Pop The Clutch: A Second Gear Romance

by Kristin Harte

  With a single nod, he tore open the foil square. He kept his eyes between my legs while his fingers rolled latex down his length, as his hand gripped the base tight and held it steady. His cock was much like him, solid and wide. Substantial. The thickness of it made me clench for him, made my fingers slip inside myself for one brief moment as I imagined him there. But then I didn’t have to imagine anymore.

  Once the condom was on, Easton pushed my knees wider, bringing his fingers between my legs and moving with mine. “You sure about this?”

  I nodded, unable to speak. Needing to feel him so much. His fingers ran softly along my flesh, teasing, sliding over my clit and circling me but never edging inside. Leaving me empty and wanting. Brushing mine aside to take over.

  “Easton.” My voice was a cry, a mewl, a plea, and a prayer all in one. And Easton knew it. He had to.

  “Wait, baby, just let me take care of you.”

  My mouth fell open when he slid two fingers inside. Slow…dragging them along my flesh. I gasped and groaned, shaking all over, my hands clenching at his shoulders as he worked himself deeper. But while my body sang for him, he didn’t make a sound. Didn’t ask if I liked it or if it felt good. He knew. He was confident and sure kneeling between my thighs, teasing me harder. Bringing me closer. The man knew exactly what he was doing to me, and that might have been the biggest turn-on of all.

  I reached for him, unable to stop my hips from rocking into his hand, wanting more than his fingers. Craving all of him. “Please.”

  “You’ve gotta stop begging me, baby,” he said, twisting his hand and working me faster. Keeping his thumb on my clit and driving me absolutely mad with the need to come.

  “Want more,” I whispered, meeting his eyes.

  He growled and shifted forward, licking his lips as he practically hovered over top of me. “I’ve been hard for you since the moment you walked into my shop in those fucking tiny shorts. Do you have any idea how much I want you right now? I’m going to come so hard and fast when I get inside you. I already know, and I can’t wait. But I want this to be good for you too. Let me take my time. Let me get you off so I don’t feel like a chump.”

  And wasn’t that just the hottest thing he could have said to me? I nodded. Accepting. Letting him do what he wanted to my body. Giving myself over to the sensations he caused.

  Easton moved back to his knees, staring hard where his hand was driving me toward a release I desperately needed. Why was it so hot to watch him watch me? To see that level of intensity and concentration on his face? I had no idea, but I loved it. Loved knowing he was right there with me, doing everything for my pleasure and holding back his own.

  He plunged his fingers in deep, pressed hard on my clit in the process. I gasped and arched my back, a full-body shiver rocking me.

  “I’m gonna—”

  But I never finished my thought. Easton surprised me by shaking his hand up and down at a speed that stole my breath. The sensation was something I’d never experienced before. Rougher than I would have thought I’d like, the action brought every nerve ending to the party in the matter of a second. I couldn’t hold back, gasping and lifting my hips off the couch to seek out just that little bit more. Easton held firm, pumping his fingers deep as he shook. As he held my hip with his other hand to stop me from pulling away. Five seconds, ten…he didn’t let go or let up. My entire body rocked as I pumped against his hand, my legs shaking with the strain of holding my hips in the air. Of opening wide for him. Easton kept up with me, working me toward my ending. Rubbing, pushing, squeezing, thrusting—and yes, shaking—until I broke. With a gasp, lights exploded behind my eyes and my body locked down, every muscle clenching in time with my orgasm.

  Before I could catch my breath, Easton was on top of me, pushing my hips back into the couch with the sheer bulk of his own. The head of him slid its way inside, nudging deeper with every quiver and shake. The sound of my own wetness interrupted our heavy breaths, something that probably should have embarrassed me but didn’t. Easton had done that to me, had made me come so hard and long. He’d made me practically drip with desire for him.

  “Love how wet you are,” he mumbled, his lips brushing against mine. “Wanna taste it next time.”

  I groaned and gripped his shoulders, needing his body on mine, craving his weight again. And he gave it to me. Pressed me into the couch as he pushed forward. As he finally slid inside where I needed him most. Stretching my swollen flesh in a way that made me clench around him.

  “Oh hell, Violet.” He shifted his hips, his arms shaking and his breathing harsh. “How can you be so hot? You’re burning me up here.”

  I bit down on the muscles of his neck, too far gone for words. Easton grabbed my thigh and pulled it up and over his hips, opening my legs wider for him. Spreading me in the only way possible. I let my other leg fall over the edge of the couch, giving him as much room as I could. Giving him everything. And Easton took it all, not holding back. He thrust hard and deep, never faltering, pushing me up that hill with every press, every breath. Every touch of his flesh on mine.

  He clenched my thigh then let go so he could slide it down, grabbing my ass. Kneading the cheek and pulling me tighter to him. Changing the angle and sliding deeper. So much deeper.

  “God, yes,” I gasped as he hit something inside me that made me shake. He did it again, watching me, still so intent on me and my pleasure instead of his own.

  As I closed my eyes to chase the tingles running up and down my spine, he bit my lip. The shot of pain centered me back on him, gave me something to focus on as he slid his tongue along it.

  “You feel so good wrapped around me like this.” He grunted and thrust again, pressing deep and holding, rocking himself against my clit in a way that made me want to scream. “Can I make you come again? I want to feel you come. Need to feel it.”

  I clawed at his shoulders, pulling him closer. “So close. More.”

  He leaned down, letting his weight push me deeper, keeping his hips jerking into mine. “I’ll give you more, baby. Shit, I’ll give you everything. All of me…I’m yours. Take what you need.”

  A tiny flash of not-just-friends flashed through my mind, but I was too far gone to care. Shaky, sweaty, completely over the edge, I slid a hand between us to rub my fingers against my clit. To push myself toward that release. Easton groaned and thrust harder, whispering words of encouragement like that’s it and get it, baby. Like so fucking hot and come on my cock. Dirty words that made me shiver. Made me inch closer to that place of complete abandon right before the crash.

  Made me come.

  I clenched around him, clinging to his shoulders as a second orgasm rolled through me. As the pleasure-pain of it destroyed me once more. Easton grunted and thrust even harder, shaking the whole couch. Lifting my hips off the cushion as he strained toward his own ending. Making my orgasm stutter and drag on, keeping me riding that knife-edge between enough and too much. And it was good, so good. And then it was perfect.

  He stiffened above me, grunting as he held himself deep inside, cords of muscle along his neck flexing as he arched back. Beautiful as he let go. As he jerked and pressed and bit his bottom lip. As he groaned in the sexiest way imaginable and gave himself over to his own release.

  When he was finished, he placed his forehead on mine, breathing hard, his body finally relaxing. “Not a chump.”

  I laughed, holding him closer and running a hand down his cheek. “Never a chump.”

  “It was a close call.”

  “Doubtful.” I huffed a laugh, settling into the couch, basking in his weight and his warmth surrounding me. “I’ve thought about this for so long.”

  His head jerked back. “Really?”

  I nodded, almost shy as I made my admission. “I had a bit of a crush on you back in the day. Of course, just about every girl did.”

  “Liar.”

  “It’s true. You were that perfect blend of bad boy, funny guy, and sweet charmer. Plus, you’ve alwa
ys been hot as hell.” I ran my hands over the muscles of his arms. “It’s even more now.”

  “You’re doing very good things for my ego.” He laughed, ducking his head in my neck. “I thought about you too. In ways far too inappropriate to bring up.”

  “Good thing my grandma needed her car fixed.”

  “Thank God for a leaky radiator and improper backing up.” He chuckled, then ran a hand over my hair. “You need to come home more often.”

  Easton kissed my nose before reaching between us. As he dealt with cleaning up, I turned on my side and tried to ignore the empty feeling of the truth settling over me. While I was happy to be back, I couldn’t stay. I had jobs, an apartment, and a life. I had some semblance of privacy and anonymity in Chicago. If I came back here, I’d never know if someone was looking at me because they wanted to say hello or if they were trying to match me to the video. I’d never find a place to just be me.

  But as Easton settled himself on top of me, rolling us to the side to snuggle in a way that was decidedly uncomfortable but totally worth it, I pushed aside the worry and took full advantage of the moment. When I was wrapped in his arms, reality could wait to attack. He’d keep me safe…

  For now.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  VIOLET

  Four in the morning. Not a so-called normal wake-up time for most people, but something I’d grown used to over the years. Baking—making doughs and layers of cake and frostings—took time. That time tended to be in the early-morning hours.

  I rolled out of bed, deliciously sore in so many places. Easton had definitely not been a chump the night before. He’d lived up to every teenage fantasy and then some. I’d be feeling him all day, and I wasn’t the least bit sorry about that.

  Once the coffee started brewing, I headed straight for the refrigerator. I needed my butter and eggs to come to room temperature or close to it. Once I’d collected those items and set them out on the counter, I snagged the grocery bag that had been sitting in the pantry for days. The one from the night Easton had run into me at the store. The one with the chocolate puff cereal and corn syrup in it. Grandma would have cream of tartar for sure, and sugar and vanilla were staples. No worries there.

  I lined up all my ingredients, pulled out the stand mixer from the cabinet, and poured a cup of coffee. Easton wanted me to make him chocolate marshmallow bars. I had another hour before I could do that because I didn’t want to attempt to whip cold eggs, but maybe there was something else I could start with. Something to play with that might entice Grandma to eat something with a bit more fat and calories than her bland diet had offered lately. Something yummy but not too sweet.

  I puttered around the kitchen, looking for something to get my rusty wheels spinning. I hadn’t baked in weeks, hadn’t even thought much about it. My options were relatively restricted by what I had on hand, but otherwise, I had free rein. No rules or menus to follow. I could make anything so long as the ingredients were on hand.

  It was when I opened the refrigerator and saw the bag of limes Dahlia had brought home in the crisper that the idea hit me. It was a recipe I’d seen on a competitive baking show I loved—Yorkshire gingernuts with lime. The ginger would be good for Grandma’s digestion, and the lime would cut the sweetness enough to hopefully not make her sick.

  “Brilliant,” I whispered, pulling out the limes and grabbing more of what I knew I’d need. Powdered sugar, cream cheese, flour, spices. I dug through drawers until I found the microplane and manual juicer, ducked into cabinets to locate the right baking pans and piping supplies.

  My heart beat a little faster as I filled the countertops, and I started humming somewhere along the way. This. This was what I loved. This was where my heart truly lived. Baking and cooking and making delicious treats for people to enjoy. I loved it—always had. Grandma had taught me to bake from the time I was old enough to stand on a chair at the counter with her. Making a treat for her would be something like paying her back. And the marshmallow bars for Easton? That was something else. Something I didn’t want to think too much about.

  I had the gingernuts in the oven, the lime filling made, and was working on the homemade marshmallows for Easton’s treats when Dahlia exploded into the room.

  “What’s all this?” She peeked into the mixing bowl. Her hair was tied up into a strict bun, and she wore brightly patterned yoga pants with a slouchy sweatshirt over her colorful sports bra. Typical wardrobe for my fitness-obsessed cousin.

  “I woke up inspired. Heading into the office?”

  She hummed, stealing a fingerful of the lime filling and moaning at the taste. “This is amazing. And yes, I’m off to teach a class full of middle-aged women how to keep from peeing themselves.”

  That…what? “Try me again.”

  “It’s true. You gotta work your core, or when you get older?” She raised her eyebrows, moving both her hands in a dropping motion in front of her hips. “Gravity takes over. You should take a class with me.”

  Been there, done that, hated every second of it. “Yeah, I’ll take a pass. I get enough of a workout in the kitchen.”

  “There’s no such thing as enough.” She popped a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll be back this evening. You’re good here?”

  Good? Good was an understatement. “I can handle things today.”

  My phone pinged, Easton’s name popping up on the screen. Something Dahlia definitely noticed.

  “Early-morning texts? I had no idea you two had moved your relationship forward.”

  Forward. Backward. Sideways. On top of one another. Whatever. “Yeah, well…we’re friends.”

  “Liar.” Dahlia turned and skipped toward the back door. “Make sure to hang a sock on the doorknob so I don’t interrupt anything interesting.”

  If my face grew any hotter, it might set the cabinets on fire. “No socks necessary.”

  Lies.

  But I would stick to that story until the day I died.

  I waited until Dahlia left to even reach for my phone, delaying that satisfaction of seeing Easton’s words. I couldn’t wait for long, though.

  You awake yet?

  I glanced around the kitchen, taking in the mess I’d made. Breathing the scent of the gingernuts. Taking in the soft green color of the lime filling and the stiff peaks of the beaten egg whites for the marshmallows. I was more than just awake. I was busy and excited and making things I hadn’t thought about in a number of years.

  Things that would likely never sell in any of the restaurants I made pastries for in Chicago.

  My mood deflated a little, reality hitting me over the head. Nothing about this feeling, this excitement that had been building inside of me since I’d woken up, could last. I was baking again, which only reminded me of work. Of my commitments in Chicago. Of the need to return to my lonely little life there. To leave Downriver and disappear into the crowded city streets once more.

  To walk away from Easton—from his rough hands and smooth words, from his body, his smile, and his kindness—and get back to my reality.

  Soon, but not yet. I still had some time. And I still had Easton to reply to.

  A good distraction made every day a little brighter, and Easton Cole was the best sort of distraction.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  EASTON

  I walked into the shop with a smile on my face and my phone in my hand. Talking to Violet would be a great way to start my day, even though I’d had to go home alone the night before. I didn’t want to wake her up, though. It had been a long night. A fucking fabulously long night. One I wanted to have again. Maybe not a call—maybe just a message. If I couldn’t wish her good morning in person, I’d do it over text.

  You awake yet?

  “Morning,” Brogan hollered as I headed for the office. I nodded in his direction, too distracted by my phone pinging to start a conversation.

  Yeah. I was up early today.

  Well, good morning, then.

  Good morning to you. Working hard?

/>   Soon. Got a brake job to do this morning, then a transmission to look at. Busy, busy.

  I grabbed a cup of coffee from the machine in the office before heading to the garage. I wasn’t two steps out the door when the next text came in.

  Are you going to be getting dirty?

  I huffed a laugh, typing one-handed as I made my way across the concrete.

  Absolutely. Why, you coming by?

  Maybe. I need to take Grandma to an appointment this afternoon, but I’m free until then.

  Stop by if you can. If not, meet me in my shower after? I may need some help getting all the grease off.

  I set my coffee on a workbench just as another ping sounded.

  Tell me a time, and you’ve got yourself a date.

  I’ll get back to you once I get some work under my belt.

  You do that, and maybe I’ll give you something other than work under your belt later. :)

  I love the way you think. Text me later.

  I grinned and unlocked my toolbox, ready to get to work now that I knew I was going to see Violet later. I’d worried when I’d woken up, wondering if she’d freak about last night and go running. Apparently, she was hanging right in with me. Brave girl.

  “You’re in a good mood this morning.” Brogan brushed by me as I tucked my phone in my pocket.

  “Had a date last night.”

  “With the no-longer-Vee-just-Violet?” Colton asked.

  I pointed the wrench his way. “Call her that again, and I’ll be shoving this right up your ass.”

  “Ooh, kinky.” Colton grinned. “Does that imply you got your dick stroked by someone other than Rosy Palm last night?”

  Brogan snorted a laugh. “Man, he is going to tear you up if you keep being…you.”