Chapter Twenty-Four Ozzy

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ozzy

“Let’s go!” Lola says, speeding past me on her bike. “I can’t believe I get to spend two days with Grandma and Aunt Ruth.”

“Slow down, Speedy.” I pedal after her.

“Aren’t you going to be lonely while I’m gone, since Nana and Pa are gone too?”

“As much as I love you, it’s sometimes nice to have time alone so I can get stuff done around the house.”

“Are you going to paint my bedroom and put up the LED lights I got for Christmas?”

“I’m not sure I’ll get to it.”

“Pleeeease! You promised to do it last month, but you didn’t.”

“We’ll see,” I say.

“That’s a no. You always say ‘we’ll see,’ which means no.”

“Lola, that’s not true.”

She makes a harrumph sound and gives me the silent treatment for a few minutes before changing the subject. “Why was Nana and Pa’s car still in the driveway?”

“It didn’t start for them this morning, so they got a cab. I took the afternoon off to work on it. That’s why I’m covered in grease.”

“Dad, you’re always covered in grease.” She glances back at me and smirks.

“You’re always filled with sass.” I speed up to ride alongside her.

Lola sticks out her tongue, but she can’t hide her smile. “You’d better paint my room.”

My plans for the weekend didn’t involve paint, but I fear they might now, just like I wasn’t supposed to spend my afternoon working on a broken car. I hope this isn’t an omen for the whole weekend. I need to hurry home and finish fixing it before Maren shows up.

My plan fails.

After dropping off Lola and speeding home, the issue continues to give me grief. But I have to fix it before they get home, or they’ll wonder what I did all weekend. Unfortunately, I’m not fast enough. A vehicle pulls into my driveway while I’m still under their car on my creeper. I speed up my motions, the wrench clicking in double time.

“How can I help?” Maren asks.

I tip my chin to see her light-gray jeans and cream ankle boots. “You can make yourself at home. There’s a bottle of wine in the fridge. I’m about ready to call it for the day. Sorry. I didn’t think their car wasn’t going to start this morning. Gah! Fuck ...” I wheel out from under the car.

Maren lifts her eyebrows into peaks as I stand and stomp into the garage for a different wrench.

“This isn’t how I wanted to start the evening. I wanted to have it done before you got here so I could spend the rest of the weekend giving all of my attention to you,” I grumble, flinging open the top drawer of my tool chest, trying to ignore Maren’s hair in loose curls hanging over her chest, accentuated by her fitted blue V-neck shirt and the silver pendant necklace touching the swell of her breasts.

When I turn with a different wrench clenched in my fist, she’s right in front of me.

“You should take a break and return to this when you’re less stressed.”

“Careful, I’m covered in grease,” I warn, trying to step back, but I bump into the tool chest.

“It’s sexy,” she says while wetting her glossed lips. “When I arrived, you were on your cart, and your shirt was partway up your torso, exposing your tight abs and those tattoos.” Her gaze sweeps from head to toe. “That was sexy too.”

“Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll shower quickly.”

“I’ll give you twenty seconds to shut the garage door.”

I shake my head. “Your clothes will be ruined.”

She shrugs off her shirt.

Clank!

I drop the wrench and shoulder past her to hit the button to close the garage door. As soon as I turn back toward her, I peel off my shirt and use it to wipe my hands.

Maren removes her bra, and I toss aside my shirt.

Fuck my dirty hands.

I grab her face, and we kiss. Her hard nipples brush my sweaty chest, and she releases a moan that makes my dick swell. Brynn never let me get within ten feet of her before showering and surgically scrubbing my dirty fingernails.

“Fuck, Ozzy,” Maren whispers as my lips brush down the line of her neck. “I want to feel you everywhere.”

I hate that my thoughts reach for every unfair comparison, but Brynn never said those words. In fact, Brynn never uttered a single swear word.

While I unbutton her jeans and pull down the zipper, she gazes at me with a seductive look that makes my whole goddamn body ache with need. The grease from my hands and face has painted her smooth flesh, but she’s still beautiful—a beautiful mess.

On my knees, I discard her boots and peel her tight jeans down her legs along with her panties, but I only get one leg free before I come undone with need. Hooking that leg over my shoulder, I devour her.

“Ozzy!” she cries, claiming my hair with both hands to keep her balance. “Oh god, yesss, Ozzy ... yesss ...”

I don’t know if any part of me deserves any part of her, but I’m going to do my damnedest to pretend that every part of me does.

As I kiss my way up her body, more grease transfers from my hands and face to her stomach and all over her perfect tits. I guide her backward toward a stack of old tires wedged into the corner of the garage.

“You’re so beautiful,” I murmur over her shoulder and neck. “You make every goddamn day better.”

She presses her hands to my cheeks, forcing me to look at her, and I know from the look in her eyes that she’s trusting me with more than just her body. The tip of her tongue traces her bottom lip as she smiles, and I feel it—I feel her—in my fucking bones.

Our mouths collide, and I shove my jeans and briefs down a little farther to midthigh before lifting her leg with one hand and gripping the base of my cock with my other, lining it up with her wet entrance and driving into her.

Her deep moans make it hard to keep from coming, but I channel enough control to make this last longer than ten seconds.

Maren thrusts her tongue into my mouth as her hand grips my ass, digging into my muscles while I piston in and out of her.

This is, by far, the hottest fucking moment of my life.

She’s warm, tight, and so goddamn wet. The garage fills with the rhythmic slapping of flesh and the scattered moans of pleasure. I don’t feel like a dad. I feel like a seventeen-year-old who just discovered how incredible it is to bury my dick inside a woman. And for the foreseeable future (or at least the next twenty-four hours), this is all I want to do.

“God, I need this ... so ... much ...” Maren’s back arches, and I duck my head to suck her nipple into my mouth. I tug at it with my teeth, and she orgasms with my name echoing loudly from her lips, her insides clenching my dick.

I didn’t realize how many emotions and physical needs I let die with my wife until now. Maren’s bringing them—bringing me—back to life.

And that’s all it takes for my hips to jerk faster, uncontrolled, until I spill into her. Mind-numbing bliss floods my body, racing and pulsing with my release.

The slapping stops.

The moans die.

Our bodies remain idle in a tangle of limbs.

And our labored breaths chase one another until they slow, welcoming a few seconds of silence.

It’s been more than two years since I’ve had sex, and many, many years since I’ve had sex like this. Maybe I never have.

“Your neighbors might have heard me,” she mumbles through a soft laugh.

I chuckle, easing out of her and lowering her leg to the floor.

How wrong is it that I’m semi-erect again just from a long look at her nearly naked body covered in grease graffiti, lips swollen, cheeks red, and hair mussed?

None of the above are all that wrong.

What’s most wrong is how satisfied I feel seeing my cum running down her inner thigh.

I had no idea I was such an animal. But clearly I am.

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