more than likely explode his nose in a spray of blood.
“Fuck you. I’ll look at any hot piece of ass I want to. Nothing illegal about looking, dipshit.”
This guy. This fucking guy. I jerk him forward by the esophagus, then slam his head against the wall, tensing my other arm, ready to end his fucking life right here on this shitty sticky floor.
I get in close to his face. He smells like stale dip and onions. “Don’t give a shit about illegal. She’s mine, so it’s my law you need to worry about.”
“Dutch! Don’t!” Daphne’s voice comes from next to me, her hands on my bicep, tugging as I growl and battle the urge to tear out the asshole’s trachea. “Please.” Her voice is the only thing I hear besides the thumping of my pulse in my ears. “They won’t listen to your side. They’ll take you back…take you away from me.”
I inhale a shaking breath, enough of a pause for the guy to throw his arms up and break my grip on his throat.
Daphne puts herself between ZZ Top and me. She knots her hands into fists at her hips. Then winds up and connects with his bearded cheek with a slap. “You’re an asshole! And you owe me dry cleaning for my dress, too. Twenty bucks.” She holds out her hand, glaring at him as his eyes flick from Daphne then back to me. I’m standing behind her, almost fucking growling like a rabid dog.