“Yeah.”
I plunge into Ali, hard and deep. It’s so satisfying I almost lose control right then and there, but Ali yelps, jolting me from pleasure.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’s just been a while.”
I spend a moment kissing her before I push into her again, trying like hell to control the primal urge to savagely take her. Her body soon relaxes, her moans grow deep and guttural. If I can just keep it under control a little while longer, she’ll be seeing stars again.
I keep a steady rhythm, barely able to hold back my passion. Ali’s nails bite into my shoulders, her eyes blink half a dozen times before rolling back in her head. The sensation becomes too much. I have to release. With one last plunge, I cry out as waves of pleasure consume me.
Ali clings to me, babbling, her whole body shaking. I’m buried in her, holding her as best I can as she flails her limbs out beneath me.
It feels like heaven is coursing through my body.
Her body slows, stills. She releases a satisfied moan. I stay buried in her until the spasms stop, kissing her lightly on the lips as I pull out.
The whole room smells of her sweet feminine perfume, a scent I hope lingers because it sure does beat oil and grease.
Needless to say, I’m beguiled.
You need to get that fucking wall up, buddy.
“That was incredible,” she whispers, her voice cracking.
I release a shaky breath. “It sure was.”
My hands explore her body, which, for as long as I live, I will never get enough of. Her skin is soft, decadent, like satin. Her hips full and round. I stay well away from her sex, knowing there’s nothing more sensitive than a post-orgasm clitoris. Everything about this encounter should feel strange, but it doesn’t. I reckon it’s because there’s no trace of the farm girl she once was.
Don’t you dare start feeling for this one. You’ll have her for a month’s stretch, maybe two, then—she’s gone. You’ll never see her again. That’s how she is.
I don’t like the thought of her leaving, but there’s little I can do to stop her. She prefers the Hollywood lifestyle to being a country bumpkin, and I can’t say I blame her. Besides, I have so little to offer her.
But isn’t she the one who wanted you? Do any of those Hollywood boys make her feel half as good as you just did? Doubtful.
Shit—I frantically try to erect another wall, this one denser than the last. This is Hank Carter’s little girl, and if I were any kind of a man, I wouldn’t have done what I just did. I can’t go letting my emotions overwhelm my good sense.
“Garrett,” Ali purrs.
“Yeah, Kitty Kat?”
“Kitty Kat? Again? I don’t know how I feel about that.”
“You purr like a kitten, so you’re not getting out of it.”
She pouts her full lip out, and I’m taken aback by how natural this is. This doesn’t feel at all like a heated fling or a one night stand, it’s like we’ve known each other forever, not just by way of family connection, but our own special bond.
But that’s just crazy.
“Garrett,” she begins again, “what you did to me was—” her eyes grow wide with fear as she looks out the window. “Oh, shit!”
I look to see a middle-grade boy walking around the shop.
Shit!
Luckily, it doesn’t appear that he’s spotted us.
He starts walking towards the office.
