empty.
"Sorry I didn't leave you any," I admitted as I leaned against his sleek car.
"No drinking and driving allowed anyway. So, what about your parents? Won't they be looking for you?"
"Psh, they were well on their way to being drunk an hour ago, Spencer. I doubt they remember why they’re even at a party."
"So where to, party girl?" he teased. He swung the passenger door open and bowed to me playfully.
"To the manor, Jeeves!" I giggled as I slipped down into the soft leather seat.
Dashing around the front of the car, Spencer jumped in and cranked the engine. Music blared and he quickly turned it down. "Sorry," he mumbled.
When we reached the main road leading out of the club property, he slowed and turned to me. "Savannah, I can take you home if you want." His eyes looked me over and he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand while we sat there.
My voice was barely a whisper when I responded, "Do you want to take me home?"
Spencer was breathtakingly gorgeous, and his beautiful eyes closed for a moment while his face scrunched like he was in deep thought. I knew that he was debating what to do, and right when I was about to give him the out, he spoke. "No."
It was a quiet but firm 'No', and my lips pulled up into a smile when he opened his eyes and leveled them on me. He reached out and plucked my hand from my lap; intertwining our fingers. "You should smile more often - it's dazzling."
"So take me somewhere and make me smile, Spencer," I dared him. I knew there was a definite innuendo in my words, but I didn't bother to correct myself. The two glasses of champagne I’d drunk earlier at the party, along with the half a bottle we snuck out was going a long way towards loosening me up. Without a word he turned to the front and put his foot on the gas. The club and the disaster that was Daniel and Mary Anne became a dim reflection in the rear view mirror.
As he drove, Spencer's thumb rubbed along my hand; caressing it tenderly. I opened my fingers, holding my palm face up so he could continue to trace the outline of my hand. I kept my head facing forward, but my eyes kept dipping to watch his hand. He would run his fingers around and then stop, his hand hesitating and then starting again. After watching him do it a few times I realized that every time he stopped, his hand actually drifted a few inches away from my hand, almost like he wanted to place it on my thigh. Then, as if he thought better of it, he would return to my hand and the cycle would begin again.
After watching this pattern for the fourth time, I decided to take matters into my own hands. When he lifted his fingers away for a moment I removed my hand. Thinking and feeling all sorts of dirty girl thoughts, I stretched my arm across the seats. I was about to stroke the back of his head but chickened out at the last second; placing my hand on the back of his headrest instead. It worked though, because after a moment of hovering there his large, warm palm moved to my lower thigh.
It was then that the real magic began to happen. Spencer massaged my bare knee and thigh as he drove. I rested my head on the headrest and closed my eyes as his strong fingers kneaded my muscles into relaxation. His fingers slid up my thigh ever so slowly, working themselves under the short hem of my dress. My body sighed as I slid down deeper into the chair. Liquid heat was beginning to flow through my veins. When his hand began massaging my inner thigh, I thought I might actually die from his scorching touch.
It was dark in the car, with the only illumination coming from the glow of the blue dashboard lights. I wished I could see his face better; see what he was thinking. I couldn't, and then I decided that might be for the best. The lack of light brought courage, and after a moment I finally slipped my own hand into the hair at his nape and began to play with the soft strands.
His fingers dug into my thigh for a moment when I touched him, and then they began to creep
"Sorry I didn't leave you any," I admitted as I leaned against his sleek car.
"No drinking and driving allowed anyway. So, what about your parents? Won't they be looking for you?"
"Psh, they were well on their way to being drunk an hour ago, Spencer. I doubt they remember why they’re even at a party."
"So where to, party girl?" he teased. He swung the passenger door open and bowed to me playfully.
"To the manor, Jeeves!" I giggled as I slipped down into the soft leather seat.
Dashing around the front of the car, Spencer jumped in and cranked the engine. Music blared and he quickly turned it down. "Sorry," he mumbled.
When we reached the main road leading out of the club property, he slowed and turned to me. "Savannah, I can take you home if you want." His eyes looked me over and he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand while we sat there.
My voice was barely a whisper when I responded, "Do you want to take me home?"
Spencer was breathtakingly gorgeous, and his beautiful eyes closed for a moment while his face scrunched like he was in deep thought. I knew that he was debating what to do, and right when I was about to give him the out, he spoke. "No."
It was a quiet but firm 'No', and my lips pulled up into a smile when he opened his eyes and leveled them on me. He reached out and plucked my hand from my lap; intertwining our fingers. "You should smile more often - it's dazzling."
"So take me somewhere and make me smile, Spencer," I dared him. I knew there was a definite innuendo in my words, but I didn't bother to correct myself. The two glasses of champagne I’d drunk earlier at the party, along with the half a bottle we snuck out was going a long way towards loosening me up. Without a word he turned to the front and put his foot on the gas. The club and the disaster that was Daniel and Mary Anne became a dim reflection in the rear view mirror.
As he drove, Spencer's thumb rubbed along my hand; caressing it tenderly. I opened my fingers, holding my palm face up so he could continue to trace the outline of my hand. I kept my head facing forward, but my eyes kept dipping to watch his hand. He would run his fingers around and then stop, his hand hesitating and then starting again. After watching him do it a few times I realized that every time he stopped, his hand actually drifted a few inches away from my hand, almost like he wanted to place it on my thigh. Then, as if he thought better of it, he would return to my hand and the cycle would begin again.
After watching this pattern for the fourth time, I decided to take matters into my own hands. When he lifted his fingers away for a moment I removed my hand. Thinking and feeling all sorts of dirty girl thoughts, I stretched my arm across the seats. I was about to stroke the back of his head but chickened out at the last second; placing my hand on the back of his headrest instead. It worked though, because after a moment of hovering there his large, warm palm moved to my lower thigh.
It was then that the real magic began to happen. Spencer massaged my bare knee and thigh as he drove. I rested my head on the headrest and closed my eyes as his strong fingers kneaded my muscles into relaxation. His fingers slid up my thigh ever so slowly, working themselves under the short hem of my dress. My body sighed as I slid down deeper into the chair. Liquid heat was beginning to flow through my veins. When his hand began massaging my inner thigh, I thought I might actually die from his scorching touch.
It was dark in the car, with the only illumination coming from the glow of the blue dashboard lights. I wished I could see his face better; see what he was thinking. I couldn't, and then I decided that might be for the best. The lack of light brought courage, and after a moment I finally slipped my own hand into the hair at his nape and began to play with the soft strands.
His fingers dug into my thigh for a moment when I touched him, and then they began to creep
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