Mechanic with Benefits

by Mickey Miller

  Oh hell fucking no. She seems like she’s the type who gets men wrapped around her cute little finger with one wag, a quick bat of those blue eyes and a boob shimmy. Maybe a toss of that thick red hair thrown in for good measure.

  Too bad for her, I ain’t got time for that shit. Save that attitude for the weak fucking betas who will put up with it. Ain’t gonna happen here, honey.

  I stand inches from her in the parking lot, watching her writhe. She looks as though she wants to jump out of her skin.

  Welcome to Blackwell, City Bitch.

  “No. I am NOT getting in a vehicle with you, Dick,” she protests, still too timid to look me in the eye.

  She doesn’t move though, just breathes. I examine her. The Blackwell summer humidity has gotten to her. She didn’t come prepared. Her long red hair is frizzy in the humidity of the summer. I can’t fucking help the next words that pop out of my mouth.

  “By the way, did you hear?” I smirk.

  She takes the bait. “Hear what?” she parrots, still with that same fucking attitude.

  I look down at my phone. “Hang on, I have to take this.”

  I pick up my phone and speak into it, nodding thoughtfully. After a few nods, I turn to her. “Hey, it’s for you.”

  “For me?” Her jaw drops.

  “Yeah,” I say, holding my phone in her direction. She extends her arms my way, too. “It’s the 1980s. They want their hairstyle back.”

  Her jaw closes and she’s speechless. She wants to yell something right back at me, but she’s tongue-tied.

  I cross my arms with a smirk, happy I’ve shut her up, finally. I give her an up and down, and that’s when I notice this woman is hot as shit.

  Her breasts are huge mounds bulging out of her bright blue tank top. She’s got wide as hell, child-bearing hips that send a bolt of blood straight down to my cock, making me twitch in my jeans. Her eyes are icy-clear blue, and a few odd freckles dot her cheeks. Her nose has the tiniest of piercings poking to one side.

  “Well, I never! You going to say anything else, Dick? Or just sexually harass me with your eyes?”

  I smirk. “You know, if you weren’t such a bitch, some men might even be attracted to you.”

  Her blue eyes widen further, and she turns to try and nail me with a slap in the fucking face. I catch her wrist with my hand and clamp down on it, not letting go.

  “Like I said, you really need to learn some manners, City Girl.”

  Her expression is so filled with scorn, I think she might actually spit venom at my face. “Now it’s City Girl, is it? Is that an upgrade from ‘Lady?’”

  “Why don’t we drop the shit, City Girl, and just let me help you. I’m fucking offering.”

  “Oh, now you’re offering? Well I don’t take offers from assholes.”

  I chuckle and let go of her wrist.

  “That really hurt, you know.” She runs her other hand over her wrist. Fucking drama queen. I barely touched her.

  “Oh please. You tried to slap the shit out of me.”

  “Because you deserved it.” She turns to walk away again.

  This bitch. I grab her by the waist, spin her around, and make her look me in the fucking eye.

  “You’ve already ruined my night. Now get in my motherfucking truck so I can take you to your car and see what the fuck the problem is, and send you on your merry fucking way.”

  Her jaw hangs open as she stares at me. I’ve got my hands loosely gripping her hips so she’ll look me in the damn eye for once, and she’s got her hands placed on top of mine. Her chest moves up and down in heavy breaths.

  “That’s quite a mouth you’ve got on you,” she swallows.

  “Yep. And I wonder how it would feel on you,” I wink.

  She bares her teeth and glances around. “You’re the only mechanic in town, aren’t you?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “It’s the only way you’d get to be such an asshole. Where’s the customer service?”

  “You know what? I’m not here to sell you on my services. Fuck it. Good luck, lady.” I let go of her body.

  “No.” She finally mutters in a soft whisper. “Just take me.”

  I squint hard at this girl. She doesn’t know it, but the only reason I’m helping her is that ‘mom’ comment she made.

  My mom would be disappointed in me if I didn’t help a woman in need.

  I pull out my keys and jingle them. “Let’s go.” I stride toward my truck, which is parked on the street. When she doesn’t budge, I turn back. “What the fuck, lady?”

  “You’re not even going to put a shirt on? You’re a damn Neanderthal.”

  “It’s ninety fucking five degrees fahrenheit in Blackwell tonight, City Girl. I’m sweating my fucking balls off here.”

  “You really need to stop dropping so many F-bombs,” she huffs, but she finally gets in my truck.

  The sun has set on Blackwell and it’s finally totally dark. I pull out a cigarette and light it.

  “Seriously? You’re going to smoke in the car? Rude.”

  I glance over at her, cigarette in my mouth, then focus back on the road. “Damn woman. Seriously, are you this much of a bitch with your boyfriend? How the fuck does he stand you?”

  Her eyes light up with rage. “What the fuck!? How dare you! You are some kind of asshole. Do you talk to your mother with that mouth?”

  I scoff and put my eyes back on the road, shaking my head. Two minutes after we met, and she already knows how to hit me where it hurts. “You walked a long fucking way, City Girl. That’s the most impressed I’ve been all day, to be honest. Five miles for a high maintence city broad like you? Why, I’m surprised you didn’t have a mental breakdown on the way. Hey, put your seatbelt on, will you?”

  She folds her arms. “I cannot believe I’m in this fucking town. With the biggest asshole in it. And no, I’m not putting my seatbelt on, why don’t you?”

  “Just do it, pretty please?” I do my best to feign a smile with my cigarette between my teeth.

  “No thank you,” she quips, the defiant little bitch.

  I lick my lips and toss my cigarette out the window,

  “Thing is, you never know what’s gonna happen in Blackwell, Miss.”

  Her face softens just a tad. “Oh, Miss? That’s what I am now? First, ‘Lady,’ then “City Girl,’ and now, ‘Miss?’ So how many more upgrades until I get called by my real name?”

  I sigh. I don’t have the heart to tell her that I truly don’t give a shit about her real name. Not like I haven’t seen a city girl come through here before, then move on the next week like it’s no big deal. Myself, I’m a simple man. Once I call someone--anyone, girl or guy--by their name, I intend to remember it. I’m not like these city folk with their damn instagrams and their twitter and what-have-you digital popularity contests.

  I want a face and name. And I’m not calling City Girl anything but a pseudonym.

  “Nothing to say, eh? Yeah, keep driving down this road. I think it’s coming up on the right,” she gestures down the road. “I can’t believe I had to break down in this piece of shit town. Anywhere else would have been better.”

  I scrunch my face up a bit at that remark. “Now listen--”

  I’m about to actually try and reason with this girl when a fucking deer jumps right in front of my truck.

  I slam on the brakes to stop us from full on colliding with it, but it’s too late. We hit the deer, and I see City Girl about to fly through the windshield for lack of putting her damn seatbelt on. I would too, except I’m a smart motherfucker and I’m able to brace myself with the wheel.

  The next second seems like it happens in slow motion. I reach my arm across the seat as we come to a complete, utter halt. Her body flies forward, but thank God I am able to catch her less than an inch before her nose hits the glass windshield in front of us. The tires screech as we scream to a stop, and the deer thumps under the truck.

  When we finally come to a dead on stop, C
ity girl looks over at me and she’s got the first genuine, non-contrived expression on her face I’ve seen all night: fear.

  Her eyes are wider than I’ve ever seen a person’s, and her jaw is so open it’s nearly touching her cleavage. Her chest contracts and expands deeply and rapidly, and it’s the first time I wouldn’t blame her for being a huge drama queen.

  She just came inches from a possible death.

  She looks down at my forearm strapped across her chest.

  I realize I’m tightly gripping her window-side arm, and my forearm is basically rubbing against her sizeable cleavage. Our skin sticks together in the sticky hotness of the Blackwell humidity.

  “What the fuck just happened?” She manages to belt between breaths.

  “You just learned why the fuck you need to listen to me when I tell you to put your damn seatbelt on,” I snap.

  She leans back in her seat, finally subdued. Some women, I guess it just takes almost dying for them to shut the fuck up.

  “That’s it, up there,” she breathes. In the moonlight a quarter of a mile down the road, I can see the reflection from the lights of what must be her car. I turn the truck off for a moment, open the door, and head outside.

  “Gotta check my engine real quick.”

  Through some miracle, the front of my truck isn’t totally destroyed. The deer, however, is on the side of the road. I’ll call road services tomorrow and have them take care of it. I jump back inside and take the wheel.

  “Everything look okay up there?” She asks.

  I stare at her. Those are the first fucking real words, the first sentence that didn’t come with ten extra sides of saucy attitude since I’ve met this girl not an hour ago. And I realize something: she’s scared shitless. She’s fucking traumatized.

  “Hey, listen,” I say. “These things happen. I was joking a little, but I’m also serious that you’ve got to be careful out here in the country, City Girl. Hey what is your name anyway?”

  She swallows and hesitates. “Haley.” She whispers.

  “Well, Haley,” I repeat. I hesitate. Fuck, I don’t know what the fuck to say to comfort this girl. Why not face the obvious? I don’t know shit about her, and she doesn’t know shit about me.

  Instead of trying to come up with some perfect bullshit to say, I slap my hand down on her thigh and take hold. I can feel her shaking, understandably, since we just had a near death experience. “Put your fucking seat belt on, City Girl. Please.”

  Maybe it’s the please, but Haley finally does as she’s told, eyes still straightforward and focused on the road.

  Now, as I drive, I’m the nervous one. Nervous because her fucking thigh feels incredible the way it molds to my hand. Feeling her blood flow sends waves of electricity straight between my legs. My cock hardens in my jeans, and I grip her just a touch harder. Fuck, I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing. She hasn’t even asked my name, and I’m realizing this woman’s hot as shit.

  Sure, maybe she ain’t no country girl, but she’s got a wisp of casual about her. I wonder if this whole hardball attitude she’s had since the moment we met is just one big bitch shield to keep away a world that maybe hasn’t been the nicest to her.

  Or, maybe my thought isn’t that complex. Maybe I’m just thinking about the fact that I now have a full on boner as she places her hand on top of mine. It’s a small gesture, but it acknowledges my presence.

  I slide my hand just a tad higher on her thigh, right as we arrive to her car. I pull up about twenty feet behind her Mini Cooper.

  I put my truck into park, but I don’t take my hand off her thigh. She’s completely silent all of a sudden.

  “Haley,” I try to say, but it comes out in a throaty growl. Fuck. I shouldn’t be this hard for a woman I don’t even know. But I can’t help it. She’s so fucking hot in her fancy ass dress and with her defiant demeanor.

  And I’d be a big time liar if I don’t admit it is turning me on.

  “Yes?” She answers, arching an eyebrow in my direction.

  I don’t say anything. I just move my hand further up her thigh until I’m hiking up the cloth of her dress. Her hand is on top of mine, she’s helping me.

  “I’m glad you’re alright,” I growl.

  She smiles, and takes her seatbelt off. “You’re an asshole. You know that right?” Her tone is suddenly soft. Genuine. It’s like she’s a totally different person.

  I grin back. “Yeah, I am. I don’t deny it.”

  “You’re cocky as hell, aren’t you?”

  I scoff. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  I remove my hand from her thigh and use it to place her hand firmly on my big, hard cock.

  What the hell? You only live once, right?

  “Well alright then,” she says, her voice somehow still sounding innocent. “You’re hard…”

  She hesitates. “I...I don’t know what I’m doing. But God you’re hot. Dick.”

  I smile. “Dick was my father’s name. I’m Liam.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Glad you caught that before we do this.”

  With a quick move, I do a half turn to face her, and walk my fingers up her thighs, slide her panties to the side, and fondle her clit.

  Her ice blue eyes glaze over. “You like that, don’t you Haley?”

  “Yes.” She whispers.

  I place kisses around her neck and rub my middle finger in soft circles over her clit. Her moans fill the truck cab.

  Chapter Three

  Haley

  I don’t move this fast, I want to tell Liam.

  I’m not the girl you can just seduce within an hour of meeting me.

  But as Liam twirls his finger on my clit, I can’t tell him to stop. It feels too. Damn. Good.

  And the truth is I want this. Need this.

  I wrap my hand around his back, and gently caress the tattoo of an eagle. His back is huge. His muscles are hulking. His skin is rough to the touch.

  “Liam, please,” I mutter.

  He leans his forehead against mine, and I can feel the heat emanating from his head.

  “You want me to stop, City Girl?”

  I grind my teeth a little bit, and remember the rage I was feeling at this man not two minutes ago. It’s mostly been dissolved, but his mention of the dumb nickname he’s already given me sparks a surge of rage inside me.

  I bite his neck, and he grunts, then pushes me off him. He looks at me with his amber eyes wide, full of fury and desire.

  “Hell no,” I mutter, my voice caught mostly in the back of my throat. I smile a little. “I want you to go harder. That all you got?”

  He grunts and my lips involuntarily form an O as I feel two of his fingers curve up and into me. I whimper and arch my neck back as he leaves a trail of kisses heading down to my cleavage.

  “That’s what you want, isn’t it? Dirty girl.” He grunts again as his fingers rub against my g-spot. Even though the truck isn’t moving, I feel like I have to hang onto the armrest for balance. I try to look away, but he grabs my face and forces me to kiss him, attacking me with his mouth. Our tongues battle, though it’s hard for me to give him my full concentration with my pussy pulsing around his thick fingers. I want to nod and tell him that yes, this is what I want, but another part of me doesn’t want to give this asshole the validation he’s after. Yes, I’m a dirty girl. Yes, your abs, your tats, and your ‘don’t give a shit’ attitude turn me on. So what?

  “It’s fine, you don’t have to answer,” he growls as though reading my mind. “These tell me what I need to know.”

  He reaches his free hand up my shirt and under my bra to grab my tits. My nipples are hard as fuck, and he flicks them back and forth with his fingers.

  “Oh fuck…” I mutter, fluttering my eyes. For a moment, I realize I’ve only heard this man’s name but once. I don’t even know his last name. I don’t know if he notices the awkward pause, but fuck him. He still refuses to call me Haley. Maybe I should just start calling him by some
other name. The name SAM flashes through my mind.

  “Sam,” I mutter to mess with him.

  He swallows, and I swear, for once I see that lordly smirk leave his face and he actually looks concerned. “Who the fuck is Sam?” He growls.

  I snort. “Sexy Ass Mechanic. SAM for short.” I bite my lip, then moan as he curves his fingers up towards my pelvis stimulating my g-spot, sending me to the moon and back. The smell of sex and pleasure fills the truck. “Oh fuck,” I mutter.

  He’s hunched over me, his ass barely half on the seat. “Sam,” he nods. “I kind of like that, actually. And I’ll call you DAGNY.”

  I whimper and wiggle my body. This whole having a conversation while I am approaching orgasm thing is not my usual style. “DAGNY? What the hell is that?”

  He grabs hold of my hip, slips a hand behind my skirt and gives my ass a squeeze. Fuck, the man knows how to work his hands. Must be all that mechanic-ing he does.

  “Dirty Ass Girl from New York,” he smirks, and continues. “I might have said sexy instead of dirty, but SAGNY just didn’t have the same ring to it.”

  If his fingers weren’t knuckle deep in me, I’d giggle. Since when do jock-looking men with great abs and tattoos actually have a sense of humor? Instead, I open my mouth all the way. He bites my lower lip, then works his way back to my neck and latches onto my neck, suctioning like a damn vacuum.

  “Ow! Fuck, what was that for?”

  “Just wanted to mark you as my territory,” he smirks. “You’re mine now, Dagny.”

  I want to protest. More than that, I want to slap this man across the face. But before I know it, he spins me around so my back is to the door, spreads my legs straight out and up, and dives down between them with his tongue.

  “Fuck you, Sam,” I mewl. My blood boils, as I grab this man’s head and press it into my pussy as hard as I can. I grind my clit against his tongue while his fingers do work inside me. I thrust into him as hard as I can, but he doesn’t back down from the challenge.

  Instead, he licks and sucks my pussy more voraciously, like I’m the tastiest thing on earth. Liam pulls his finger out of me, and wraps his hand around my leg. I squeeze his head with my legs.