Busted Steel: An Age Gap Stand Alone Romance (Steel Crew Book 6)

by Mj Fields

Half of me wants to tell him that it’s probably because he hasn’t found someone he has connected with, but the part of me, the one who wants to have hot, hard, filthy talking, get lost in the moment sex with him decides not to point that out.

  “Whatever.” I shrug. “I’m over it. Begging isn’t my thing. Being a thirsty bitch isn’t my thing, either.”

  “Thought this whole fucking thing was to find your thing.”

  “Oh my God, just say not it and drop it.”

  “The issue is—”

  “No more. Over it.” I hold my hand up in his face and turn in my seat. “Trust me; there are plenty of men out there who want me, who won’t make me feel like I’m asking them to cut off a fucking arm, or repeatedly tell me all the reasons they won’t fuck me.”

  “Brisa, that’s not—”

  “Shut up! Drop it! You’re making me feel disgusting, like I’m some damn predator in your head.”

  “Yeah, well, how the fuck does that feel?” he snaps.

  I throw the safety belt off, toss open the door, and practically jump out of the vehicle.

  “The fuck you doing?” I hear him call from behind me before I hear the door slam.

  “Leave me alone!” I yell as I continue walking down the road.

  “I’m not fucking chasing you!”

  “Good!” Asshole.

  Cars fly by as I hurry to get to the little town that I researched to grab fresh groceries. Five kilometers. I have no fucking clue how many miles that is, but fuck it, I will find out.

  When I feel an arm wrap around my waist and my feet are no longer touching the ground, I start to put up a fight until I feel him hard and thick against my ass.

  “God, you’re such a fucking pussy!” I grab his thick, bulging, corded forearm and try to push it away.

  “And you’re being a fucking brat.”

  “Well, clearly, that’s your thing,” I snap.

  Once in front of the car, he drops me on my feet then leans forward against me, bending our bodies over the hood of the car. Then he grips the base of my throat and pulls me back, my head on his shoulder. “You wanna be fucked like this, Brisa? Bent over a car by a man who is telling you straight that he has control issues?”

  “Yes, yes, I do.” I arch my back, pressing my ass against his denim-covered cock as I push up on my toes and turn my head, wanting to feel his lips on mine.

  He moves his hand up my neck and grips my jaw firmly. “By a man who won’t let you kiss him.”

  You let me kiss you before, is on the tip of my tongue, but I have no intention of bringing that up.

  “I don’t give a damn about kissing,” I say as I reach behind us and grab his ass.

  He quickly releases my jaw and grabs my hands, pulling them from his insanely hard, muscular ass as he moves one of his legs between mine and bends forward, pressing my hands on the hood. “Fucked by a man who can’t stand anyone putting their hands on him. And if you get lost in the moment and pull some shit like that, you’ll get restrained, so you don’t do it again while I drive into you, taking what I need and not giving a fuck if you get off.”

  My already puckered nipples harden immediately at his threat as they press against the warm hood of the car. The feel of his knee between my legs, my body a mess of nerves and needs, I grind against him. “I’d race you to the finish. Spoiler alert: I’m winning.”

  He presses his forehead between my shoulder blades. “This is gonna get messy if you don’t tell me to walk—”

  “Shut up,” I whimper, still grinding against him, my body building to a familiar place, a place I’ve never gotten to with anyone but myself, chasing my releasee.

  He grips my hips to stop me.

  “Don’t, don’t, don’t you dare!” I cry as I arch my back and my head falls back against his shoulder. I’m there, right there, as I force my eyes open and speak to his.

  Staring at me, fingers digging into my flesh, he looks angry, but I don’t give a damn because, for once, I’m not alone.

  “Get there,” he hisses, lifting his knee as he begins to rock my hips, my toes barely touching the ground. “Now.”

  “Yes, yes, yes.” I squeeze my eyes shut and cry out as I come.

  Body trembling, panting to catch my breath, I open my eyes very slowly as he pulls his knee out from between my legs. My feet flatten on the ground, knees weak, head dizzy, feeling unsteady.

  “You good now?” he snips.

  “Could be better.” I clear my throat and slide out from between the car and his body, hurrying to the passenger side. I slide in and keep my focus out the window as he gets in.

  “We need to have a discussion.”

  “Let’s not. Because that was a very hot moment, and I’d prefer it not be ruined.”

  He grabs my hand and holds it against his erection. “If I’m going to hell because of this shit, I’m gonna do it drained. I don’t give a damn if you use your hand or your mouth, just get it done.”

  “Right here on the side of the road?” I ask, confused and completely turned on all over again.

  “Asks the girl who just rode my knee on the side of the road in a foreign country with no shame.”

  “I thought I couldn’t touch you.”

  He pops the button on his jeans, takes my hand, and pushes it down the front of his pants. “My cock isn’t off limits.”

  “So, what is?”

  “Rule number one, when your hands or mouth are on my dick, when it’s in your pussy or ass, whichever I choose, we don’t talk.” He lifts his hips and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a wad of tissues. “Get me there and don’t make a mess; this is a rental.”

  The feel of his hard dick against my hand is one of those moments I seriously dreamt about. The size, as I attempt to wrap my hand around it to pull it free from the constraints fully beneath his clothes, far exceeds my fantasies. When I finally see his broad head, thick and topped with smeared pre-come, I lean over the console and lick it off.

  “You have a gorgeous cock, Wyatt Dalton.”

  “And you have a job to do.” He reaches over me and starts the car. “Make me come in under three kilometers.”

  Clit pulsing again, I slide my mouth as far down his shaft as I can.

  My mouth, my throat full of him, he leans back and hisses, “Christ.”

  I move my lips up and down his hot length, and he inhales a deep, unsteady breath. “God damn.”

  The sounds he’s making are like a pornographic motivational speech, sending shivers up and down my spine, making me hotter, wetter, and needier than I have ever felt.

  I take him to the back of my throat, deeper now, not caring that it’s uncomfortable. The reward, the taste of his salty crown, hits the back of my throat.

  His hips jut up, and I wrap my hand around the base of his hot, wet, velvet-like flesh as I pull back and suck him hard while pumping him in my hand, pulling my mouth all the way back to the tip then take him back in hard. He thrusts again and whispers a curse and a praise while fisting my hair, turning my head as he thrusts his hips against my cheek, stretching it from the inside out.

  He lets go of my hair, our eyes not leaving each other’s, as he grabs the headrest with both hands, rocking his hips slower now. “You spitting or swallowing?”

  I pull back, leaving a trail of saliva from his cock to my mouth. “Swallowing.”

  “Suck my cock just like you were, and, Brisa, I hope you’re thirsty.” He pulls my hair back, drives into my mouth deeply, and releases.

  I look up, and he nods wordlessly, giving me permission.

  Pumping him, sucking him, taking him in deep, and then pulling back as far as I can without losing this connection, I suck him like I’ve never sucked dick before, but know exactly what I’m doing to drive him crazy which, by the way, is exactly the case.

  When he grips my hair as I’m going down and hisses, I taste more of his salty goodness before his cock twitches in my mouth and he pushes my head down. The first spirt of come hits the back o
f my throat, and I swallow. Then another and another.

  I lick him clean, loving the feel of his skin under my tongue, and then I sit up and wipe the corners of my mouth with my sleeve.

  “Fuck.” He hits the steering wheel then hits it again. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” He turns and glares at me like he’s pissed at me. “I was rough.”

  I lift a shoulder as I grab my seat belt. “I expected rougher.”

  “I shouldn’t have come in your mouth.”

  “Seriously, chill. I expected to hate the taste of cum, but it was surprisingly pleasant.”

  “What do you mean surprisingly pleasant?”

  “Well, I mean your cum.”

  The fact that I’m not dying of embarrassment during this conversation should come with a freaking sticker, at very least. I’m assuming in post-orgasmic bliss, dying of embarrassment isn’t possible.

  “You imagined what my come would taste like?”

  “Come in general.”

  “What? You haven’t ever …?” He snaps his mouth shut.

  “Can we not discuss this?”

  “Brisa—”

  “As a matter of fact, let’s just not talk about my lack of experience, and can we agree that we never get to the point where we’re giving ratings after each sexual encounter? If my giving head sucked, then rest assure, by the time we part ways, it’ll be the best head you’ve ever received. I’m an overachiever.”

  Putting the vehicle back in drive, he says, “It was a fucking ten.”

  “Or we could share. That’s fine with me, too.”

  “The fuck we doing?” He hits the gas.

  “Hopefully tonight, fucking.” I smile and shake my head.

  “You know this is—”

  “Give me your worst, Ranger. I’m here for it.”

  “And when this, as you said, ends?”

  “When it ends, there is no hard feelings, because like I said, as long as you don’t fall in love with me, there’s no chance I will for you. And since you don’t do love, I won’t either.”

  He starts to respond, but I’m too hyped up to let him crush the high I’m riding with some sort of doubt.

  “We need rules. Like, I don’t want anyone in my family to know about this, even the guys, because monkey see monkey do is not how it works in this family. And let’s be honest, if the castle walls could have talked over the past few days with the amount of Oh my Gods and Jesus Christ, yeses, you’d have thought we were all overly religious. And by the way, we’re not. Religion ruins the good in Christianity. And seriously, am I talking about God right now?”

  “Brisa, chill,” he says with a good amount of humor in his voice, thank God … See? There I go again. “I’m good with this being our thing, and I agree with rules and boundaries.” I need guidelines.

  I look over at him. “As long as this thing involves me riding that perfect freaking dick, I’m in. Write up a contract. God, I can’t believe I got off on your knee on the side of the road. And double oh my God, I can’t believe that I just said that to the guy I just got off on, on the side of the road.”

  “Well, I have to be honest here; I thought this would be a one-way trip to hell, but seriously …” He laughs. Ranger laughs and, yep, he’s smiling. God, how I’ve missed that smile, that laugh, that carefree confidence I saw in him that first night … until he found out I was an asshole. “Keep talking. It’s making me less concerned that you’ll be needy and take this too seriously.”

  “Oh, I’ll be needy. Just not the put-a-ring-on-it needy. I’ll be the can-we-sneak-out-the-door-while-they’re-asleep kind of needy, and you can make good on the promise to bend me over and fuck me senseless.”

  When he doesn’t say anything, I look over. “Did I just freak you out? Are you going to change your mind? Is there—”

  “No, Little Bit, not at all.”

  Little Bit.

  “I swear on all the swoon that, when you call me that, I’m not even the least bit worried or afraid.”

  We pull in front of the market, and he parks and kills the engine. Then he turns and looks at me seriously. “You gotta promise me that you will follow the rules when I tell you where and what you can and can’t do.”

  I hold out my pinky. “As long as you promise the same.”

  Own it

  Ranger

  I fucked up. I fucked up. I fucked up. I fucked up, races through my head as I watch her bounce from stand to stand in the indoor market, grabbing enough food to feed an army.

  An army of men with the last name Steel who, by the way, are going to kill your ass for being a fucking perv.

  If this blows up and Zandor Steel finds out I told his little fairy tale princess to “Suck my dick,” I deserve a beating.

  But seriously, how many times could I say no? How many times could I beat off in the shower to a very grown-ass Brisa Steel? How many fucking times could I hear her talk about casual sex and fucking her way around the world when she deserves much better than that?

  Better than you, too, you dipshit, the little leather-cut-clad devil on my damn shoulder reminds me.

  I’m going to guess that her Josephina would want a whack at me, too. Then again, she lit up when Brisa had said, buon sesso.

  I googled that shit. Good sex. So, maybe if it blows up, I’ll have her on my side.

  She fucking came on my damn knee, held nothing back, and showed no shame. And shame is a bitch to fight, so this stays sexual, a give and take. I’m certain she’ll come out of this unscathed.

  She’s too fucking much, though. Not one damn thing wrong with her. Except she sees sex as a form of entertainment, whereas I see it as a release. And straight-up, I can’t wait to release all over that ass.

  She looks back at me, smiling, and I look away.

  She steps back and whispers, “It’s okay, Ranger. You can look. Hell, appreciate it. It’s a good ass.”

  “Jesus Christ,” I mumble as I look around and realize nearly everyone within a twenty-foot radius is looking at her, and by nearly, I mean every fucking man. She’s gorgeous, and she’s glowing. She has a kind of confidence that no woman her age has. It’s also pretty naïve. Case in point, fucking her way around the damn globe without some bastard hurting her heart by promising her shit they won’t deliver.

  With her new haircut, her age would be a bitch to guess. Hell, it was back then. She has that kind of classic beauty and the bank account to polish and shine the fuck out of anyone, and that gives the illusion she’s older than her years. She could pass from eighteen to about thirty.

  Without even thinking, I grab the back of her neck and turn her head back in the direction she’s walking. “Watch where you’re going; you’ll end up on that ass.” I don’t take my hand off for a good amount of time either, enough time for them all to see this little bit of beauty with a whole lot of sass is not alone.

  Back in the car and heading to the lake house, she shuffles through the ridiculous number of postcards she purchased.

  “Gotta ask you a question.”

  “It better not be, will you suck my dick. Until you give back, that’s not gonna happen.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Is that how this goes?”

  She looks up at me, smiling with her whole face, and then shrugs. “I mean, one good turn deserves another, yeah?”

  “I suppose it does.”

  “Good, because I can’t wait to see your insanely blue eyes looking up at me when your mouth is returning the favor.”

  “Can’t say shit like that when we’re two minutes from the house and expect to keep this shit between the two of us.”

  She looks down at the crotch of my jeans. “Does it make you hard?”

  “Can’t say shit like that either.” I have no idea how, but I keep my tone even, when my heart-rate is accelerated and blood is rushing to my balls.

  “See? That’s not fair, because, if you can spew off, ‘You wanna be fucked like this, Brisa? Bent over a car by a man who is telling you straight that he has co
ntrol issues,’ in a sexy as hell voice, on the side of the road, I should be able to ask if me talking about you going down on me makes you hard.”

  “You’ve got the advantage on that one, sassy ass. Your little nub isn’t gonna jack knife out of your pants for the whole world to see.”

  “Sassy ass?” She laughs. “I think I like Little Bit better.”

  “Well, you’re a little bit more than that now, aren’t you?” I hit the turn signal.

  “You have no idea what you’ve signed up for.”

  “I’m pretty sure I didn’t sign up for this.”

  “Your knee between my legs says different.”

  I’m a shitbag. I’m a total shitbag.

  “Don’t go getting in your head, either. I know I drove this, and I know you fought it because of the kiss when I was—”

  “Gonna be straight with you about some things. Back then, I was doing what needed to be done for two girls in trouble. Didn’t hurt that I wanted to get in Tobias’s head. Had no plans of laying hands on you. Had no plans to see you after you got the keys and the phone back. Seeing you at the fight, my adrenaline was on fucking wow when you kissed me.” And touched me without permission, and it didn’t send me into fucking orbit. “I should have pulled away. I messaged you because I was worried. I should have—”

  “I lied to you. That was all me. Again and forever, I’m sorry about that.”

  “Obviously, I’m over it, but I just want you to know I wasn’t pining over you. I was avoiding the fuck out of you.” And yeah, watching you a bit more than necessary, keeping tabs when I didn’t have to, but you … worried me.

  “I’m aware.”

  “I should not have gotten out of the vehicle and chased you. I shouldn’t feel so fucking protective over you, but for a good number of years, I worried that you’d run into someone who ticked all your little dirty biker fantasies, and he wouldn’t turn away. I’ve seen shit that no one—man, woman, or child—should see, let alone go through, at the hands of someone, and I sure as hell wouldn’t be thinking about being balls deep inside of you if I wasn’t sure that it was just the sexual experience you wanted.”