Free Terms of Desire: Tempt Me Twice, Part One by Lauren Hawkeye

Terms of Desire
    I wanted to fuck in the heat.
    We’d been driving for hours, my husband and I, driving along the highway that stretched, a skinny black ribbon, for as far as the eye could see. The smell of road tar gone gooey under the burn of the blistering sun snuck through the vents of our aging Ford Crown Vic and clung to the insides of my nostrils. The frigid air pouring out of the dash at the same time created humps all over the lightly tanned skin of my bare arms.
    I wanted to be out there, in that heat. I wanted to feel the rays of the sun soothe away the goose bumps, wanted to breathe blistering mouthfuls of air that seared my lungs, even as steam rose sinuously from the asphalt.
    And even more than that, I wanted to feel the slickness of sweat dripping down my temples, the salt stinging my eyes as I was pressed back against metal that reddened my skin. I wanted to wiggle my toes out of my sandals and open my legs wide as a hard cock entered the welcoming wetness of my cunt.
    I wanted the heat.
    What I didn’t want was to spend another minute cooped up inside the fucking car, rubbing my temples against the headache that the stale air had wrought. I didn’t want Austin to ask me, for the millionth time, what was wrong.
    I simply didn’t have an answer. There was no one thing that was wrong with me, and yet nothing was quite right, either.
    I sighed. Propping my feet up on the dash, I toyed with the end of the band aide that was plastered to my knee and turned to my husband.
    “ How much longer?” From the corner of my eye I saw Austin huff out an impatient breath, one that he tried to conceal. I knew that the slight whine in my voice turned the innocent question into the adult version of “are we there yet?”
    As always, he was infinitely patient with me. He patted me on the knee, his fingers lingering on the soft skin just behind the curve.
    “Just over the next hill, sweetie.” Blowing my blue black bangs out of my eyes, I scowled sideways at him, not appreciating the tease as I once would have.
    I’d never been good on long car rides. I’d never been good at sitting still, period, and why I had ever thought that the long drive from the Albertan Rockies to Bandit Creek, Montana might be fun, I didn’t know.
    I cast a sidelong glance at my handsome husband, whose tanned Adam’s apple bobbed as he hummed along with the radio. I did know, actually. We hadn’t had a lot of time to spend together lately, and when Austin had broached the idea of the road trip I’d overlooked the fine details in my excitement. I had thought that maybe, just maybe, three days inhabiting each other’s space would help to strengthen the bond between us, the one that had begun to crumble under the stress of late nights at work and a wavering sex life.
    “Callie!” Austin’s voice was sharp, and I realized that I had been drumming my fingers on the dash board in impatience.
    “Sorry,” I muttered and sat back, willing myself to hold still, to look through the clear glass of the window at the scenery, anything to keep myself from driving us both crazy. Despite my supreme effort, within a minute I was fidgeting with the soft strings that edged the hem of my cutoff jeans. I twined one around my pinky finger until it began to cut off my circulation, leaving the soft tip white.
    A loud sigh from the driver’s seat told me that I was doing it again.
    “I’m sorry!” I exclaimed again, irritation coloring my words. “I’m just so goddamn bored!”
    There was another sigh, which was followed by a slightly weary smile. I knew that I was being a brat. But the light upward curve of Austin’s full mouth reminded me that he loved me anyways—brat, bitch, neither or both.
    “Give me your hand.” He held out his own, palm up.
    “Why?” He scowled, as he always did when I defied him. I often thought that, for someone who didn’t care to be questioned, he had sure married the wrong woman.
    “Just do it, Callie.” A slight