“You’re fucking gorgeous,” I breathe, my teeth nipping at her ear. She squeals and tries to move away, only giving our bodies more friction to work with.
Her heels locked at my back, her nails digging into my skin, I crash my mouth onto hers. She meets it with matching eagerness. Need and lust make me dizzy, blocking out everything but what comes next.
Spinning us around, her foot catching a tray of bolts and screws and knocking it to the floor, I scramble to find somewhere to sit her. Pin her. Lay her out for the taking because if anything is true, it’s that I’m gonna fucking take her.
Our breathing is ragged, her hands yanking on my hair to lift my chin for more access to my mouth. She kisses me like a starved woman and I’m the last oasis in the desert.
“Get. Inside. Me,” she begs between breaks in the kisses.
“Stop being so bossy,” I say, tugging at her bottom lip.
“You apparently need told since it’s taking you so long.”
Slamming her back against the wall, I pin her and dig between us, freeing my cock, and lining it up with her opening. It’s my intention to take it easy, to go slow and enjoy it, but the frenzy of the moment puts all of that aside.
With a slight twist of her hips, she sinks down. Taking me in with a sharp gasp, her fingernails biting into my shoulder, she arches her back and takes in as much as she can get.
“Walker!” she yells, a stuttered breath punctuating the final syllable.
“Is that hard enough?”
“Ahhh . . .”
“Come on, Slugger,” I tease. “Words or else I’ll think you’re speechless.”
“Never,” she manages to eke out as her eyes roll to the back of her head.
My hips flex, giving my cock to her with a brutal urgency. She groans, her eyes giving up and staying closed, as I press into her like I’ve wanted to since the first night I saw her.
She squeezes around me, the muscles of her pussy pulsing. Grasping under her ass, holding her up, she grips my shoulders and holds herself in place as I pound her into the wall.
“I’m not hearing anything,” I say through gritted teeth. “Don’t let me down now.”
“Can. You. Go. Harder?” she asks, her tone coated with a plea for more.
“You sure?” I slam into her so hard I think I’m going to break her.
“Yes,” she almost whines. “Like this.”
The clock to the right of her head bangs against the drywall with the rhythm, the metal table beside us clamoring with each thrust. It’s a dizzying staccato effect, an almost musical element to the situation. As she constricts harder, her moans getting louder and more urgent, I suck in a beaded nipple and feel her come apart on my cock.
Her body gushes over me, the force of the ejaculation almost shoving me out of her. I drive harder into her, nipping and kissing my way from her breast to her mouth, swallowing her pleasured moans.
As she goes limp, letting me hold almost all of her weight up on my hands, her head falls onto my shoulder. I have to move, change things up, before this is all I remember.
Gazing across the garage, I spot an old eighties Corvette Peck has been restoring for someone in town. The curves in the hood almost make a makeshift alley for a body. Walking over to the hood, my feet slapping against the cool concrete, I lay her down on the hood of the car.
Her eyes go wide as she squirms against the sleek carbon fiber material. “What are you doing?” she asks, cupping her breasts in her hands. They spill over her fingers, a decided difference from the flatness of her stomach. “Isn’t this someone’s car?”
“Yes, it’s someone’s car. And I’m going to lay you down on the hood and make you come all over it. Sound good?”
Her eyes roam my body, down my jaw, across my shoulders complete with the imprints of her fingernails, and down the lines of my abs. She flicks her gaze back to mine, her legs falling to the sides. “You going to start now or what?”
A victorious smile stretches across my face and it’s reflected on hers. Bending over, I press a kiss against her lips as I find the opening of her pussy and work my cock back inside. It’s tighter now than it was.
Grabbing her hips and pulling her down the hood, I position her calves on my shoulders. Her tits bounce as I drive into her. “You feel so good,” I tell her, my brain getting fuzzy as I get lost in the rhythm.
My balls slap off her ass, her body squeaking against the car as I deliver us both higher and higher towards climax. Her blonde hair with faded purple streaks looks like a halo against the black paint of the ‘Vette, her porcelain skin like an angel.
Digging my hands into the dips of her hips, I hold her in place as I drive into her pussy. Each thrust, each penetration into her delectable body, brings me closer to the edge.
“I . . .” she says, trying to warn me she’s going to come. But I know. I can feel it. “Ah . . .” She moans, lifting her hips even higher.
Stroking as deep as I can get, hitting the back wall of her body, I feel the gush of her orgasm just as mine hits.
Her legs stiffen against my shoulders, her back arching off the car. She shouts my name, along with a stream of unmentionables, as I unload into the condom.
The orgasm feels like it’s ripping me apart, decimating every cell in my body, yet the best part might be watching her fall to pieces. The way her full lips part, her cheeks flush, a gloss of sweat dots her forehead. Knowing the contented look on her face is because of me is, quite possibly, the best thing I’ve ever witnessed.
And then it’s over.
My blood still roaring through my veins, unable to find its equilibrium, I pull out with a gentleness so as not to hurt her. Still, she gasps, sitting up and looking mildly embarrassed.
I want to tell her not to be, that she just gave me the best orgasm of my life. That I’ll never look around this building and not think about the way she looked on the hood of this car. But I don’t. Because I’m a dick. I have to be.
Guilt hitting me head-over-fist, I know what I have to do, even if I really don’t want to do it.
“Need a hand?” I ask, offering her one.
She takes it and scoots off the car. Looking back at where she just lay, she bites her lip. “Can we, like, buff out where my body was?” she says, peering up at me.
“I’ll do it later.”
“I’d rather no one sees that, you know.”
Instead of telling her there’s no fucking way I’d let anyone see that, I shrug. “I’ll get it tonight. No worries.”
Sienna watches me for a long moment. “So, what now?”
“What do you mean, ‘what now’?” I ask, even though I know exactly what she means. I also know what I need to do. I have to turn away from her to do it. “Now you leave.”
I cringe as the words fall out of my mouth, hang my head as I say them. She doesn’t say anything and I close my eyes and wait for it.
“Well, okay then. Now I leave.”
“Sienna . . .” I swing around on my heel, my heart striking so hard I think she has to hear it. There’s nothing I want more than to pull her against me, hold her, tell her how amazing she is. But what good would that do? None. “Um, thanks again for helping me tonight.”
She smiles, but it’s not the sweet grin I’m used to. It’s cold. Angry. Embarrassed. “Sure. No problem.”
She scoops up her clothes and disappears into the lobby. I see the light flip on in the bathroom as I get dressed. After a little bit, the door opens and the light goes off and I make out her shadow as she heads to the front door.
She pauses, maybe waiting on me to stop her. My hand reaches for the door, maybe to take her up on that. But for the first time in a while, my body and brain are on the same page and I do us both a favor and don’t. I just watch her go to her car, making sure she makes it safely inside, and then pick up a hammer and chuck it against the wall.
“I HATE THIS FOR you.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t love it for me either,” I laugh, looking across the table at Delaney.
Shoving the food into my mouth, I settle back in the cozy chair of Peaches, a warm buzz settling over me from the glass of wine I’ve already consumed.
Peaches is a quaint, oddball place in Merom that serves a little of everything. Want pizza? They have it. Mexican? There are offerings. A sandwich? Some of the best I’ve ever had. It was the first place Delaney brought me when I got here last year and it’s remained my favorite spot, especially on the weekends when I can people-watch.
Tonight, the tables are all but full with patrons ranging in every age group and demographic. Even the area reserved for large parties is bustling with a group of screaming kids with baseball hats. The chaos is just what I need to lift my mood and keep me from going home and overanalyzing this thing with Walker until I’m ready to cry like the girl I’m not. Like the girl I refuse to be.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks, running a finger around the rim of her glass.
“Not without more wine.”
“I should’ve known something was wrong when you already had a glass sitting there when I walked in.”
Motioning to Chester as he looks up from the table he’s cleaning, I gesture for two more glasses of white wine and then turn my attention back to Delaney.
She wastes no time getting to the point. “How was it?”
“We really need to separate this into ‘sex’ and ‘after sex,’” I say and then take another bite of my dinner.
“Let’s start with sex.”
“Unforgettable,” I offer. “Amazing. I’ve never felt so . . . catered to. Does that make sense?”
“It makes me jealous.”
I fall back in my seat. “You know how sex can be almost transactional? Like you’re with a guy and it’s hot and then it’s over and there’s really nothing there. You might sleep with him again, but it’s an exchange of an orgasm.”
“Yes. And for one, I appreciate those.”