Jim Nadia American Pie Novels & Stories

Promise Nadia sat grumpily in his car, a pout on her face. Staring ahead as he weaved in and out of traffic, the speedometer on his dash read ninety, and he showed no sign of slowing down. She gnawed on her lip so she wouldn't say anything and held onto the Oh shit handle for dear life. The typical commute from Clearwater to Tampa took less than thirty minutes. When they reached her crummy apartment, she had half a mind to kiss the ground, but she was determined not to let him know she was bothered. If she could ride with Ella, then she could ride with anyone.

I was having sex at his age, but I wasn’t exactly the best role model. The scene would have never bothered me before, though now it reminded me of fucking Mila. It seemed I couldn’t go one minute without thinking about her today, and the knowledge worked aggravation through me. I grabbed the collar of Vadim’s coat and dragged him out of his chair toward the back door. Then I realized I knew those feminine moans and stilled, a dark chuckle escaping me. “You reek of desperation, Nadia.” “You probably reek of your American!” she called out breathlessly between the steady slap of flesh.