Collateral by Ellen Hopkins Page A

freshly cut, grunt-style.
    The ruddy tan of his steel-jawed face
    made the gold of his eyes even more
    striking. He punched the gas pedal,
    and we were flying. “Careful. There’s
    a CHP out here somewhere who’s
    already a ticket short today.” I told
    him about my earlier encounter
    without mentioning the makeup
    problem. Cole just smiled.
    Don’t worry. He can’t see us.
    Nobody can. We’re invisible.
    Maybe we were, because despite
    hitting close to a hundred miles
    per hour, no one stopped us.
    No one even seemed to notice
    us. We made it to the apartment
    in world-record time, at least for
    a beater car like mine. Tomorrow
    we’ll go by Uncle Jack’s and get
    the truck. It could use a little blowing
    out, I bet, Cole said, pulling into
    my parking place. Less than five
    minutes after turning off the ignition,
    we were in the bedroom, getting
    ready to make new memories.

AFTER ALL THAT HURRYING
    Cole actually slowed us down.
    He stopped me just inside the door.
    Stay right there, where I can look
    at you. He sat on the bed, unlaced
    his boots, unbuttoned his shirt.
    His eyes never strayed from me
    once. Take off your dress. Slowly.
    It’s been a long time. I want to savor
    every second. He watched as I slid
    the sundress up over my head.
    Very slowly. Working the tease
    as if I had a real clue what to do.
    I stood there, in nothing but
    my prettiest pair of thong panties.
    Turn around. Easy. Not too fast.
    Now, come here. I floated toward him,
    and when I got close to the bed,
    paused. He reached out. Touched
    my breasts with hands much too
    gentle for their size. Then they slid
    around my back, coaxed me forward,
    and his lips circled my right areola,
    sucked it like a baby might. Hungry.
    He sat me on his lap, his incredible
    erection straining against his pants,
    pushing his zipper into the thin strip
    of cloth covering my crotch. “Cole,”
    I exhaled. “God, baby, I need you.”
    The statement was truth, and felt
    that way. He sighed, laid back against
    the quilt, loosened the closures on
    his camos. I kissed his eyes, his mouth,
    his neck, down his chest to granite
    hard penis, urged it into my mouth.
    I am no expert, but did all I could
    to bring him all the way off. He came
    very close, but stopped short. No.
    I jerked off this morning, twice in fact,
    thinking about you and what we’d do.
    Does that make you pissed? It shouldn’t.
    I did it for you, because I want you to
    come before I do. Twice, in fact. He smiled.
    Took total control. And he made me
    come before he did. More than twice.

FOR THE NEXT WEEK
    We had sex three or four times
    a day. Halfway through, my body
    ached, but I couldn’t say no.
    Cole bordered on desperate.
    When I go back, I’ll just have
    morning wood and my fist. I want
    to fuck you till I’m black and blue.
    I need to remember you. This.
    Pretty sure it was me who wore
    bruises. His muscles were concrete,
    and he gripped my arms as if he
    let go, I might try to escape. Not mean.
    Just determined. His eyes never
    left my face as he chanted, That’s
    my girl. My beautiful, beautiful Ash.
    It was cadence. Beautiful. Beautiful.
    Ash. I loved listening to his voice.
    After a while, orgasm was the last
    thing on my mind, but the rhythm
    of his voice kept me going. That, and
    knowing our time together grew ever
    shorter. When we weren’t in bed,
    we walked the beach. Watched
    movies. Ate. Drank. Laughed. Held
    hands as we talked, trying to learn
    all we could about each other before
    he was called back to work. To duty.

WE DID PICK UP
    Cole’s truck from his uncle Jack,
    who had stored it under a metal
    roof in his backyard. It was dusty,
    and the tires were low, but it started
    right up once Cole reconnected
    the battery cables. I didn’t realize
    how much Cole loved that truck—
    a 2006 Chevy Avalanche with a big
    V-8. This puppy screams, he said,
    proving it as we headed east toward
    Palm