Page 217 of I Never Stopped Loving You

“Not a single clue.”

“Rude,” I huff, only making him laugh more as he places a kiss against the side of my head.

“Yes, but you love me.”

“I plead the fifth,” I tease, and I can hear the low growl in his chest as he tightens his grip around my shoulder.

The sound is a primal one that I love, but haven’t heard from him in a while. It travels down my spine, sending shivers all across my body, then straight to my clit. I tighten my thighs together, clenching the muscles and trying to hold back the pathetic whimper that’s desperately wanting to come out.

“Are you turned on, Little Rabbit?”

His fingers move from my shoulder up to the side of my neck, teasing along the sensitive skin. I can feel my nipples tightening against the fabric of this dress. It’s designed with built-in support where I don’t have to wear a bra, so the feeling of the fabric against my bare nipples isn’t helping with my current situation.

“N…No,” I whimper as his hand curls around my neck.

“You shouldn’t lie, Willow. You’re not very good at it.”

He pulls me against his side as the truck picks up speed. I can’t see a damn thing, but I can feel the way my body presses into the seat. We must be on the freeway now. The mystery is killing me. I don’t have any idea where he’s taking me because he didn’t mention anything until literally an hour ago, when he told me to get ready.

We drive in silence, not even the sound of the radio to keep my mind distracted. My head is resting against his side, his arm still protectively wrapped around my shoulders as his fingers caress everywhere he can touch. My neck, down my throat, and along my collarbone and shoulders. Even down the front of my dress, barely skimming his fingertips against my nipples. Every time I try to move my hand up his thigh to touch him, he gently swats my hand.

Asshole.

I don’t know how long we’ve been driving, but when the truck starts to slow down, I’m a soaked, panting mess. This is fucking torture.

“Are we almost there?”

“Not yet. You need to be more patient. Just relax and enjoy the ride.”

“How can I relax when you’re doing what you’re doing to me?”

“Did you want me to stop?” he asks, his fingers pausing against the hollow of my throat.

“No,” I rush out, making him laugh.

His fingers continue their path along my skin. My body feels like it’s on fire, and everything is too oversensitive right now. With my sight gone, all my other senses are on overdrive.

“How much longer?” I beg after a few more minutes of torturous silence.

“Not much longer.”

That’s all he gives me. I swear we’ve been driving for an hour, and I’m about to lose my mind. I tried to follow the turns at first, but once we were on the freeway, I lost track of distance and time. Especially with what he was doing to me.

The truck slows more before turning left. I immediately know we’ve pulled onto a dirt road. It’s been a warmer February in Michigan, so the snow that does fall melts within a day or so, making the ground soaked. Dirt roads become riddled with potholes, turning the once smooth drive into a teeth-chattering, almost washboard experience. My grandparents' ranch was off a dirt road, but down there, their roads are mostly just big mud bogs during the wet season.

The truck slows again before turning right and coming to a stop. Noah puts the truck in park but leaves it running. He removes his arm around me and hops out without a word. The door closes, and I’m left in the uncomfortable, pitch-black silence. I’m tempted to pull the blindfold off, but I resist. This had better be worth the torture he’s put me through because I swear to God, I’m not going to be able to resist him, regardless of him still needing time to heal. He knows exactly what he’s been doing to me on this trip, and I’m not above begging to get the release I need right now.

The clanging of metal on metal startles me. It sounds like a heavy chain being dragged along a metal pole. Curiosity and a bit of fear start to take over before the truck door suddenly opens and Noah jumps back in.

He doesn’t say a word as he pulls the truck forward, then parks it again and jumps out. The same clanking noise follows, then he’s back in the truck, all without a single word.

“Noah…”

“Shh. Almost there, Little Rabbit.”

His hand moves between my thighs again, pressing his fingertips into my inner thigh as he begins to drive again. The road or whatever the fuck we’re on is smooth but definitely not straight. It’s a winding path that the truck smoothly follows. His hand moves a bit higher, and I part my thighs.

“So needy,” he chuckles as he teases along the thin lace fabric of my thong. “Fuck, Willow. You’re soaked,” he practically groans those words.