Chapter 7 #3
Brock popped the hood of the 1966 two-door coupe he was restoring for a neighbor. The owner of all the property east of the Walker acreage had purchased the car off of the internet as a gift for his son’s wedding, but had arranged the work with Brock first.
He’d offered money, but Brock had waved him off, asking only to take pictures of the finished product for the portfolio he kept.
His cousins said he was the geekiest gearhead alive, but Brock preferred to take notes and keep pictures of his projects.
The barn door squeaked open. He didn’t look up, but made a mental note to grease the hinges.
Josie had found him. Her voice and the way she stole his dishrag indicated she’d been upset, but when she demanded he look at her, it brought too many memories raging back.
His parents had often demanded the same thing of him, when they were in the safety of their own home, when his mom could finally acknowledge how Brock was different.
His dad, never comfortable around him, would demand, Look at me, son. Dammit, look at me when I’m talking to you.
All those years of therapy, and he still forgot to look at people who were talking to him. Why didn’t they understand that he could listen and work at the same time?
At least there was no one around for Josie to argue with about him.
Is he gonna sleep tonight, Nancy? He’d heard his dad growl many nights when they thought he’d gone to sleep.
Why do you care? I’m the only one that gets up with him when he’s screaming.
What are those fucking appointments doing for him anyway, besides wasting our money?
They’re not a waste. Who do you think is going to help him in Moore?
We can! All he needs is—
For heaven’s sake, Greg, he needs a professional. Yelling at him to quit screaming isn’t going to stop it. Telling him he needs to just decide to act normal is like telling a fish to quit swimming.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you.” Her soft voice startled him.
Brock snapped his head up and nailed it on the roof, knocking his hat onto the engine.
“Ow!” He shoved one hand into his hair to rub what would soon be a welt and retrieved his hat with the other.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” Josie was next to him, pulling his head down to examine. “Shit, I think you’re bleeding.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. You’re being helpful by letting me stay. I was out of line.”
With his head in her hands, his only view was of her chest. Even through her shirt, it was enough to stoke the simmering lust he’d been trying to ignore.
Though he might be awkward with women, his biology had always worked just fine. He’d been told he was good in bed, and the women had always tried for a relationship, but they’d needed more than he could give.
Well, he could give it, too, if only he knew what he was supposed to give. Long ago, he’d accepted that it was too much to ask a girlfriend to just tell him what she wants.
I shouldn’t have to say it!
How many had said that?
“Well,” she moved his head from side to side, “I think the bleeding is minimal, but you’ll have a nice goose egg for a day or two.”
His hands landed on her waist. She still smelled like vanilla from spending much of the day in her car.
Her grip loosened until he could raise his head.
“Brock,” she murmured.
He didn’t know who made the first move, but his lips touched hers and he hauled her against him.
She didn’t release him, but cupped his face. Then her hands slid to his shoulders and her fingers bunched the material of his shirt until it lifted from his waistband. Breaking apart, she tugged it off and dropped it on the ground.
She bit her lip and splayed her hands over his chest with a groan. “You are so hard.”
“I eat right and work all day, either on the cars or on the farm.”
“You haven’t been exposed to my mom’s desserts like I have.”
“You have a nice body.”
A slow smile spread across her and face as she shimmied out of her shirt.
His breath whooshed out when her white lace-clad breasts were uncovered. Her dusky nipples were visible under the material; he wanted to cover them with his mouth—so he did.
She rocked back like she was going to fall. He hugged her to him and twirled them until her backside was against the hood of the car. He skimmed his hand up her bare back, over her satiny skin, until he reached the clasp of her bra.
He tongued her nipple and her head tipped back. Sliding the bra off, he returned to her nipple as soon as it was free.
“Brock,” she hissed when he took the tip between his teeth.
She drew her legs up until her feet rested on the fender of the car.
His shaft pulsed behind his jeans and bent over as he was, it was uncomfortable as fuck.
He hated leaving the softness of her skin, but he had to flick open the fly of his jeans.
Using the opportunity, he switched to her other nipple.
He could’ve spent hours buried in her cleavage, but she tipped his chin up and claimed his mouth. He trailed a path with his fingers to her shorts closure, her wiggles and sighs signs he was doing the right things.
But she didn’t wait on him. She flipped her clasp and scooted out of them while maintaining their kiss.
He swept his tongue into her mouth. She tasted of their dinner and Josie, the flavor he’d come to associate with only her, as if the last kiss had imprinted it onto his cells.
She kicked her bottoms out of the way, and when he cupped her sex, he jerked back, not believing she’d taken her underwear off, too.
“You’re naked.”
Reclining, she did the most provocative thing he’d ever seen and dropped her knees open.
“I am.” Her voice was thick, her lips still swollen from his kiss.
He zeroed in on her core. “I want to kiss you all over.”
“Do it.”
Hooking her knees over his shoulders, he found her center. As soon as his tongue hit her clit, she moaned and dropped back, murmuring something he thought was, “It’s been too long.”
It had been for him, too. Months, because he’d grown tired of the girls who lusted after him only to lack any tolerance.
You’re such a guy.
Yeah, he was, and he planned on showing Josie how much of a man he was.
Her hips rolled up, and he feasted on her. She grew wetter, close to coming. Gently, he slid one finger into her tight channel. She pulsed around him as her whole body shuddered. In and out he thrust, until her hips undulated in tune with his rhythm.
“You’re unbelievable,” she gasped.
He’d heard that before, too, but not with the awed yearning in Josie’s voice. He ran his other hand along her torso. Having had sensory issues when he was a kid, her soft skin was a special delight. Soothing, warm, and pleasing to his senses, like the hot pads laid across his forehead as a child.
She tensed and buried her hands in his hair. She convulsed around his finger as she climaxed. When she went limp, he pulled back.
Josie spread across the hood of a Mustang was an erotic image he’d never forget. Some probably thought he’d been with a girl like this before, but they’d always been separate parts of his life.
Resting his hands on either side of her, he let his gaze wander across her shimmering skin.
She shoved at his chest with her fingertips and sat up as he straightened.
“What’s the possibility you have a condom on you?” She dipped her head to kiss along his chest.
His mind whirled for any condom information before he remembered his wallet. Cash had been adamant about carrying one at all times—and changing it out frequently when not used. Keep your swimmers caged, boys .
Brock grabbed his wallet the same time she freed his manhood.
He groaned and rocked into her hot palm, nearly forgetting what he’d been doing. He opened his wallet and snatched the shiny packet.
“Score.” She grinned and looked up at him through hooded lids.
Part of him didn’t believe this was happening. Sex before had always seemed like work. Not the act itself, but getting to this point. He had a mental checklist.
Shower after a long day of work. Plan to meet at the bar.
Kill time while making awkward conversation with an overly giggly woman.
Sometimes they’d set up a date instead of hooking up right away.
That’d decrease his chances of getting laid by over half.
Sometimes it would just be a quick hookup and they’d go their separate ways. Not exactly fulfilling.
But here he was. Watching a gorgeous woman he’d spent the day with roll a condom onto his rigid shaft. All this after he’d stormed out on her because she’d said something that triggered him.
He caressed her face, needed to touch her. “You’re amazing.”
She twined one arm around his neck and her other hand directed him into heaven. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
She exhaled against his lips as he pushed inside. Her butt cheeks squeaked along the hood as he grabbed her ass and pulled her into him.
When he was seated fully inside, she swiveled her hips slightly until they fit each other perfectly.
He captured her mouth and withdrew and thrust back in. With both arms secured around his neck, she allowed him to set the pace.
Sex was something he could interpret. A woman was like an engine, though the last time he’d told a girl that, he’d gotten slapped.
But there were good sounds and bad sounds. Josie communicated her pleasure. Loudly.
And he fucking loved it.
Her legs wrapped around him and tightened. He grasped her hips and moved her with his thrusts.
She moaned and sucked on his lips. He grunted and increased the pace, their sounds mingling, their bodies slapping together.
He was going to come hard. Giving his knees a slight bend, he nearly picked her up off the hood with the force.
“Oh god, yes!” She broke away to tip her head back. “Yes.”
He dipped his head to nibble at her neck, somehow managing to keep the force and angle of each pump.
“I’ve never come twice before,” she gasped. A cry rang out as she tensed in his arms. The walls of her sex fisted him so hard he had to squeeze his eyes shut as his climax slammed home.
She was still crying out as he held her. He gritted his teeth and jerked with his release, but he couldn’t move far because she was a vise around him.
When they both went limp, he sagged against her and kept his head buried in her neck. The dull throb of where he’d banged his head was again noticeable, but not significant. Not when he held her.
She rubbed his shoulders and turned to kiss his ear. A shudder ran through him. She chuckled softly.
He couldn’t help a sheepish smile when he straightened and withdrew from her. Grasping her hands, he helped her off the car and inspected the hood for damage.
Josie located her shirt and shook it out. Then she was next to him, using it wipe the metal clean of the condensation of their coupling.
“Thanks.” Satisfied in more than one way, he picked up the rest of her clothes before he took care of the condom in the barn trash and found his shirt.
She was dressed by the time he was, but she wasn’t standing around awkwardly.
The door to the Mustang was open and she was leaning inside.
He almost groaned at her ass sticking out with those curvy legs braced and commanding admiration.
Her sassy hair was mussed and clinging around her face and neck from the humidity. A gearhead’s wet dream.
The mugginess of the air settled heavy around him. Was it thicker than when he’d barged in here?
He frowned, walking to the barn door. He’d only used the side door so no extra fresh air was getting in, but the mugginess seemed worse than before.
He wasn’t usually weather ignorant, but he hadn’t listened to the news this evening because he’d been dining with a beautiful woman. He didn’t often forget to track the weather, his farming blood demanded it.
Walking out into his yard, he spun in a three-sixty.
Shit.
“What’s going on?” Josie exited the barn but didn’t shut the door. She came to stand next to him and looked to the west where he’d stopped. “Duuude.”
“Looks like a nasty storm cell.”
Across the horizon, a deep blue haze stretched from end to end. And above it, columns of fluffy white clouds piled high. He wasn’t a meteorologist, but he equated the look with a wicked storm. No lightning lit up the sky yet, but it was coming, had to be with those clouds.
“Is it heading toward us?”
“I have to check.” He pivoted to march toward the barn where he locked everything as tight as he could. For good measure, he checked all the doors. The chicken coup needed a once over to ensure it was secure.
“They’re cute.” Josie had been trotting behind him the whole time, but she kept her distance from the chickens.
She was shifting from foot to foot. Bare feet. A smile tickled his mouth. No wonder she wasn’t getting close.
“Are you going to shut them in?” she asked.
He was inside the pen checking to make sure everything was secured and to set their water holders inside the back of the barn that was their home.
“No. We don’t have the big door open for them and they’ll get out of the weather before it starts.
Actually…” he stopped and pointed to the smattering of white fluffballs clucking around.
“Most of them have gone in. A good sign bad weather’s heading this way. ”
He latched the gate and started for the house. His truck was in the house garage, everything that could be sheltered was. Except for Josie’s car.
“Your car will fit in the garage next to my truck.”
“Oh, I didn’t even think about that. I was worried about the chickens.”
“They’re fine.” He glanced to the west one more time. This time, the whole sky was deep blue. The storm was getting closer.
They got Josie’s car parked in the garage and she was busy wiping her feet on the welcome mat while he went in to turn on The Weather Channel.
He was planted on the edge of the couch with his elbows on his knees when she sat beside him.
The radar showed a red swath approaching Moore and in the middle of the red was some pink and even a few dots of white.
Josie whistled. “Damn. Tornado?”
“No.” Brocks words were terse. “Hail.”
“Thank you for getting my car inside.”
“You’re welcome.”
She studied him, a slight tilt to her head. He ran the conversation over in his mind. Had he said something wrong? Not said something? She said thank you and he was programmed to at least say you’re welcome.
She rested her hand on his knee. “Where should we wait out the storm?”
“I’ve got a weather radio downstairs.” He flicked the TV off and stood. “Grab your stuff.”