A Little Detour

Rolling your eyes, you lean against the passenger side window and stare out, looking anywhere but at him. Right now, you're pissed. You're in a predicament and it's all his damn fault. He thinks he knows everything-which he doesn't--but God forbid Marshall Mathers admit defeat and conclude that the two of you are freakin' lost.

And lost because of him at that.
You told him you guys were passing the correct exit to get to Skylar's boyfriends' house. You told him and he dismissed you, glancing down at his sloppy ass directions he'd taken down on a phone call earlier, telling you he knew what he was doing and to be quiet. Right. Sure he did...

Fifteen minutes later and you know you two are completely on the wrong fucking side of town, and still, he refuses to stop and get directions. Typical.

And what's even worse is that you aren't even supposed to be in his stupid Tahoe right now! Since last week, you've been avoiding him religiously and you know damn well Royce and Skylar schemed and plotted this whole thing in the first place.

You see, to begin with, Royce had insisted on picking you up and taking you to the BBQ for Skylar's birthday bash this afternoon because you were right on the way. Then mysteriously, you received a text from him that said he was downstairs in his car waiting for you 'cause Royce had got caught up and would have to meet you later. Somehow, you don't think that was a coincidence. Especially knowing the three of them. He hadn't bothered to contact you in a few days though and now the bastard had the nerve to...

"What are you pouting for?" He snaps after a few minutes of silence, breaking you out of your bitter thoughts.

You're stopped at a red light and you'd like nothing more than to reach over and smack him. He has a relaxed demeanor about him and you're sitting here pissed, stressed, and hating him because he's such a jerk; but such a sexy, fuckable jerk... and oh you hate him for that, too. You hate that you've been missing him this past week and even more that you still want him despite everything he's done.

"We're going the wrong fucking way," you answer him rudely, at last. "And I'm not pouting, I'm thinking about what an idiot you are while I sit here and let you drive me to God-only-knows- where -we'll-end -up."

"Ya know (Y/N)," he growls out, slapping his hand against the steering wheel in frustration, "I'm really getting sick of your attitude. If you're mad about something, then just fucking come out and say it. And stop bitching about where we are... I know where I'm going."

You snort and cross your arms over your chest. You notice the disapproving sideways glance he gives you but you don't much care. Your eyes travel back to his hands on the steering wheel. His hands have always been your favorite part about him. They're big and sexy and strong and his fingers are nice and long, perfect for delving deep inside you, pleasing you in the best way you've ever been given in your entire life... Shit, thinking like that, shit, it reminds you of the last time he finger-fucked you. ..

Oh God...you remember it perfectly. It was movie night over at Skylar's place. Everyone in the group was there and you two had been hooking up secretly for a few weeks by then. He sat with you on the couch that night while you watched some stupid, scary movie everyone else picked out to watch. You don't even remember the name of the movie let alone what happened in it, you just remember the way his fingers felt that night; so good, rubbing you, and fucking you, deep and slow...

You were just snuggled up innocently, a little couch blanket covering the two of you up. You were sort of into the movie, but not really. Scary movies aren't your thing; you usually just find them pointless and predictable. He smelled so good that night though and when you felt his hand rubbing on your thigh back and forth, your heart had started to pick up it's pace...
The next thing you knew, Marshall was rubbing you through your little pajama shorts, making you so wet and horny you thought you were going to pass out. The movie was totally forgotten and when he finally stuck his hand down your panties you almost died and went straight to heaven. You looked around and no one was paying attention in the dark room, their eyes all glued to the dumb bitch on the big screen tv, running around the room, avoiding getting stabbed.