Joy Ride

I drive into her again, and a sharp intake of air is her response.

“What made you so wet, tiger?” I ask, riling her up.

She shuts her eyes and bites her lip.

I slide back out, inch by inch, so just the tip is in her. “What got you so turned on?”

“Max,” she moans, like a protest.

“Was it the way I ate you out and made you come in less than two minutes?”

I rock back into her, filling her to the hilt and letting a jolt of heat rocket over my skin. “Oh wait,” I say, whispering roughly in her ear. “Was it how I kissed you before I even took your clothes off? Was that what made you so fucking turned on you came in seconds?”

Her eyelids flutter closed.

I grab her hips and angle her up more so my cock slides against her clit as I fuck her with long, deep strokes that seem to drive her wild. She can’t answer me. She only moans and groans.

“Tell me, Henley. What made you so wet?” I drop my hand between her legs and rub her clit.

She lets out the longest, sexiest sound. “Oh God . . .”

I slide out so I’m barely in her at all, and she shakes. “Say it. Say it was the way I kissed you,” I command as I rub circles over her clit. A tremble spreads over her body, and watching it overtake her from her chest down to her belly is breathtaking. She’s beautiful and sexy, and trying so hard not to give in to everything she feels. I swivel my hips and pound into her.

“Your mouth,” she shouts at last. “Oh God. It was your mouth. It’s the way you kissed me. It’s how I want to be kissed.”

She throws her head back, exposing her beautiful neck. I smother her skin in kisses as I fuck her hard, rub her clit, and bring her to the brink.

Her eyelids squeeze. “Oh God, Max. Oh God, oh God, oh God.”

She’s close again. She’s chasing pleasure. And I want her to catch it. I really fucking do. But I want her admission, too.

I freeze with my cock buried deep inside her. “Say how much you want me,” I tell her, my voice rough and husky.

She whimpers.

“Say it and I’ll make you come so fucking hard. I promise.”

She cries out in frustration, her fists smacking my chest.

“Open your eyes,” I tell her, and she does.

I stare into those brown irises. “Say you want me . . . because I fucking want you so much.”

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.”