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“Oh! Sorry,” I reply, feeling slightly embarrassed. “So, my attorney called me just a bit ago. He had great news and I needed to share it with someone, so I thought I’d stop by and see what you were doing.” I hope I sound more casual than I do in my own head. I also don’t mention the fact that I bypassed my own sister’s apartment just so I could tell my big news to Linkin first.
“Well, you found me working on this beauty,” he says, wiping speckles of dust off the headlight.
“She is gorgeous,” I answer, unable to stop touching the car. “A 1970 Hemi Cuda with a 440 V-8 big block engine.”
“God, you’re sexy as fuck when you talk car,” he says, his voice deep and dirty. This voice draws my attention and makes me smile.
Suddenly, he’s close. I look up and find his hungry eyes devouring me, a look of longing written on his face. The scent of his soap mixed with the greasy environment tickles my senses, a smell that’s distinctly associated with Linkin.
He gazes down at me, our bodies mere inches away from each other. I can feel his warm exhale kissing my forehead with each breath he takes. “You were saying? Earlier? The attorney?”
“Oh! Yes, my attorney called me, and guess what?” I don’t even wait for him to reply. “Chris signed the papers!” I squeal loudly, grabbing onto his forearms for leverage as I jump up and down.
Or maybe I’m just using it as an excuse to touch him again.
“Hey, that’s great,” Linkin says moments before wrapping his big arms around me and squeezing. The hug feels amazing, comforting and familiar.
And I never want it to end.
Until his lips are on mine, and suddenly, I never want this to end.
My arms wrap around his neck and I hold on tight. When he picks me up and my feet start to dangle, I do the most natural instinctive action I can: wrap my legs around his waist. His tongue is swift and hot as he explores my mouth and strokes my own tongue. I purr like a cat, feeling the groan vibrating in my chest.
Turning, Linkin positions me until I’m sitting on the fender, my legs still wrapped tightly around his waist. “My God, I love kissing you,” he whispers against my lips.
“I love it when you kiss me.”
“When is it final?” he asks, trailing tantalizing kisses down my throat and towards my collarbone. Shivers of lust rake through my body.
“Huh?” I ask, still focused on the way his lips graze against my skin, leaving a raging fire in its wake.
“The divorce,” he whispers, placing opened mouthed kisses down to where my sweater meets my cleavage.
“End of January. We go to… God, that feels so fucking amazing…court. Yeah, we go to court on January twenty-ninth. It’ll be final. Finally.”
“And I can finally have you,” he says, his hand sliding up my side, pushing my sweater as he goes.
“You can have me now,” I groan, my body flooded with the amazing sensation of his mouth. It makes me want his mouth other places.
But not yet.
Right now, I need one thing.
Ripping his shirt from within his pants, I push it up and grip the taut muscles of his chest, scratching at his skin with my nails to get as close as possible. Linkin grabs his shirt and pulls it over his head, exposing every muscle, ripple, and divot that God gave him. His body is simply amazing.
And I’ve only seen half of him.
Reaching for his belt, I start to pull at the leather. “What are you doing?” he asks, stalling his kisses and dropping his eyes to where my hands release the brown strap.
“Celebrating,” I answer, my green eyes meeting his brown ones. They’re dark and hot, and searching for the confirmation to his unspoken question. “Please.” My plea comes out just above a whisper, but it might as well have been yelled.
It only takes a few seconds for Linkin to understand. Quickly, he helps me up from the car to stand before him. With swift movements, he slides my sweater up and over my head, exposing my red satin bra. “My God, you are stunning,” he groans, rubbing his thumb over my nipples.
Before I can formulate any sort of response, his mouth descends on my chest, his big fingers moving my bra and exposing my sensitive breasts. The flash of cool air is quickly replaced by the warmth and wetness of his mouth. My fingers remove the belt and swiftly work at releasing the button and fly of his jeans.
Our hands are frantic as we help shed each other’s clothes. My ankle boots land somewhere in the garage, along with my jeans, panties, and bra. We don’t waste time removing his boots. Instead, I slide my hands along his hips, pushing his jeans and boxer briefs down as I go.
His cock is amazing. Long, hard, and throbbing in my hand. Just the way I’ve pictured it in my dreams. You know the ones where you wake up so wet and aroused you have no choice but to make yourself come in under five seconds? He flexes in my hand, his muscles tightening throughout his body as he releases a torturous groan of pleasure.
