Page 20 of The Mechanic's Virgin

Nash’s big, strong, rough hand grips my hip, then slides down my butt and holds fast, like he’s showing the world that my body belongs to him. Gently, he pulls my panties aside and shifts down behind me on the mattress.

I gasp as he presses his cock between my legs. It’s natural the way I lift one for him. I don’t even think about it. But as he presses his tip into my slit, I realize that it’s not just Nash that’s turned on. I’m soaking wet, as if my body was prepared for this.

I angle my hips back and accept his cock as he slides inside. There’s a tiny sting, probably a soreness left over from when he took me earlier, but it’s gone before I can take a second breath.

The feeling of him entering me and filling me up is indescribable. It’s like I was made to takehimand him only. Stretching around every one of his pulsating inches has me already moaning as he begins to slowly thrust. It’s different than it was when he took me on the work bench. It’s like he’s taking his time with it. His strokes are more passionate, and he slides a hand up my shirt and cups my breast as he brings his lips to my neck, kissing me with such tenderness.

He moves inside me like he’s memorizing every bit of me. Like he’s branding me from the inside out. His lips never leave my skin. He just moves them, kissing, licking, groaning with pleasure as if being inside me is too much for him.

I reach back and trace my hand over his jaw, feeling the strong muscles of his neck as the pressure builds. He knows exactly what I need already. The precise rhythm that makes my thighs tremble and my voice whimper from my lips.

“I want this every night,” he says, his lips tickling my ear. “You’re the only one I’ll ever want, Grace.”

“Yes,” I cry out as I go off again. And he follows me, growling as he sprays inside me, squeezing my breast like he never wants to let go.

Each shot of his seed amplifies my orgasm. I can’t believe I’m just letting him come in me. I’m not on the pill or any kind of birth control. But that just makes it even hotter.

I could get pregnant.

I probably will.

And how incredible will that be?

9

GRACE

I wake againin Nash’s apartment. This time it’s to the smell of bacon.

I smile and open my eyes to soft morning light filtering in through white curtains. My head feels like it’s filled with cotton, and it takes me a few blinks and several deep breaths to pull myself from the warm embrace of sleep. As I prop myself up in bed, I inhalehisscent, and my smile expands, filling my face.

Nash.

My body’s aching again in a delicious way. Stretched, sore, satisfied. And as I remember what we did last night, my skin already starts to heat up.

He made me come twice–no,threetimes.

What an absolute god.

I sit up and feel something down there–something warm and wet. It takes me a second to realize that it’s Nash’s seed dripping out of me, evidence of how deeply and completely he took me.

Smiling, I place my palm on my belly. Could I…already be pregnant? There could be the beginning of a little life in there. A child. Mine and Nash’s. It’s almost impossible to believe. If you’d asked me a week ago if I’d even consider the idea of getting pregnant, I would have told you that you were crazy. But now Ican’t even think of the idea of having Nash’s baby without feeling excited.

The scent of bacon hits my nostrils again. Bacon and coffee and something else. My stomach growls, which surprises me. I was so lost in my thoughts of Nash and the idea that I might be pregnant that I didn’t think anything could distract me.

I step out of bed and pad across the wood floor. One of Nash’s shirts hangs over the door. I slip into it and wear it like a dress as I go downstairs. It smells just like him and issosoft. Yeah, he’s never getting it back.

When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I hear a deep voice humming, along with the sound of cooking. Such domestic bliss. It’s like we’ve been living together for years.

I come around the corner and look into the kitchen where Nash stands shirtless by the stove, his chiseled physique on full display. Only no one gets to see him like this–no one but me.

His hair is messy and damp, like he just ran a wet hand through it. He’s scrambling eggs in a pan with a spatula and another pan with bacon sits on the other burner.

He tilts his head up and sniffs the air, then turns and spots me where I’m leaning against the door frame. “There she is.” He smiles at me with a devilish look in his eyes that makes me thinkbadthings. “Sleeping Beauty has awoken.”

“Could you really smell me from over there? With all that bacon in the air?”

“You smell a lot better than bacon, sweetie,” he replies.

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