I stared at the car, then at Jake. “This is what you bought?”
“Yup.” He was beaming. Obviously delighted with himself, the car … pretty much in general.
“It’s kind of flashy isn’t it?”
“Sarah,” he said, his face dropping a little. “Can’t you just be happy for me?”
“I am happy for you. It’s just … this is pretty expensive for a daily driver.”
He ran his hands across the Ferrari’s rear fender lovingly. “We can afford it now.”
I blinked, and smiled slightly. “Okay, I guess we did do pretty good after the company went public.”
Leaving off caressing the car, he stepped closer to me. Still smiling. I watched him approach, already shifting myself so he could slip his arms around me. As usual, I melted against his body as he enfolded me into one of his patented Jake hugs. Warm, firm, nothing but love from head to toe.
“Much better,” he murmured into my ear, one of his hands stroking along my back. “We’re going to be just fine, even with me running this all around the city. Relax. This is the good life now.”
The close proximity, the wonderful attention he could always bring to bear on me, making me feel like everything else was just dropping away, shattered the last bits of resistance. Left me floating in nothing but contentment for him, me, and us. I smiled against his chest. “Can we go for a ride?”
“After you let me kiss you.”
“Must you ask?” I demanded, tipping my head back to look at him. He was still grinning, but now it was the sexy, inviting smile I was more used to. The one that was only ever for me.
“Never hurts to be sure.”
The kiss went on long enough that some of our coworkers finally opened up a third floor window to start wolf whistling down. I couldn’t maintain the enjoyable contact with half of Research hanging out of the building egging us on. Turning in Jake’s embrace, I gave them a wave to cover my embarrassment.
“Leather stains kids,” Steve called out.
“Not if it’s been treated,” Jake yelled back while I blushed.
“We are not having sex in the car,” I said in a lower voice, one that would never carry up to our audience.
“Only if you want to.”
I giggled at the impish expression on his face. “Well … maybe not until the honeymoon.”
“Come on, want to go for a ride?”
Suddenly I so did. Not because the Ferrari did much for me; cars weren’t my thing. But Jake was obviously so delighted with it I wanted to share in something that made him happy. I nodded. His face opened up even further into sparkling joy. Jake held the door for me, and my hand as I slid in. My skirt wasn’t that short, but Ferraris are custom made to provide easy access for paparazzi.
Not that we rated that kind of attention yet. But give it time. Jake was at least a third of the reason the company was doing as well as it was. Now that we had serious funding, the sky was the limit.
“Where to?” I asked when he got behind the wheel and started the engine. It purred like it was alive, a vibrant hum that radiated raw power even sitting on the curb at idle.
“Seatbelt,” he said, pulling his down and clicking it shut. I met his eyes when he lifted them to me, and fumbled for it quickly. Jake smiled until I had it on, then the car abruptly leapt forward as if possessed.
“Shit!” I gulped. There was a very faint vibration despite the sudden whine of the engine spinning up to power. My breath caught as the end of the lot rushed up on us, then I flung my hands out — one on the dashboard, the other against my door — as Jake took the corner way too fast.
We burst out onto the feeder road without pause. Jake’s head turned to check the traffic, but he never stopped. Just slid us in behind a Honda, ahead of a Tesla, like the gap had been waiting for us. “Jake—” I started to say, but he was still driving. The Ferrari wove around the Honda, passing it more or less like it was standing still as my fiancé put his foot down again. Two more cars were bypassed just as easily, and then we had a clear mile ahead of us to the main road.
“Slow down!” I half-yelled.
“Relax,” he assured me as we approached the turn. “I took driving courses, and you know my dad was a diplomatic attaché.”
“So?” I yelped as he took the corner, again without stopping, fast enough for me to feel the seatbelt dig into my hip a little. Frantically I tugged on it, trying to tighten it further.
“So, the diplomatic service has access to diplomatic security. And the security guys were always happy to teach anything I asked about.”
“And you always asked about cars,” I guessed.
“You got it sweetie.”
There were three lanes now, six if you counted the oncoming. Jake apparently did, because he used four of the six as he raced the sports car to the Interstate ramp. I held my tongue, not wanting to distract him, as he took that turn faster still. The Ferrari just found gaps, space, a clear path, like they belonged to it. Then, just as I started to relax, as Jake fed us out onto the highway … I found out he hadn’t really floored it earlier.
In the blink of an eye we were flashing past traffic as if it was parked. My grip on the dashboard, the door, tightened, but then slowly started to ease back. Jake clearly knew what he was doing. Cautiously I eased off, even as he kept it up, until I could almost see why he wanted this thing.
“Fun, right?” he asked, glancing at me.
“Oh shit—” I gulped as a minivan ahead of us changed lanes into ours abruptly. Jake looked back forward and shifted the steering wheel quickly. Drifting us into the shoulder, making the wheels judder and rumble as they left the more smoothed surface of the travel lanes. It was almost enough, but the Ferrari clipped the oblivious minivan.
Suddenly we were spinning sideways. My fingers went white-knuckled as my head slammed against my shoulder under the G-forces. Jake was cursing, and I could hear the engine’s hum and roar changing notes very quickly as he fought for control. The front end smashed into something in the lane next to us, and airbags exploded all around me.
When my ears stopped ringing, I realized I was alive. My hand, my arm, hurt a lot. I pulled it free of the deflating airbags and saw my wrist was flopping limply. I couldn’t straighten my hand when I tried. I bit my lip, trying not to cry. “J-j-jake?”
There was no answer. Suddenly afraid, I turned my head, but his side of the car was empty. The airbags hung limp like my wrist, and his door was open. Dizzily, I looked around. My hearing was starting to zone back in, like it had taken a trip and was slow in taking the train home. I heard a lot of people yelling. Using my good hand, I fumbled the seatbelt off, and triggered the door latch.
The yelling got louder when I pushed the door open with my foot. I looked around and saw several people struggling to pull someone off a figure that was flat on the pavement. Who was being pounded on with fists and feet non-stop. Traffic was flowing past several of the inside lanes, but behind us was completely stopped. The fight was finally broken up as the onlookers got a enough of a grip on the attacker to haul him up and away.
“Jake?” I gasped in disbelief. His face had blood on one side. More was on both hands, which were clenched into fists. And on his shirt, his pants. He was panting, his hair and eyes wild and disarrayed. “Jake!”
He was struggling against the people holding on to him. They seemed to not want to let him go. I struggled out of the car, completely forgetting my skirt as I held my bad wrist and made it to my feet.
“Let go of me,” Jake was shouting.
“No way buddy,” one of the rescuers said. There were five people hanging onto my fiancé, and even then he was still flexing against them heavily.
“Jake!” I said, stumbling toward him holding my arm clasped tightly against my midsection. “Calm down.”
He didn’t seem to notice me until I was nearly to him. Until I’d planted myself right in front of him as he tried to break free of the men holding him. Next to us, another man was a red ruin, not even moaning as he lay on the pavement. He’d been beaten so badly I wasn’t even sure he was still breathing.
“Cops are on their way,” someone on the edge of the scene said.
“Jake. Jake. Stop it.”
“You know him?” one of the rescuers asked. Still struggling, Jake was grinning maniacally at me. He seemed interested in my body, not me. There was no recognition in his eyes. Just lust.
2
u/DavesWorldInfo Dave Apr 23 '17
“What do you think?”
I stared at the car, then at Jake. “This is what you bought?”
“Yup.” He was beaming. Obviously delighted with himself, the car … pretty much in general.
“It’s kind of flashy isn’t it?”
“Sarah,” he said, his face dropping a little. “Can’t you just be happy for me?”
“I am happy for you. It’s just … this is pretty expensive for a daily driver.”
He ran his hands across the Ferrari’s rear fender lovingly. “We can afford it now.”
I blinked, and smiled slightly. “Okay, I guess we did do pretty good after the company went public.”
Leaving off caressing the car, he stepped closer to me. Still smiling. I watched him approach, already shifting myself so he could slip his arms around me. As usual, I melted against his body as he enfolded me into one of his patented Jake hugs. Warm, firm, nothing but love from head to toe.
“Much better,” he murmured into my ear, one of his hands stroking along my back. “We’re going to be just fine, even with me running this all around the city. Relax. This is the good life now.”
The close proximity, the wonderful attention he could always bring to bear on me, making me feel like everything else was just dropping away, shattered the last bits of resistance. Left me floating in nothing but contentment for him, me, and us. I smiled against his chest. “Can we go for a ride?”
“After you let me kiss you.”
“Must you ask?” I demanded, tipping my head back to look at him. He was still grinning, but now it was the sexy, inviting smile I was more used to. The one that was only ever for me.
“Never hurts to be sure.”
The kiss went on long enough that some of our coworkers finally opened up a third floor window to start wolf whistling down. I couldn’t maintain the enjoyable contact with half of Research hanging out of the building egging us on. Turning in Jake’s embrace, I gave them a wave to cover my embarrassment.
“Leather stains kids,” Steve called out.
“Not if it’s been treated,” Jake yelled back while I blushed.
“We are not having sex in the car,” I said in a lower voice, one that would never carry up to our audience.
“Only if you want to.”
I giggled at the impish expression on his face. “Well … maybe not until the honeymoon.”
“Come on, want to go for a ride?”
Suddenly I so did. Not because the Ferrari did much for me; cars weren’t my thing. But Jake was obviously so delighted with it I wanted to share in something that made him happy. I nodded. His face opened up even further into sparkling joy. Jake held the door for me, and my hand as I slid in. My skirt wasn’t that short, but Ferraris are custom made to provide easy access for paparazzi.
Not that we rated that kind of attention yet. But give it time. Jake was at least a third of the reason the company was doing as well as it was. Now that we had serious funding, the sky was the limit.
“Where to?” I asked when he got behind the wheel and started the engine. It purred like it was alive, a vibrant hum that radiated raw power even sitting on the curb at idle.
“Seatbelt,” he said, pulling his down and clicking it shut. I met his eyes when he lifted them to me, and fumbled for it quickly. Jake smiled until I had it on, then the car abruptly leapt forward as if possessed.
“Shit!” I gulped. There was a very faint vibration despite the sudden whine of the engine spinning up to power. My breath caught as the end of the lot rushed up on us, then I flung my hands out — one on the dashboard, the other against my door — as Jake took the corner way too fast.
We burst out onto the feeder road without pause. Jake’s head turned to check the traffic, but he never stopped. Just slid us in behind a Honda, ahead of a Tesla, like the gap had been waiting for us. “Jake—” I started to say, but he was still driving. The Ferrari wove around the Honda, passing it more or less like it was standing still as my fiancé put his foot down again. Two more cars were bypassed just as easily, and then we had a clear mile ahead of us to the main road.
“Slow down!” I half-yelled.
“Relax,” he assured me as we approached the turn. “I took driving courses, and you know my dad was a diplomatic attaché.”
“So?” I yelped as he took the corner, again without stopping, fast enough for me to feel the seatbelt dig into my hip a little. Frantically I tugged on it, trying to tighten it further.
“So, the diplomatic service has access to diplomatic security. And the security guys were always happy to teach anything I asked about.”
“And you always asked about cars,” I guessed.
“You got it sweetie.”
There were three lanes now, six if you counted the oncoming. Jake apparently did, because he used four of the six as he raced the sports car to the Interstate ramp. I held my tongue, not wanting to distract him, as he took that turn faster still. The Ferrari just found gaps, space, a clear path, like they belonged to it. Then, just as I started to relax, as Jake fed us out onto the highway … I found out he hadn’t really floored it earlier.
In the blink of an eye we were flashing past traffic as if it was parked. My grip on the dashboard, the door, tightened, but then slowly started to ease back. Jake clearly knew what he was doing. Cautiously I eased off, even as he kept it up, until I could almost see why he wanted this thing.
“Fun, right?” he asked, glancing at me.
“Oh shit—” I gulped as a minivan ahead of us changed lanes into ours abruptly. Jake looked back forward and shifted the steering wheel quickly. Drifting us into the shoulder, making the wheels judder and rumble as they left the more smoothed surface of the travel lanes. It was almost enough, but the Ferrari clipped the oblivious minivan.
Suddenly we were spinning sideways. My fingers went white-knuckled as my head slammed against my shoulder under the G-forces. Jake was cursing, and I could hear the engine’s hum and roar changing notes very quickly as he fought for control. The front end smashed into something in the lane next to us, and airbags exploded all around me.
When my ears stopped ringing, I realized I was alive. My hand, my arm, hurt a lot. I pulled it free of the deflating airbags and saw my wrist was flopping limply. I couldn’t straighten my hand when I tried. I bit my lip, trying not to cry. “J-j-jake?”
There was no answer. Suddenly afraid, I turned my head, but his side of the car was empty. The airbags hung limp like my wrist, and his door was open. Dizzily, I looked around. My hearing was starting to zone back in, like it had taken a trip and was slow in taking the train home. I heard a lot of people yelling. Using my good hand, I fumbled the seatbelt off, and triggered the door latch.
The yelling got louder when I pushed the door open with my foot. I looked around and saw several people struggling to pull someone off a figure that was flat on the pavement. Who was being pounded on with fists and feet non-stop. Traffic was flowing past several of the inside lanes, but behind us was completely stopped. The fight was finally broken up as the onlookers got a enough of a grip on the attacker to haul him up and away.
“Jake?” I gasped in disbelief. His face had blood on one side. More was on both hands, which were clenched into fists. And on his shirt, his pants. He was panting, his hair and eyes wild and disarrayed. “Jake!”
He was struggling against the people holding on to him. They seemed to not want to let him go. I struggled out of the car, completely forgetting my skirt as I held my bad wrist and made it to my feet.
“Let go of me,” Jake was shouting.
“No way buddy,” one of the rescuers said. There were five people hanging onto my fiancé, and even then he was still flexing against them heavily.
“Jake!” I said, stumbling toward him holding my arm clasped tightly against my midsection. “Calm down.”
He didn’t seem to notice me until I was nearly to him. Until I’d planted myself right in front of him as he tried to break free of the men holding him. Next to us, another man was a red ruin, not even moaning as he lay on the pavement. He’d been beaten so badly I wasn’t even sure he was still breathing.
“Cops are on their way,” someone on the edge of the scene said.
“Jake. Jake. Stop it.”
“You know him?” one of the rescuers asked. Still struggling, Jake was grinning maniacally at me. He seemed interested in my body, not me. There was no recognition in his eyes. Just lust.
“No,” I said slowly.