Epilogue
Mia
Garrett and I are celebrating our three month anniversary today. Our wedding is still a month away, but I feel like we’ve been together forever. I never knew how amazing it could feel to have another person to share your life with.
Not that it is all sunshine and roses. We’ve had our share of rough road. Moving out of my little bungalow was harder than I would have thought. Of course, there’s my job as well. It took a lot of convincing to keep Garrett out of my career path. He finally, although ungraciously, agreed to stay in the backseat on that particular journey. It helped that Mr. Morgan took me under his wing, and I don’t deal directly with Lucas anymore. I didn’t argue when Garrett insisted that I take over the management of his portfolio. It gives us an excuse to have business lunches that are almost always accompanied by a noon-time quickie in his office.
Garrett has been working all morning, like most Saturday mornings, on his current project, a motorcycle for me. I had been hooked on riding from the first time I slid behind him and we rode our favorite stretch of Highway 54. A big machine vibrating between my legs, Garrett warm and solid for me to wrap my arms around- what’s not to like. He assures me that I’ll like driving my own even more than riding with him.
I have been waiting patiently for him to finish, doing a bit of my own work this morning, but I can’t concentrate. I want him badly this morning and decide I don’t want to wait any longer. I slip upstairs and change into something I know he is going to like.
I pad in my stocking feet downstairs. I move quietly, trying to emulate his ninja style.
“Hey, baby. What are you up to,” he asks, not looking up from the part he is working on. I pout a little. Try as I might, I just can’t perfect ‘the sneak’.
“Oh nothing,” I say, standing there, waiting for him to look at me. “I brought you something to drink. I just thought you might be thirsty”
“Thanks, babe. Give me a second- I almost have this. Did you get the proposal done,” he asks, still with the hunk of metal in his hands.
I stand, fiddling with the can of Coke and wait. He finally realizes that I haven’t responded and looks up.
Garrett’s hands go still and I can’t help but smile. Gotcha, I think. I might not be able to sneak, but I know how to get his attention. I knew it would only take one look.
I am standing in front of him in fishnet, thigh high stockings and a white baby-doll negligee. My breasts are spilling out the top and the sheer fabric clearly shows my pink, hard nipples. I love the silky fabric against my skin so I move slightly so I can feel it swish against me. He smiles one of his lopsided smiles that make me hot and cold all over. It is the smile of someone who is about to get his cake and eat it too.
“It’s kind of hot down here. I thought you might be thirsty,” I say as I take the cold can of soda and run it down my neck and across the top of my breasts, shivering with the cold sensation. My nipples pucker harder. The sensation is wonderful.
Garrett slowly extricates himself from under the bike and sits on the floor looking up at me. I give him a smile and hand over the can of soda. He opens it automatically and sips, watching me as I pull over a chair.
I put one foot on the chair and slowly begin to work my stocking down. I take my time, occasionally looking at him and enjoying the intent look on his face as he watches my hands. I push the stocking down a few inches and then let my hands run the full length of my leg, caressing from my toes up to my hip and then back to where I had stopped with the stocking. I work the stocking down a few more inches and then slide my fingers up my inner thigh and across the lips of my pussy. I want to stop and stroke myself, but I know that it isn’t time. Not yet, so I take a deep breath and go back to work on the stocking. I am slow and deliberate, giving him a show. I love the way he licks his lips occasionally and shifts a bit, making room for his growing arousal. At last, I pull the stocking free and drop it on the floor.
I sit on the edge of the chair and extend my stocking clad leg in his direction.
“Help me with this one,” I ask, as I run my hands up my leg and hooked a thumb under the top of the stocking. I spread my legs wide letting him see the lacy white thong and how damp it already is.
Garret smiles and hums a low assent as he slides over to me and positions himself on the floor in front of me. I lean down and kiss him gently. “My hands are dirty,” he warns. As if to make his point, he places his hands on each of my inner thighs and spreads my legs wider. When he takes his hands away, greasy fingerprints mark my soft white flesh.
“I’m a dirty girl. Remember?” I kiss him again, this time hot and passionate. He rumbles low in his chest, the way he does when his passion and need begin to rise. I love that sound and tremble in anticipation.
His hands wander up my leg and I gasp as he turns his head and brushes the inside of my thigh with a hot kiss followed by a gentle nip with his teeth. He looks up at me and rises to his knees, taking each of my hands and placing them on the seat behind me.
“Don’t move your hands,” he whispers as he kisses my neck. I grip the chair hard as he works his way down my body and to settle between my legs.
Garrett kisses my thigh gently. He traces the top of the stocking with his light strokes of his fingers. He slides one inside the top band and starts inching it down. I watch and my center aches, silently begging him to kiss back up the other way. I am throbbing with desire, and my hands are hurting with the death grip I have on the chair. I want to let go, bury my hands in his hair, and pull his mouth to my dripping pussy.
He keeps up his slow progress completely aware of how desperately I want more. He slides the stocking down and kisses his way back up my thigh, always stopping just short of the spot that I am dying for him to touch. Finally, he works the stocking off my foot and sits rubbing and massaging my calf. He reaches up to the juncture of my thighs and barely brushes his fingers across my sensitive, aching lips. He tortures me with soft strokes and butterfly kisses, watching me as I tremble, arch, and whimper.
He let go of my leg and comes back to kneel between my legs. This time he kisses the top of my breasts and begins to work the hooks on the back of the lingerie. Releasing them from their support, my breasts fall free. I tremble as he feasts on them, sucking and tugging at my nipples. I groan and my hands came up to pull him closer as he takes one between his teeth. He mouth stops and he guides my hands back to the chair. He kisses my shoulder and neck and catches my earlobe in his teeth before whispering, “If you want more, keep your hands still.”
Garrett works his way down to between my legs. I open wide to him. He kisses me through the lacy fabric. I love the extra sensation of his tongue with the lace against my sensitive, throbbing nub. As he probes deeper, I dig my fingernails into the wood of the chair to keep from grabbing his head and forcing him to increase his deliberately light and teasing pressure.
I am wriggling under his pleasuring mouth, inching closer to the edge of the seat, begging for more. His fingers slide under the lace and slowly inside me while his tongue firmly strokes against my clit, rubbing the soaked lace against it. I moan and rock my hips as he increases his pressure and slides a second finger inside me. My arms are weak and shaking as I desperately fight to keep my hold against the pleasurable assault.
As I start to climb higher and higher in ecstasy, he suddenly stops and smiles wickedly.
“Not yet,” he says, standing in front of me, unbuttoning his jeans.
I lick my lips and suck in air, trying to slow down my breathing. I watch him hungrily. I want to suck him. I want to trade places with him and let me drive him wild. He holds out his hand and when I take it, he pulls me to my feet.
Garrett sits in my vacated seat, hard cock standing straight in the air. He strokes himself and looks at me with a raised eyebrow. It is my turn in the driver’s seat.
I smile and stroke my chin in mock thoughtfulness. Truthfully, I am having a hard time deciding on what I want to do with that lovely hard cock. I have an epiphany as I see the Mustang out of the corner of my eye.
“Stay where you are,” I instruct and cross the checkerboard floor to slide myself, naked onto the hood.
The metal is cool against my skin as I lay back. I spread my legs wide so he can see and start to move my fingers, picking up where he left off. I hear him groan as he watches me. I laugh as he slides his chair closer. Turning my head, I watch him stroke himself. His gaze is fixed on me, pleasuring myself on the hood of his car.
I slide my fingers inside myself, slowly working them in and out before bringing them back to my clit. I am ready to explode and riding a wave of pleasure. The metal of the car is rapidly warming as my body temperature climbs higher. I arch up under my hand as release rocks through me. I moan and rock my hips, jerking as the energy rocks my body.
I feel Garrett’s hands close around my ankles and he pulls me to him before I have time to process anything but the pure bliss of my orgasm. He drags me off the hood and spins me around, bending me over. My breasts squash against the hood and Garrett kicks my feet wide. He is on the edge of his control, and it makes me crazy with anticipation of what is to come.
I reach back and spread myself wide and his moan tells me that is exactly what he wants. He thrusts deep in one fluid motion and starts to pound ruthlessly into my wet, swollen pussy. I brace my hands on the hood and push back so I meet him. Our hips crash together at a maddening pace driven by desire and need. Garrett is moaning my name and I am begging him for more with each powerful thrust. His hands are hard and tight on my hips. His tempo is furious and he is soon breathing hard.
He shouts my name as he buries himself hard and deep inside me. He grinds himself against my backside, crushing me against the car. I feel my pussy contract around him as he pours himself into me. I relax and tighten over and over until I feel him go still.
Garrett’s upper body drapes over mine lightly as he slumps forward, his energy spent. “You’re amazing. I mean, ‘oh my God, fucking amazing’,” he murmurs against my shoulder. I giggle at the use of one of his favorite Mike quips.
With an effort, he straightens and steps back, pulling himself out of me. I stand shakily and happily go into his waiting arms. His heat and love wrap me as his arms close around me. I smile and bury my face in his chest, murmuring, “I just thought you might be thirsty.”