The Driving Question Read online

  Skip to Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  A knock at the cabin door drew Jayma from her thoughts. She frowned as she walked towards the door. Some of the more gung-ho journalists took her desire to avoid interviews as a personal challenge. One of the reasons she'd chosen this particular location was its isolation. She'd even had her agent purchase the property under a different name to avoid being found. Her parents, fortunately, had retired to a small Florida town some years ago and their gated community was designed for security. Her own solution had been a little more drastic, but she was enjoying herself. The quiet of Eastern New York was so much different than being in Queens, more like the little town she'd grown up in than the city she'd adopted while in college.

  “Who is it?” Jayma called as she walked towards the door.

  The cabin had top-notch security and there was a ranger outpost only two miles away with a radio she could call, so she wasn't particularly worried about danger. But she also wasn't crazy enough to just open her door without knowing who was on the other side.

  “My name's Calvin, Miss Trias,” a deep male voice said. “I drove all the way up here from Buffalo to talk to you about your book.”

  “How did you find me?” Jayma sighed.

  “I have a friend at county records who did a bit of digging. You went to quite a lot of trouble to keep this place off the radar.”

  There was something familiar about his voice, but Jayma couldn't quite place it. Most likely he was one of the dozens of reporters who'd called her phone until she'd changed her number.

  “Well, I'm sorry you wasted a trip, Mister...?”

  “Ferall,” he answered. “Please, Miss Trias, it's getting really cold out here. Just a few questions and then I'll be on my way.”

  Jayma barely heard his plea. The instant she'd put the two names together, she understood why she knew his voice. She'd heard it every day for four years, joking, laughing, talking.

  Calvin Ferall: captain of the basketball team, homecoming king, salutatorian, and her high school crush. Why hadn't he just played the 'we went to school together' card if he wanted to get in? Then again, he hadn't paid any attention to her in school. It was possible that he didn't remember her name.

  She opened the door.

  Continued within...

  Table of Contents

  The Driving Question Title Page

  About Dara Tulen

  WHAT'S THE PASSWORD? Find out and get an ebook in your inbox!

  BONUS - Preview of "Twists and Curves" by Sandra Sinclair

  THE DRIVING QUESTION

  - A Sexy Interracial Erotic Romance Short Story from Steam Books

  Dara Tulen

  Copyright © 2016 Steam Books

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

  “Entering her 40th straight week as the top selling fiction author in America, 24-year-old Jayma Trias continues to be the newest rising sensation in the publishing world, and still, no one has been able to find out more about the elusive author...”

  Jayma turned off her television and set the remote on the end table.

  She still couldn't get used to hearing her name on the news. She doubted it would be such a big story if she wasn't such a hermit and had done the usual round of talk shows when her book had sold out its first printing in just three days. Since her first novel, The Driving Question, had hit the stands, Jayma had done only one interview and it had been done by phone. Her agent was promoting her as a return to the classic reclusive writer.

  And that was fine with Jayma.

  While she was no longer the unsure, self-loathing, unpopular fat girl she'd been in school, her faith in humanity had been vastly damaged by the people she'd known before she was famous. She would spend time with people as necessary, but the older she got, the more she found herself preferring the solitude.

  She paused in front of the mirror that hung above the living room fireplace and studied her reflection. She'd inherited her ebony waves and obsidian eyes from her half-Mexican, half-Cherokee mother and her milk chocolate skin from her half-French, half-Kenyan father. Her ample curves had come from her Grandma Trias, as had her symmetrical features.

  As a child and teenager, she'd hated her body, but in her sophomore year of college she'd met a man who'd shown her that she was not only beautiful the way she was, but desirable. They'd been lovers for three years and parted ways as friends. She hadn't had a long-term relationship since, but she hadn't lacked for sexual partners, either. Although, with her recent success, it had been a while since someone had shared her bed.

  A knock at the cabin door drew Jayma from her thoughts. She frowned as she walked towards the door. Some of the more gung-ho journalists took her desire to avoid interviews as a personal challenge. One of the reasons she'd chosen this particular location was its isolation. She'd even had her agent purchase the property under a different name to avoid being found. Her parents, fortunately, had retired to a small Florida town some years ago and their gated community was designed for security. Her own solution had been a little more drastic, but she was enjoying herself. The quiet of Eastern New York was so much different than being in Queens, more like the little town she'd grown up in than the city she'd adopted while in college.

  “Who is it?” Jayma called as she walked towards the door.

  The cabin had top-notch security and there was a ranger outpost only two miles away with a radio she could call, so she wasn't particularly worried about danger. But she also wasn't crazy enough to just open her door without knowing who was on the other side.

  “My name's Calvin, Miss Trias,” a deep male voice said. “I drove all the way up here from Buffalo to talk to you about your book.”

  “How did you find me?” Jayma sighed.

  “I have a friend at county records who did a bit of digging. You went to quite a lot of trouble to keep this place off the radar.”

  There was something familiar about his voice, but Jayma couldn't quite place it. Most likely he was one of the dozens of reporters who'd called her phone until she'd changed her number.

  “Well, I'm sorry you wasted a trip, Mister...?”

  “Ferall,” he answered. “Please, Miss Trias, it's getting really cold out here. Just a few questions and then I'll be on my way.”

  Jayma barely heard his plea. The instant she'd put the two names together, she understood why she knew his voice. She'd heard it every day for four years, joking, laughing, talking.

  Calvin Ferall: captain of the basketball team, homecoming king, salutatorian, and her high school crush. Why hadn't he just played the 'we went to school together' card if he wanted to get in? Then again, he hadn't paid any attention to her in school. It was possible that he didn't remember her name.

  She opened the door.

  He'd aged well. His light brown hair was shorter now, keeping with the current style. At just under six feet tall, his body appeared to still be athletic, courtesy of good genes or time spent at the gym. His pale blue eyes were intelligent, but even as he looked at her they did not register any sign of recognition.

  A blast of cold air came through the open door and Jayma shivered. She stepped back and motioned for Calvin to come inside.

  “Please leave your shoes by the door, and come have a seat.”

  She was impressed by how calm her voice sounded. Her heart, however, was pounding. Calvin had never been mean to her, but he'd never acknowledged her, either; too busy with his thin, beautiful girlfriend and rich friends to have time for anything or anyone else.

  “You're
a very hard person to find, Miss Trias,” Calvin said as he chose the chair closest to the fire.

  “Jayma, please,” she corrected him as she settled into the seat opposite him. “And it seems I didn't try hard enough since you still managed to find me.”

  Calvin gave her the smile that used to make her stomach clench and her panties wet. Apparently, it still had the same effect. She pressed her thighs together and tried to will herself to relax.

  “But it wasn't easy. I was just determined.”

  “So who are you with?”

  “I'm a freelancer,” Calvin shrugged out of his coat, confirming Jayma's previous assessment that his physique was just as good as it had been in high school. “I doubt I'll have much of an issue selling an interview with the evasive Jayma Trias.”

  Jayma crossed her ankles, impressed despite herself that he'd done all of this work without a guaranteed payday. He was most likely right that it wouldn't be a difficult sell, but it still took courage to do something like this on faith.

  “Have you read my book? Or just the online summaries?”

  Calvin's smile widened. “I'm always thorough, Miss – I mean, Jayma. I've actually read it twice.” He leaned forward. “What did surprise me, however, was the lack of information I could find on you.”

  “Really?” Jayma raised an eyebrow and hoped that her face didn't betray her.

  “No one seems to know anything about where you grew up or your childhood. In fact, there's really nothing until you graduated from Queens College three years ago, and even then there's not much. You worked a few odd jobs in the city while finishing The Driving Question. After submitting your manuscript to several publishers, it was accepted late last year and, since coming out, has sold out three separate printings.”

  “You really are thorough.”

  “In every way,” Calvin winked at her.

  Jayma stared. Was Calvin Ferall flirting with her? Well, she thought, she wasn't a nervous school girl anymore. Two could play at that game.

  “I may test you on that claim.”

  Calvin seemed startled by her response, but it only threw him for a moment. “I'd be happy to demonstrate.” His tone shifted to having a slightly regretful note. “But I do have a job to do.”

  “I'll tell you what, Mr. Ferall,” an idea, a wicked idea really, came into Jayma's mind and she decided to act on it before she thought better of it. “Maybe we can make this mutually beneficial.”

  “I'm listening,” Calvin sounded intrigued.

  “For every question I answer, you have to do something for me,” Jayma let her fingers toy with the top button on her sweater. Calvin's eyes dropped from her face to her hand and his eyes widened slightly. She waited for the refusal, but it didn't come.

  “All right,” Calvin's gaze returned to her face. To Jayma's surprise, there was real desire in his eyes, not just resignation for what he was going to do for a story. “Let's get started.” He unbuttoned his dress shirt as he asked his first question. “Why isn't there anything about your past?”

  Jayma let her eyes roam over the tight undershirt Calvin was wearing under his dress shirt. He might actually have been in better shape now than he had been as a teenager.

  She answered, “Because there's nothing interesting there. No one wants to hear about a heavy girl from a small town getting picked on in school then going away to college where she finds herself. It's a tired cliché.”

  “Where are you from?” Calvin pulled his undershirt over his head and set it aside as well.

  Jayma shook her head. “Nope. Not getting that one. Sorry, Mr. Ferall. I want to protect my hometown.”

  “I think you should call me Calvin,” he leaned forward, an almost greedy expression on his face. “So, because you didn't answer my question, does that mean I get something else instead?”

  Jayma grinned. If someone had told her five years ago that she'd be stripping because Calvin Ferall wanted her to, she'd have called them crazy, but it was happening. She unbuttoned her sweater and slowly slid it off, leaving herself in her jeans and red lace bra. She chuckled as Calvin swallowed hard, his eyes glued to her double D's.

  The game continued.

  “Did you base the main character Felicity Towers on yourself?” Calvin stood as he dropped his pants.

  The black boxer-briefs he wore hugged his narrow waist. Jayma felt a rush of heat that had nothing to do with the flames in the fireplace as she ran her eyes over the firm body in front of her. The bulge in the front of his underwear indicated that Calvin was enjoying the game as much as Jayma was.

  “Parts of her,” Jayma admitted. “What was your favorite part of the book?”

  Calvin shook his head. “If you want me to answer a question, then you have to pay the price.”

  Jayma stood and unbuttoned her jeans. She kicked them aside, thankful she'd decided to wear her matching panties. The deep red looked good against her skin.

  Calvin's grin had a bit of lust to it. “I liked the scene where Felicity seduces the PI and tells him what to do to her.”

  It was Jayma's turn to swallow hard, desire flaring hot and bright in her belly. She sat back down and parted her legs. The words came to her as easily as they had when she'd first written them. “'Get down on your knees and put that mouth of yours to good use.'”

  Calvin took two long steps and dropped to his knees. He looked up at Jayma for just the briefest of moments before wrapping his arms around her thighs and pulling her to the edge of the seat.

  “'I've been dying to taste you from the first moment I saw you.'”

  His quoting of her book made Jayma shiver in pleasure. He wasted no time as he pulled aside the now-sopping crotch of her panties and licked her from her core to her clit, as he did so the shiver turned into a full-body shudder. She cried out, her hands falling to the hair she'd been waiting years to touch. She buried her fingers in the soft locks as Calvin began to thrust his tongue into her pussy, caressing the silken walls, before darting up to circle the little bundle of nerves that was slowly growing more sensitive.

  His pace increased, though he never lost his rhythm. Twice in, then up, around and down. Repeat. Repeat.

  It didn't take long for Jayma to explode. She cried out his name as she came, pleasure rushing through her with an intensity that she'd never known before, fueled by the knowledge that it was her high school crush pleasuring her.

  Finally, he sat back on his heels, a well-deserved smug smile on his face. “Do I get a reward for that?”

  He reached up, running a finger over the dusky flesh above her bra. When Jayma nodded, unable to speak just yet, Calvin hooked his finger under the edge of the soft lace and pulled it down until the entire breast popped free. Jayma's nipple was already a dark, hard nub, wrinkled and pointed. Calvin raised himself on his knees and leaned forward again, this time capturing the nipple between his lips.

  Jayma gasped, a jolt of pleasure going straight through her to her throbbing pussy. As Calvin grasped her breast, lifting it for a better angle, she ran her hands up his arms and down his back. Her fingers traced along his ribs as she came around to the front of his torso. His teeth scraped over her sensitive flesh even as she lightly raked her nails over his flat nipples. His muscles twitched under his skin when she repeated the gesture, then trailed down his flat abs. She made a sound of frustration as she realized she couldn't reach what she wanted.

  Calvin let her nipple fall from his mouth with an almost obscene plop. He looked up at her, their faces only inches apart. His pale eyes asked her permission as he slowly raised a hand. Jayma nodded, heart thudding in her ears.

  Her skin hummed as Calvin's hand slid around the back of her neck and pulled her towards him until their lips met. She could taste herself on his lips, his tongue, and a thrill ran through her. She kissed him back with years of pent-up, unrequited attraction; her tongue twisting and dancing with his. They moved without either of them realizing it until they were on the rug in front of the fireplace, the flames se
nding heat licking along their nerves.

  At some point during the move, they'd shed the last of their clothing and, as they broke apart, gasping for air, Jayma let her gaze drop to see what she'd fantasized about for years. A trail of brown curls descended from his belly button down to surround the thick shaft curving up towards his flat stomach. Jayma licked her lips as she pushed on Calvin's shoulders. He fell back on the rug, staring up at Jayma.

  She wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, her fingers not touching as she began to stroke him, reveling in the feel of him swelling beneath her ministrations. Calvin's breathing began to speed up as Jayma lowered her head. She ran her tongue around the head before wrapping her lips around it.

  “Fuck,” Calvin growled the word as Jayma began to take more of him in her mouth.

  Jayma could feel her pussy dripping as Calvin's cock filled her mouth, the ache between her legs almost unbearable. She wanted him inside her more than she'd ever wanted anyone. She inhaled through her nose and relaxed her throat, letting the tip of him slip further inside until her nose pressed against the dark curls. She held herself there, conscious only of the weight of him on her tongue, the fingers twisting and tangling in her hair, the sound of him cursing as she swallowed, her throat muscles massaging his cock. Only when her lungs began to burn did she pull back, his dick nearly purple with need.

  “Wh – what the...” Calvin stammered, his eyes wide and wild. His pupils had blown wide, leaving only a thin ring of light blue around the black.

  Jayma turned around and bent over until she was on all fours. She looked over her shoulder at Calvin, the invitation clear. He scrambled up onto his knees, hesitating only for a brief moment to ask a question.

  “Protection?”

  Jayma shook her head. “I'm on the pill.”

  That, it seemed, was all of the encouragement he needed. Calvin positioned himself with one hand and gripped Jayma's hip with the other. His tip teased at her entrance for a second before he snapped his hips forward and buried his nine inches in her wet heat with one thrust.