#Swag (GearShark #3)

by Cambria Hebert

  Dark as secrets but as all-knowing as truth.

  Slowly, the black leather jacket tugged over his shoulders and slid down his arms behind him. He wore a white T-shirt, plain, thin, and surely soft to the touch.

  It was the same kind of T-shirt you saw on the underwear commercials or in those hot as hell Calvin Klein ads. It made me think of sex, like he was dressed for the bedroom and not the car garage.

  The right sleeve had somehow rolled up a little beneath his jacket, exposing more of the well-defined muscles in his arm.

  Because the shirt was really what I suspected was made to wear beneath another shirt, it was shorter in length, and the hem caught on the front of his jeans, almost like it tucked itself into the front behind the fly because he was just that desirable.

  It drew attention he already didn’t lack down to the bulge between his legs.

  I worked with men on a daily basis. A lot of them were good-looking, but I never had a problem focusing on my job or what I was doing until now.

  He reeked of sex. Like he’d just had it, like he wanted it right then… And the way he moved promised he’d want it again in just an hour.

  Hunger gnawed at me, low in my belly, at the tips of my fingers. My lips tingled remembering what he felt like, and my brain whispered, More.

  “Pop the hood,” he said, barely pausing beside me, continuing to toss his jacket on the workbench nearby. Turning on my heel, I went around my car to where the hood was still unlatched.

  Jace flipped on some more lights, making it brighter as I propped up the hood to let him have his coveted look inside my engine.

  Before he came to see, a switch was thrown, and the sound of the hangar door sliding closed filled the space.

  I leaned back against the front of my car, bracing my hand on the metal body. Jace appeared, his body close, his eyes touching on mine before sweeping over my body.

  It was hot in here, too hot for the jacket I’d put back on before driving to the airport. I wanted to take it off, but I didn’t want him to think I was taking it off because I wanted to make him look at me.

  Wait. Fuck that.

  I didn’t do anything in the name of someone else. If I was hot, I would take off my jacket, and he could get over himself.

  I tugged it off and tossed it on the roof of the car. When I came back, he already had his hands down in my engine, looking at all my shit.

  “Whoa,” I called. “I said you could look. I didn’t say anything about touching.”

  He finished what he was doing before pulling back. “You had a cap loose.” He gestured to it, but I was too busy studying the way dark grease smeared his fingers.

  “This is some nice shit,” he said, putting his hands back where I told him not to and tinkering with more.

  A strand of hair fell over his forehead, but he ignored it and kept looking. Some of the parts were special ordered from places only pros could order from.

  He gave me the third degree about some of them: performance, cost, maintenance, etc.

  I answered, relaxing into the conversation and forgetting all about how riled up he made my insides.

  I liked talking cars with him. He didn’t talk down to me or assume I didn’t understand exactly what all the shit beneath my hood did. That’s what usually happened. Even after I proved I knew what I was talking about, they still had shit to say. It never ceased to amaze me how big of dicks some guys could be.

  After a little while of car talk, he shifted, pulled his body up, and glanced at me. “You break your hand?”

  “What?” I asked, startled by the turn of conversation.

  Without any thought, he wiped his greasy hands on the front of his once pristine white shirt. Instantly, it became smudged with dark streaks and shadows.

  “When you punched Kurt.” He gestured at me, noted more grime, and lifted the hem to wipe his hand further.

  The action exposed his flat abs and hips.

  “Uh…”

  The shirt fell back into place, now wrinkled and even dirtier.

  I cleared my throat and glanced down. I’d been favoring it without realizing. “No,” I hurried to say. “It’s just kinda sore.” There was no point in lying; he’d already seen the way I’d been acting.

  “Let me see.” He reached for my hand, lifting it between us. “It’s red,” he murmured, brushing the back of his thumb over the knuckles.

  A streak of oil got on my skin.

  “Flex your fingers,” he instructed.

  I did without thinking. Did I mention yet that his dirty appearance only added to the rogue reputation he exuded?

  “Not broken,” he announced.

  “That’s what I said.” I reminded him.

  “Looks like it hurts, though.” He glanced up. His endless night-colored eyes teased me. “That’s what happens when you slam it into someone’s face.”

  “That asshole deserved it,” I snapped, moving to pull back my hand.

  Jace nodded. “He did.”

  He agreed with me? I thought it might be a first.

  “I got what you need for this,” he said. The words stroked down my spine like an hour-long massage.

  Instead of releasing my hand, he tucked it under his arm and towed me toward the back of the hangar.

  I barely made out anything beyond the silver metal walls because I was too focused on him.

  The seam on the corner of his back pocket was loose. It caused the material to pull away from the pants a little. Every time he swung his leg forward, I’d get a tiny glimpse of the boxers he wore beneath.

  “Here,” he said, stopping in front of a full-size fridge and freezer. He produced an ice pack, which he deftly wrapped in a towel and applied to the back of my hand.

  “I got grease on you,” he murmured, noticing the smudge.

  I shrugged. “Hazard of the job.”

  “It’s sexy.”

  I tugged the ice over it, hiding it. As if in retaliation, he swiped two fingers across my cheek. It must have left behind a streak, because his eyes became smug. “I’d like to see you covered in streaks, every last one of them made by my hands.”

  Sex was something I enjoyed, but the way he stared at me made me feel like I’d never experienced it before. At least not in any way, shape, or form the way it would be with him.

  “They look good on you, too,” I said, gesturing to his shirt.

  Just because my insides felt like a bubbling volcano didn’t mean I had to show it.

  His body shifted just a bit closer. “What’s your real name?”

  I lifted a brow. “How do you know it isn’t Joey?”

  “There’s no way in hell someone who looks like you only has a boy name.”

  “It’s Josephine,” I answered, taking some pleasure in the fact he liked the way I looked. “Everyone calls me Joey.”

  “I’m not calling you that.” It wasn’t a question, a suggestion, or a statement.

  It was what would be.

  “No?” God, just the way he looked at me. I actually tore my eyes off him to make sure the ice on my hand wasn’t completely melted.

  With a low sound, he moved past me, going back over to my engine.

  I followed along, once again staring at the rip in his jeans.

  Once there, he turned, grabbed a fistful of the stained white shirt, and pulled it over his head.

  This wasn’t the first time I’d seen him sans shirt. Hell, I’d felt his skin against mine in an intimate way.

  But the setting had been anything but.

  Now we were alone.

  I didn’t have to pretend, and I didn’t have to play a game.

  He knew I was attracted to him, just as I knew he was to me. The energy was undeniable. The tremor in my hands dared me to deny it, and the slow thud of my heart was impossible to ignore.

  I stopped in front of him, facing each other in front of my car in the shadows cast by the open hood.

  Jace took the ice I was holding and threw it over his shoulder. I
barely heard the smacking sound it made against the concrete floor. Beneath the hem of my crop top, his still filthy hands wrapped around my waist, his thumbs pressing into the flesh and swiping.

  I looked down. Two black marks marred my waist.

  I reached over. Without looking, my hands found the dirtiest parts of the engine and worked around. Seconds later, I pulled back, fingers coated in the stuff, and dragged it down his chest, over his pec and toward his abs.

  Three long lines were left behind, and I discovered something.

  “You were right,” I said. “It is sexy.”

  The sound he emitted was nothing short of a growl. He snatched my hand and put it on him again, covering it with his, pressing it hard against his shoulder and rubbing. When my fingers started moving, pulling toward his collarbone, he allowed it, and I traced more lines across his skin.

  He smelled like a cross between unidentifiable soap and motor oil.

  His skin was smooth; my fingers were slick.

  Abruptly, my playing became too much. One long arm wrapped around and pulled me against his body. The palm of his hand flattened and rubbed upward, snaking beneath my shirt and all the way up past my bra straps, beneath my hair, grabbing the back of my neck.

  I looked up.

  He kissed me.

  No. He devastated my mouth, my body, and every coherent thought I could have had. There was nothing but the feel of him against me, the pressure of his lips upon mine. I didn’t know how he did it. How he kissed with so much intensity but never seemed to need air. My lungs were close to exploding, so close I squirmed against him.

  Jace ripped away his mouth, but I didn’t automatically breathe. It was like my body was no longer my own…

  It was his.

  “Take a breath, Josie.”

  I gasped. The burning in my chest was alleviated, but the pounding of my heart increased.

  My stomach jumped so much, so fast it almost hurt. It almost scared me.

  Before I could make sense of the way he made me feel, his lips were on mine once more. The feel of his thick tongue made my knees wobble, and the pain in my hand was forgotten.

  He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and the hair low on the back of his neck was too short to anchor myself with. Instead, I reached up and grabbed his ears, tugging his head down even closer. I was tall, but he was taller, so he came, hunching down around me.

  A moan vibrated my throat and echoed through my mouth into his. There was nowhere else for the sound to travel because Jace wouldn’t let me free.

  His kiss was a prison. His tongue my warden and his body my cell.

  In one fast movement, he ripped his hand from underneath my shirt, and both hands found the hem.

  I lifted my arms, and he laughed.

  We broke apart so he could remove the fabric and make short work of my bra.

  My rack spilled out. The fullness of my breasts was heavy and felt even heavier right now. Need pooled in them; they tingled and ached.

  I didn’t have to ask or even wait. His hands covered them, kneading into the flesh, and I moaned. My head fell back, and I arched into his ministrations.

  His lips found the hollow of neck and began sucking. I grabbed his hips. My fingers dug in as he sucked down my neck and across my collarbone.

  So good.

  So. Fucking. Good.

  When he started to pull back, I flattened my hands on his back and dug my nails in, forcing him close once more.

  Two warm, willing lips latched onto a rock-hard nipple, and I cried out. Tingles of pleasure shot through my body, all the way down to my toes. I stroked his back and finally shoved my hands in his hair, making sure to rough up the combed strands so he looked as out of control as I felt.

  It didn’t take long for my mouth to get jealous of my tits. Not being gentle, I pulled his hair, forcing his head back.

  Dark, glittering eyes met mine. His lips were plump and red, and I dove at them.

  Our tongues battled it out, trying to prove who wanted the other more. Desire pumped through me, erasing everything else. My panties weren’t just damp; they were soaked.

  Between my thighs, I ached; actual shooting pain vibrated up into my lower abs. When Jace’s hand found the button on my jeans, my body screamed in relief.

  The button gave way and my fly slid down. His large, warm hand shoved down the front of my pants to cup my sex.

  My lips faltered on his. My face fell, my forehead hitting his shoulder.

  He didn’t stroke me. He didn’t dive beneath the fabric of my panties. Instead, he took one thick middle finger and pressed it fully against my slit. It rested there with heavy pressure, and I literally throbbed against him.

  I squirmed, wanting more.

  “Jace,” I demanded.

  He pulled back totally. His hand left my crotch, and his body left mine.

  I watched the muscles ripple in his back and the way his abs contracted when he unlatched the hood and slammed it back into place.

  He swung back around, a look of pure dominance on his face.

  “Are you on the pill, Josie?”

  I nodded.

  He grabbed me around the waist. Without being rough, he pulled me so I was standing in front of my car, back to the windshield but facing him.

  “Let me make one thing very clear,” he intoned. The husky quality in his voice made me shiver.

  “I’m the one in control right now. You can demand all you want, baby, but you won’t get a thing until I’m ready to give it to you.”

  I felt my eyes narrow.

  “Go ahead and try to boss me,” Jace growled. “It turns me on more. Out there”—he motioned with his chin toward the doors— “is something else, but when you’re naked beneath my hands, it’s me who calls the shots.”

  Here it was. The chance to surrender some kind of control, the chance to be handled.

  “Let me make one thing very clear,” I purred, unfastening the button on his jeans with one simple flip of my hands. “You can be in control, but I’m still participating. I give as good as I get.”

  “Honey, I’m counting on it.”

  His mouth crashed over mine. There was aggression in his kiss, ownership. It burned me from the inside out. Strong hands latched around my waist, lifted, and sat me on the hood of my car.

  I kicked off my heels, and he tugged my jeans down my legs and whipped them off my ankles.

  Wearing nothing but a pair of black satin boyshorts, I spread my legs, and he stepped forward. I loved the size of his hands. Big, strong, not to be missed.

  They wrapped around my thighs and pulled. My satin-covered bottom slid over the sleek hood of the car, and my crotch collided with his body.

  Jace eased me back so I lay across the hood, my body stretched out over the curves of the car, and my legs wrapped around his ass. I arched up, shoving my chest close as he bent over me and his hot mouth licked over the center.

  His hips moved, grinding into my center, and the feel of his rigid jean-covered rod was delicious.

  My hands explored him, learned the curves of his body, the length of his back. Traces of grease marred our bodies and only added to the grittiness with which I wanted him.

  Impatient, I pushed at his shoulder so I could sit up and reach for his jeans. He made a sound and pushed away my hand.

  Dark hair spilled over my shoulders as my chest heaved, and he stripped the pants and his boxers off his body.

  He had the biggest dick I’d ever seen. It was thick and swollen, the head round and full. His balls were large despite the fact he was already so far gone; they were drawn up tight against his pelvis.

  And he was completely shaved. Not a trace of hair around his cock, on his balls, or above it all.

  I licked my lips, knowing he would fill my mouth totally.

  When he bent to kick the pants off his feet, I bent my knees, resting my feet on the front fender.

  When he straightened, my eyes went right back to the glorious specimen right in front of
me.

  “Touch it,” he demanded.

  I grabbed him, stroked up and down the shaft, and then licked the head. A satisfied sound rolled out of his mouth, and I became even bolder to suck it deep into my mouth and rub his balls as I worked with my mouth.

  Just as I was beginning to really revel in the way he felt against my tongue and dragging against the roof of my mouth, he grabbed my head and guided me away.

  Once more, he laid me out over the hood and pushed me back a little farther so I was totally on display.

  The satin boyshorts were gone in seconds, and one finger dragged up my crease. He made a sound of appreciation, and I peeked at him through partially closed eyes. He was staring at my center, watching his finger swirl in my silky heat.

  I was also shaved bare, so he had a complete view of exactly what I looked like.

  The tip of his finger nudged my aching clit. Just the briefest touch made me shudder, and my legs automatically fell closed. I was already losing the ability to hold my limbs up.

  He seemed to know and held my thighs wide, pressing against them, and lowered his face to my crotch.

  I glanced up once. All I saw was the top of his dark head, and then everything fell away.

  His tongue speared me. I gasped. And he did it again. One thorough lick across my clit fired ripples of pleasure throughout my body. While I was still tingling, two fingers eased inside my opening and began to fuck me slowly.

  “Jace,” I whispered, my head falling to the side. My eyes were open, but I saw nothing at all.

  “Josie,” he answered, then said nothing else.

  Seconds later, his fingers abandoned their position, but there was no time to recover.

  He pulled my ass down and straightened between my legs.

  “Say my name when I enter you, Josie,” he told me. The command in his voice was replaced with sheer desire.

  The tip of his large head nudged at my entrance. I gasped. Hands grabbed my hips and pulled.

  His entire long length thrust inside me. My heat eagerly sheathed him, stretching and making room to take him all.

  I moaned his name, the sound echoing through the metal room.