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“Oh, my God,” she whispered. “How am I going to do all of it?”
She was already panicking, but there was nothing to do but get started.
Grabbing her mug, she quickly padded out to the living room.
Sir liked her to feel extra exposed when she edged, so she was usually ordered to do it on the couch, in broad daylight, the big picture windows letting the morning light pour in over her.
Despite how embarrassing it was, she hoped he’d be pleased she’d done it there without him specifically requesting it.
Dropping her warm-ups—she hadn’t worn panties in weeks now—she kicked them off. Sitting down on the couch, she hiked up the old t-shirt she’d borrowed from Sir’s drawer, exposing her breasts.
Tits were to always be out when she edged. Another one of his many rules for her.
As she laid back, spreading her thighs wide, and sinking two fingers knuckle deep in her pussy, she just hoped she didn’t get any early morning visitors before her task was complete.
Chapter 1
Twelve months earlier
“Whatcha doin’?” the familiar voice rang out.
Max banged his forehead on the differential, and he dropped his ratchet, the tool clanging against the axle housing and clattering to the floor.
The slow cadence of heels upon the concrete got louder as they drew near.
He slid out from under the truck, his hand pressed to his head. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Kelsey grinned down at him, her blonde hair caught in a single ponytail, gleaming in the sunlight as she leaned an elbow against the fender.
“Sorry, Uncle Max!”
“Stop calling me that,” he rumbled, pulling himself to his feet.
She sighed. “Okay… Max.”
A bead of sweat ran into his eye, stinging. It had been a mistake to leave the door rolled up; the unseasonable September heat had turned his garage into an oven.
“Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be in class, or something? It’s like, eleven.”
“Professor Henries let us out early today.” She leaned under the open hood, peering down at the engine, the white tank top she was wearing revealing a lot more of her cleavage than it should have.
And leaving him noticing it a helluva lot more than he should have as well.
“You figure out what’s wrong with it, yet?”
“Starter solenoid.” He scrubbed the grease from his knuckles with a rag, squinting against the bright sunlight. “Replaced it.”
He used the heel of his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow before it dripped even more into his eyes.
“Oh, great!” She pushed herself away from the truck, and walked around to the front, hands plunged into the back pockets of cut-off jean shorts that were… a lot shorter than he liked.
“Don’t you think that’s”—he waved the rag toward her in an up and down motion—“a little much?”
“Thank you for noticing,” she beamed, twirling.
Jesus.
“That’s not what I meant, Kelsey.” He gave her a pointed look downward. “Heels, too?”
