Hot Driver - S01 E71

Story 14 hours ago

Hot Driver - S01 E71

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 71

Roadside – Evening

Duane drove with one hand on the wheel, the other occupied every few seconds by Ivory’s fingers threading through his, her lips pressing warm, lingering kisses against the back of his neck from where she’d climbed halfway into the front seat despite the seatbelt’s protest.

“Ivory, I’m trying to drive,” he said, laughing, swerving slightly as her mouth found a particularly sensitive spot below his ear.

“I’m not stopping you.”

“You’re going to get us killed.”

“Dramatic,” she murmured, pressing one more kiss there before finally settling back into her own seat, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

“Where are we even going?” he asked, glancing sideways at her.

“The mall. I need something for tonight. So do you.”

“I have clothes, Ivory.”

“Not for tonight, you don’t,” she said simply, and refused to elaborate further no matter how he pressed.

He pulled into the mall’s parking structure a short while later, and the moment they stepped out, Ivory reached into her bag and pulled out a simple black mask, fitting it over the lower half of her face.

“Habit,” she said, catching his questioning look. “Being recognized everywhere gets exhausting.”

They walked through the mall hand in hand, and she steered them first toward the men’s section, moving with the brisk confidence of someone who knew exactly what she wanted before she’d even seen it.

She pulled a black suit from the rack within minutes — sleek, clearly expensive, the fabric rich beneath her fingers.

“This one,” she said, holding it up against him, nodding approvingly. “Perfect.”

“Ivory, this isn’t necessary—”

“Anything for my babe,” she said simply, already handing it off to a hovering attendant. “Don’t argue with me.”

She dragged him next toward the women’s section, and Duane noticed almost immediately that most of the racks bore a small, familiar embroidered tag near the collar.

“Wait,” he said, frowning at one. “Is this your brand?”

Ivory smiled, something soft and pleased flickering across her face.

l “Most of it, yes.”

“You own half this store.”

“I own the label. The store just carries it.” She turned to him expectantly. “Pick something for me.”

“Me?”

“You. I trust your eyes.”

He wandered the racks slowly, considering, until his hand landed on a black backless dress, sleek and elegant, cut to match the exact shade of the suit she’d chosen for him. He paired it without hesitation with a set of heels and a delicate necklace from the display nearby.

“This,” he said, holding it all up.
Ivory studied his selection, eyebrows raising slightly, impressed despite herself. “You have good taste.”

“I have good taste in you,” he corrected, and she rolled her eyes, though her cheeks warmed regardless.

They took turns in the fitting rooms, Duane emerging first in the suit, and Ivory’s breath caught properly at the sight of him — the fabric fitting him like it had been tailored specifically for his frame, sharp and effortless all at once.

My babe is so hot, she thought, unable to stop the small, helpless smile that spread across her face. Genuinely, ridiculously hot.

“Well?” he asked, turning slightly.

“You’ll do,” she said, though the way her eyes lingered gave away far more than her words did.

She disappeared to change herself, and when she stepped back out, Duane’s mouth actually went dry.

The dress hugged every curve of her, the low back leaving a long stretch of smooth skin bare, the necklace catching the store’s overhead lights in a way that made her look like something out of a magazine spread rather than a real, breathing woman standing in front of him.

He extended his hand toward her, unable to find words immediately, and she placed hers in it, smiling.

After paying — Ivory waving off his attempt to contribute anything at all — they walked out together, fingers still interlocked, and Duane reached over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear as they crossed the parking lot.

She stole a quick kiss for the gesture.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly wanting more than that.

“Not here,” she said, laughing, pulling him along toward the car.

He followed without complaint, eyes tracking the way the dress moved against her with every step, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face.

This woman is going to be the death of me, he thought. And I don’t even care. a bad boy smile spread agains his lips as he watched the way her @ss bounced in the tight fabric.