“I don’t think I have a lower body anymore,” her voice muffled by the body protectant draped over the quarter panel.
Houston chuckled, but had to agree. “I’ve wanted to do that for the last two years.” He leaned forward, kissing the base of her neck. “It’s better than I imagined.” He thrust his hips a little, enjoying the moan.
She chuckled. “Can we have pizza? I’m starving.”
Houston pulled out, groaning at the sensation, wanting to return. But they had to clean up, and figure out what to do next.
He took a few steps back, leaned down and helped to pull up her pants. He noticed white flowing down the inside of her thighs, and like an egotistical bastard, he loved the sight. He’d marked her, inside and out, kissing the bite mark and blowing gently on it, enjoying the sight of her goosebumps.
Pulling up the jumpsuit, she walked, her gate a little off, to the women’s bathroom.
Houston cleaned up in the men’s, splashing water on his face, wondering what was going to happen next. His two year crush had finally come to a head, so to speak, and wanted to see if they had a chance at a lot more.
Katie was regimented in many ways, and liked control. She worked on every car, knew every order made, and probably had every payment memorized since she opened the shop eight years ago.
He left the top half of the jumpsuit off, tying the arms around his waist. He walked to the office, seeing Katie on the phone.
She clicked through the computer, frowning. Not a good sign. Mike generally handled all the office work so Katie could be hands on with the vehicles.
“What do you mean I didn’t order that engine?” her voice edging to angry. “I have the receipt. If I paid for that big of an engine, I want it delivered. It was purchased two months ago.”
Her face went blood red. “I’ll double check, but I want a full accounting of my payments to you, just fax it to me today.” She hung up.
“What’s up?” Houston sat in the chair, hands linked across his stomach.
Katie let her eyes rove over his form, face softening. “Why would I order a 442 from Buick?”
“We haven’t had a Buick go through here in almost two years,” frowning at her words.
“Exactly. And ordering directly from Buick? That’s beyond expensive, almost five grand, and it’s a reconditioned engine. So why do I show several purchases of that kind?” She turned the office chair a full one eighty, elbow on the arm, pinching her lip, and staring out the low office window with a perfect view of her cars.
“Katie, there has to be some mistake.” Houston shifted in the seat, finding he liked the expression of anger and vulnerability.
“Where did Mike say he was going?” she whipped the chair around, and narrowed her eyes.
“He didn’t. You don’t think …” Houston hoped they were wrong.
She stood, her hands flat on the desktop, and leaned forward, eyes flashing dangerously, “Someone is fucking with my business. I’ll find out who it is, and they’d better run now.” She straightened and stalked out.
Houston watched her leave, glad he wasn’t the one in the hot seat. He’d been to the shooting range with her.
Chapter Five
Katie stalked to the shop, ready to finish with the engine installation. Seeing the side of the Mustang, her body clenched, remembering. When he’d taken control, her libido hit overdrive. Just the right amount of dominance, making her ride the razor’s edge. It was more than she’d imagined. A hell of a lot better. The anger coursing through her body amped the need to do it again. But she wanted him to dominate her completely.
He’d avoid her for a little bit, waiting for the infamous temper to cool. She dived into the engine compartment, working through the various necessary nuts and bolts, putting wiring through to the dash, hooking up the breaker box, marking the various wires, preparing to install the fuel pump. Houston joined her, having a hard time keeping her mind on the engine and not ogling his muscular form. She liked them big, muscular, but not Dwayne Johnson big. Although I wouldn’t turn him down, she thought.
The next few hours were filled with grunts, moans, groans and sighs. Katie tried not to laugh at how it sounded a lot like great sex.
Nightfall crept across the concrete floors, and after working a total of fourteen hours, Katie double checked the oil, ensured leaks were nonexistent, and sat in the moth eaten seats. She leaned out the door, hand on the ignition. She’d installed a new push button, making it look like something from the late sixties though it was top of the line modern.
“Dude, you ready to see if it’ll crank?” She hated the moment of waiting, but Houston needed to keep his hands out of the engine during initial startup.
He popped his head to the right, smiling. “Go for it, babe.” He hid under the hood.
“Let the damn thing at least start,” she whispered. She pushed the button, giving it a little gas.
A sputter, followed by five clicking sounds.
“Hold up, I see the problem,” he called.
She heard the sound of the ratchet, silence, a banging noise, two grunts, and finally a hand appeared with the thumbs up sign.
“Come on, sweetheart, give me what I want.” She pushed the button, eyes closed, wincing.
Sputtering, one click, and a deep growling sound as the engine roared to life. She gunned it twice, to get the fuel pushed through the lines, and sat back, heart pounding at the sound of power. She could imagine the oil lubricating the pistons, the antifreeze circulating around the engine, the fuel being pumped and ignited.
Opening an eye, she found Houston standing inside the door, smiling, wiping his hands with a shop rag. Cutting the engine, Katie decided to do something she’d wondered about for some time. She put both feet on the concrete, reaching for his hips and pulling him forward. He tried to bend, but a hand on his chest stopped the movement. Tugging until his chest rested against the roof, she untied the jumpsuit arms. One side of her mouth quirked up as she took in the sight of his bulge. Rubbing one hand lightly against it, she reveled in the feel of power as he shuffled his feet and groaned aloud. His arms slammed on the roof, and she noticed his knees were locked. Taking her time, she traced the bulge with a finger, then her mouth, pushing her breath through the fabric, biting gently.
“Damn it, Katie,” his voice hoarse, breathing labored.
“Don’t damn me until I’m done,” she nipped the jeans. His hips thrust forward. “Nuh-uh. I get this one.”
Undoing the jeans, she let his cock bounce against her cheek gently. Wrapping it with one hand, noticing it was the perfect size and length, her fingers meeting but just barely. It was silky soft skin over hard iron, and the sensation forced a groan from her chest. Nibbling the underside, she grasped his balls. In one swift movement, she sucked him inside her mouth, to the back of her throat, and swallowing, as her index finger pushed against the male sweet spot, right behind his balls, and rubbing the delicate skin of his scrotum.
He yelled, hips thrusting without rhythm. She looked up, seeing his hands gripping the body of the car, white knuckled.
“I can’t … I’m not … oh shit,” he moaned.
She felt his body tighten and moved against his thrusts, tongue playing against the sensitive head. It swelled, precum dripping. Swallowing, she gave one good push against the area behind his balls, rubbing in a circle, giving little hums as she moved her mouth up and down, using her teeth to lightly scrape the skin.
He groaned. She put her fingers around the base of him, and squeezed, knowing it would stop the ejaculation his body sought.
“Fuck me!” he yelled as an orgasm rolled over him, making his thrusts jerky.
She worked him, pushing, sucking, and humming. As the head started to swell, she released her hold at the base of his cock. Rubbing it gently, she bit him lightly just under the tip, using her tongue to coax him into a second orgasm. It shot to the roof of her mouth, and she swallowed, using her mouth to beg for all of it.
Finished, eve
ry ounce swallowed, she let go, smiling as he sank to his knees.
“I … never. How …” he looked at her, eyes bright.
She shrugged, “My first degree was biology. You all right?”
He shook his head.
“I’m going to clean up,” she scooted out of the car, gingerly stepping over him and damn near skipped to the bathroom.
Chapter Six
Houston’s head was swimming. Men could have multiple orgasms? Who the hell knew? He stumbled out of the bathroom, not sure about a woman being dominant when it came to sex. He loved being the one in control when it came to the bedroom and the pleasures it could contain.
Walking into the shop, he could see Katie closing for the weekend. Following their routine, he packed away the tools, threw cat litter on the oil, grease, and fuel puddles, locked the shop’s main bay door, checked the others, lowered all the lifts, and triple checked. Several engines were in crates at the back of the shop, and the Mustang itself was worth twenty grand in its current condition. A break in wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.
He found her in the office, with the rarely seen glasses reflecting the light emanating from the computer screen.
“What are you doing? You need to take the weekend off, Katie. It’s been a long week.” He moved until he was behind the desk, seeing her going through various account payables.
“Houston, since when do we order directly from Ford and GMC? I’ve always ordered from Edelbrock, Tesar, and a handful of others.” She glanced up, the glasses giving her a decided geek girl look.
“Not since I’ve been here. Want to do a quick inventory? We’re about due for one, anyway.”
“Yeah, let me print out the list,” she hit Ctrl-P with practiced ease.
Clipboard in hand, and glasses perched sexily on her pert nose, Houston helped go through all the numbers, calling them out. She checked off every engine in the storage area, counted the various parts always on hand, and marking what needed to be ordered.
Houston straightened after digging to the back of one shelf, and stared at her unabashedly. She was busy counting the engine mounts, frowning.
Two hours later, they sat in the office, reconciling the inventory list with what the computer said should be on hand.
“It isn’t official, but I’m missing six engines, and almost twelve grand worth of parts,” she mumbled, clicking from one frame to the next.
“Mike? He would never do something like that,” Houston’s mind rebelled, seeing Mike as a friend, albeit a very shy one.
“Well, Susan also works here two days a week. All total, we’re talking over the past six months, damn near a hundred thousand. I can’t afford that kind of theft!” she stood, one arm under her breasts, holding the other elbow, and pinching her bottom lip. “Luckily, the auctions have brought in enough to keep it covered, but it’s going to implode soon.”
Houston stared at the computer screen, mind racing. To pull off something like that, the person would need to know Katie’s habits and have access to accounts. None of the other mechanics could do it.
“Wait, Katie, how many other businesses do you run?”
“I have the food truck, one restaurant, the home renovation, and two rigs for moving things.” She looked at him, a puzzled expression riding her features. She drained of color, jaw dropping, and sat down to tap furiously on the keyboard.
He didn’t watch the screen, staring at her. The long, wavy brunette hair, almost always in a jaunty ponytail, her lightly tanned skin from being outdoors often, her athletic shape because working on cars was a very physical job. He enjoyed watching her mind go in different directions at once, then coming together with an answer.
She nibbled on her bottom lip, and he suppressed a groan, the motion a reminder of the mind altering blow job. He’d never look at a Mustang again without getting a raging hard on.
He made his way to the chair, hoping that with her hidden by the monitor, he could calm the raging hormones.
No such luck.
“Houston, you don’t have to stay, you know. I can handle myself.” She continued typing furiously. If she kept hitting the keys as hard as she was, they’d need a new keyboard.
“I was thinking we could go take showers, change into something casual, and maybe have a beer. Or dinner,” he leaned to the left, giving her as sweet a smile as he could muster.
“I’ll be here for a few more hours, Houston. You can go on,” her voice sounded absent.
He was being dismissed for the first time since he’d completed puberty. Woman flocked to him, begged him for all kinds of erotic behavior. Yet, here was Katie, acting as if nothing happened.
He stood in a swift movement, opened his mouth to say something, closed it, and stomped out of the office.
Karma really was a bitch.
Chapter Seven
Katie stared at the screen, ready to stab it with the letter opener. Every fucking business had something similar. Some small, some large, but always inventory on the automatic ordering schedule, or something easily dismissed.
Her father had been CEO of Parker Enterprises, Inc. A business her great grandfather started during the depression as an attempt to feed his large family. At the age of twenty five, she’d dismantled it, closed it down, because a lot of the execs were too big for their britches and demanding higher bonuses while doing nothing. She’d used the money Dad left, bought ninety-nine percent of the stock, and promptly killed it. There’d been a big bru-ha-ha over the whole thing, her name and face all over financial media for two years. Luckily, Mom left her money in a separate trust fund. She’d started her own company, K.P. Companies, LLC. She employed over one hundred people, paid high wages, made sure none of her employees ever wanted. While she could make millions, instead she loved the much smaller six figure income, and how her employee turnover rate was never above zero-point-two.
Now some fuckwit was embezzling. Not only from her, but from every person employed by her. They’d better hide, a long damned distance away. Because if she found him, or her, she had a bullet with their name on it.
Printing out several file folders worth of paper, she tapped the stack on the desk, tucked them into an accordion folder and made a call.
Finally done, she looked at the clock. Past ten o’clock. Good thing Houston didn’t wait for her, he’d have been bored out of his mind.
Grabbing the keys to her 1969 GTO Judge, she decided a drive was necessary. The night was hot and humid, meaning a drive at night, down her favorite deserted highway, was in order to calm the thoughts whiz banging through her head.
The engine roared to life, and she shuddered at the sound. She’d lost her virginity in a GTO, with the engine running. He’d hit the accelerator as she’d orgasmed, and the sound never failed to rev her sex drive. Putting the car in first gear, she drove outside the fence, got out, locked all six padlocks and left.
Getting to the deserted highway meant driving through town, on a packed Friday night. Noticing she was almost out of gas, she pulled the muscle car into a favorite station. Rolling her eyes, she could see several middle aged men and teenaged boys converge.
“Your husband let you have the car for the night, honey?” One man dared to put his hand on the hood, as if he was going to pop it.
“Get your greasy paws off the car,” she stepped forward. The teen boys moved back, and the man leered at her. She knew him, had taken a big contract out from under him because she was more honest in her dealings. Couldn’t remember his name off-hand, but did recall he had a huge ego.
“Man don’t like it dirty, huh? I can do better,” he stepped in her direction.
Cursing like an inmate, Katie slid one foot back, and tilted her head. “I doubt you could survive ten minutes, Beer Gut. Now, get away from my car.” She gave him a saccharine sweet smile.
“You don’t have to be a bitch, just admiring.” He gave her the New York State Bird and stalked off.
One brave teenager, who looked about sixteen, stamme
red, “Um, ma’am, wh-where di-did you g-get the c-c-car?”
She smiled at him, waiting until he relaxed, “Rebuilt this baby myself.”
“Really?” he tried to peek through the windshield.
“Yeah, you can look inside while I fill the tank.” She pointed at the open window.
His smile was wide as he leaned on the window sill, half of his body inside.
She chuckled, and set about letting her wallet bleed. The big tank, and gas guzzling tendencies, meant she didn’t often take the cars out for long drives, much as she wanted to.
Topping off the tank, she waved at the teenagers, all grinning. Sliding into the driver’s seat, and buckling the five points, she pushed the starter button, laughing out loud at the exclamations from the boys.
Leaving in a sedate pace, Katie drove to the abandoned highway, knowing here she could open it up, prove what the engine could do. Headlights followed, rather unusual, but she’d leave them behind in a few moments. It was a truck, judging from the height of the headlamps, and not a police vehicle, because those rarely left on the fog lamps. The driver was an asshole, knowing all those bright lights would blind anyone in front or driving toward them.
Shifting and accelerating, she drove through the first five turns, the humid air whipping the ponytail around her face. A five mile long straight way was less than a quarter mile ahead. Cranking the radio, bluetoothed to her phone, she flipped through the playlist until she found Billy Squier. Cranking the volume, she pushed the GTO hard, unable to stop the grin.
The headlights from the truck flashed to bright as it kept pace, temporarily blinding her. She knew the road well at all speeds, but she slowed a little to get rid of the circles in her vision.
The truck bumped her back end. She grunted at the pain of being thrown against the five point seat belt. Romping on the accelerator, the car jumped and took off, pushing her deep into the wrap around seat. The truck lights became pinpoints in the rearview mirror. Downshifting to take a deep turn, she turned off the headlights and whipped onto a dirt road leading to an abandoned house. It turned and she stopped, shutting off the engine.
Hard Ride Page 2