Page 15 of The Mechanic's Virgin

I duck under and see Nash at the bench, sleeves rolled up, his shirt hanging open at the chest, muscles glimmering under the glow of his old work lights hanging above. He’s fiddling with something mechanical but looks up at the sound of my heels against the concrete.

Our eyes meet, and desire fills his face.

“Grace,” he whispers, his voice soft but tense. My heart is racing as I stare back at him. I can see the bulge between his legs–a bulge meant just for me. I swallow hard.

“I–I couldn’t wait…” I say, my voice barely audible. For some reason, I’m embarrassed. Was it desperate of me to come here? Am I just going to push him away?

Thankfully, the corners of his lips twist up into the hint of a smile. He stands and walks across the concrete to me. His scent fills my nose and hits hard, like I’ve arrived back at home where I’m meant to be. And as he pulls me into his arms, I nearly lose myself.

He smells like sweat, rain, and engine oil. It’s so delicious I can barely breathe. He lifts me up off the ground, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me to his workbench and sets me down on it. I cling to his muscular shoulders as he whispers, “I need you” into my ear, setting my body on fire.

“I’m yours,” I tell him.

He slips his head into the crook of my neck, delicately kissing my soft skin, sending shivers through me. I close my eyes and breathe, letting him do whatever he wants to me. For such a big, strong man, he sure knows how to be gentle.

He reaches for a bowl of warm water sitting a few feet away. He dips his fingers in and scrubs them with a washcloth, cleaning them of the grime from whatever project he was working on when I came in.

Then he traces the line of my cheek with his middle finger. He’s so soft as he traces my jawline. He wipes my cheek, brushing away rain droplets, his touch almost shy with how careful he’s being. It’s not just his need moving him now. He’s showing me he cares. Almost like he’s making up for walking out on me earlier.

He moves down my neck, my collarbone, to the neckline of my jacket. It’s then he sees inside and discovers my naughty little secret.

“God, Grace. You are everything.”

I smile, swelling with pride. Being able to turn on a man of Nash’s caliber makes me feel like a goddess. “So are you.”

He slowly unbuttons my jacket, unties the sash, and lets it fall open, revealing my nudity beneath. A sharp awareness flares inside of me, as if our bodies are two broken electric lines crisscrossing, shooting sparks into the night sky.

He leans in and kisses my neck, just above the collarbone. I moan as he continues, straddling that fine line between restraint and wildness.

“Mine,” he mutters, almost to himself. The word shakes me.

So this is what it feels like to belong to someone who actually cares about you. Someone who lights you up on the inside.

He slips his hands inside my coat, taking me by the waist. My hips rise into him without me even thinking about it.

“Such a good girl,” he whispers, running his hands up to my breasts and gripping them with such ownership. “You have perfect tits. Like they were made just for me.”

I’m blushing like a tomato. No one has ever complimented me like Nash. Every word is imprinting on me. It doesn’t matter what happens from here on out; I’ll remember his praise for the rest of my life.

He moves a hand down, over my belly, and I part my legs for him. He sinks a finger deep, causing my breath to catch and a soft whimper to tremble from my lips. He curls up again, hitting a spot inside me that blooms with unbelievable intensity.

“Feel that, baby?” he whispers.

I gasp. “Yes!”

He takes my hand in his and guides it to his bulge. Without even being told what to do, I unbutton his fly and slide my hand inside. Not like there’s any room down there. His cock is swollen and massive and throbs in my palm like a drum following his heartbeat.

“Yeah, up and down, princess.” He guides me, showing me how to stroke him. “Just like that. That’s nice.”

My heart swells as I watch the pleasure reaction on his face. He likes what I’m doing to him, and it makes me feel powerful. All I want to do is please him more.

The strong, stiff muscle between my fingers is like a physical representation of his desire for me. Seeing and feeling him so hard goes beyond words and digs down into something primal in me that reacts automatically. Thoughts of babies–his babies–fill my mind.

So soon? He hasn’t even been inside me yet, and I’m thinking about him getting me pregnant.

I grip his manhood and pull him closer, letting his shaft spread me open for him. He groans and leans close, letting his lips hover just a hair’s breadth from me. I push my hips forward, just begging for him to take me. But he shakes his head.

“No. Not here. Not in this filthy garage. You deserve better, princess.”

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