by Jane Henry
“Two weeks,” he says. “More like twelve days now.”
“So, just in time for me to get it back to my father before he’s home.”
“Yep,” he says, clearly not amused, as his eyes are all narrowed again. “And just in time for me to get my shit done for the Fallside show.”
I know that name. Why do I know that name?
“You alright, princess?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m just trying to remember why I know that name.”
He huffs out a breath. “Likely because your dad’s ranked number one at that show for the past twelve years,” he says.
Duh. I want to smack myself. Of course that’s why.
How am I going to keep my cool at the show when I see Levi there? I have to go. I can’t not go, now that I know he’ll be there.
He tugs my braid and says, “I have to go back to work. You, however, are off for the rest of the day.”
“Are you sure about that?” I ask him. “I was getting a lot done, you know.”
“I’m sure about that,” he says, fixing me with a serious look. “Better for me to focus on my work today, babe. And you’re nothing but a distraction.”
“Is that a compliment?” I ask. He just narrows his eyes. Alrighty then.
“How about I take you back,” I say, “since your truck is at work. I get things done I need to, and then…” my voice trails off. I’m not sure if I’m much more than a fuck buddy to him. Does he want to see me tonight?
“Then I meet you at your place for dinner tonight,” he says. “Okay?”
I smile to myself and nod. “Yes, daddy.”
Chapter Eight
Levi
It’s fucking hard to get my work done, even if she’s not here. Part of me can’t help but remember the way she felt when I buried myself in her. The feel of my palm marking her perfect, sweet ass. The taste of her mouth. And I sure as fuck wish I hadn’t had to delete those pictures of her off my phone, because I’d do fucking anything to have those all to myself.
She hasn’t come clean about the way she earns her money, but I’ll ask her, and soon. I have my suspicions but don’t want to assume.
Spade comes in and in typical asshole fashion, gives me shit about the phone.
“Something you don’t want me to see on there, boss?” he asks with a chuckle.
“Yeah, dumbass,” I tell him. “So mind your own fucking business.”
I’m working through the voicemails that have come in about the show in my absence and wondering why I did a stupid thing like give Tanya the day off. I even consider giving her a call and asking her to come back for an hour. I could use her help around here. Then I look at Spade’s lewd grin and I know. Yeah, that’s not happening.
I finish my work and call her on the office number. “I’ll pick up dinner on the way, but I have a quick errand to run first, okay?”
“Sure,” she says. “Do you want to eat at your place or mine?”
“Mine would be easier if you don’t mind. I’ll get a chance to walk the dogs instead of having to call my neighbor and ask her.”
“Her?”
Is that jealousy?
What the hell are we playing at here? I’ve known her for such a short time, but in that time I’ve spanked her, kissed her, fucked her, and she’s called me daddy. We’re on the fast track to…something.
“Yeah. Her,” I repeat. “The college student who’s renting the house next door? She likes to pick up extra cash when she can.”
“Hmph,” she huffs out, clearly not impressed.
“Seven good?” I ask her.
“Perfect,” she says.
We hang up, and for a minute I think to myself, this could be something more than it is. More than sex and fucking around with kink. God, she’s so damn responsive. The way she moans, and the way she calls me daddy. Something tells me she’d be game for some of my kinkier persuasions.
But it’s more than that. She’s funny and sweet and witty. And the fucking nerve to text a picture like that. I shake my head. She’s something else.
When I show up she’s already there. Next to her in the car, I can’t help but notice she’s got a little duffle bag. It’s pink and quilted with a golden handle, but it’s not something that just sits in the car. She’s packed a bag for the night.
She gets out with the bag in hand. I take the bag, lean in, and give her an affectionate kiss on the cheek.
“Been here long?” I ask her.
“Just got here. I was just admiring your view,” she says, trotting to keep up with my long strides. I slow down for her, switch her bag and the one I’m carrying to my left hand, and take her by the right hand.
“I haven’t even taken you to the back yet,” I tell her.
“I was curious,” she said. “Is that a barn?”
I nod. “Yep.”
“Do you have, like…chickens or something?”
I tug her braid. “Or something. But first, dinner.”
We make dinner like this is something that was meant to be. I slice tomatoes and mozzarella and she pulls fresh basil from the plant I have on the porch. We boil pasta and she tosses it with butter and sauce she finds in my cabinet. I never do normal shit like this with women, and I have to admit I like it.
“Missed you at the office,” I tell her. “It was maybe rash of me to give you the rest of the day off. I really needed the extra help.”
“Levi,” she chides. “I’m going in early tomorrow, and I’ll do what you need me to.”
“You’ll go in when I go in,” I tell her. I don’t like the idea of her there alone when it’s dark.
She frowns. “Alright,” she says, as if I’ve given her a choice.
I take her plate, lean down, and kiss her forehead. She’s kicked off her shoes and came wearing jeans and a tank top. Damn if she doesn’t look every bit as sexy in this outfit as she has in everything else I’ve seen her in.
“So what was your errand after work?” she asks. “And what’s in the white paper bag?”
“Nosy little girl,” I tell her, tugging her braid. “I’ll show you.”
I load the dishwasher and put the food away, then fetch the bag.
“After today, I realized I don’t want to live in the dark ages anymore.” I pull out the box with the brand new cell phone I picked up earlier today.
Her jaw drops. “You got a cell phone?”
I nod.
“Well, welcome to the twenty-first century,” she says with a grin. “Can I play with it?”
“Play with it?”
“You know. Ringtones and wallpaper and stuff.”
“No, I don’t know,” I tell her. “But yeah, I need you to help set it up. And then, when everything’s done? I need you to text me those pictures.”
She gives me a coy grin. “Only if you show me what’s out back.”
What she doesn’t know is I was already planning that, so it’s easy for me to pretend like I’m making a concession. “Alright,” I tell her, adding some reluctance. “But be a good girl and only touch what I tell you to, okay?”
She tips her head to the side adorably. “Alien spaceship?” she guesses. When I shake my head, her voice drops. “Ohh. Is it where you show me your guns and knives and scary shit?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Horses? Big, beautiful stallions I can ride?”
“Nope,” I tell her. “Now stop asking questions and lets go.”
“Car things,” she guesses, the closest guess yet. I smile and take her hand.
The sun is setting when we leave the house, wisps of pink and orange painting the horizon like someone drew a wide paintbrush across the sky. She pulls a little closer to me. I like this, having her so close, and for one minute I wonder what it would be like to have this be real. Not the temporary love affair that will vanish in days, but something lasting. I quickly push the thought away, though. I don’t know her. Maybe she’s on her best behavior now because I have something s
he needs, and she’s got nothing else to do with her time.
But as we walk hand in hand toward the barn, in amicable silence, I let myself enjoy just being with her. I unfasten the series of padlocks one at a time. The door to the bar creaks open, and Tabby, the barn cat I keep that rids us of mice and critters, purrs and swoops between my legs. I give her an affectionate scratch behind the ears and she takes off.
Tanya lets go of my hand and lets loose a low, impressed whistle. Here in the barn, I keep my favorite possession, my pride and joy.
“She’s beautiful,” she breathes. “Levi…it’s amazing. What kind of car is it?”
“It’s a 1955 Jaguar D-type,” I say. She slowly circles the car, letting her hand glide over the gleaming, deep blue sapphire finish. The sides slope downward to the windows. I’ve polished this until it glistens under the overhead lights. “It’s a tail-finned racer, and one I’ve never taken to a show before.”
“Wow.”
“Fifty-four were made.” I tell her. “It won Le Mans in 1956,” I tell her. “Has a 285-horsepower inline six.” I pat it affectionately. “It hit one hundred fifty-six miles an hour at peak. I don’t race it anymore, though. Now, I baby her.” I smile to myself. “No one else knows it yet, but I’ve got her registered at the next show.”
“No way,” Tanya says. “She’s your prize?” She grins. “Oh my God, they’re going to go nuts. But how did you get it? I mean, this thing’s got to be worth…” her voice trails off. It’s one of the most sought-after classic cars in the world. I’ve got her insured, but some would call me a fool keeping it in here like this.
“I inherited it from a friend of mine,” I say. “Used to work with him. He was a neighbor growing up, and he taught me everything I know. Sal worked his whole life with cars, had no children, and decided when he was making out his will he wanted his cars to go to someone who’d appreciate them.” I shrug. “It was the saddest day when Sal died. But that day changed my life.” I inherited his business and this car, but I can’t bring myself to show this one, not yet.” I worked hard in my youth, earning Sal’s trusts.
“Every penny I earned went toward my next car, and Sal was the one who gave me the space to store it. I bought this house when it went on the market. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.”
“Well that would explain why a tough guy like you lives in a place like this.”
“Tough guy like me?” I ask with a chuckle.
She just shoots me a look that makes me smile. “You still drive it?” she asks.
I grin. “Of course. What’s the point if you don’t get a chance to drive them every once in a while?”
She circles the car, nodding and admiring the details. It honestly gets me hard watching her take in my beauty. She appreciates my masterpiece. I love that she does.
“Ever kiss a girl in it?” she asks with a grin.
“I think that’d be uncomfortable,” I tell her, eying the bucket seats that are meant for racing. But when she gets within arm’s reach, I grab her about the waist and lift her onto the hood of the car. “But I can try the hood.”
She grins, leans in, laces her hands around my neck, and I kiss her. She’s soft and sweet and tastes delicious. My cock stirs to life when I take her mouth with mine and her body draws closer. I press my lengthened cock up against her, and her legs encircle me.
I pull my mouth off her.
“Baby,” I whisper in her ear.
“Yes, daddy?”
Something in me draws even closer to her every time she calls me daddy. I fucking love that she does. Here, with my favorite possession I’ve shared with no one but Sal, holding her close and kissing her like this, I’m on top of the fucking world. We kiss until she moans into my mouth, her breasts pushed up against my chest. I pull my mouth off hers and whisper in her ear, “You want daddy to fuck that tight pussy, princess?”
She nods, her head bobbing up and down. “Daddy,” she moans. “Please, daddy.”
The car’s just the right height. I unfasten my buckle, whip it off, and give the side of her thigh a quick smack with the leather before I toss it to the floor. She gasps and writhes, parting her legs. I hike her skirt up a little more and look at those beautiful legs spread wide on top of the bright blue hood of the car. Full, voluptuous thighs I want marked with my fingers under her skirt tomorrow. I hold her up, my thumbs pressed into her soft, sweet skin so hard I’m leaving red marks, but it only makes her moan harder.
“Fucking gorgeous,” I groan, getting to my knees. “I want to taste that pussy. So every time I come in here and work on this car I think you. How you smell. How you feel. How you taste.”
I part her knees. She gasps, panting now, when I kiss the inside of her thighs.
“Someone wants daddy to eat that pussy,” I rasp out. Her skirt’s up around her belly. She’s naked from the waist down. I can smell her. My mouth waters. I breathe her scent in until I’m drunk with it, pull her pussy to my mouth, and work her hard and fast. She anchors herself on my hair, fingers wound tightly. Writhing against my mouth, she groans and comes so hard I have to hold her down while I milk her orgasm.
She’s coming down in a haze, and I can’t wait another minute.
“Tell me you’ve got protection,” I growl.
She nods and mumbles about birth control, giving me the green light I want. I don’t want to pause for a fucking condom. I need this girl ungloved. I hold her around the waist so hard she yelps, my fingers digging into her soft, sweet flesh.
“Daddy. God, yes, daddy,” she moans. “Take me hard,” she begs.
I thrust into her and she throws her head back, bracing herself on the hood of the car. A breeze rustles tendrils of hair on her forehead, her cheeks are dark pink and flushed. Her mouth parts while I take her, building a tempo of ecstasy.
“Fucking beautiful,” I groan, slamming into her. Princess likes it hard, and today, I want to leave her bruised and soundly fucked. I groan into her, my orgasm tearing through me when she screams her ecstasy with me. “Good girl. That’s it, baby.” I push her damp hair off her forehead and kiss her flushed temple. She’s panting on the car, boneless and replete. I hold her against me until her breathing slows, then I help her dress and we go to the house to clean up.
We walk hand in hand. She gets herself a glass of water and hands me a drink. I take the glass, take her fingers to my mouth, and kiss them. She smiles at me, her whole face lighting up. Beaming.
We say little after that, and I wonder if she’s thinking what I am.
I’ll never slake my need for her. Two fucking weeks isn’t enough.
Chapter Nine
Tanya
Every day that ticks by on our two-week clock seems like the seconds of a time bomb. When my time here is up, there’s nothing I can do to keep me a man like Levi. We’re so wrong for each other and I know deep down inside it can’t work out.
And what do we even have, anyway? Hot sex. Lots and lots of the hottest sex I’ve ever had in my life. What else do I have to offer him?
I haven’t spent a night apart from him since that very first night. Some nights he stays at my place and some nights I stay at his. I have to admit, I prefer staying at his. Mine cost a mint and is decorated to perfection. I have my walk-in closet complete with designer labels and custom fitted clothing, enough shoes I could open a small boutique, and my bathroom filled with every possible beauty product I could hope for. Yet my place feels weirdly empty compared to his.
I put in a good day of work today, and Levi let me go early so I could prepare dinner while he finished a late job. He didn’t know I was going to cook, though, just that I’d get something to eat. I have a small repertoire of food I make well,. I have a tray of baked, stuffed haddock browning in the oven, steamed green beans with slivered almonds warming in a pot on the stove, and I’m just fluffing the rice pilaf when he comes in the door.
“Smells like a goddamned restaurant in here,” he says.
“Good,” I say, welc
oming him with a quick kiss over my shoulder, before I finish dinner. I squeal when he spins me around to look at him.
“Well ain’t you pretty as a picture,” he says in his deep rumble. My heart does a backflip when he weaves his hand around the hair I’ve got in a ponytail, gently tugs my head back, and makes my “welcome home” kiss look like a little girl dressed up in her mommy’s nightie. His kiss is the whole enchilada, sending a shiver coursing right through me.
“Needed to kiss you properly,” he says. “Come in my kitchen with you all dolled up in a frilly apron, you’re lucky I don’t fuck you right up against this fridge.”
“The fish will be ruined,” I breathe, sorta not caring if it is.
He chuckles, spins me around, and gives me an affectionate ass slap. “No ruining dinner, woman,” he says. He’s a freaking dinosaur but I love it.
I serve him his dinner which he inhales like he hasn’t eaten since Christmas, takes my empty plate with a kiss to my forehead, then loads the dishwasher and tells me to take a break.
God, I could get used to this. A pang hits me in the chest. I’ve never had anything like this. I’ve spent my life bathed in luxury, but none of it matters. None of it at all. Here, Levi is exactly who he says he is. He’s a man of his word, brutal and raw in his honesty. Hardworking and fierce. Nothing at all like I’d ever imagined I’d need, and yet the thought of life without him makes me want to cry.
I hardly know him, though.
And does he really know me?
He doesn’t even know that I model, that I hold a master’s degree in marketing, and he’s never met any one of my friends.
But I don’t want them to meet him.
My friends are high class, well-to-do, and respected members of society that would scorn a man who has his freaking wallet attached to his belt with a chain. They date clean-shaven men who wear custom-made suits from Italy and talk about the size of their diamond rings and yachts. None of them use the word “fuck” like it’s a noun, verb, and adjective, and the thought of any of those guys with one tat, let alone two sleeves and tattooed knuckles, is actually amusing. The friends I know would stare in unabashed shock at Levi’s thick beard and calloused hands.
