Chapter Six
Claire
Who knew I could be so impulsive? Who knew I could get my skirt yanked up so high, so fast, that one second I could be trying to cool my jets, and the next second I could be straddling Mr. Sexy Michael DaBruzzi of DaBruzzi Towing and Repairs, in his truck, behind his garage?
He doesn’t seem half as surprised as I am. It’s like he knew I had this in me all along.
His mouth plunders mine, tasting me, exploring me. My hands paw at his body. I get some of the buttons undone on his shirt and I slip my hands inside, feeling the warmth of his skin, the hard lines of his chest.
It feels so good to touch a man again, and I want his hands on me, too.
His lips and tongue slide to my jaw, then move down my throat. I tip my head back, giving him more access as his hands gingerly work the buttons on my blouse. Next thing I know, he’s moving over my lace bra and sucking my nipple into his mouth.
“Touch me,” I tell him.
His breath is warm against my skin when he says, “I am touching you, Princess.”
“With your hands.”
He pulls his head back and grins at me. “My hands are a little dirty at the moment. I’m trying hard not to get grime on your clothes. Touch yourself. I’ll watch.”
“What?”
“Like you were doing before.”
I hesitate. He can’t really mean that.
“Do it, Princess.”
He stretches out his arms, lacing his hands behind my shoulder blades and locking his fingers tight. I lean back in his strong arms like they’re a hammock.
When I wiggle my skirt higher, he looks down at the juncture between my legs. I know what he’s seeing when he lets out a low groan. I’m drenched, and it’s soaked right through the thin bit of white silk and lace.
I keep my eyes on his face. He keeps his eyes on my pussy as I pull the gusset to the side. I drag a finger through my wetness again, drawing it up under my hood and circling my clit.
“How does that feel?” His voice is low and gravelly.
“Wet,” I tell him, which is something he already knows.
“More.”
“Smooth. Swollen. Tight.”
He lets out a strangled sound of legitimate pain. I can feel his hands squeezing together behind my back, like he’s struggling for self-control.
“Keep at it. Work yourself up. I want to watch the juices flow out of you.”
I’m not used to this kind of dirty talk, but it makes me crazy with desire. My fingers work in tight, quick circles over my clit, and I get wetter by the second.
“Fuck yourself,” he says. “Do it.”
I drive a finger inside, right up to the base. His hips rise under me, and I watch as his erection pushes out over the top of his grease-stained pants. The dark purple crest lights something up inside of me, and my finger moves in and out at lightning speed until I can feel everything drawing up tighter and tighter.
I don’t want to come so fast. I’m not ready for this to be over. Acting on inspiration, I use my free hand to stroke my thumb over the head of his cock. His eyes slam shut and his head kicks back. While his eyes are still closed, I raise my other hand and draw my wet finger over his parted lips.
He quickly sucks my finger into his mouth, groaning in response. “God, I knew you’d taste good. Thank you for that, Princess. Now finish.”
I nod, and touch my finger back to my nub, while he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, not wasting a drop of me. That little act is all it takes. I lift my hips and close my eyes, working my clit toward its triumphant conclusion.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god...”
“That’s it, Princess. Show me.”
Everything contracts. Air catches in my throat, and I stop breathing. My walls constrict, holding still at the precarious point of indecision before surrendering to the riotous pulsing. Pulsing. Hard jerks contract and release, making tears roll slowly, gently down my cheeks.
“Beautiful,” he says, as if he’s in awe of what he just witnessed. “So fucking beautiful.”
I can’t move as the final tremors run through me. I’m afraid his arms must be getting tired of supporting me like this, but I don’t think I have the strength to get out of his lap.
He chuckles and pulls me against his chest. My head collapses onto his shoulder, and he kisses my cheek.
“Are you going to let me take you to your party, Cinderella?”
I nod, dazed and sated, against his shoulder.
“Good girl.”
“Do you own a tux?” I murmur.
I feel his chest expand against mine. “No tux, babe.”
“A dark suit?” I slowly push myself upright and shift off his lap to sit beside him again.
“Got the one I wore to my father’s funeral.”
A tingling sadness wraps over my shoulders, and I reach out to rest my hand on his thigh. “Oh, Michael. I’m so sorry.”
He inhales sharply when I say his name, but his eyes soften. “Me, too, Princess. Will a dark suit do?”
“That’ll be perfect. So... I assume you know where the Wellington is? I can meet you there at seven.”
He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You want me to meet you there? After I just watched you fuck yourself in my lap?”
“Well, I—”
He shakes his head. “You won’t have a working car for a while, even if we do have the parts in stock.”
“Oh, yeah.” I glance around, remembering where we are. I think I might have lost some brain cells that time around. “I forgot.”
He chuckles and starts to button up his shirt, hiding away all that goodness. “I’ll pick you up at your house.”
“I live at—”
“I can get your address from Jimmy at the front desk. Check in with him. Have him call you a cab, too, so you can get home.”
“You’re not going to take me home?”
“I got to get your car unhooked, do some paperwork, then get myself cleaned up.” He looks at me suggestively, then adds, “Next time, I’m not gonna be a spectator.”
A shiver goes through me at the thought of a next time, and it makes him grin.
“Also... I gotta iron my shirt.”
“You iron?” Fuck, he’s too good to be true.
“Yeah, babe. I iron.”