by LK Farlow
“First, we need to tape off anything we don’t want painted.”
Mateo demonstrates on the first faux-doorhandle before setting me free on the second.
“Now, we mix.”
I rub my hands together in excitement. “I’ve always dreamed of painting.”
Mateo wags his brows. “Then let’s make your dreams come true.”
He drags me over to a metal table in the corner and begins explaining the mixing process. “Since we are painting plastic, we will need to do two coats of adhesion promoter. You think you can handle that?”
“Do I do it like spray paint?”
“Yes. I would shoot it with a gun if it were a full-size vehicle, but since this is…” —he pinches his thumb and forefinger together— “pequeño—little, we will use this.”
He passes me the can and I give it a good shake before spraying all of the exposed plastic.
I step back after the first coat, turning to him for approval. “Very good,” he murmurs before starting me on the second coat.
“Now we need to lay down our base.” I hang on his every word, thoroughly entranced. “Since we’re doing candy, we want a metallic base—the more metallic, the better.”
He mixes the base, loads the cup, and motions for me to join him. I figure he’s going to have me watch, but to my surprise, he presses the paint gun into my hands and moves behind me. “We want the PSI at twenty-nine and we’re going to spray from about six inches back. Smooth and fluid, yes?”
I take a deep breath, nod, and pull the trigger. The first coat goes on… well, it goes on roughly. Shooting paint from a gun is totally different than spraying with a can.
But Mateo doesn’t seem too concerned. “I’ll help you with the next coat.”
“How long do we have to wait?”
“Fifteen minutes.”
“What will we do while we wait?” I bat my lashes and bite my lip, hoping like hell I look alluring and not like a fool.
If the heated look in Mateo’s eyes is anything to go by, I nailed it.
“I can think of a way or two to pass the time.”
“Oh, yeah?” I ask, my voice breathy.
“Yes.” He leans in and skims his lips over mine in a ghost of a kiss. “We can mix the control coat.”
“You tease.”
“It isn’t teasing as long as you deliver, and, mariposita, I will deliver.”
My heart flutters in my chest at the thought of him… delivering. “Tell me about this control coat,” I say, in need of a distraction.
“We use it between the base coats and the candy to make sure there’s no tiger striping.”
For the next two coats of base, Mateo stands behind me, guiding my movements. His nearness makes me dizzy with need, but I shove it down, determined to impress him with my non-existent paint skills.
“For the control coat, we’re going to up the PSI to thirty-one and spray the entire thing in one continuous pass. Okay?”
“Okay.”
He stays behind me, our bodies perfectly aligned. I can feel the hardness of his erection pressed firmly into my backside and with every pass, I feel my panties getting wetter. Who freaking knew painting was so sexy?
Right when I think I can’t take another second, we finish and he steps away. My body instantly misses the heat of his.
“I am going to mix the candy. Will you wipe down the Jeep with this tack tag?”
I do as he says and then we get down to work shooting the Powerwheel with four coats of candy pink and two coats of clear.
Once we finish the last coat, we stand back and admire our handiwork. “You did good,” he praises as he strips off his gloves and washes his hands.
“Thanks to my teacher.”
He steps aside so I can use the sink.
“Why don’t you come over here and thank me properly?” His voice is pure lust and I find myself more turned on and eager to please than ever.
I close the gap between us, skipping straight over tentative and exploring as I claim his mouth with my own. He runs his hands up and down my back, lighting me up from the inside out.
I wiggle closer to him, searching for something I can’t quite name—that is, until he fists my hair with one hand and my ass with the other. I moan as he tugs my head back and slides his tongue against mine sensually.
At this point, I’m not sure who’s thanking who, but as long as he never stops kissing me, I don’t really care.
He shoves his knee between my legs and uses the hand on my ass to pull me flush against him. His thick erection feels like a steel rod.
Would his monster-dick even fit? I wonder as I fight the urge to rock against his thigh.
I’m so lost in him, in this kiss, that I don’t realize I’ve lost the fight with myself until he groans and drops his other hand to my ass and begins guiding my movements.
Up, down. Up, down.
He moves my body against his in a way that sparks are flashing beneath my closed lids. My entire body trembles as euphoria like I’ve never felt before washes over me.
I clench my jaw to keep from crying out when the pleasure becomes unbearable. How can he make me feel this good from just a kiss?
“Let me hear you, mariposita,” he growls against my lips.
“I… I… need,” I pant, unable to string enough words together to make a sentence.
“Tell me what you need and I will give it to you.”
“I need…” He adds a swivel motion as he rocks me against him and my entire body convulses.
“Do you need to come, Seraphine?”
“Yes,” I whine, desperate to fall into the abyss of pleasure he’s holding me over.
“Can I touch you?” he asks through gritted teeth.
The fact that he’s a gentleman in the heat of the moment means everything to me. “Yes, please, yes.”
He tugs down the zipper of my coveralls before sliding the material from my shoulders, revealing to him my white lace bralette. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of each breast. “So perfect.”
“Less talking,” I mumble, as my eyes glaze over with want.
Mateo spins me, bringing my back to his front before snaking his hand down the opening of my coveralls. He rubs me twice over the lace of my panties before pulling them to the side and sliding his thick index finger over my slit.
“You’re so wet for me, mariposita. So warm. I bet you taste as good as you feel.”
His dirty words nearly fry my brain.
“I’m going to make you feel so good.” He presses his lips to my neck, kissing and sucking at the sensitive skin as he rubs his index finger in a tight circular motion over my clit until I’m reduced to a trembling mass of embers desperate to ignite.
I open my mouth to beg for more, but as if he can anticipate my need, Mateo slides a single finger inside of me. “So tight,” he rumbles, using the heel of his hand to massage my clit as he pumps in and out of me. He rocks his hips in rhythm with the white-hot pleasure he’s bringing me, and something about the combined sensation of his rock-hard cock pressing into my back and the ministrations of his skilled, calloused fingers has me seeing stars.
“Oh, God. Fuck. Yes,” I moan wildly, bucking my hips as my pleasure overtakes me.
I slump back against his firm body as I return to myself. My legs feel like jelly; who knew a non-self-induced orgasm could feel that much better.
“Are you okay?” Mateo asks, his finger still softly tracing my pussy.
“More than,” I murmur, still blissed out beyond belief.
“You’re beautiful when you come.”
I pinch my eyes closed and don’t reply, because what do you even say to that? Something tells me thanks is not the correct response.
He withdraws his hand from my panties and spins me to face him. My eyes widen to the size of dinner plates when he sucks his finger—the one that was in me—into his mouth.
“Mmm,” he moans long and low, causi
ng heat to bloom across my cheeks and down my chest. I didn’t realize that was something guys actually did. I thought it only happened in books.
“Oh my God.” I feel like I’ve been thrown into the deep end without knowing how to swim. He’s so much older and more experienced than me. He’s the kind of man who sucks come off of his fingers while I’m the kind of woman who’s never even jacked a guy off.
Embarrassment and worry set in, robbing me of my post-orgasmic happiness. He probably thinks—
“What is wrong?” he asks, derailing my runaway thoughts.
“Nothing. It’s just…” I fumble around for the zipper of my coveralls and tug it up, covering myself from his view. “I don’t do things like this. Ever.”
He cocks his head to the side and studies me. “When you say things like this, you mean what?”
“This!” I shout. “Everything that has happened tonight has been a first for me!”
I see the exact moment when the weight of my words hits him. “¿Tú eres virgen? You are a virgin?”
My embarrassment morphs to shame. What would this gorgeous, experienced man want with me? I probably wouldn’t even know how to please him.
“Seraphine.” He says my name so softly, almost reverently. “Answer me.”
“Everything about tonight” —my voice cracks— “this was my first date. My first orgasm that wasn’t at my own hands. And yes, I am a virgin.”
I expect him to scoff. To laugh. To kick rocks. Instead, he scoops me up bridal-style and holds me close. “You have no idea how happy that makes me, mariposita.”
“Ha-happy?”
He nods, brushing his nose along my temple. “That means, I’ll be all of your firsts.”
Holy whoa. “Those are some mighty big words for a first date,” I say, wondering if he truly means what he’s saying or if it’s some kind of weird bedroom talk.
“If you give me a chance, I’ll show you just how much I mean them.”
“This seems fast,” I hedge, feeling like I’m in a dream, like I’m going to wake up alone in my bed any moment.
“This was two years coming, mariposita.”
“Do you mean that? Truly?”
He carries me out of the paint booth and back over to our pallet, lowering us down in the center. “Con todo mi corazón—with all of my heart.”
I bury my face in his chest and mumble against his thundering heart, “This doesn’t feel real.”
“Then let me show you.”
“Okay, Mateo. Show me.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Mateo
In the light of morning, everything about last night with Seraphine feels like a dream. From start to finish, every single detail of our date is burned into my brain like a cattle brand.
It will easily go down in the history books as one of the best nights of my life.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I grab it and smile when I see a text notification from Seraphine.
Seraphine: Thank you for such an amazing first date.
Me: You’re very welcome. When can I see you again?
Seraphine: Uh… You’ll see me Monday… at work?
Me: Ha ha. When can I take you out again?
Seraphine: OH! *face palm* I feel like an idiot.
Me: I’ll make it all better on our next date.
Seraphine: You will?
Me: Always.
Seraphine: Then that’s my answer, too.
Me: What is?
Seraphine: Always. Whenever you want to take me out, my answer will *always* be yes.
Me: Today?
Seraphine: Okay, I might have lied. I am babysitting Willow today.
Me: Fair enough. Desi has a basketball game on Friday. Come with me and to dinner after?
Seraphine: It’s a date.
She ends her text with a winky-face emoji, which for some reason makes me smile.
I also have a text from Desi checking in. She slept over at a friend’s house last night and wants to know if she can go with her friend’s family to lunch and a movie today. I shoot off a reply telling her it’s cool before kicking off the covers and heading to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.
While it brews yet another text comes in.
Simon: You free today?
Me: Yeah, why? Truck’s okay?
Simon: Truck is perfect.
Me: What’s up?
Simon: Wanted to see if you wanted to meet up for brunch?
Me: Brunch?
Simon: Fuck off. Men can brunch, too.
Me: Sure. Why not?
Simon: Invite your brother, too, if you want.
Simon sends me the address and I forward it to Arrón, along with the time. He’s smart; he’ll figure out what I’m getting at.
Since I have a good three hours before… brunch… I decide to skip breakfast make the most of my time by mowing the lawn instead.
I throw on a pair of old jeans, a T-shirt, and boots and get to work. The entire time I work, my mind is on a certain stunning brunette and all of the firsts I promised her.
Two hours later, I’m a sweating—and slightly turned on—mess. I may have spent more time fantasizing than I did working, but the grass is cut and I have just enough time to shower before heading out.
I strip out of my grass-covered clothes and start the shower. At the first sign of steam, I pull back the curtain, step over the side of the tub, and stand under the stream of scorching water.
My mind is still on Seraphine as I lather up and scrub the sweat and grass from my skin. The memory of her soft, pleasure-filled moans fills my ears.
I squeeze my cock tightly in my fist, imagining it’s her tight, virgin pussy instead. The thought of being the first—the only—man to touch her is almost too much.
Slowly, I jack myself, twisting my wrist on every downstroke.
In my mind, Seraphine begs. “Harder, Mateo, fuck me harder.”
My hips buck forward as I fuck into my hand, all too willing to give in to her pleading cries.
“Fill me with your come. Oh, God, Mateo, yes!”
The idea of her begging me to come inside of her is enough to make me blow my load. I lean into the shower wall, propping myself up with one arm against the cool tile with the only thing on my mind as my release circles the drain—I can’t wait until I can make that little fantasy a reality.
The place Simon told me to meet him at is a little shack of a BBQ joint in the next town over. I’ve never eaten at the place, much less heard of it, but judging by the jam-packed parking lot, I’m the only one.
I park my truck in the runoff lot across the street and hop out. The tantalizing smell of pecan wood and smoke practically reels me straight to the door like a fish on the line.
Inside, the mouthwatering aroma is even stronger. “Hey there, sweets, you got a reservation?”
“I’m meeting a friend.”
The hostess twirls a strand of her bottle-blonde hair around her finger. “Is she here already?”
“He,” I correct, scanning the small space for Simon. “And yeah, I see him.”
I slide past her without another word, and head for Simon. Cash, Drake, and my brother are here with him.
“Mateo.” Simon stands as I approach. “Glad you could make it, man.” We do the back-slap-man-hug thing.
The other guys quickly greet me and our server swings by and grabs my drink order.
“Y’all come here often?” I ask, reading over the paper menu.
“Once a month,” Drake tells me. “Try the brisket.”
Cash shakes his head. “Man, fuck the brisket. Get the pork.”
“You’re both wrong,” Simon says. “The burnt ends are where it’s at.”
I exchange a glance with my brother, knowing we’re both going to get the potato cakes with runny eggs and burnt ends.
Once our orders are placed, my brother knocks his knee into mine under the table. “How’d last night go?”
All three of the other men turn to l
ook at me. “Big plans last night?” Simon asks.
“He had a date,” Arrón tells them. “With Seraphine.”
“Not exactly what I had in mind when I asked you to check on her.”
Shit. My heart thunders in my chest. “It, uh… it just happened, you know?” The thought of losing him as a friend sucks, but Seraphine’s worth any bridge I might burn. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“Like I didn’t already know.” He narrows his eyes and glares at me before grinning. “But I’m glad it’s you. Magnolia thinks you’re good for her. And if my Goldilocks approves, I do, too.”
“That means a lot to me.”
“But if you hurt her, I’ll kill you.” He jabs his plastic spork my way as he speaks. It’s probably not as threatening as a knife would be, but he gets his point across.
“Back to last night though,” my brother urges. He’s probably dying to know since I recruited him to help me set everything up at the shop.
“It was… perfect. Better than perfect…” My words fall away as doubt presses against my newfound contentedness.
“I feel like there’s a but,” Cash says.
“I mean, shit.” It is a struggle to compose my thoughts into intelligible words. “I didn’t plan on her, you know? She kind of blindsided me. I’ve only taken her on one date and—” My words die in my throat.
“What?” my brother asks. “What is it?”
“Dios mio carajo creo que la amo.”
Simon and Arrón both suck in harsh breaths.
“Well, Jefecita called that one.” My brother smirks as he leans back in his chair, without a single care in the world.
“Translation please?” Drake asks, his eyes wide in confusion.
When I don’t reply, Arrón does for me. “Dipshit just realized he’s in love.”
Denial sets in and I shake my head. “No. That’s crazy, right? We’ve been on one date.” Even as I say the words, I know my truth. I love Seraphine Reynolds.
“I don’t know, man.” Cash shrugs. “I pretty much fell for Myla Rose on the spot.”
Drake laughs. “My Azalea addiction pretty much started before puberty.”
I turn to Simon and he nods. “When you know… you know.”