Auto Erotica Ch 13

This is the final chapter, the conclusion, of the story of Patrick and Aileen. I hope you have enjoyed it, and thank you to my fans for waiting so patiently for the end. I welcome your ratings and comments.

***

In the end he had kept that last promise. I hadn't seen Patrick again while at his home. I had asked for him after two weeks, but the nurse inquired as to why and all I could think of was a hotel. I was moved to the Drake and the nurse came with.

It was a bit much, I wasn't dying. Broken ribs and dislocated knees were painful, slow-healing injuries, but I was okay. I moved stiffly, and I was bored out of my mind.

I read the newspapers and the main players of the LC were awaiting trial. I found out my niece and nephew were safe, my brother too in his own way, at least he was sobering up.

There was no mention of Patrick anywhere, though the story of a double—dealing cop who'd been killed made the papers. Surprisingly, my own death had too.

Cal got the payout and last I'd heard he and Suki were in Vegas, he was opening up a shop out there, legit.

The last of my own money went to grease the wheels to keep my connection to the racing world and Gunnar's murder under wraps. The Drake was high class but it was Patrick's dime, and perhaps that's why I lingered there another two weeks.

After a month I was feeling better. Good enough I had the front desk set an appointment in the salon and despite the horror expressed by the stylist I dyed my hair black. It suited me, strangely even better than my natural red.

I charged some clothes that afternoon and headed back up to grab some lunch, and let my nurse know she could go. I didn't know where I'd go or what I'd do, and that was strangely thrilling.

And if I'd miss Patrick Wolfe...well, too bad, I guessed. Hell, maybe the dream hadn't been that far off, maybe I could get one more night before I left.

Whistling I stepped off the elevator. Palomar, my nurse, I was sure would be glad to be rid of me. I'd been quite grumpy and snippy, and she was a very patient woman. I hoped Patrick would pay her well.

I pulled out my key card and went to slide it in the slot, but the door was open. Instinctively I went for a gun but there was none on me, none in my life now. I should have called security, but I didn't want to draw notice.

I slowly opened the door and the first thing I noticed was the wind pushing back against it. It was humid with the dog days of summer sunshine, and it was blowing papers around the poshly appointed room.

There was nothing in the living room except blown papers and a set of keys on the floor by the door. They looked like Palomar's, making my nerves tingle.

I grabbed the poker from the little fireplace, the only weapon handy, but I had a feeling it wouldn't help me much.

The open doors to the balcony seemed to be in the bedroom. I crept quietly on the carpet and hoped if I had to fight, I could. My knee was better but my ribs were still healing and moving my left arm too far was a Herculean task.

My heart froe when I leaned around the jamb far enough to see the floor to the foot of the bed. There amongst torn sheets lay Palomar in a pool of blood. Her face was twisted with pain, but that wasn't what stopped me.

Standing by the open balcony doors was Catalina, and she was holding a gun.

"Aileen, I've been waiting for you."

"She was innocent, she knew nothing. You are such a cunt."

The slim woman only smiled at this, and with her heavy makeup the effect was chilling, like an evil clown grin. She scratched her temple with her gun, trying to intimidate me with her carefree attitude. Damn it, it was working.

"You stole from me. You left us without asking, tsk, tsk. And when we come here to claim what's ours, you beat Maria, you killed Javier, you stole their cars, and you framed us. Do you know what's in store for you, puta?"

She had not mastered tough guy silence. The gun was still hanging loose, she was guarding the trigger, so I crept forward, the poker behind my back.

"I know you came here alone, you're the only one who could make bail. That's all I need to know."

I lunged at her and the gun came up. Just as the tip of the poker hit her shoulder she fired. The sound was deafening and I flinched as something whizzed through my hair. Only when I landed did I realize how close the bullet had come.

The poker stuck and I couldn't pull it out, but somehow she'd held onto the gun and was swinging it up. I landed on my side, breaking open one of my ribs, and despite the scoring pain I kicked her.

The gun flew out but she grabbed my foot and brought it to her mouth, biting my ankle. I howled and tried to shake her loose but Catalina was determined.

I brought my other down on the poker, ripping it out, and that worked.

I could have fought longer, drawn it out, but damn it I was tired. I struggled to my feet and grabbed her with my good hand. Dragging her to the balcony as she kicked and screamed I brought her to the edge and struggled, but eventually she went up and over. Eight stories down, and that was the end.

I slumped down, panting in the wind and hot sun. I wanted a cigarette, I wanted a shot. I now had two choices; I could disappear and leave this mess in Patrick's lap, guaranteeing I'd never see him again, or I could tip him off.

I crawled back into the room and tried not to look at Palomar as I rifled through her pockets and found her phone.

Wolfe was in her speed dial and his phone was ringing when I heard the sirens. I debated for only a second and hung up. The cops would need time to figure out where she fell from, but it wouldn't be much.

I grabbed my few clothes and a hand towel and wiped all the doorknobs, lamps, remote control, anything I could remember touching. I shoved anything identifiable into the shopping bags with me and the rest I stuffed in the trash and set fire to. With luck there was no way they'd know I had been there.

I went down the elevators like nothing had happened and dialed Patrick again from the lobby.

I got his voicemail.

"It's Aileen. They killed my nurse Palomar, and I shoved Catalina out a window. There should be no sign I was there but the room is in your name. Look out."

I hung up when I was outside and it was a short walk to the lake. I earned a few curious stares as I wound up and flung the phone as far out as I could. And with it I left behind yet another life, but much harder to take was the loss of Patrick.

I thought of that as I walked along, a new woman, truly free. And free meant alone.

***

"You seem bored."

I turned and my partner Mike Dumas sat next to me on the bench behind our shop. He, like me, had a beer. It was Friday night and it had been a good week. We ran a clean shop in a small town outside Silicon Valley.

We'd started it six months ago and it was already doing well. We specialized in classic Fords.

"I'm used to big city life."

He wiped summer sweat from his mocha colored skin and took a deep swig. "I suggested LA but you already said you're not the type. Why live in a small town when you're not built for one?"

I polished off my bottle. "I'm even worse in the city."

"At least think about racing. I know it's not what you're used to, but we have a good seen up north, and we have some new blood. It's good money too. Business has been good but we're in debt up to our ears."

That was true. And it was all in Mike's name, since my ID was fake. We were turning a profit but we had a mortgage and business loans to pay back. Mike had put hiss house up as collateral. Not that he was in danger of losing it, but it did make me uncomfortable.

"All right, where is it, when does it start, which car should I race, how much is the vig, and what should I wear?"

Mike smiled at me.

***

I'd make fifteen grand that night and I'd lost count but I thought Mike had made twenty. He'd decided to stay in town with some girl he'd met which meant a 30 minute drive back to my sleepy burg alone.

Sure I was free, but I was lonely and miserable. In the time I'd been on my own I'd once looked back. Things had not gone so well for Patrick. There had been suspicion and accusations, the CPD had let him go and it seems the FBI hadn't taken him. I think his money had been all that kept him out of jail, but he'd long since disappeared.

He had the resources to get out of the country, I did not. And so I'd worked at a few shops, hitched some rides, scraped until I'd met Mike almost nine months earlier. We'd both worked for a garage in Oregon and saved up enough to open up our own shop with some loans.

Maybe I'd buy a cat to keep me company in my double wide. Quite the opposite of my former life, but I was happier this way.

I was heading out of town for the long winding drive down the Pacific Coast Highway when a car pulled up beside me. I was driving a new Mustang, more powerful than my classic, but not nearly as sweet. It was all black with tinted windows, and as usual I glanced over to see the other driver's reaction.

First off I noticed the car. It was a classic 1964 Corvette, a sweet little roadster. The man driving it had a dark ponytail on and a wide brimmed leather fedora. He motioned for me to lower the window which I did with the electric switch.

"Nice car," said a familiar voice.

"What?"

"Race back to your place, I know the way, and the winner gets one request of the loser, no limits."

"Patrick." I revved my engine. "And what if my request is for you to go away? Or what if I ask for cash?"

He raised the brim of his hat and those piercing eyes gazed back at me. "I guess we'll find out."

The light turned and he beat me turning onto the highway. I tried to relax, it was a damn long race, but my heart was pounding. How had he found me? Just what did he want? Hell, just what did I want?

We sped around the curves, sheltered by pine trees, and I had the feeling he was playing with me. If there were no special tunes like nitrous on his I had a fighting chance, hell, more than. I was lighter and more powerful, but he had better handling, and it showed on every curve.

I thought as we drove. I did what I'd recognized I tended to do and that was over-think and get scared. And so I plotted. I feared he would ask for my help in clearing his name, which meant my old identity, my old life, my old problems.

I couldn't do it. It wasn't worth it, it was too dangerous. And so I knew what I would ask for; the one last night I never got with him, and then with Mike's help, we'd figure out just how to make Patrick disappear.

Determination put the pedal to the metal and by the time we reached the turnoff to my little town I was ahead. When we hit my trailer I had to slam on the breaks so as not to hit my propane tank, but I won.

The longest race of my life. The longest and hardest in any ways. I'd spent every mile trying not to think of Patrick's warmth and strength surrounding me, filling me, trying not to recall the intense pleasure I'd felt with him. I'd tried to concentrate on my fears, tried to ignore the voice that whined in my heart that fear was all I had, and I was wrong.

I stepped out on shaky legs not helped by the heeled boots. I wore a skirt and top like I used to on the circuit back in Chicago but now in softer colors, no leather save the boots. Even they were soft and brown.

He stood and closed the small door on the car that looked ridiculously small next to him. He stared at my hair, once long and red, now black and to my shoulders.

"I like it," he said at long last. "It suits you."

I touched my hair subconsciously and cleared my throat. "So I won."

"You did." He came towards me and it made me feel small, a feeling I normally hated but with him felt somehow right. "Nice trailer."

Embarrassment threatened to bloom inside me and I tamped down on it, gritting my teeth. "The last digs came from illegal money. This is what comes from honest work and I'm proud of it."

"I would be too, you're doing well for yourself."

"And I'll keep doing that."

He stopped close enough to touch me and I merely raised my chin. "Aileen, don't you want to know why I'm here?"

I folded my arms, ignoring the shivers that came when my elbows brushed his hard chest. "You're here because we raced and I won. And I believe I get a request."

He stepped even closer until my arms were trapped there and his warm breath brushed my cheek. "Want to know what I would ask?" his voice had dropped impossibly deeper and was soft, bringing up all the erotic images I'd been fighting.

"It doesn't matter. What I want is one night. One last night and..."

"And?" He raised a brow and leaned even closer as if to kiss me but stopped.

"The second part can wait until morning."

He braced his arms on the room of my car caging me. I wanted to drop mine but I was afraid I'd lose control if he pressed his incredible body against mine. "I take it tonight is on your terms?"

"Damn skippy," I flippantly replied and finished off the distance, claiming his lips.

It knocked his hat off but I barely noticed. He was warm, his lips firm yet soft, and he tasted like Scotch and man.

I finally dropped my arms but only to hold him. Patrick pressed me back against y car and it felt so damn good I almost cried. He was all hard warm strength, and I rubbed against him, damn near purring the way a cat would.

He broke it off with a groan, panting as much as I was. "Do you want to go inside or stay out here? I kind of like the woods."

This was supposed to be on my terms. "Too close to my partner's trailer and he might be back with the girl he picked up tonight. Let's go inside."

I remembered my purse inside my car and opened the door when he backed off, half expecting him to press against me lewdly, but Patrick refrained. I closed it up and pulled my keys out and headed to the short set of stairs.

Inside it was sparse but clean. The living room was after the entry which was closet and a tight turn. In the middle was the kitchen and bathroom, and at the end was the bedroom. It was a double wide so the rooms were nicely sized, but there were still only three.

I owned a couch, recliner, some pots, pans, a toaster, a double bed, nightstand, two sheet sets and two towels. Quite a collection and it looked positively Spartan.

"Not bad," was all he said, rather graciously for a man who'd been born a billionaire.

"Need to use the bathroom?" I asked and set my things down on the kitchen counter. He shook his head and so I just turned and went to the bedroom, sliding the pocket door closed once we was inside.

I had two choices for lighting; the glaring fluorescent overhead or moonlight, so I opted to open the blinds and let the moon in.

I didn't want to talk, I wanted to leash the animal inside me, but it was damn hard. In the small space he seemed even larger and that aroused me beyond words.

I grabbed him about the neck and pressed him back for a kiss. We slammed into the wall with a thunk and I kissed him with everything I had. I had never been big on kissing but again, with this man it felt right.

I tore at his clothing, a dark cotton button-up and plain jeans that seemed so much simpler and cheaper than what he used to wear.

I got him naked first and while I did my damndest to plunder his mouth my hands were everywhere. I was desperate and it showed, my nails scraping him carelessly as I memorized the planes and ridges of muscle with my fingertips.

He groaned into my mouth when after long minutes I reached his erection. Maybe I groaned, I couldn't tell and I didn't care.

I tried to pull off my shirt while still kissing him and he helped, ripping the tank top. I pushed his hands away from the clasp on my bra so he didn't rip that and hastily undid it.

Now his hands were on me, brutally kneading and caressing, driving my fever higher and higher. I grabbed his shoulders and tugged him away from the wall. Patrick didn't seem to expect my next move, which was to jump and wrap my legs around his waist.

His hands came down to cup my ass as we slammed back into the wall. It hurt my feet but I didn't care. With some wriggling I got high enough that I could slam down onto him.

Jesus was all I could think. I was tighter again, it had been long enough, and he felt like the most welcome pain I'd ever experienced.

He was all heat and strength around me, his muscles bulging as he moved my ass. I pumped with my thighs, my eyes squeezed shut, our moths hotly slanting across one another's, sounds of pleasure escaping us with grunts and moans.

This was not a soulless fuck, I realized in the back of my mind, this was desperate, this was animal, but it meant something.

My back bowed on that thought and it brought my clit to rasp on his rough skin. It pushed me over the edge and I screamed out wordlessly, the waves of pleasure coursing through me over and over until I whimpered.

The fog cleared to realize he was walking, and suddenly we fell onto the bed. He was still incredibly inside me and leaned forward, bracing his heels against the wall.

Patrick began to move like a jackhammer and it brought him strongly against my nerves. It was pain, it was pleasure, and the pleasure quickly grew. The unique angle made him brush against my sensitive nubbin with each thrust and I built quickly, clawing at his arms, my legs trying to encircle his waist.

He pressed further down and drew one aching nipple into his mouth, and I felt like my body exploded. Orgasm claimed me and again I screamed, this time mindlessly I heard his name. It was soon joined by a ferocious growl and then he was coming inside me, pounding into me with sheer violence.

It seemed to go on an eternity but ended all too soon, and Patrick collapsed onto me.

"Oof," I grunted, the mean was heavy.

He responded by rolling off me but took me with him and I ended up straddling him as he laid back, legs over the edge. "Wow."

I cuddled into him, wanting to enjoy the feeling and ignore what would come with the morning light.

"So just this for the rest of the night?" He gruffly asked.

I opened one eye. "Is that a problem?"

He reached up to draw my face up and I felt him harden, still inside me. "Not at all."

***

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was morning light filling the room. I went to rub my eyes but my hand wouldn't move. Rolling over I expected that it would be under a brawny chest, instead it was tied with rope in knots and anchored to an eye bolt in the wall.

"What the fuck?"

I tried to sit up but the other was tied in the same way. "Patrick!"

The door opened and he came in, freshly showered but not shaved. His hair was long now, longer than mine and so wavy it almost curled. His chest was bare and damp, rivulets trailing from his hair, down to his jeans which were unbuttoned and low on his hips.

Goddamn he looked good, even if he was a low life tricky bastard who was going to ruin my life to save his. I opened my mouth to rail at him but he held up his palm and barked out my name.

I settled for a glare.

"Damn it woman, I heard you on the phone. I know what the second part of your request was going to be. I know you asked your partner to follow me to the airport, and I knew you would ask me to leave for good.

"Now you're going to listen to me. I know you Aileen, and if I didn't have you as a captive audience, you'd run. So will you listen to me or will I have to gag you?"

Rage turned my skin red. "Untie me you bastard!"

He sighed and pulled a strip of familiar black fabric from his back pocket. I squirmed when he knelt beside me, jerked my head to evade his hands and tried to bite his fingers, but he got the gag into my mouth and tied it tight. All I could do glare daggers at him.

He sat back with a smile and trailed his fingertips up my hip, over my stomach, and across the tip of one breast, hardening the nipple. I gasped behind the gag and tried to fight the arousal, but I failed. He smiled the wolf smile deeper and did the same to my other side.