Revolution: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  “And where’s your territory?” she murmured, her eyes drowsy with lust.

  I groaned as her grip curled into my chest, marking me as her own just as I planned to do to her.

  “Wherever the hell ye are, lass,” I bite out before crushing her lips under mine.

  I’d seen cars ripped off the pavement, torn to shreds by speed and impact.

  But this kiss…

  This kiss sent my body spinnin’ off its track and out of control—control I never had.

  Not when it came to her.

  My grip dug into her face, holding it as a willing hostage against mine as I devoured her mouth.

  And like it was some damn race, her tongue fought to take the lead. It dueled with mine, delved into all the corners of my mouth that had tried to curse her—to convince her she wasn’t needed so that I didn’t need her.

  And if there was any semblance of control, it was eviscerated in seconds.

  “Yer mine, lass.” I bit into her lip. Her tongue. Any delicious part of her I could. “Ye may deserve better but yer mine.”

  Releasing her face, I devoured her mouth, using her small gasps as fuel as I reached down and, moving her hands off my chest, I grabbed her ass and lifted her against me.

  Linking her legs around my waist, she rolled her hips against me greedily. Black spots burst in my vision, feeling the heat of her cunt through her leggings along my cock.

  I needed her.

  Like a starving man, I needed her.

  Like a starving man, I should’ve thought to go slow so I didn’t hurt myself feastin’ too fast. But I was a stupid, starvin’ man, and I’d do anythin’ to have her. Even if it killed me in the process.

  Kacey slid her fingers through my hair, tugging roughly on the strands as she tipped my head back, forcing my lips to break from hers.

  Panting, the air between us was infected with lust. The incurable kind.

  “I’m not property,” she murmured roughly, ending on a moan.

  My lip curled with a growl and I walked us into the back room.

  Using one arm, I cleared the table with a single swipe, the clean tools piling up with clanking claps, a few spilling onto the floor with eager applause.

  “No. Yer no’ property,” I told her with a low voice. “Yer too clumsy, too mouthy, and far too temptin’ ta be property.”

  Her half-laugh, half-whimper at my tease made my balls tighten, painfully anxious to fill her with all the need buildin’ up inside me.

  “We should go upstairs,” she said softly as I set her ass on the table, reaching for the hem of her shirt.

  “Ye know how clean this room is, lass?” I demanded, tugging the fabric over her head, her hair spilling vibrantly over her shoulders.

  She shivered. “Well, it’s a clean room.”

  I smirked.

  Engines were built in clean rooms. No dirt. No dust. Monitored temperature. Everything precisely controlled so there was no trace—no disturbance that would throw off the creation of the most important part of the car.

  “Exactly.” I reached around her for the hook of her bra, freeing her tits from the fabric. Burying my hand in her hair, I twisted and used the leverage to tip her head back, my lips dragging along her chin. “And that’s why I’m goin’ ta dirty you in it, lass.”

  The table groaned as she arched against me.

  I pulled on her thick locks until her back was arched and she was forced to reach back and splay her hands on the table to support herself, her pert breasts tipped up

  “Ye know what I do in here?” I trailed a finger down her neck lightly. Torturously.

  “Build the engine.”

  I nodded, biting and sucking on the skin of her collarbone.

  “That’s what I’m goin’ ta do to ye, Kacey. Build up yer sweet body to the most powerful orgasm ye’ve ever felt. Build ye up until yer body straining in the red, pushin’ its limits, and ready to collapse.” I felt her moan right in the tip of my dick. “And then, I’m goin’ ta feed ye my cock and watch ye break.”

  “Garret—” She broke off as my teeth clamped on her nipple and tugged, eliciting a long, low moan from her throat.

  Fuck if I wasn’t already in the red, revving higher each time she responded eagerly to my rough and ragged desire.

  Spearing my tongue against her tit, I let go of her flesh and covered her mouth with mine, devouring another taste of her intoxicating fire as I reached for my pile of tools.

  “Yer mine,” I swore against her needy mouth.

  When she gasped, I used my free hand to grasp and plump the swell of her breast, savoring the warm weight as it filled my palm, the hard tip catching along my fingers—a speed bump demanding attention.

  Groaning, I pulled back and slid the metal wrench into my hand, watching her eyes widen as I pinned her nipple between the cold, metal walls and pressed down, popping the hot red flesh out against the harsh steel.

  “God,” she whimpered, panting.

  “Garret,” I growled back, dipping my head once more to flick my tongue over her protruding nipple.

  “Garret!” She got it right that time with a cry, the heat of my mouth and the cold of the wrench immersing her with an icy-hot fire.

  Smirking, I sealed my lips over her tit, pressing the tool harder into her flesh as I began to suck.

  My mouth pulled as the wrench pressed. My tongue hot next to where the metal was cold. My lips soft

  The contrasts drove her wild. I knew they would. And I sucked hard on her nipple to reward her. Long drags against the velvet tip while my other hand kneaded her other breast.

  “That feels… so good,” she whimpered, less of a compliment and more of a fear—a fear echoed in her next words. “I can’t—” She panted, trying to arch against me, her cunt needing pressure to ease the ache of her ravenous orgasm. “I need you,” she exhaled.

  How I wanted her was raw. It lacked all finesse and sweetness. I wasna concerned about pretty, I was concerned about pleasure—her pleasure. And she knew it. She didna want gentle caresses and sweet words.

  She wanted my dirty hands on her pristine skin. She wanted my dirty words clinging to her body.

  She wanted an uprising. A revolt of pleasure against what reality promised was possible.

  She wanted somethin’ desperately passionate. Somethin’ against the rules. Somethin’ willin’ to risk it all.

  A revolution.

  “No’ yet, lass,” I growled.

  She writhed and moaned, and it was a good thing she needed both hands to support her because if she’d been able to touch me, my tenuous hold on fragile restraint would’ve broken.

  I didn’t know if I spent minutes or hours tuning her tits. Making them swollen and pink from my touch. But I was sure I sacrificed parts of my lungs and other non-essential parts of my body—no longer getting enough blood flow or oxygen—in order to worship them.

  As I finally pulled away, my mouth felt like an open wound, harsh breaths bleeding from my lips as I struggled to survive.

  The painful throb of my cock had become a constant, twisting knife low in my gut. Even now, seeing her head tipped back, flaming strands of hair dripping over her shoulders and onto her breasts shaded pink and red from my touch, I felt disconnected from its angry pulse—disconnected from the way drops of cum leaked from the tip and into my pants, threatening to let it all go if I didna bury myself inside her soon.

  Grunting, I rose up, setting the wrench on the table as I reached for the waist of her pants, stripping her of them and her thong in one swift tug.

  And the sight stripped me of my breath.

  She rubbed her thighs together as I watched, as desperate for the friction as she was to taunt me.

  “Ye tempted this Irishman once. Since then, I’ve tried whiskey, but nothin’ will get me drunk enough to satisfy my taste for ye,” I rasped, with a low, heady voice.

  My eyes never left her face, though hers watched with frenzied anticipation as I reached next to me for my stool,
the metal rungs of the legs clanging against the floor as I slid it in front of her.

  I felt her gaze on me, curious and needy for what came next. Picking up two more clean tools from the pile, I walked around to the other side of the table to the small sink, her head having to tip and twist all the way back in order to see me while I washed them.

  They were new. Untouched. Unused.

  Still I cleaned them—and taunted her with the sight.

  “Garret…” she said with a slow, hesitant voice. Questioning.

  I turned, fisting my hand in her hair and tugging until her face was upturned to mine. Sinking my mouth on her, I drove my tongue inside her in an upside-down, silencing kiss. Allowing myself a minute to explore her mouth like this, I licked and stroked until her small moans felt like a new heartbeat.

  Releasing her, I went to my work stool and took a seat, wincing as my heavy dick wedged against my pants.

  My gaze was level with her hips and I watched her lust-drenched eyes watch as I drew my tongue over my lips in anticipation. When that wanton gaze slipped to mine, I grabbed her knees and spread her legs wide, the sweet musk of her desire engulfing me.

  “Christ, lass,” I groaned, lust drowning me as I stared at her glistening pink cunt.

  Under the harshly bright lights in the room which were necessary for me to do my job, I could see every quiver of her flesh, every drop as it leaked from her clenching slit.

  “Lay back,” I commanded.

  Her eyes flashed defiantly.

  Taking my newly washed adjustable wrench, I took the flat head and tapped it against her clit in sinful punishment, enjoying the rocket of her hips off the table as she cried out.

  “Lay back.” It was a warning this time—one to which she readily complied.

  Resting the weighty metal tools on the flat of her stomach, my fingers caught her chill as they slid under her hips and fisted into the flesh of her ass.

  My thumbs reached out and spread her pussy open for me. The growl escaping my chest lifting like smoke behind me as I covered her with my mouth.

  It was hard to say what was sweeter—the taste of her perfect cunt or the way she cried my name as I devoured her.

  Flattening my tongue over her, I let myself consume every taste of her desire, shuddering at the impossible lust it made me feel.

  Drawing along her slit, I licked and swirled over every inch of her tender, tempting flesh.

  She curled her fingers into my hair, but she couldn’t press me any closer. My lips were on her, my tongue sliding inside her, her taste in my throat, her scent in my lungs—I was survivin’ on her.

  I needed to be inside her. There was no doubt about that. It burned like oil in my blood—disastrous and slow. Need eatin’ away at every piece of me with no mercy. No qualm. Nothing but the stickiest, dirtiest demand to take her. To fuck her.

  To fuckin’ make her mine.

  “Garret,” she begged, her body churning against me with violent need for release.

  With a groan, I devoured every slickened inch of her, imbibin’ every drop of honey leaked from her sex and rewardin’ her clit with hard flicks of my tongue.

  Reaching up, I closed my hand around the regular wrench, dragging the clean steel down her stomach toward her pussy.

  She shuddered as the cool metal traced a path along the valley between her thigh and her sex. But when I slid my lips up, locking them around the sweet bud of her clit, and teased the tool against her entrance, her grip in my hair pulled me violently back.

  “Garret.” She gasped, wide eyes staring at me, begging the question of my intent. “I can’t—you can’t—”

  My lip curled with a small smirk against her greedy cunt.

  “Never interrupt an Irishman when he’s drinkin’, lass,” I warned, locking my lips against her sweet flesh as I pushed the rounded end of the metal inside her.

  Cold into hot. Steel into silk.

  I grunted, hearing her gasp in shock and pleasure, her hands returning to their demanding stance against my scalp.

  Giving her clit a small tug, I drew back, watching the metal slide in and out of her cunt, the smooth surface growing slick with her desire.

  “That’s it, lass,” I growled, watching her thick desire drip down along the handle.

  With a grunt, I bent forward and dragged my tongue along the length of the handle, unwilling to let any drop be claimed by anythin’ other than my tongue.

  “So hot and sweet, Kacey,” I murmured. “They say an Irishman canna get drunk, but fuck lass, it dinna take but a taste of ye ta make me lose my mind.”

  She shuddered, my mouth drinking up another rush of desire as her clenching sex pushed it from her body before latching back onto her clit with long sucks.

  I needed to be inside her.

  Needed it more than air.

  Needed it more than life.

  So I sucked on her, steady demanding pulls until she writhed and arched against me. Until her desire made the handle of the wrench slick in my hands as I continued to let her body pull it inside her.

  “Please…” Her body tensed against me. Her clit swelled against my lips.

  “That’s it, lass,” I grunted. “Yer goin’ ta come hard fer me if ye want my cock.”

  Her back bowed and, with a strangled cry, her orgasm claimed her. Molten desire rushed against my hands as I pulled the wrench out of her and tossed it to the ground, leaving her body empty as it convulsed.

  With a rough curse, I stood and undid my pants, able to take my first full breath once my thick and throbbing length broke free.

  I needed her so fuckin’ bad, I wouldn’t survive not havin’ her. Couldn’t. I’d have to cut my cock off to survive it.

  Her eyes flitted open with a whimper.

  “I need you, Garret,” she murmured.

  A groan emerged from the very pit of my stomach as I lined the swollen red tip of my cock up at her entrance, slipping just a little inside with hardly any pressure.

  Gritting my teeth, I braced her hips with my hands and drove forward, spearing through her tightly contracting muscles with one forceful thrust.

  Maybe I had died.

  Maybe I’d waited too long—starved myself of her too much.

  But then again, for somethin’ that felt this good, I’d have to be in heaven, and Lord knew I wasna good enough for that.

  I wasna good enough for her.

  But I could be.

  Wedging myself in deep, my breath came out in a hiss of steam as her cunt wrapped around me like a hot glove, welcoming me with steady pulses.

  She wriggled her hips and my eyes snapped to hers, meeting a gaze that demanded more. Faster. Now.

  “I’ll give ye more,” I promised her. “But ye canna say ye didn’t ask fer it.”

  Holding my cock steady, my body on the brink of erupting into her slick heaven, I reached for the adjustable wrench with a devious grin.

  Kacey pulled her lower lip between her teeth as I slid the tool down where we were joined.

  Lining up the adjustable end with her clit, I began to slowly twist the wrench closed tighter, turning it into a crude clamp.

  There was no pressure at first, but I felt the first wave of pleasure shudder over her body as the metal squeezed her clit ever so gently.

  Groaning, I slid out and thrust back in, her pussy seizing under the onslaught of two distinct kinds of pleasure.

  I turned the dial again. Tighter. And speared my cock into her once more.

  Her eyes flickered with disastrous resignation, realizing the sequence.

  One twist to light up her clit.

  One thrust to rub against her G-spot.

  “Garret.” Her head thrashed against the table.

  One twist.

  One thrust.

  “I need—” She broke off with a gasp, her fingers scoring against the tabletop, searching for something—anything to hold onto.

  “More?” I growled, repeating my efforts as a sheen of sweat broke over my bo
dy. “I’ll give ye more.”

  Again.

  Her pulse jumped against the side of her neck. Her body was strung out taut, desperate to obey my commands.

  “Yer goin’ ta scream my name,” I said raggedly, feeling my cock swell against her impossibly tight muscles.

  My vision wavered and then split into two with the pleasure—and the pain of restraint.

  “Scream it,” I breathed, staring rapt as I tightened the wrench one last time, the bud of her clit popping through the top like a perfect sacrifice to a ragged, undeserving god. “When I give ye everythin’.”

  I swirled my thumb over her slick, protruded flesh, and she obeyed.

  My name tore from her lips like it was cutting through metal. And when her body cinched around mine, all steady torture dissipated as I began to drive into her, relentlessly hitting that spot buried deep inside her—that spot that was mine, bearing my name and carved with my cock—again and again until a new orgasm swallowed the first.

  The feel of her disintegrating around me was intense and pulled out a heart-stopping release.

  With a feral shout, I pinned my cock deep inside her, butting up against her womb, and let my release rip from me in long, thick pumps.

  With each heavy pulse, my cock jetted more cum inside her. A grunt escaped from my chest that felt like an attempt to restart my heart.

  It felt like minutes before I took a breath, wanting nothin’ to fill my body except the feel of her.

  Carefully, my fingers fumbled on the wrench, freeing the small bud of pulsing nerves as I bent over her to lift her up.

  There was nothing but a conversation of sighs and a dialogue of weak, sated moans as I carried her upstairs into the apartment where we could clean off. Where we could calm down and relax.

  And where I could have her again.

  “Ye undo me, lass,” I murmured later as I slid into the bed next to her, pulling her firmly against my chest.

  Peering up, she met my gaze, hers foggy but fierce.

  “I know exactly what you mean.”

  Kacey

  “THIS IS A GREAT IDEA,” Gwen gushed as we walked into the cafeteria to grab a coffee while she was on break. “The kids are so excited.”

  Garret was upstairs with Claire, going over her race car design before we were heading back to the shop with a wheelchair in tow for Garret to create a cardboard race body—four of them.