I pull into the garage and park in an open spot next to the old Soviet troop transport, the one we made out in the night we took the motorcycle to the gray district. It feels like it was a month ago, even though I think it was maybe two weeks.
I cut the engine with my left hand, because Hazel’s still holding my right.
I know the second I’m inside the palace, I’m going to be hit with a barrage of people wanting to talk, shout, chastise me, ask me what to do next, but the truth is that right now I don’t care. I’ll care tomorrow, and the day after that and for the rest of my life, but for the next eight hours, I just want to sleep.
Hazel unbuckles her seatbelt.
Well, first I want Hazel again. Then sleep.
I run my thumb over the back of her hand.
“So pie-eating contests and beer pong are real,” I say.
“Yes,” she says, lifting her eyebrows in a question.
“Do American teenagers really take their cars to scenic overlooks to have sex?” I ask.
She laughs.
“There’s not usually a scenic overlook, but yes,” she says, and lifts my hand to her lips, kissing it as her eyes light up. “European teenagers don’t fuck in cars?”
“Our cars are smaller,” I say.
“So you never got it on in the back of your mom’s station wagon?” she says.
“The Queen doesn’t drive a station wagon,” I tell her.
Hazel rolls her eyes.
“I know I told you I lost my virginity in the back of a Range Rover,” she says.
“You did,” I say.
A small, stupid twinge of jealousy twists in my stomach, and I try to ignore it. She’s mine now. It doesn’t matter who she slept with nine years ago.
“All these cars and you never used one to impress a girl?” she asks. She slips her shoes off and tucks her legs under her, leaning over the center console.
“I don’t need cars to impress girls,” I say. “I’m royalty.”
“Yeah, you bring that up sometimes,” she says, grinning. “All those girls threw themselves at your feet and they never got to ride the royal Maserati?”
I hesitate for a second. I really haven’t had sex in one of these cars, but I also don’t think we’re talking about cars any more.
“Is the royal Maserati my dick?” I ask.
Hazel laughs so hard that for a moment she can’t even talk. Then she kisses the back of my hand.
“Yes,” she says.
She climbs over the center console until she’s straddling me in the driver’s seat. I’m still wearing fatigues, and she grabs my collar and leans over me.
“I was trying to be coy and flirtatious,” she says.
I grab her ass with both hands and squeeze.
“English isn’t my first language,” I tease. “You have to be very literal with me.”
She kisses me hard and I pull her in until she’s right against my already-throbbing erection.
“Okay,” she says, pulling away. “Let’s fuck in the car.”
“That I understand,” I say, and slide my hands under her shirt, kissing her again. She’s warm and soft and even though it’s barely been a day since the last time, I think I craved her this whole time.
“Is this my shirt?” I ask. It’s at least five sizes too big for her.
“I got dressed in the dark,” she says, and starts unbuttoning my shirt. “Oh, and in a panic because you were gone.”
She gets the buttons undone and slides her hands between my camo and my undershirt, looking at me with that heavy-lidded look she gets sometimes.
“It looks good on you,” I say, then pull the shirt she’s wearing over her head. “But better off you.”
I pull her forward again and kiss her, my tongue snaking into her mouth.
“How was that for coy and flirtatious?” I ask.
“Better,” she says, and bites my lip as she pushes my shirt over my shoulders and then yanks my undershirt off, too, running one hand down my torso and grabbing my cock through my pants.
I groan and dig my fingers into the dimples in her back.
“The Maserati’s up and running,” she says.
“We’re not calling my dick that,” I say, and push one thumb under her bra.
She laughs, then takes both my hands and puts them on her back, over the clasp. I sigh, fumbling.
“I can’t even see,” I say, but her head’s on my shoulder and she’s laughing too hard to respond.
A hook pops open.
“Something happened,” I say.
She puts her hands over mine, shooing me away, and one second later her bra’s off. I roll both her nipples between my fingers while I kiss her, and she makes a noise into my mouth that makes my cock twitch.
I move my lips to her jaw and then her neck, her hand in my hair. I’m pushing her backward and she’s yielding, soft and warm and pliant beneath me, so I suck one pebbled nipple into my mouth and bite it gently.
Hazel gasps and I undo her pants with my mouth still on her. I push my hand inside and run my fingers across her clit quickly, just to feel the way her body tenses when I do.
She’s already wet as hell, and it’s not surprising but god I like it, and I slide two fingers into her and flatten my palm against—
A horn sounds, incredibly loud in the quiet garage and Hazel yelps, then hits her head on the roof.
“Shit,” she says, and then starts laughing.
“Are you trying to tell everyone that we’re fucking in an official government vehicle?” I tease.
“Sorry,” she whispers.
“I can’t get your pants off in here anyway,” I say, and open the door. She pushes it and hops out, her pants already half off her and pulls them off herself before I’m even out of the car.
Now she’s naked in the garage, between the car we were in and an ugly old Soviet truck. I can’t stop grinning, and especially not as she pushes me against the SUV, kisses me with her tongue in my mouth, undoes my pants and grabs my cock.
She strokes it and I hear myself growl at her and she laughs, biting my lip.
“What?” I ask, my voice hoarse and rough.
“You’re an animal,” she says.
“You have no idea,” I say.
She strokes my cock again. I growl louder, and she presses her lips to my neck then nips at me, and I sigh.
“I’ll be gentle,” she says, her voice buzzing against my skin.
I chuckle.
“You already marked me once,” I tease. “I had to hear about it all day.”
“Sorry,” she says.
“I don’t mind,” I whisper. “I like being yours.”
She kisses my collarbone, my chest, and then she’s on her knees, tugging my pants off. Then her tongue is on the underside of my cock and she’s looking up at me with a wicked look in her eyes.
Fuck, it’s sexy.
She closes her lips around me and I lean my head back against the SUV and groan as she moves her mouth down my shaft and then pulls back, her tongue flat against the underside. I put one hand on her head gently, forcing myself not to grab her hair even though I’ve got the urge.
“Fuck, that feels good,” I say as she does it again and then again, moving slightly faster and harder with each stroke. I look down and watch her, moving her hair out of her face as the heat pools inside me and I hear myself groan.