Joy Ride

Something in her bursts free. She loops her hands around my neck. “I want you. I want you so much,” she shouts, and then I give it to her, fucking her through her next orgasm as she cries out in bliss.

She’s limp, fucked within an inch of her life, but I’m not done.

I tug her off the car, pull out, and spin her around. “Hands on the hood, tiger,” I say, and she listens, flattening her back and spreading her palms across all that yellow metal. She lays her cheek on the Challenger and looks back at me with dazed, lust-filled eyes. I run a hand down her one bare cheek, then I shove into her hot, tight pussy once more.

And then we fuck it out.

All this anger.

All this frustration.

All this almost . . . hate.

I fuck her until she screams my name again. As she comes, I grip her hair and yank it hard.

There’s nothing left but white-hot desire. I’ve never felt it like this before. Not for this long. Not with this kind of intensity. I pump into her, gripping her hips, until it’s my turn.

I groan as an orgasm barrels down my spine, speeds through my body, and seizes me. It takes over, and it’s a thousand times better than the solo one against the door. Hell, it’s a million times better than I imagined.

Then it’s more, when I collapse on her and she turns her face to mine and dusts my cheek with a soft, tender kiss. I’m still groaning in pleasure, but I manage a smile, too.

I gently flip her over, pull her up against my bare chest, and give her a soft kiss on her lovely, swollen lips.

“Mmm.”

Then I whisper in her ear, “Knew I could make you come more than twice.”

“That’s because your dick is eight and a half inches.”

I laugh and shake my head. “It’s not the size that does it.”

“Then what is it?”

I’m about to tell her it’s how much I want her, it’s chemistry, it’s this sizzling connection between us. But a bell dings.

Shit.

We both scramble, and Henley yanks up her panties and jean leg. I pull off the condom and ball it up in the wrapper and stuff it in my pocket. I’ll throw it out later. The soles of heavy shoes pound through the entryway office. I grab my shirt and tug it on. As Henley adjusts her shirt and stuffs her foot into her boot, she shoots me a who the hell is here look.

“Probably one of the guys,” I say, my heart beating faster.

“Hey, boss.”

It’s Sam. A curious look spreads on his face as he takes in the scene—the tangled mess of her hair, the bee-stung lips, the wet spot on my shirt.

Pride surges in me, yet so does another feeling.

Hypocrisy.

I told Sam to watch what he said to the mechanic at John Smith. And here I am, fucking the lead builder on the hood of a car Sam’s working on after hours.

“We’re just working on the . . .” I point to the Lambo.

“I need to go. I have a . . . I have a thing,” Henley says, and then nods at my guy. “Hey, Sam. Good luck with the Challenger.”

She grabs her purse from the chair and hightails it out of here.

As I catch the parting glimpse of her with that big bag on her shoulder, I remember the change of clothes in it. And as I help Sam with the engine on the Challenger, all I can think about is what her thing could be.





27





“I can take it from here,” Sam says, a few hours later. “But thanks for staying late to help me.”

“No problem.” I grab a rag and wipe my dirty hands.

Sam needed a little help on this beast, and that’s my job—to show him how to make an engine sing, not fuck a girl on the hood of the car he’s restoring. Perhaps staying late is my penance for my hypocrisy.

“So.” Sam clears his throat as he works on degreeing the cam. “You and Henley—”

I jerk my head, nerves prickling the back of my neck as I cut him off. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t breathe a word about the two of us all evening, and it’s not his place to either. Even so, I can’t help but feel I crossed lines tonight when I decided to sleep with the rival.

Sam cranes his neck to look up from the engine at me. “Whoa. I was just going to say I didn’t realize you and Henley used to work together.”

I release a tight breath as I set down the rag. Momentary relief floods me. The question he’s asked is simple. “Yeah, she was my apprentice five years ago.”

“Karen mentioned it when we went out a second time.”

“Karen the mechanic at John Smith? I met her briefly the other week when I stopped by.”

Sam nods as he takes a reading from the dial indicator. “She likes Henley. She says she’s a great builder. Karen loves having another chick there, and she said that all the guys over there have a lot of respect for her. They think she’s doing a great job at the shop. I just hadn’t realized you two had some history, and now you’re working together on the show car. That’s how tight this business is.” He laughs. “Small world, huh?”

I force out a chuckle that sounds as if it’s strangling me. “Yeah, it sure is.”

I feel like an ass for telling Sam to watch his back on his date. Meanwhile, I torched my own advice to ashes a few hours ago. I’m not sure what to say next, but I decide to start with being less of an asshole boss about his personal life. “So, you and Karen are getting along?” I ask, and it feels like eating chalk. I do not enjoy talking about extracurriculars with my employees. Their private lives should be private. But, I started the discussion, so I need to finish it with a proper reset, not another warning on who to date.

“We’re going to keep seeing each other. It’s not like we’re going to pool our resources and get one of those ten-thousand-dollar Snap-on Mammoth tool sets and open a shop together. But she’s cool.”

I laugh and gesture to the five-foot-high tool set I’ve got that contains everything under the sun that a professional builder needs. “A 10K Snap-on tool set is absolutely the sign of true love.”

Sam taps his temple with his free hand. “I’ll keep that tidbit up here in case someone ever gives me one.”

“I’m glad to hear it’s going well with her.” I walk closer to the engine, and it’s then that I see he’s about to make an error.

“Hold on.” I shift gears from after-hours affairs to the engine as I explain what he’s doing wrong.

His face is crestfallen. “Oh shit.”

I clap his back. “No worries, man. That’s what I’m here for. Let’s get this right.”

I’m patient as I walk him through the next steps in degreeing the cam. It’s painstaking work, and calls for incredible precision, but Sam listens and takes direction well. Soon enough, we’ve got the issue tackled.

He holds up a fist for knocking. “Man, am I glad you didn’t leave right away.”

I knock back. “You know you should never hesitate to ask me anything, right? Whatever you need help with. That’s my job,” I say, and this is way easier than who’s dating who at the competition. I take some solace that I’m still good at teaching my guys.

He nods, an earnest look in his blue eyes. “I do. I appreciate it.” Then he winks. “By the way, you do know this car is a dude, right?”