Free Revved (Axle Alley Vipers) by Sherilee Gray Page A

station—then proceeded to sing her head off. The woman was beautiful, she had attitude, she was talented, had hidden depths—but she could not sing. Could not hold a single note. And he couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face while he listened to her.
    She massacred two more songs, then at the beginning of “Sweet Home Alabama,” her hand shot out, and she turned it off, then looked over at him. “Hey, why haven’t you asked me out?”
    Surprisingly, he liked drunk Rusty. Drunk Rusty didn’t hold back a damned thing. “Me not asking you out? That have something to do with you and Piper deciding not to wait ?” Whatever the hell that meant.
    “No, that was about Cole.”
    All humor fled, and he glanced over at her. “Cole?”
    “Yup.”
    “Who the fuck’s Cole?”
    “Deacon’s friend.”
    “And why does you getting shit-faced have something to do with this Cole?”
    “It doesn’t.”
    He was this close to banging his head against the steering wheel. “Rusty, who is Cole to you?”
    “A friend…but Piper, she’s been mooning over the guy for years.”
    Okay. He was finally getting somewhere. “So going out drinking, the ‘no more waiting,’ that was Piper’s idea?”
    “Yeah. So why didn’t you ask me out?”
    She was drunk, but apparently drinking didn’t affect her memory. “Was gonna do that tonight.”
    “You were?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Are you still going to?”
    “When you sober up.”
    “I’ve enjoyed our talks,” she said, shifting conversational gears, then gave him another one of those light-up-the-room smiles.
    “Me, too, Foxy.”
    “I like it when you call me foxy.”
    Now he was back to smiling.
    “Did you like talking to me?” she said, turning in her seat, curling her legs up underneath her.
    “Of course.”
    “Did you like talking to me…a lot?”
    “Yeah, Rusty.”
    “Like, a lot, a lot?”
    “What are you getting at?”
    She was blushing, he could see even in the dim light of the car, but she didn’t turn away, kept those beautiful eyes full of mischief and fire aimed at him. “The last time we talked, I thought…I thought that maybe you…” She bit her lip.
    He knew she’d figured out what he was doing the last time they’d talked. Her voice had grown huskier, her breathing heavier. He’d wanted her to know. “What? You thought what?”
    She wriggled in her seat. “Were you…touching yourself?”
    “I was stroking my cock the whole time you talked to me. Your voice makes me so hard, my balls ache. So fucking hard I had no choice but to take my dick in my hand and get myself off while I listened to you. I finished before our phone call did.”
    “Oh.” Her chest rose and fell faster now, and her smooth, bare thighs were squeezed tightly together. “You did that, just from my voice?”
    “All I need when it comes to you.”
    She looked down, licked her lower lip, then her eyes were on him again. “I like your voice, too.” He glanced over at her. “After you hung up…I…”
    “You what, baby?” His cock throbbed behind his zipper, hard enough he could barely think straight, because he knew what she was going to say. And he needed to hear her say it more than he needed his next breath.
    “I slid my hand down the front of my panties and…got myself off.”
    “Yeah?” He swallowed hard. “You play with your clit?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did you come from just that, or did you push your fingers inside, imagine my cock moving inside you?”
    “Yes.”
    “Which is it, Foxy?”
    “I used my fingers. I imagined you were inside me.”
    Jesus fucking Christ. A groan slid past his lips, and he reached down to adjust his aching dick. “How many times you done that? Thinking about me?”
    “A few,” she whispered.
    “I love that, baby. I love that you told me that.”
    He had to be a goddamned saint, because as much as he wanted her, he would not fuck her their first time while she was drunk….and he wanted her in a way that he had never