“What?” Colton rolled his eyes. “You two are jackasses. Maybe if you both got a little more ass, you’d be in better moods.”
“You are pure class, man,” Brogan said as he grabbed the air wrench.
“Pure class getting all that ass,” Colton said with a grin.
I laughed. There was no stopping it. We always picked on Colton and his revolving door of female company, but he had a sense of humor about it. The man was pure bravado. “Anybody pull the outstanding orders yet? I’m waiting on a gasket for this beast before I rip the transmission apart.”
Colton wiped his hands and headed toward the office. “Not yet, but I can call Dalton.”
Before he could make it halfway across the floor, the man himself appeared in the open bay door.
“Speak, and the boss shall appear.” Dalton grinned and tossed his hands in the air.
I shook my head, chuckling. “Pretty sure that’s ‘the devil appears,’ Dalt.”
“Me and the devil. My ex-wife would say we’re one and the same.” He dropped a box on a rolling chair before looking over the truck on the hoist in front of me. “That’s just a damn shame.”
“What is?”
“That those poor people paid so much money for such a piece of shit.”
I shook my head and stepped underneath the truck in question. “Tell me how you really feel, man.”
“Yo!” Colton yelled. “Where’s our shit, man?”
Dalton may have been the manager at the scrapyard and a supplier of ours, but he was also Colton’s family. And he never let us forget it. “That’s Uncle Man to you, kid.”
“I’m eight years younger than you.” Colton tossed his rag on the bench. “I’ll give you ‘kid.’”
The two roughhoused in between the lifts, both laughing and egging each other on. Typical shit around here. Me? I kept working. Still thinking about Violet. Still in a damn good mood. Wondering when I could get her naked again. And how. And where. The possibilities were making me want to say screw this and walk out, but I couldn’t. Being the owner of a business and supposedly a responsible adult sometimes sucked.
“Hey, Easton,” Dalton called when he and Colton had stopped playing Gladiators or whatever they called that. “I noticed you had some company the other night.”
I didn’t bother looking his way, knowing he’d be smirking. “Nosy fucking neighbors.”
“Your mom and sister noticed it too. As did the rest of the park. You’re the talk of the town right now.”
That got my attention. Violet wouldn’t like people gossiping about her. “Everyone needs to mind their business.”
Brogan laughed. “The Terrace Neighborhood Watch strikes again.”
I grunted and went back to work. Having grown up in the Terrace Trailer Park, I knew exactly how tight all the neighbors were. We couldn’t get away with shit in the park, not with all the eyes on us. I stuck around because I loved the feel of the place and the closeness of everyone, but sometimes that closeness could bite you in the ass. Like today.
Dalton grinned. “You gonna tell me who that brunette with the great ass was?”
I pointed my wrench at him. “Keep your eyes off her ass.”
Colton chuckled. “You’d better watch out. He’s got a massive hard-on for that one.”
“Really?” Dalton looked me over, his pale eyes almost proud. “It’s about time.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’ve been practically acting like a monk for years. Good to see you making a few moves. Pretty sure even Brogan’s gotten laid more than you lately.”
I glanced at my best friend, my eyebrows up. “Something you want to share with the class?”
He tossed a rag over his shoulder and grabbed an oil wrench. “Nope.”
Dalton laughed, a deep sound that nearly echoed through the shop. “You boys will never change. Especially you, Easton.”
“Yeah? And why’s that?”
“Because you’re all so damn stubborn.”
I yanked on the wrench, trying like hell to release a frozen nut. “I’m not stubborn.”
Colton snorted. “Says the man working on a decrepit Land Rover all because he simply couldn’t say no.”
Dalton just had to add his two cents. “And the man out at five in the morning today running the street sweeper around the park.”
“Someone has to do it.”
“Yeah, someone.” Dalton popped under the Rover, eyeing me hard. “Not you, though. You’ve got enough on your plate.”
He wasn’t wrong, and yet I’d made a promise to look after things at some point. I never broke my word.
“That’s not him being stubborn,” Brogan said, finally setting his phone down. “That’s his need to be in control at all times.”
“That’s enough,” I said, having heard this particular argument a thousand times. “I don’t need to control everything, but no one else is stepping up at the park to handle shit. You want the job?”
Brogan shut up then, as did Colton. Dalton just grinned.
“You really need to stop trying to do it all, kid. You don’t need to make up for anyone else’s mistakes.” Dalton gave me a smack on the shoulder before heading toward the doors. “All right. That’s enough cracking around. I need to get my tired ass back to work.”
“You’re not tired, Unc.” Colton flashed a grin. “You’re just old.”
Brogan and I laughed as Dalton gave chase, the two Bearns running after one another through the bay doors and out into the parking lot. Dalton was a good guy—one of my favorites in the park—but he’d gone through a nasty divorce two years ago that had sent him spiraling. One caused by my cheating cousin. Luckily, he’d never held her bullshit against my family or me. Not that Colton would have let him. Still, it was good to see Dalton back on his feet and sober once more. Plus, it was nice having someone who ran a salvage yard as family. He was always able to scrounge up parts when we needed something oddball.
But he was wrong this time. I did need to make up for my dad’s mistakes. I needed to make sure everyone saw how we’d pulled ourselves out of being destitute and found success. No one would ever be able to say the Coles weren’t hard workers.
“UPS pulled up as I was saying goodbye to Dalton,” Colton said as he jogged back into the shop. “I’ll sign for it.”
“Cool, thanks.” I raised the lift a little more to put the car higher in the air and stepped underneath it, losing myself in plugs and filters and combustion. Fixing shit had always been a passion of mine. From the time I was a kid, I’d liked playing with tools and taking things apart. I wasn’t always so good at putting them back together, but I tried. And I enjoyed the challenge.
But today, it was a bit too hard to concentrate. My mind was stuck on Violet-mode, plus the incessant beeping of Brogan’s phone kept pulling me from my job. Every time I glanced up, he was staring at the screen or typing into it. My own phone sat silent, but I recognized that obsession.
“You got a girl on the other end of that thing?” Which would be amazing. Brogan barely dated, and he never seemed to have relationships.
“Why’d you think that?” he asked as he slipped his phone into his pocket.
“Uh, because you’re staring at that screen like it’s a lifeline. What’s up?”
Brogan sighed and shook his head. “Nothing, man. Just…old stuff resurfacing.”
My good mood faded a little. Brogan was usually pretty steady, calmer than Colton or me for sure. The look on his face, the worry there, put me on alert. “Need anything?”
“Nah.” He shrugged, refusing to meet my eyes. “But thanks for the offer.”
“Okay, but I’m here if you need me.” I gripped his shoulder as I walked past, wishing there were more I could do but knowing he’d have to come to me in his own time. “I’m going to check on Colton. I can’t do shit without that part, and he’s taking his sweet time out front.”
“Yeah, he tends to do that.” Brogan met
my eyes as his phone pinged again, though he didn’t reach for it.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m great. No worries, man.” The smile he gave me was too fake, too forced, but I respected the effort.
“If you say so.” I frowned and headed for the office. Brogan would ask for help if he needed it, that I was sure of. I just worried he’d try to handle shit on his own for too long. We had always worked as a team, ever since elementary school. If he needed Colton or me, we’d be there. Hell, Colton’s twin brother, Wyatt, would come running if any one of us needed anything, and he was off playing professional hockey and living the life of a star. That’s how tight our crew was.
A bell tolling from the front was the only warning I had before Violet herself breezed into the office, some sort of boxy metal thing in her hands, and all thoughts of Colton and Brogan and the Land Rover of Doom disappeared. Short skirt, legs on display, tank top…the woman was pure sex, innocent and sultry all at the same time. Looking good enough to eat. And she was mine. Every inch of her. Every expression. Especially that look on her face before she came—that was definitely mine. I wanted it. Wanted to be the only man to put it there. Ever.
Filled with emotions I couldn’t yet identify, I let my thoughts shut down and focused on the one thing I could…the one thing I wanted… Her.
“Hey, Easton. I made you a treat.”
I stalked toward her without a word, loving the way her eyes tracked me. The way her breath caught. How she almost seemed to know what was coming.
“You’re the only treat I want.”
“Eas—”
My lips were on hers before she could finish my name. She responded to my kiss, returning that intensity. Feeding my desire. Dropping whatever she’d been holding and wrapping her arms around my neck as I devoured her.
“Need you.” I picked her up and wrapped her legs around my hips. “Need to make you mine.”
She didn’t argue. “The guys?”
I grunted and carried her as I walked to both doors, locking out any unwanted intruders with a flick of the latches. “Taken care of.”
She didn’t kiss me again, though. “No cameras?”
I wasn’t like that bastard, Jace. “None. I swear.”
“Thank God.”
“Yeah?” I asked, breathless, so fucking wired, I thought I might rip the fucking clothes off her body in a second. Thankfully, I didn’t have to. She tugged at my work shirt, untucking it and working the buttons open one by one. I laid her on the edge of my desk, unwinding her legs from my hips so I could drag her panties down the length of them. Giving her ankle a little lick for good measure.
“You’re so worked up,” she whispered, running her heel over my thigh and up along my ass.
My hips jerked, and I grabbed her thighs harder. Almost too hard. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Until later. You can be sorry for the ruined chocolate marshmallow bars I made you later.”
That stopped me. “You baked?”
She huffed a laugh. “Marshmallow bars are not baking. But yeah, I might have dabbled in the kitchen a bit.”
I ran my hand up her thigh, torn between wanting to slow down so we could talk about this and wanting to say fuck this conversation and attack her. Luckily, I had solid control. “That’s great. What else did you make?”
“Do you really want to talk about croissants and macarons right now, or do you want to get under my skirt?”
Easy answer. “Right. Chocolate marshmallow bars can wait.”
She tugged me closer, bringing her knees higher on my waist and spreading her legs for me. I leaned in and stole a kiss, groaning at the taste of her on my tongue. She upped the ante, reaching to unfasten my belt. I was practically shaking with my need for her, ready to dive inside that sweet spot she’d graced me with less than twelve hours ago. But twelve hours was too long. Hell, two hours was too long. I needed her all the time. Every day. Every hour. Right then.
I opened my fly and pushed my pants over my hips, too impatient to wait any longer. Thankfully, she lay back and wrapped her legs around my hips again. Reeling me in. Pulling me right against her. Seemingly just as anxious as me. And just as needy.
“Easton, please.” Another tug, a wiggle, and…
Oh God, right there. I was right there.
“Violet—”
“Don’t stop. I’m covered, so don’t stop.”
I slid inside her without prep, without making sure she got hers first. Without anything between us. But I’d learned her tells last night. I knew she was already ramped up. Knew I could get her off before I came. I slid in and out slowly, working my way deeper, loving every sigh and groan and gasp. Every wet smack of the two of us together. Every second I spent inside her heat. There was nothing like the feeling of her surrounding me—of me bare inside her. Nothing at all. It was heaven and hell, the greatest pleasure and the most exquisite torture as I fought to keep a shred of control. To not simply fuck her hard against my desk and get mine without taking care of her needs.
Soon, though. Real fucking soon if the way her entire body had started to quiver was any indication.
Standing straighter, needing to tease her more, I pulled her legs up and set her feet on my shoulders. Sliding deeper inside my new favorite place on earth. When Violet moaned all loud and long, I moved one hand to caress her breasts while the other zeroed in on her clit. Keeping her on edge. Working every part of her I could reach. My fingers rubbing, tweaking, massaging that little pearl the best I could. Violet arched her back, her legs shaking as I kept thrusting, kept teasing, kept focusing on her clit. On her pleasure. As I gave her everything I had to give.
From this position, I could see everything. Could watch myself slipping inside her over and over again. Another slide, almost all the way out this time before pushing back inside. And damn, she looked so good taking all of me. So, so good, it made my cock ache even more. Made a tingle start in my spine and tickle its way up my back. I wanted to dive inside her, to drop to my knees and taste every inch of her. It was a need, deep and dark and full of some kind of ownership claim. I knew that. Still, it was hard to resist. I’d get my face in that pussy soon, taste her pleasure, learn her with my tongue and lips. Soon. But not yet. Right now, I needed her just like this. Splayed before me with my cock buried inside her. Needed it more than I needed to breathe.
“Easton,” Violet said as I pushed her forward, testing her flexibility. Damn, she was beautiful laid out for me like this. Beautiful and sexy, almost too much to be real. But she was real, all right. I could feel her heat wrapped around me. Could smell her perfume and sex. Could hear every breathy sigh and little gasp, every moan and grunt as I fucked her right there on my desk. She was definitely real…and mine.
“Come on, baby. You’re so close.” As was I, so I changed my angle, moving both her legs to the same shoulder and twisting her hips a bit. Twisting to plunge deeper. Violet clawed at the desk as my body shook. Completely lost to the sensations I was giving her. Just me. Only us. And fuck, she was even tighter this way. Constricted in a way other positions didn’t offer. I was going to lose it, but not yet. I had to get her there first. Had to take care of what she needed.
“Gonna make you come,” I said, keeping my thumb on her clit. Keeping a rhythm as she rocked back against me. Hell, she’d swallowed me up, helped me go deeper than before with every wiggle of her hips, and I loved every fucking second of it. “Gonna make you come on my cock, pretty girl. Want to feel you squeeze me just like this. You’re so beautiful when you come, did you know that? All wild and out of control. Give me that, Violet. Give me you.”
I thrust harder, grunting on every stroke, waiting and watching and feeling as my girl writhed underneath me. And then she gasped, head flying back, breasts thrust up in the air as her back arched off the desk. And I felt her. Felt that pussy squeezing me, felt the muscles in her legs tighten as her orgasm crashed over her.
Thank fuck.
I couldn
’t hold on a moment longer. I thrust deep, bending over her and forcing her legs back as I came inside her. All warm flesh and girl and the smell of sex around me. And I loved it. Loved everything about that moment.
Hell, if I let myself admit it, I was beginning to love her.
“Fuck being just friends,” I said, unable to hold back in my sex-addled state. Unable to let her go, no matter how much I knew hanging on would push her away. If I’d taken the time to think about my words, I wouldn’t have said them. But in that moment, with my bare cock still inside her and every inch of me screaming that she was the one I wanted more than any other, I couldn’t hold anything back. “Be with me, Violet. Be mine.”
The stillness broke through my haze, crushing my hope. Reminding me of the start of a race, where the contestants were locked and ready but waiting for the gun to go off to tell them to run. Violet was a runner, and my words could very well be the starting pistol.
Fuck.
Violet didn’t jump up and run, though. No, her start was slower. More of a creeping toward the finish. More painful. She pushed me off her, avoiding my eyes. Slowly taking her body away from me and shuttering every inch of herself behind the barricades she’d obviously built over the years. I tucked myself away as I watched her, as I stared at those walls I’d torn down going right back up. Her movements were meticulous and calm—the way she straightened her skirt, how she retrieved her panties from the floor, the slide of her hands over her hair. Choreographed, well-practiced, and a total distraction. She was giving herself time to think, time to work out her answer. And I could already sense that I wouldn’t like whatever it was.
Finally, she stopped moving. “I don’t want to hurt you, Easton.”
“Then don’t.”
Her eyes finally met mine, the expression in them killing me. “I can’t move back here.”
“There’s can’t and there’s don’t want to. You’re using the first as your excuse when, really, your reason for not coming home is the second. I’ll make you want to.”
She froze, practically rooted to the floor. Staring at me for a long, drawn-out moment. And then she sighed. “You’ll make me do a lot of things that aren’t good for me, won’t you?” Her smile was barely visible as she bent to pick up the foil-covered pan she’d dropped. The chocolate marshmallow bars she’d promised me. The ones she’d let go of when I’d attacked her like a starving man. With slow steps, she came to me, rose onto the balls of her feet and kissed my cheek as she pushed the tray onto my desk. “This was a lot of fun and not at all what I was expecting when I came to drop off these off, but I have to go.”
Pop The Clutch: A Second Gear Romance Page 15