by Jenna Rose
“You want me to close up?” Tucker asks as he comes into the garage from the office. “You look like you’ve got a big date or something.”
“Who me?” I ask, forcing a smile.
“Yeah, you,” he chuckles. “You got that starstruck, lovey-dovey look in those big fuckin’ goofy eyes of yours.”
“Anyone ever slap you around before, Tucker?” I ask, uncrossing my arms. He keeps smiling, but takes a nervous step back.
“Hey, man. I trained in Jiu-Jitsu, all right?” he smirks. “I may be pretty, but I know how to move.”
Uh huh.
“Go home, Jackie Chan,” I tell him. “I’ll close up.”
“You’re the best, Chase,” he says happily. “I got a date in Thomaston. Single mom who has no idea how hot she is.”
“Don’t you get tired of it?” I ask him as he starts to walk off.
“Tired of what?” he asks, turning.
“Just girl after girl after girl. Night after night.”
Tucker looks at me like I’m crazy. “You’re kiddin’? You think DiCaprio gets sick of drowning in model pussy? I tell you what, it wouldn’t hurt you to get a little somethin’ from time to time. Take the edge off.”
I shake my head and watch him go out to his car and pull away. I guess some guys are just built differently than others, because the idea of just rotating girls week to week, or day to day, just turns my stomach. I want one girl – the one.
And I’m about to go see her.
The image of her sweet, virgin cunt burns in my mind and I feel my cock pulse with a rush of blood. That’s twice I’ve had her in my hands and she’s denied me. All day I’ve been thinking about those hips, those legs, those tits – that perfectly smooth skin and the taste of her pussy juice on my tongue as she came all over my face, her thighs gripping my head as she moaned.
An arranged marriage, though? What kind of shit is that? I’m good at picking out bullshit when I hear it, but for some reason, I actually believe her. It certainly didn’t look like there was an ounce of chemistry between them. After all, her fiancé was on his phone in the parking lot instead of being inside with his future wife. If she was mine, I would be…
I grumble and slam my fist into my toolbox, glancing over at his Bentley. I still haven’t worked on it yet. If I fix it, then she’ll have no more reason to see me – no more reason to even stay in Greenville for all I know. And I can’t let her get away from me. I’ve had a taste, but now I need to devour the whole meal.
She told me this evening, but she never specified when. But the sun is down, and I’m through waiting. I put my tools away, close the garage door and get in my truck.
Do I know where Cherry Lane is? she asked me. What a joke. Everyone in Greenville knows Cherry Lane. It’s a private drive onto Robertson’s Lake, with more acreage than the rest of the lake houses combined. The last I heard, it was empty. I guess the city girl and her family bought it up for a fun little summer place or something.
For a brief second as I’m driving, I think about dressing up. Maybe the one good shirt I have left, now that Nicky took off with my other one last night. Or maybe stop in town and pick up a polo or something. But then I come to my senses.
I’m not going to pretend for her. She’s already used to rich pricks with suits and outfits that would be at home on a golf course. I’m going to be me. She’s getting what she’s getting, and she’s going to love it.
Like a Pavlovian response, my dick swells when I see the Cherry Lane sign. I smell the memory of her scent and take a deep breath, remembering the feel of her body against mine. My truck bumps as I come off the main road onto the private driveway. I’ve never actually been down here before, and have to laugh when I see the “lake house.”
It’s basically a mansion – you know, the kind you’d see on one of those shows about celebrities living in Beverly Hills. There’s a Rolls and a Porsche in the driveway. I park my old truck up beside them and get out.
This is fucking weird, I think as I take the steps. This isn’t my style. She isn’t my class. I’ve never put myself out like this before. But it doesn’t matter. Nicky is inside, and if this is what it takes for me to prove myself to her, then I’m going to do it.
I knock, and seconds later the door opens. But it’s not Nicky smiling at me, it’s Bradley looking at me like I’m fucking insane.
“Yes?” he asks, sounding like a fucking prince or something. “Can I help you?”
“Uh…” I don’t even know what to say. What the fuck is this? Did she forget I was coming or something?
“Yes?” he repeats. “Are you deaf or something?”
Rude prick. I give it right back to him. “I’m here for Nicky.”
That pisses him off. If he was a local guy, I’d be bracing myself for a punch in the face, but the pretty rich boy just glares at me like he’s about to call his lawyer.
“Nicky?” he asks. “My Nicky?”
My fists ball at my sides. I’m two seconds from knocking this pansy out.
“It sure doesn’t seem that way, does it?” I ask, flashing him a smile.
“Oh, I know who you are!” he laughs. “You’re the mechanic guy from the little shop over there who’s working on my car. How’s she running? I know you’ve probably never seen a luxury automobile before. Nice, isn’t it?”
“You know what?” I start to say, seconds from blasting him in the face. “I—”
“Chase!” Nicky’s voice rings out from inside. I look over the prick’s shoulder to see her walking quickly toward us. She’s all dolled up, looking like a million-fucking bucks. “You came! So good to see you!”
Her fiancé looks like he just saw Godzilla outside as Nicky brushes past him and throws her arms around me. I have to admit, I’m equally as stunned. What the fuck is going on?
8
Chase
I can’t help but react to Nicky’s body pressed up against mine, and her intoxicating smell in my nose, but I can feel her fiancé’s eyes on me as she hugs me. It’s beyond awkward.
“Bradley,” she says, turning to him. “This is Chase, my mechanic. He’s doing such a great job on your car that I thought I’d invite him for dinner!”
What. The. Fuck?
Bradley looks at her, looks at me, then looks back at her. I can tell he wants to say something, but he manages to put on a polite face and force an unconvincing smile.
“Well, wasn’t that nice of you?” he says condescendingly. He turns to me. “You picked a good night for it. We’re having foie gras, caviar and white asparagus. Do you like foie gras – what did you say your name was again?”
“Chase,” I tell him. “And I don’t know. Never had it.”
“Oh, of course you wouldn’t have,” he laughed. “It’s more of an upscale, city thing. I wouldn’t expect a person like you to have tasted it.”
I’m going to break his face.
“But I’m being rude,” he laughs. “Come in!”
He moves aside for me, but at the same time slips his arm around Nicky’s shoulders. Jealousy flares within me, just like back at the shop when I first saw her and Tucker had his eyes all over her gorgeous body. He doesn’t deserve her. He doesn’t appreciate her. I doubt he’s even had a taste of her.
But I have.
I wonder what the prick does for a living. Probably inherited his money, he doesn’t act like a self-made man. He comes from money and thinks his shit don’t stink. I wonder if he’d even miss the Bentley if I just took it to the quarry and drove it into the water.
I follow them into the dining room, where a woman, who must be Nicky’s mom, is sitting, wearing a thick line of pearls, sipping some red wine. She’s probably pushing fifty, but with all the plastic surgery, she has that smooth, ageless look to her. But I can tell she’s had her tits done. She looks up with surprise when I come in.
“Oh, I wasn’t aware we were having company,” she says to Nicky.
“Ruth, this is Chase. Chase, this is Ruth, my adopt
ed mom.”
“Pleased to meet ya,” I say, extending my hand, which is clean for once.
“Likewise,” she nods, her lips pursed. She’s lying. She’s royalty. I’m trash to her. Nicky didn’t tell her I was coming, and she wants me gone.
Nicky also didn’t tell me these two would be here. What is this? A setup? An ambush? It’s all I can do to keep from driving my fist into her fiancé’s stomach as I watch him grinning with his arm around her.
“Why don’t we sit?” Bradley suggests. “Rosaline! Can you bring out some starters for us?”
Rosaline? Do they have a maid?
Of course they do, I think as I take the seat across from Nicky. There’s a fierceness in her eyes that I don’t quite understand. It’s as if she’s watching my every reaction.
“So, Chase,” Bradley smiles as he plucks a cigar from his coat pocket and lights it. He rolls it around in his mouth like he’s sucking a dick. I try not to laugh. “Tell us, how is it working in a stuffy old garage all day? Must get tiring.”
“I like it,” I counter. I know what he’s up to; he’s trying to shame me for making an honest living for myself. I’m not buying into it. “I figure, a woman appreciates a man who’s good with his hands.”
“Mmmm,” Bradley nods. “They also appreciate a man who provides. No offense, but I can’t imagine it’s a good living in a small town like this? If you were working on Porsches and Ferraris in New York maybe…”
“I do all right for myself,” I tell him. “I don’t need a lot. A smooth-running engine, a cold beer and a good woman by my side.”
I look over at Nicky and make it obvious. Bradley may be an asshole, but he isn’t slow; he picks up on it and slides his hand under the table, clearly placing it on her thigh.
My thigh.
“Speaking of which, how is the Bentley—?” Ruth starts to say, but Bradley cuts her right off.
“A good woman, eh? Have you found yourself one yet?” he asks. “One who can put up with you smelling like grease and oil? I know Nicky can’t even stand me when I’m all sweaty after a game of tennis!”
I’m coming apart at the seams. I glance over at Nicky, but I can’t tell what’s going on in her mind. I want to wipe that smile off Bradley’s face, but I also don’t want to start a fight right here in the dining room – especially with her adopted mom sitting beside us. But when he makes an obvious show of squeezing her inner thigh, I just can’t help myself.
“I have found one, actually,” I tell him. “And she’s sitting right next to you.”
Bradley’s eyes narrow and I hear a sharp intake of breath from Ruth, but I keep my eyes on him. He thinks he’s better than me; he thinks I’m bullshitting. But I’ve got an ace up my sleeve.
“Sitting next to me,” he nods, puffing his cigar. “That’s a good one, Chase. You should give up being a mechanic and get into stand-up comedy. You’d make a killing in the city.”
I look at Nicky, waiting for her to interject, but she doesn’t say shit. I should have known better. This whole thing’s a setup. She’s flaunting her other life in my face, showing me what I could never have. She had her little fling with me, got what she wanted and denied me the rest. But it wasn’t enough, she had to humiliate me. But I’m not going to take it lying down.
“And you should do gay porn,” I counter. “The way you’re sucking that cigar – you’d be good at sucking other things.”
“You son of a bitch!” he roars. Bradley snaps, rises from his chair and swings. But I’m ready for him. I duck his wild hook and counter with a jab to the face. I could easily have hit him harder, probably broken his jaw, but there’s no need for that. He staggers back, toppling his chair, then leaps over the table at me.
“Stop it, you two!” Ruth shouts. “Stop it right now!”
My chair breaks beneath me as we hit the floor. Bradley’s clearly no fighter. I cover up, fending off his wild blows until I find an opening. My fist finds the bridge of his nose, snapping his head back and sending him to the floor. I grunt, get to my feet and look over at Nicky.
“Well, you got what you wanted, city girl,” I growl. “Enjoy your honeymoon.”
I head for the door, but a thought occurs to me and I turn back to Bradley, still lying on the floor, nursing his bloody nose.
“Oh, and Bradley,” I smile. “I left a little something for you on her inner thigh that you might be interested in. Check it out.”
9
Chase
“Shoulda known better,” I mumble as I watch the ice cubes slowly melt in my Jack and Coke. “Shoulda fuckin’ known better.”
“You know, talking to yourself is a bad sign. Do I need to bring you by the hospital?”
I look up at Lexy, the rocker-chick bartender at Chrissy’s, who’s giving me a look like she either feels bad for me or thinks I’m pathetic – maybe a mixture of both.
I’m a little tipsy and still wondering what the fuck just happened. Actually, I know what happened, Nicky totally ambushed me. She invited me to dinner just so she could flaunt her rich, city-girl life in my face. I bet she loved having two guys fight over her like that. I haven’t been in a fight over a girl since Tommy Clarence pushed Emma Carlsen on the playground in fourth grade.
“Do they have any treatments for a broken heart?” I ask with a smirk.
She was mine. Nicky was mine, and now I’m sitting miserably at the bar, trying to keep the images of her with Bradley out of my mind by filling it with booze. Just the thought of him with his manicured fucking fingers on her body – my body – makes me want to smash my glass.
“Gimme a break, Chase,” Lexy says, rolling her eyes. “Two days ago you were as single I am. Now you’ve got a broken heart?”
“Single?” I ask, surprised. “What happened to that girl you were dating from out of town? Jenny…Gina…”
“Genevieve,” she says with a shrug. “I guess she decided the small-town life wasn’t for her. She moved to Los Angeles.”
“To be a model?” I ask with a groan as I take a sip of my drink.
“An influencer,” she corrects me with a laugh. “Anyway, this isn’t about me. What the fuck happened to you, bro? I’ve never seen you like this before.”
“Never been like this before,” I tell her, taking another swig. “But I guess this is what happens when you forget your place in life.”
“Place?” she frowns, scrunching her nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You ever see a guy going for a girl that you know is just way out of his league?” I ask. “Like…he’s five foot three, and she’s a six-foot-tall supermodel?”
“Sure,” Lexy nods.
“Well, let’s just say I did the equivalent of that, but just swap the height thing with the money thing.”
“Ah,” she smiles. “Went for the Watson girl, huh?”
I look up at her and frown.
“How did you—”
“Oh, come on, you big idiot!” she laughs, wrapping her knuckles on my skull. “This is Greenville! You think we didn’t hear about the house on Cherry Lane finally being sold?”
“I didn’t hear about it,” I grumble.
“That’s because you’ve had your face buried in car hoods more than I’ve had mine buried in pussy,” she replies, wiping the bar with a rag. “If you paid attention at all, you would have known that girl was already engaged.”
Just hearing the word “engaged” makes me clench my first so hard around my glass that I wonder for a moment if it’s going to shatter. I’m all wound up inside, and it has nothing to do with the fight.
I let her play me. I thought I actually had a chance with her, like a broke guy out of one of those romance movies. But this is reality, and reality bites.
“Enough, Lexy. All right?” I groan, finishing my drink. “I fucked up, okay? I know that. Now I just want to try and forget about it.”
“Good luck with that,” she replies. “You look like you’ve been hit by Cupid’s arrow; it’s going t
o take more than a couple of Jack and Cokes to get you right again.”
“Yeah?” I smirk. “How about a roll around in the sheets then?”
She knows I’m kidding. Lexy may be cute as hell, but she’s batting strictly for the other team, and as much as I have joked with her in the past about me being her first, we both know she’s keeping her gold star.
“I get off at one,” she kids back, flirting her eyes at me. “Should I wear lingerie?”
“And heels!” I call after her as she chuckles and heads over to serve another customer.
I growl down at the rest of my drink, then knock it back and get to my feet. I’m not that drunk, but I shouldn’t be driving, so I decide to walk home. The whole way, I can’t stop thinking about what Nicky is up to. She stuck me good – it’s like I’ve been transported into a Shakespeare play or something, and the wound in my back still stings, but as hard as I try, I can’t help but think about her.
He doesn’t deserve her.
“Fuck you!” I growl at myself.
What the hell do I know about her anyway? She treated me like a plaything. I was just a little fling for her, and not even that; I was just a guy with good fingers and a warm mouth who she knew wanted to please her, so she let me. I should hate her…
…but I just can’t bring myself to.
Bradley…
The prick. Just thinking about him putting his hands on her fills me with rage and sends my blood flaming through my veins. But I smile when I think about his face when he sees the mark I left on his fiancé’s thigh. It’s going to be there for a while, and even if they both want to try to forget about me, every time they get together, they’re going to have to see that little reminder of the time she went slummin’.
It’s around midnight when I get home. As I step inside, I pick up a hint of Nicky’s perfume and groan. I groan and slump down on the couch and unzip my pants as I close my eyes and images of the last time she was here flood through my mind.
My cock’s already half-mast. I can’t stop myself. No matter how hard I try to hate her, I can’t resist. With her scent heavy in my nose and lungs, I start stroking my dick as I think about just how close I got to claiming her…
