I blink. I think it’s the first time someone’s asked me that question. Lots of people want to know what it’s like ‘in the sandbox’, as some people call it. Like Iraq and Afghanistan are somehow the same place.
But nobody’s ever asked me what it was like coming back. “I couldn’t even sleep the first week I got back, took sleeping pills just to get some rest,” I admit quietly. “But I tried acting normal. I mean, I went out on a few dates. Plenty of girls liked how I looked with a crew cut, and that’s what you do when you get home. But . . .”
“But what?”
I shrug, not wanting to explain just how hard it was dealing with a thousand and one stupid questions or the girls who wanted to show me off like some sort of trophy. Worst of all were the ones who thought they could use me to get their exes jealous and the ones who tried to start shit because of it.
“They couldn’t handle the dark side,” I finally reply. “Definitely not the bad nights. Slowly, I came to figure out that nobody really should be asked to put up with it.”
“So you hide your good side behind a giant layer of fuck off,” McKayla replies. “You know, Evan, not everyone’s looking to just get the benefits. Although you’ve got a lot of them.”
“Yeah, well . . .” I say, going over to the now pressurized washer and grabbing the thick rubber gloves we use to keep down the burns along with the wand for spraying. “I know what you’re asking for, McKayla. I’m flattered, I really am. You’re the most beautiful woman who’s ever shown interest in me. But that’s the exact reason I know you deserve better than me.”
Before she can answer, I hit the trigger on the power washer, spraying the driver side of McKayla’s car with two hundred PSI of hot water and sanitizing chemicals that could clean surgical instruments if we wanted. It doesn’t take long. I have the wand set in wide fan mode so I don’t break her window, but it still raises enough mist that I can’t see shit except for the side of her car when I let go of the trigger and the noise stops.
“There you go,” I reply, inhaling the steam and loving the feeling. “Let me just grab a towel—”
“Fuck the towel,” McKayla says behind me. I turn, surprised she was able to sneak up on me, and I’m even more surprised when I realize she’s pulled off her t-shirt and bra and is wearing just her denim skirt.
“McKayla—”
“Shut the fuck up,” McKayla says, pressing her body against me and grabbing my hair. “We both need this. I’m a big girl. I’m not afraid of the dark.”
She pulls my head down, and at the first touch of our lips, all my resistance melts away. If this woman wants to feel me, all of me, then she’s going to get it. She’s been warned.
I spin her, pressing McKayla’s body up against the warm side of her car as I reach down, running my hand underneath the hem of her skirt to grab her ass and squeeze it tightly. Oh, my God, she’s wearing a thong. Of course she is, my naughty little girl.
I groan into her mouth as I work her skirt up, and McKayla runs her fingernails down my back hard, delicious pain mixing with the heat as she reaches around and cups my cock. There’s no holding back this time, and I pick her up, carrying her to the hood of her car and setting her curvy ass right on the fender. “lie back.”
She does as I command, her eyes going wide as I reach down and undo the button on my jeans, pushing them down. I’m not wearing any underwear. I go commando pretty much everywhere except when I exercise. My cock immediately pops out. McKayla’s eyes go wide, and she unconsciously licks her lips as I spread her legs, pushing her skirt up more.
The sight of her, legs spread nearly into a split and her denim skirt hiked to her waist as her breasts curve naturally and beautifully up and to the side, leaves me breathless. I blink and push her knees up higher, bending down. “What are you doing?”
“What I’ve wanted to do since I first licked your come off my fingers,” I growl as I bend down and kiss her panty-covered pussy. McKayla jumps like I just sent an electric shock through her body, encouraging me to nibble and suck on her pussy through her panties.
I want to rip her panties off like I did her other pair, but I restrain myself. She does need to have something to wear to work.
Instead, I tug her panties to the side and lick her wet folds with my tongue, slipping between them as I let my hunger drive my mouth to consume her pussy. I scoop her juices out with my tongue over and over before pulling out to tease her clit with just the tip of my tongue.
“Fuck . . . oh my fucking . . .” McKayla groans as she reaches down and grabs my head, twisting up a fistful of my hair and grinding her pussy against my face. I lick and suck harder, bringing my hand up to slide two fingers deep inside her and rubbing her deep spot as she cries out. Her cries and shrieks of pleasure guide me as I draw her body all the way up to the point where she’s trembling on the edge of coming before keeping her there, suspended on a tightrope above the canyon, waiting for a single word. “Evan . . .”
“Say please,” I growl against her clit. I lick around her clit, her soaked hairs catching in my stubble and pulling, and I know I’m torturing her, but I need to hear it. “Be good.”
“Please,” McKayla says, her voice rising higher and higher as before she can even get the word out, I suck hard on her clit, sending her crashing over the edge into an orgasm that shakes her from the top of her head all the way to her toes. I feel her heels drum against my back as I clamp my mouth around her pussy and she fills my mouth with her juices, a nectar that’s sweeter than anything I’ve ever tasted before.
I stand up, my cock raging harder than ever at the feast I just enjoyed, and pull McKayla’s nearly limp body toward me, rubbing the head of my cock through her folds. “You ready?” I ask before letting go. “Just a second.”
“What?” McKayla asks fearfully, relaxing when I reach into my back pocket and pull out my wallet. It’s been there at least a year, but old habits die hard, and my condom’s still there. “Hmm . . . not so bad a boy after all.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I growl, but I’m amused as I roll the condom down my cock. Really, it’s just as much for my pleasure as it is for protection. I haven’t been inside a woman in a long time and I’m afraid I’m going to bust a nut in thirty seconds if I don’t have something to dim the fire just a tad. “You’re going to get fucked harder than you’ve ever been fucked before.”
“Good,” McKayla says, wrapping her legs around my waist. I line the head of my cock up and push forward. Her pussy seems to flow around my cock in a perfect velvety, clingy, tight embrace that takes my breath away before I stop.
I look down, seeing the pain in her eyes, but she’s not complaining about the feeling of my cock filling her. Still, I pause, grinding against her and letting her adjust while I lean down to kiss her stiff nipple, sucking on it and feasting on her body again until I feel her relax, running her hands through my hair again. Pulling back, I thrust again, filling her all the way until I feel my balls press against the warm curve of her ass.
“You’re fucking tight,” I growl around her nipple as I look up into her beautiful face, all big eyes and pink hair and sexy tremble to her lips. “You ready?”
She nods, her voice yanked from her throat as I pull back and thrust again. Even if I’m wearing a condom, I’m not able to hold back, and I fuck her hard, slamming my cock deep into her with every stroke. Each one is fabulous, and fucking McKayla is like nothing I’ve ever experienced with a woman before. It feels like her body was made just for me as my hips smack against hers and I kiss up to her mouth again, pounding her against the hood of her car until she’s gasping for breath. “Oh, fuck, Evan, you make me . . .”
I cry out, biting her lip as I come and push her over again, her fingernails digging harder than ever into my back. I can feel a delicious pain as she breaks my skin, and part of me is happy about it, loving the pain as I fill the condom with jets of my thick seed.
McKayla clutches me to her as she rides her own orgasmic rollercoaster, and w
hen it’s all over, she strokes my face once, smirking. “Damn . . . that was better than I’ve dreamed about all week.”
“McKayla, this doesn’t mean—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she says, still smiling. “You’re an asshole, this can’t be a relationship, yada, yada, yada. I get it. But still . . . that was one amazing fuck. And from what I see in your eyes, you’re thinking the same thing right now.”
She’s right, and I shrug. “Well . . . your car’s clean.”
“‘Ish,” McKayla says. “How much do I owe you?”
I just smile, withdrawing and cleaning myself up. “If that sort of shit ever happens again, gimme a call.”
“Don’t know your number, and I’ve got a terrible post-sex memory. You need to come across the street and write it down for me.”
I know what she’s doing, but fuck it. I get myself buttoned back up and even grab a semi-clean t-shirt from the office while McKayla gets her things back on, and I climb into the passenger seat as she drives back across the street. In the glove box, I find a pen and a piece of paper, where I write down my number. “Here you go. Don’t lose it.”
McKayla gives me a show of folding up the number and tucking it inside the cup of her bra, grinning. “Don’t worry, I’ll program it into my phone as soon as I get upstairs. Walk me to the door?”
I get out and walk McKayla the short distance to the front door of the salon. Unlocking the door, she sighs. “Thanks, Evan. Really. Not for the fuck, though that was great. But for everything before that too.”
“You’re welcome.” I lean in for some unknown reason and give McKayla a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry about the sick fucking prank. You’ll be fine.”
McKayla gives me a smile and gives me a kiss back on my cheek before opening the door and going inside, locking it behind her. From the digital clock on the counter, I see it’s nearly one in the morning, but I don’t feel sleepy at all as I watch her disappear into the back of the shop, a light turning on for a moment in a stairwell before she closes the door.
I turn to head back to the garage, and just as I step into the street, there’s a roar of a powerful engine. Bright lights flare, blinding me as I quickly jump back. A big sedan narrowly misses me as it goes roaring down the street toward downtown.
“What the fuck?” I start to yell before stopping myself. I still can’t see much. My vision’s still a little dazzled by the lights, and the car’s too far away now, but there’s a disquieting feeling in my stomach that whatever this ‘prank’ against McKayla was, it’s a lot more than some kid doing something stupid.
I wait for my eyes to clear before crossing the street again, going back inside the shop and rolling the doors down. I look through the narrow plastic window in the door at the Triple B and make a decision.
Until I’m sure McKayla’s safe . . . I think I might sleep here every night. Just to be sure.
Chapter 15
McKayla
“Earth to McKayla . . . come in, bitch. Can you hear me?” Brad asks, all giggles as he catches me drifting off once again.
I’m trying to focus. Data entry isn’t my strong suit to start with, but these bills have to get paid. I love feeling the twenties and occasional hundreds between my fingers, but that doesn’t mean I like dealing with the paperwork. It’s why we spent the money for a totally integrated point of sales system, but it doesn’t do everything. So I try and focus, but even as my nails, blood red today, clickity-clack on the keyboard, my mind wanders.
For the last few days, I’ve popped between virtually euphoric at the amazing sex with Evan, dreaming about how he put me up on the hood of my car and pounded into me like an animal unleashed, and feeling creepy-crawlies down my spine at what was done to my car.
Evan tried to make me feel better, cleaning it up and then opening up to me more than I thought he ever would, and he’s tried to assure me that it was probably just a stupid prank. But I haven’t overlooked the fact that he’s more or less moved full-time into the apartment above the garage since the gross incident, almost like he’s protecting me. While that helps me feel safer, it also means that every night, I have to fight the urge to call him or go over there to see if maybe he can give me a little bit more assurance, if you know what I mean.
Brad sighs with a laugh and brings me fully back to the moment.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Just daydreaming for a minute.”
Brad sets his makeup brush back in his case, shaking his head. “Girl, those aren’t called ‘daydreams’, they’re called fantasies. And yours were written all over your flushed face. Although with the way you were walking the other day, I’d say you were more likely replaying memories.”
I reach a hand up to my cheeks and blush even further. I didn’t tell Brad about anything that happened, and I can’t get a read on him whether I actually was walking a little weird or if he’s just fishing. We’ve joked about it before—we call it the ‘Drought Breaker,’ although I’d say my wide-hipped mosey isn’t as funny as Brad’s waddle. “I wasn’t—”
“Aha, caught you!” Brad crows with a triumphant little clap. “I was kidding, but your reaction says I’m damn close to the bullseye. Just what devious things are you imagining doing with your greased up biker across the street?”
We both swivel our heads to look out the windows and into the bay doors of the garage across the way. It’s past sunset, but the lights are on inside, giving us a great view.
Evan and TJ are walking around a car, appraising it as they point and talk. Evan leans over to get under the hood and my eyes lock on his ass, covered in tight denim with a big grease swipe where I’ve seen him wipe his hands countless times in the last few weeks. It’s just about the same place where I want to dig my nails into the dimples of his ass as he pounds into me.
Brad, I can tell, probably knows what I’m thinking. “Mmm, damn, boy. Yeah, I can see why you’re cooking up some afternoon delight dreams about that yummy goodness. Jesus, I didn’t think you could get something that nicely fitting without being stretch jeans.”
I sigh dreamily, leaning forward and resting my elbows on the counter. “It’s even better without the jeans. Best ass I’ve ever had my hands on.”
I hear Brad’s gasp and realize I said that out loud, not in my head as I’d intended. Shit.
Brad’s eyes bore into me, his voice demanding as he plants his elbows right across the counter from me, lowering himself to stare into my face. “Spill it, bitch. Don’t even try to back out of it now.”
Before I can say anything, there’s a honk from across the street. We both look up and see Evan rubbing the back of his head, glaring at his brother. TJ looks across the street, trying not to laugh as he points and says something that makes Evan flip him the bird before stomping into the garage. TJ raises two fingers in a wave, and I return the greeting with a smile, thankful for the delay before I tell Brad what happened.
Brad offers a little finger waggle to TJ too, watching him disappear before hitting me with his full attention. “Well?”
“Well what?” I try in a last-ditch effort to not have to spill it.
Brad’s not having it. “Bitch, don’t make me turn you from Marilyn Monroe to Marilyn Manson.”
“I think I’m more Shirley Manson, don’t you?”
Brad growls, and I laugh, throwing up my hands. “Okay, okay. Chill. So, the other day after we got back, I was really feenin’ for a burger around midnight. So, I pulled on some clothes and came down to make a drive-through run. When I came downstairs, I unlocked the car and grabbed the handle to open the door and there was something all over the handle, door, and window, but I didn’t notice at first. It was . . . oh, God, this makes me wanna hurl even thinking about it, but it was semen. I screamed, and then I got mad and started stomping around. Evan came over to check on me because he heard the commotion.”
Brad interrupts me, his eyes wide in shock. “I thought this was a story about your seeing his ass. Now I’m fucking freaked out. Are y
ou saying Evan jacked off on your car?”
I look at him, wondering if he’s had hearing loss recently, then realize I have been sort of babbling and going fast. I probably sound like a lunatic. “No, of course not. I’m getting there, but you need the whole story. So I was just totally freaked and grossed out. I mean seriously, it’s creepy as fuck to find your car door turned into a frosted fucking donut. Evan calmed me down but offered to call the cops. I said no, figuring they’d just blow it off like some damn teenage prank. Then he offered to use the power washer in the garage to clean it off. We got to talking . . .”
I realize that I don’t want to tell Brad the things Evan shared with me. They feel private, like he gave me a little more than he does most folks, and I hold that dear. Brad seems to understand, though. “And? About the hands on his ass part.”
Giving my friend a grateful smile, I wrap up my abbreviated tale. “Well, one thing led to another, and we had sex on the hood of my car. Kinda reclaiming it from the bad memory with a good one . . . a really good one.”
Brad looks me up and down, then he stands up, rubbing at his cheek. He’s still a little playful, but there’s a side of him that’s serious right now, too, and both are present in his eyes. “We’ll get back to the other stuff, but first of all, how good are we talkin’ here?”
I chuckle, squeezing my thighs together as a memory tingle starts up between my legs. “Legitimately, the best I’ve ever had. Even Mr. Hitachi upstairs can’t keep up.”
Brad snaps his fingers, whistling in admiration. “Well, all right then. What’s next?”
I shake my head. “There is no next. He’s been clear he’s not looking for anything serious, and I’m not exactly a ‘wait for him’ kind of girl. I guess we’re just going on as usual, and if something happens, it happens.”
Brad looks shocked for a moment, his mouth hanging open, then he bursts out into laughter, bending to put his hands on his knees as the tremors of laughter shake his whole body.
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