The Mechanic's Princess

by Jenna Rose

  No, I’m not about to let her go that easy. I claimed her, and she’s going to be mine. My princess.

  5

  Nicky

  My feet are burning and filthy. I can feel the grit from the road cutting into my skin as I walk, brushing them off against my ankles every few minutes. I even put my heels back on for a while and walk until my feet hurt, then go barefoot again.

  Greenville is very quiet, only a single car passes me as I walk. It stops and a man offers me a ride, but he looks like he might be a cannibal-murderer, so I decline and keep going.

  I’m still ringing like a bell from the orgasm the mechanic gave me. I didn’t even realize just how badly I needed it until I was melting against his tongue. No man has ever done what he did to me and I finally realize what’s been missing in my life.

  To be honest, I can’t even believe what just happened. It’s just not something I would ever do. In fact, it’s the opposite of everything I’ve been about in my life up until now. The way he spoke to me flipped a switch deep down inside me, and I responded back in a way I never would have thought possible.

  After what seems like the world’s longest journey, I find myself walking up the private driveway to the lake house. When I push the front door open, I find my adopted mom looking worried sick, and Bradley looking like he’d rather be doing anything else.

  “You see?” he says casually to Ruth. “She’s not dead.”

  I’ve grown so accustomed to his douchebaggery that I’m not even fazed. He’s a handsome guy, there’s no denying that, but when I look at him, I don’t feel the fire inside me that I do when I look at the rough, greasy, working man who just had his way with me. Not even close. In fact, as I watch him light his thick cigar and take a drag, I want to vomit.

  “Where have you been, Nicky!?” my adopted mom snaps, rising from the table. She’s had a few drinks of wine – at least a few. It’s obvious.

  “The car broke down.”

  “The GT?” Bradley asks quickly. “You’re kidding. What did you do to it?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” I reply. “It just started smoking, so I pulled over.”

  “Smoking?” Ruth gasps.

  “Yeah, something about the coolant or radiator or something,” I sigh. I’ve been missing for hours, I look like a wreck, my feet are practically bleeding, and what are we talking about? Bradley’s car.

  “Thank God,” he relaxes. “That wasn’t smoke, dear. It was steam.”

  “Smoke, steam,” I say dismissively. “Same thing.”

  “No, not really,” he replies. “There’s a big difference.”

  Of course I know there’s a difference, but I also don’t feel like arguing. There’s no point. Bradley doesn’t care about anything I have to say; he doesn’t care about me. He’s just the man that Ruth picked out for me to marry so he can rescue us from the financial hell she got us into.

  I was adopted; I never knew my real parents. Ruth and Frederic took me in. When he was still alive, he was the head of a large company that owned food stores and clothing shops all across the country. He was a self-made man, and quite kind, from what I remember of him. But he died when I was seven. For some reason, he left my adopted mom in charge, and that’s when it all went downhill.

  Ruth has a penchant for pricey shit. If it didn’t come from Madison Ave or Rodeo Drive, she’s not interested. Cross-country flights on the private jet became a regular thing for her, and she’d return with armfuls of furs, designer heels and purses – so many that she actually had an entire second home built on our old property to store her wardrobe.

  “My walk-in closet,” she’d smiled when it was completed. I wanted to barf.

  On top of that, she loved spas, massages (from cute masseurs), trips to Venice, the Amalfi Coast, Paris and London, and “working on her tan” in the Caribbean. Running the company, something she was never cut out for anyway, took a back seat to all her pleasure time, and it wasn’t long before the empire was collapsing and we were running on empty. We lived on the good grace of my adopted dad’s name for a long time while my mom ran up debt like it was going out of style. Even as a teenager, I understood that the lifestyle was simply unsustainable. When the debt collectors finally came calling, that’s when she found Bradley.

  And now, it’s my job to marry him. He’s thirty-seven; Ruth’s only forty-four and still looks good for her age. I’m pretty sure she went for him first, but when he wasn’t interested, she threw me in front of him. He took to me right away (the fact that I’m only nineteen being a big part of it), but I have a feeling that he only wants me because of my last name. There are still people out there in the business community who would do business with him simply because of his ties to my family.

  I want to tell them both to fuck off and that there’s no way in hell I’m marrying this guy, but Ruth will cut me off immediately and I don’t have any backup plan. With no money actually in my name, I’d be homeless, penniless. Ruth knows that, and it’s the only reason I’m still standing here.

  “So where’s the Bentley?” Bradley asks, taking another draw from his Cuban. He looks like an aspiring mob boss, and I’m pretty sure that’s the look he’s going for.

  “At…a shop,” I reply. I almost want to tell him that I left it at the garage of a sexy, arrogant mechanic who just went down on me and gave me a mind-blowing orgasm, but after my long trek here from his place, I’m not in the mood for a fight.

  “He says we can pick it up in a couple of days.”

  “Small towns,” Bradley rolls his eyes. “If this was the city, I’d have it fixed by tomorrow.”

  “I don’t know,” I muse as I head for the stairs. “I kind of like the small-town vibe. You know they only have one inn here?”

  I don’t really know why I said that, I guess maybe I want Bradley to know that I at least went looking for somewhere else to stay after the car broke down, rather than coming here. But I’m not entirely sure he’s intuitive enough when it comes to women to figure that out.

  “Uhm, Nick?” he asks, eyeing me in a way that makes my skin crawl.

  “Yes, Bradley?” I reply, my voice dripping with sass.

  “Where’d you get the shirt?”

  I look down and realize I’m wearing the mechanic’s shirt, tied up around my waist like a cheerleader. If only he knew that a couple of hours ago I was lying on my back on his couch with my legs up above my head, his filthy hands all over me while he tongue-fucked my clit. I feel myself blushing, shrug and turn away.

  “Found it,” I say, leaving it at that.

  I start to head upstairs, wanting more than anything to just get up to my room and bury myself in my sketchbook, when my mom races up behind me and grabs my hand.

  “Don’t forget tomorrow!” she says happily. I can smell the red wine on her breath. “It’s cake day!”

  I pull away from her and head upstairs to my room, shut and lock the door, and slump down on the bed. I feel like I’ve just crash landed back down to reality from the almost out-of-body experience I had. I’d never met a man that even came close to him.

  Bradley looks at me like a new horse he just bought from a breeder; I’m his property and he has some kind of right to me because he has my adopted mom’s approval. The sexy mechanic, on the other hand, looked at me like had a right to me…because. It was like he wanted to take me, show me that he owned me, simply by being him. And as I lie back and look at the ceiling, I realize he’s sparked something inside of me—a desire that feels like it comes from the depths of my existence—something I had no idea was even in me.

  I’m excited, but I’m also terrified. My life already has a set course; nothing is going to change it. I’m going to marry Bradley and there’s nothing I can do about it. Even if I wanted him to, it’s not like he’s about to man up and propose to me or something, rescue me from my future.

  I know this. But I still can’t help myself from thinking…

  What if?

  6

  Ni
cky

  “Mmmm, buttercream! I simply adore buttercream! Don’t you, Bradley?”

  Bradley looks up from his phone, completely disinterested, and shrugs at my mom, who is sampling a spoonful of frosting from the girl behind the counter. She’s obviously a small-town girl and is doing her best to hide the fact that she clearly knows that we’re from out of town…

  …and from money.

  “Come here and try this, sweetie,” she tells me, motioning to me like I’m a Pomeranian wearing a pink fluffy collar. I try not to mope as I walk over to her. I try to take the spoon, but she shakes her head and moves it toward my mouth like she’s feeding a toddler.

  “Really?” I frown.

  “Open wide!” she smiles. It’s probably better just to go along with it than start an argument in the shop, so I do, and she clinks the spoon against my front teeth before scooping it up and leaving a huge clump of frosting on my tongue. I nod and force a smile.

  “Yeah, it’s good,” I tell her.

  “Great, isn’t it!?” she asks enthusiastically. I mean – it is good – but I also know my mom is convinced it’s the best in the store, because when we came in, she asked the girl behind the counter what the most expensive icing they had was. And this was it.

  “We’ll take it!” she says, turning to the girl.

  “Okay, would you like to go over the actual cake you’d like?” she asks. “We have lemon, vanilla, red velvet—”

  “I’m going to step outside for a moment,” Bradley says, bored out of his mind. “You girls go on without me.”

  Gladly. I hear the door chimes as he leaves, and can’t help wondering how the gruff mechanic would conduct himself if he was here right now. Would he actually pretend to be interested? I can’t see a grubby mechanic, an alpha like him, suffering through something like this. But then again, maybe he has a sweet side I haven’t seen yet. Maybe he actually knows how to bake and would hand-make us a wedding cake!

  I laugh to myself and shake my head. Don’t be silly, Nicky. My mom glances over at me and frowns.

  “Something funny?” she asks.

  “It’s nothing,” I reply. “Just thinking of something.”

  Ruth looks at me like I may be just a little bit crazy, then goes back to the cake samples. I hear the door chimes again and tense up. Bradley’s back already? But then I see the look on the clerk’s face and know that whoever came in, it’s definitely not my fiancé.

  I turn and my heart tries to spring from my chest. My whole body instantly betrays me and comes alive. It’s not Bradley walking into the shop, it’s him.

  He looks as grubby and dirty as ever – maybe even more so than last night – and he’s scolding me with his lustful eyes, as though I belong to him and he’s pissed that I’ve run off.

  “Do you know him?” the clerk whispers. My mom shakes her head.

  “No, but he is absolutely filthy!”

  “I do,” I say softly back. “That’s the mechanic.”

  “Isn’t he gorgeous?” the clerk asks, her voice hushed as he walks slowly toward us. “But what’s he doing here? I’ve never even seen him with a girl before—”

  “Good morning, ladies,” he says as he reaches us. He may have addressed us all, but his blazing eyes are locked on me. “When’s the wedding? I’d like to clear my calendar.”

  I can feel the bite in his words. Is he actually…jealous? I look past him, afraid that Bradley might come back any second, but he’s firmly engrossed in a conversation, pacing around by the street on his cell phone.

  “Here for a cake, Chase?” the clerk asks.

  Chase, I think. So that’s his name.

  “Shut up, Cindy,” he growls, causing her to jump. “I’ve got Nicky’s car over at the shop and I need her to come take a look at something.”

  “I’m terribly sorry,” Ruth says in her best pretend-nice voice. “But we’re right in the middle of something. Can it wait until later?”

  “It can’t,” Chase replies firmly. “Don’t worry, my shop’s only a five-minute walk. I’ll have her back in a jiff.”

  Without waiting for an answer, Chase reaches out and takes me by the hand. Instead of leading me to the front door, he heads straight for the back hall, pulls me past the bathroom and out the back into the employee lot.

  “Chase, wait!” I protest, the rough skin of his calluses scraping against my hands. “What are you doing?”

  But he doesn’t wait. He spins around and pulls me to him with a strength that takes my breath away. His strong lips find mine and I instantly give myself over to him. My mouth hangs open and accepts his tongue as his strong hands start to explore my body. I’m wearing pants today, but suddenly wish I was wearing a skirt, as my zipper sticks as he tries to tug it down.

  I can smell the shop on him – feel the dirt on his hands and the sweat in his t-shirt. Heat pours from his body and I’m instantly wet for him as he finally pulls hard and undoes my pants.

  I stagger back as he pushes me up against the back wall of the shop, kissing me all over with a furious passion. The world’s spinning again. It’s like I don’t even know where I am when I’m in his arms. I reach up and feel the taut, broad muscles of his strong back, flexing as he slides a hand down my pants and presses two fingers against my damp panties, causing me to moan.

  “Trying to make me jealous?” he purrs as I spread my legs as the pleasure washes over me. “Did you think I wouldn’t hear about the rich, city girl looking for wedding cakes?”

  “I—”

  “This is a small town, princess. You can’t hide from me.”

  He pulls my panties aside and I gasp, holding my breath, as his hungry fingers spread my wet slit.

  “I thought you were just making shit up about your fiancé,” he coos. “Just to make me jealous. But you’re even dirtier than I thought – cheating on him like that.”

  His accusation fills me with anger, and I jerk back as he tries to slide his fingers inside me.

  “What did you just say?” I snap, two seconds away from slapping him in the face. “I am not a cheater.”

  Chase laughs. “I saw the poor bastard out front! You gonna tell me he’s a cuck or something and gets off on his girl being with other men?”

  I’m absolutely furious now and, zipping up my pants, get right up in his face.

  “First of all, I am not a liar,” I snap. “Second of all, no, he doesn’t know about what we did, but there’s a reason for that—”

  “And that is?” he interrupts.

  Does he really deserve an explanation? It’s obvious what he thinks of me, I’m just a conquest to him. He finds me funny and just wants to get his dick wet. After he does, he’ll be done with me; he’ll give me back the Bentley and I’ll never hear from him again.

  He doesn’t deserve the truth, but I also don’t want him to think that I’m just some cheating whore who does whatever she wants.

  “My adopted mom is forcing me to marry him.”

  For a second, what I say registers on his face, but then he quickly shakes his head and chuckles.

  “Uh huh. An arranged marriage? What is this, the 1700s?”

  “It’s true!” I protest. “If I don’t marry him, I’ll—”

  I stop. I glare back at him. He doesn’t want to know all this. What does he care? He basically kidnapped me the other night to try and get in my pants; he’s not going to empathize with my situation.

  “Forget it,” I tell him. “You don’t have to believe me.”

  “Hey,” he shrugs. “You sure act like royalty. Maybe rich girls like you still get married off to other rich guys. What would I know? I’m just a small-town mechanic.”

  “More like, what do you care?” I counter, turning away. I grab the door to the cake shop and start to pull it open, but Chase grabs me and presses me up against the wall.

  “What do you think I am?” he asks, his voice low. “Some scumbag ladies’ man that just wants to get his dick wet?”

  “Chase, I—” />
  “You should know something about me, princess,” he growls. “I don’t go around sticking my dick in everything that walks. Okay? I’m not a fucking dog.”

  “Oh, you’re not?”

  He shakes his head and gives me a look I’ve yet to see from him.

  “You don’t lie, princess? Well, neither do I,” he says. “And I mean it when I say I am not a dog.”

  His eyes seem to grip me, hold me in place. I can’t move. I search his face for dishonesty, but find none. But…what is he saying? That he wants me for more than a quickie? That it’s not just about some male ego thing?

  No. It can’t be. But I guess there’s only one way to find out.

  “Okay, Mr. Noble Mechanic,” I say back. “You say you’re not a dog? There’s more to this than just you wanting to stick your big dick into me?”

  “That’s what I’m fucking saying,” he growls.

  “Fine! Then come to my house for dinner tonight,” I tell him with a smile. “It’s on Robertson’s Lake. Down Cherry Lane, the private drive. You know where that is?”

  “Of course I know where that is.”

  “Good,” I smile, pressing my body against his. I can feel his bulge between my thighs and the feeling it gives me. “Then come by tonight – this evening – and show me that you’re not all talk.”

  I push his big arm out of my way and pull open the door to the cake shop.

  “Oh, and by the way,” I say back to him, “stop calling me princess. My name is Nicky!”

  Leaving him with that, I step back inside, my insides ablaze with the heat of our encounter. That’s what it feels to be set on fire by a man! I try to control my excitement as I get back to the cake tasting. I really don’t think he’ll show up tonight, but if he does…well, then everything’s going to change.

  7

  Chase

  I’m watching the sky from the shop as the last of the sun vanishes over the tree line.