“Yes! Right there. Don’t stop. I’m going to?—”
I don’t finish as my orgasm washes over me in delicious waves. My nipples tingle, my thighs, stomach, and pussy throb and spasm.
“Fuck, I'm coming, Sally. So fucking hard.”
I’m vaguely aware of Nolan’s roar as my climax goes on and on.
“Dear God!” he chokes, his hips stuttering as he shakes and shudders.
This isn’t just bodies meeting; it’severything.A promise stitched into every gasp, every kiss, every whisper.
Nolan collapses on top of me, breath ragged. I run my hands over his back, tracing the scar that nearly took him from this world—the wounds he survived and rebuilt himself around. He faced that pain alone. But he won’t be alone ever again. Not now. Because he’s mine.
I soothe him with featherlight touches and kisses until his harsh breathing calms. My body cradles his weight, my legs wrapped around his waist, his softening cock still inside me.
“That was…” I shake my head, trying to find the words.
“Fucking incredible,” Nolan mumbles into my neck.
“Safe to say my starting motor and ignition are in good working order,” I tease.
He pulls back to look at me, his eyes soft with love. “That’s good because I think I’ve blown a gasket.”
Laughter bubbles out of me, and I tug him back down into my arms. “Better get that fixed quick because I haven’t finished loving you yet.”
He kisses the tip of my nose and grins. “I’ll never be finished loving you, my beautiful Mustang Sally.”
Chapter 15
Sally
Three Months Later
Today is the day. The air hums as I step into the garage. The tools are lined up like they’re ready for a show, and the strip light seems to glow brighter than ever.
Or maybe that’s just me, walking toward Nolan because he’s where every good thing in my life starts now.
He’s under the hood of a truck when I arrive, forearms flexing, eyebrows pulled together in concentration.
I want to kiss that focus.
He glances up when he hears me. The tightness in his posture eases. “Hey, beautiful.”
“Hey, you,” I whisper, stupidly aware of every inch of him.
“Ready?” he asks, wiping his hands on a rag.
I blow out a nervous breath. “Ready.”
He moves to the vehicle under the tarp and gently lifts it from the car as if he’s unveiling something sacred.
And there she is.
The Mustang gleams under the shop lights like she knows she’s the star of the show. The dented panels are smooth now, the bodywork restored and painted in a deep, glossy midnight blue that looks black until the light hits it just right. The chrome trim catches everything and throws it back with attitude.
The new wheels are vintage-style alloys, clean and sharp, hugging tires that still carry the faintest scent of rubber.
But it’s the details that bring the sting to my eyes.
