Work Me Up

by Wylder, Penny

  I relax my jaw, breathe in deep like he tells me to. Then he thrusts his hips a little, presses deeper into my mouth, and the tip of his cock hits the back of my throat. For a split second, my body tenses, and I think I might gag. But he’s already drawing back, out of me, and I lean back onto my heels as we rock apart, then slowly come back together again.

  This time, his tip inches a little way down my throat, and my gag reflex doesn’t react. I just hold myself loose and relaxed, and let him take control. Before long, Antonio’s guiding my face toward him and away again each time, his breath speeding up.

  “That’s it, Selena, god, your mouth is fucking magic.”

  My breathing speeds up too, especially every time I glance up at him. Fuck. He looks so fucking sexy the way he’s standing right now, with his head tossed back, his hair falling across his eyes, his lower lip caught between his teeth. His hips are starting to rock against me now, until he’s fucking my face in earnest, pumping in and out of my mouth as I clench my lips tight around him, raise my tongue to press it against the underside of his cock with every stroke in and out of me.

  I let out a little moan in the back of my throat, and he inhales sharply through his nose when I do it, sensing the vibrations from my mouth as they travel up the base of his shaft. With a faint little smile, I moan again, longer and louder this time.

  Antonio’s hands are fists in my hair now, making my eyes water. But I love the feeling, the pain adding to the pleasure of watching him completely lose himself. I’ve never seen this man not in control of a situation. There’s something so gut-deep rewarding about knowing I’m doing this to him, I’m making him lose control.

  “I’m going to come, Selena,” he pants. “I’m going to come inside your sexy mouth. I want you to swallow it, yes?”

  I moan my agreement, and he grits his teeth now, like it’s taking every ounce of self-control he has not to come right then and there. I let my jaw go fully, relax my whole body, and let Antonio take me as he wants.

  His thick, juicy cock glides into my mouth once, twice, and the final time, he pulls my face all the way up to his body, so my lips kiss the fingers of the fist I still have wrapped around the base of his shaft. He comes inside my mouth, so far back I swallow the first gulp reflexively. Then I pull back a little and take my time, sucking and licking at his length until he’s completely clean.

  I’ve never tasted cum like his. I’ve given head before, but it’s always been a cursory thing, a thing the guys begged me to do and I thought was fine but not that fun. With Antonio, though, something about it, about the commands he gave me, the self-control he lost right in the middle… it makes me feel turned on as hell.

  I lean back, and Antonio pulls me to my feet, catching me in a deep kiss before I can get a single word in. His tongue parts my mouth, dances with mine, and he pulls back with a faint smile, eying me from inches away.

  “I can taste me on your mouth.”

  “Hot, isn’t it?” I arch an eyebrow, grinning.

  “My turn,” he says, almost before I process what’s going on. And then he’s on his knees before me, tugging my jeans down the same way he pushed his own off earlier. I barely have time to reach down and steady myself with my fists wound through his hair, before his tongue presses between my legs, and I lose all sense of time and place.

  * * *

  Somehow, in spite of our afternoon break—which turned into a far longer fucking session than either of us expected, I think—we manage to get the car in decent working order. The paint is still trying, but Antonio says we can take it for a test drive, just to make sure nothing internal with the engine was damaged.

  The moment he suggests that, my stomach tenses up and my throat threatens to close on me. He never said anything about a test drive being a part of this deal. I thought I was just going to help him fix the door and the broken window. Granted, yes, the tree could have damaged something else inside the car, and I know he needs to figure that out, but…

  “Can’t you test drive it on your own later?” I ask, as he lowers Betty from the low-level blocks she’d been raised up onto while we finished the final paint job.

  He eyes me with one eyebrow lifted, confusion all over his features. “I could,” he says. “But don’t you want to see all of your hard work so far in action?” He turns away again before I respond. “Besides, it’s standard procedure whenever I’m fixing a car up in the garage. You get to see my full process this way, start to finish.” He flashes me a grin over his shoulder, his expression so easygoing and open, like he’s actually looking forward to this, that I can’t bring myself to pop the bubble of hope he seems to be floating in. “And anyway, it’s a lot easier to do these tests with two people. Normally it’s just me in here, so it takes me ages longer than it should.”

  A weight settles in my gut. I can’t exactly leave him hanging now, can I? If it’s easier to do this with two people, and if I’ve already made him late on all his other work that he needs to be doing for clients this week, just so he could coach me on fixing his car, which I broke in the first place, I owe him this.

  “Sure,” I hear myself saying, even though I want to chase that word down and swallow it back whole. “I can help.”

  What are you doing, Selena?

  But I tell myself it will be fine. Besides, I can ride passenger in cars. I do it all the time. Ubers, I take those a lot. In the back seat with my eyes shut tightly, but still.

  “Great.” Antonio has finished lowering Betty to the floor. She was on the blocks nearest one of the big main garage doors, which he pushes a button to open now. She’s facing the right way already, and the driver’s side door luckily wasn’t damaged. Antonio circles around to it and pops it open, and I feel a little ping of relief in my gut.

  But then he waves to me.

  “Come on over,” he says. “I’ll need to push her out, so why don’t you steer for me?”

  A ball forms in my throat. Expands. It takes me a second to swallow it back far enough to speak. “Um… don’t you want to just start it where it is? And see how she runs first?”

  “I like to start them for the first time outside. Just in case.” He winks at me, then. “Standard safety procedure. Come on, it’s fun.” He pats the top of the car again, and my traitor legs start walking toward him, like my body can’t stand to disobey him for even a second, even when I know exactly how this will end, and it’s not going to be pretty.

  Still, after a brief hesitation and another deep gulp of fresh air, I climb into the driver’s seat.

  Antonio bustles around me, pulling the seat forward so my feet can reach the pedals. Then he tugs on the seatbelt and leans over me to buckle it. “You’ve driven before, right?” he asks me.

  “Y-yes,” I answer, truthfully. I have. Just… not in a long time. But he doesn’t need to know that second part.

  “Great. So, like I said, all you need to do right now is steer for me. I’ll push, and you aim for the parking lot.” He points out the large garage door, through which I can see a mostly full lot of parked cars. Probably all waiting for Antonio to get around to fixing them, too.

  What is he doing spending all his time on me? I can’t help asking, not for the first or even the dozenth time since we started doing this together. But I’m too distracted by the panic firing through all cylinders of my body right now to focus much attention on that question.

  “I’ll be right behind you,” Antonio calls, as he slams the driver’s side door shut. My heart kicks into high gear in response. “If anything goes wrong, just tap on the breaks,” he adds in a shout through the glass.

  I can barely hear him over the sound of blood rushing in my eardrums. But I dutifully place my hands at two and ten on the steering wheel. It’ll be all right. You’re just freaking out, there’s nothing actually dangerous here. It will be fine.

  Yet every time I blink, I can’t help seeing crime scene photos. Every time I inhale, I keep imagining I smell the wreckage all over again, burnt plastic
and spilled gasoline, and oh, god, I can’t do this, I can’t be in this car anymore, I need to get out of here.

  But Antonio has already started to push. I can feel the car rocking around me, and I startle, tighten my grip on the wheel. It’s in neutral, I realize, which lets him shove his weight into it and make the tires begin to rotate beneath me.

  All I have to do is hold the wheel straight. I know that. The logical part of my brain is right there telling me this is easy-peasy, I’m doing just fine.

  But the animal instincts, the deeper, ingrained panic, won’t be ignored. My pulse beats so hard it’s a wonder I’m still upright. Spots dance along the edges of my vision, and I cling to the wheel like I’m about to fall off a cliff and it’s the only thing keeping me safe.

  The car starts to roll in earnest. Faster, faster, as Antonio pushes harder, and it bumps over the lip of the garage. There’s a small slope outside the garage which helps the car pick up speed as it travels down, and suddenly I’m moving toward the parking lot at a measurable pace, and I can’t help it.

  I scream. And I slam on the brakes.

  Behind me, I hear a grunt, as Antonio slams into the trunk of the car. He must have still been pushing, and I feel a little pang of guilt for potentially injuring him. But that pang of guilt is subsumed, swallowed whole, by the much deeper, more intense feeling of panic.

  I thrust the car into park and scramble at my seatbelt. It feels like it’s choking me, strangling me. I need out of here, I need air again, I need to go.

  I fling open the door just as Antonio comes walking around the back of the car. “Why’d you stop?” he calls. “Everything all right?”

  Then he takes one look at my expression and realizes that no, everything is very much not all right. “I’m sorry,” I say. The words jumble together in my mouth, sound like garbled nonsense. I clear my throat hard and force myself to speak the words one at a time. “I’m… sorry. I need to go.”

  “Selena.” His expression has shifted from mild concern to full blown worry now. “Wait, what happened?”

  I wave him off, wave off his questions. I can’t do this, can’t talk about this. Can’t let him of all people see me melt down over this of all things. I take off running, back into the garage, my heart a wild thing in my chest. I don’t even stop to grab my sweatshirt off the back of the chair where I tossed it when I got here this morning. I just bolt and keep running, until I’m through the garage and out the front door, back onto the main road through town outside of the store. Once there, I tap on my phone screen. Call an Uber to meet me at the next store up the road, about a half mile walk. Because I don’t want to still be standing out here when Antonio comes looking for me. The last thing I want to do is discuss this with anyone, least of all him.

  So I run. Like a coward. I run all the way to the corner store up the road, and by the time I get there, the Uber I called is already in the lot, idling as it waits for me.

  I practically leap into the backseat, ignoring the hitch of fresh fear in my veins, and slam the door behind myself. I tell the driver my address, and then I hunker down in the seat, one hand pressed over my mouth, the other shielding my eyes so I can’t see the road outside, as we trundle toward home and safety.

  7

  Antonio

  Selena doesn’t show up to work the next morning. Part of me isn’t surprised. After the way she freaked out yesterday, I sort of guessed I might not see her today. But I’m worried, too. I still don’t understand what happened. Things were going along fine, as far as I could tell.

  She definitely wasn’t complaining when we were out back of the garage earlier in the afternoon, enjoying both the view and one another. God. I can still feel the soft, hot press of her lips molded around my cock, still hear the soft little moans she was making that nearly made me lose control before we’d barely begun.

  I thought the woman had a magic pussy, but it turns out her mouth is just as hot. She is just as hot. Everything about her, from the way she saunters into my shop like she owns the place, to the way she’s not afraid to dig in elbow-deep in grease and get those pretty little manicured hands dirty. She works hard. Hell, if she were a regular apprentice, I’d be tempted to hire her. She still has a lot left to learn about the cars, but she’s more than willing to put in the time, and she picks things up quickly, which is more than I can say about half the apprentices I’ve mentored out of this garage over the years.

  But I cannot for the life of me figure out what spooked her. One minute we were working on Betty same as usual. She seemed a little nervous when I asked her to steer the car out of the garage, but she says she has her license and she knows how to drive. I figured she was just nervous she might accidentally ding up the car again, if she steered too far to one side or the other and messed up our nice new paint job.

  To be honest, I wouldn’t have minded all that much if she had. It would’ve been an excuse to keep her around another couple of days—because after we finish fine-tuning Betty today, she’ll be good to go. Which means my agreement with Selena will be over.

  But she didn’t hit the wall. She steered the car out of the garage just fine. Only to slam on the brakes so hard and fast that I hit the rear bumper trying to push it farther into the lot. And then Selena just… ran. Literally.

  I could have chased her. Maybe I should have. But something about the look she fired me just before she split—that wild, desperate, haunted look—told me that the last thing she wanted was for someone to witness whatever the hell she was going through. I should know. I’ve worn that look before myself. Back when my mom died, and I would just dissolve into these crying jags for no apparent reason.

  Unease churns in my gut. Is something else wrong?

  Or maybe it’s me. Maybe she regrets what we did together. Maybe that’s why she’d been giving me the cold shoulder earlier in the day, and I should’ve listened to her, should have heeded that warning and not tried to fuck her again yesterday.

  In my defense, she’s fucking hard to keep your hands off of. Especially when she kissed me back, her lips so soft and supply, practically butter melting into mine…

  To stop my hands from forming into fists, I run them through my hair, making it stand up on end. I barely even notice, I’m so distracted with my train of thought.

  I should call her.

  Right?

  It would be the gentlemanly thing to do. Just to make sure she’s all right. If she does regret anything that happened between us, maybe I can smooth it over, at least. Make it clear to her that if she wants things to end, fine, they’re done. Even if the thought of never getting to run my hands over those luscious curves or kiss those sugar sweet lips of hers again drives me wild. I can walk away, if that’s what she wants. If it’s what she needs in order to recover from… whatever the hell happened yesterday.

  I force myself to wait until the end of the business day. I figure she might show up late, after all. And if not, maybe she’ll text or call first, offer some kind of an explanation.

  Besides, I have work to catch up on. Selena was right about one thing yesterday. I really could use a hand around here. Between all the new work I’ve been getting with luxury clients, as well as my old and regular clients whose work I need to keep doing steadily… things have been getting a little too hectic for one man to handle. It’s a good problem to have, but it’s a problem I’ll need to address soon, nonetheless.

  Part of me can’t help thinking about what it would be like to have Selena in the shop with me more often… Maybe not helping me with the cars all the time, not if she doesn’t like the work. But there’s plenty of paperwork and office things she could help with. Or if she does like the greasy jobs, I could teach her how to repair engines themselves, how to work on timing belt fixes or tires or oil changes or any of the myriad number of regular problems that I see cropping up a lot of the time with my usual customers.

  It would free me up to work on the more complicated issues with some of the more finnicky cars. The
older vintage models that I especially love to tinker with, because each one is so unique. Every car is like a puzzle, and I know the solution is there if I just keep working, keep looking hard enough and trying out new solutions until I find the one that fits.

  It’s why I love my job so much. Why I’ve never even considered any other career path. The garage is the place I belong, and cars will always be my first love. My passion in life.

  Maybe a little bit of my baby, I think with a wry smile, unable to help recalling the first time Selena insulted me. The fiery spark in her eyes when she teased me, out in her parents’ yard. Right after smashing up my car, no less. Any other girl would have been begging for forgiveness, but not her.

  Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I’d planned to wait until the end of the day, but I only make it until a little after lunchtime before picking up the phone to dial her number.

  She answers on the fifth ring, just when I’m about to give it up as a lost cause and assume it’s heading to voicemail. “Hello?”

  She sounds a little groggy, like maybe she was asleep. Which makes me feel guilty, until I remember that it’s almost 2 in the afternoon. No way she’s still in bed now.

  Of course, that thought immediately brings mental images of Selena sprawled across a bed to mind, wearing nothing but that lacy little number she wore on her first day in the garage… Or maybe just nothing at all. I clench a fist to try and stop the sudden flow of blood south, because I can already feel my dick starting to tighten against the seam of my jeans, and that’s the last thing I need right now.

  “Selena?” I ask.

  “Antonio?” She lets out a huffy little sigh that reminds me all too much of the other times she’s made those soft sighing noises around me.

  “You realize nobody calls anyone anymore, right?” she says, sounding a little more like herself again now. “I didn’t even realize my phone had a ringtone until just now.”