“Where the fuck did that piece of ass come from?” Pulling my head out from under the hood of the car, I follow Butch’s line of sight. He lets out a low whistle while staring out one of the garage doors. Irritation and jealousy shoot through my body, and I have no fucking clue why. Maybe it’s the way he said it or the tone of his voice, but I look past him to see what he’s talking about.
The blonde we both have our eyes on now looks like she stepped off a runway. Or what I’m guessing a runway model would look like. Although from the pictures I’ve seen in magazines of models, her curves are better. Her platinum-blonde hair hangs all the way to her waist where the ends start to curl. It makes me want to wrap my finger around one of them, grab a fistful of it as I pump my cock inside her. I wonder how she’d moan as I drove in and out of her.
Her short dress hugs her curves in all the right places and shows off her long legs. My eyes track down her stems to the ridiculously tall heels she’s wearing. I have no idea how she’s even walking in them on the uneven concrete that covers the front of my shop. The way she’s dressed makes me think she must be rich royalty. What she’s doing here I have no fucking clue because she clearly doesn’t fit.
She looks over at us, like she feels us watching her. Her gray eyes meet mine, and it’s like a sucker punch to my system. All the air leaves my lungs, and all my blood rushes to my cock. It makes me feel light-headed, and I grip the car I’m working on for support.
I’m too fucking old to get a hard-on just by looking at a chick. Twenty-eight isn’t old, but it’s too old to be getting turned on by something so simple. Too old to be having dirty thoughts about a random chick, something I haven’t done since I was a randy teenager. I don’t go dipping my dick into any random hole. A half-smile pulls at her lips, and it’s as if she’s trying to play innocent or some shit. Must be part of her game.
When she finally pulls her eyes from mine, I feel an unexplainable loss. Shit. That can’t be good.
“I got this one boss,” Butch says with a shit-eating grin on his face. It’s a look I know all too well, and I can see he’s making like he’s going to go greet the blonde piece of ass at the front of the office. Before he can make it two feet, I’m grabbing him by the arm.
That isn’t fucking happening. Butch always has women wrapped around his finger. Scratch that, wrapped around his dick is more like it. He’s got women falling at his feet whenever we go out, and it’s probably because he’s always running his mouth. From what he says, I seem to have a ‘don’t talk to me’ look pasted across my face, scaring them all away.
I have the urge to lay him out for just thinking about talking to her, but I push the feeling back because it’s fucking ridiculous. Like either one of us have a chance with a woman like that. Who knows what she’s doing in a small-ass town like this. Probably passing through and something went wrong with her ride. Here today, gone tomorrow. The thought makes my gut clench. I’ll need a taste before she’s gone. Something I’m sure won’t be easy.
“Finish dropping the engine in. I got her.” The irritation in my voice is clear as I order him back to work. I want to be the first to talk to her, but I see Joey beat me to the punch when I enter the front of the office.
“How long has it been making that sound?” Joey asks, pulling a pen from her dark black ponytail. When her hair catches the light a certain way, it almost looks blue.
“Well I was—” The blonde duchess stops talking when she finally notices I’ve joined them in the office. A slight blush hits her cheeks, and it makes my cock jerk. Double shit. A goddamn blush is making my cock ache with need.