Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
AURORA
If I only have six months left in the Heights, I need to use my time wisely. That’s a specialty of mine, if you didn’t know.
Which is why, at 4:02 p.m., I’m pulling up to Gonzo’s Garage, just as its namesake is pulling out. Something I hope Wyatt doesn’t do tonight.
Gonzo waves at me as we pass one another turning in and out of the gravel lot, and the knowing smirk on his face tells me Wyatt’s gonna get an earful tomorrow, but I’m too focused on why I’m here to let it deter me.
Managed to push past the way my mind was racing for the better part of the day, clocked a decent chunk of hours on my latest assignment, the Puffin Press merger, and sent off the final file, finally. Spent a little time on my pet project, too, Brown Stone. But spent all of it—the entire day—counting down to now. When Wyatt’s off the clock, somewhere I can have him all to myself.
His truck’s still here and I park next to it in my clunker, amazed it hasn’t quit on me again since my second day in town, almost six weeks ago.
Do a quick check in the visor mirror, smoosh my lips together, flick over them with my teeth a bit to make them extra plump, extra pink. It’s time to refresh my filler, but we’re not going to worry about that today. I’d kill to have my brows laminated and find a decent place for a full set of lashes while we’re at it, but it’s a big enough ask to keep my nails done while I’m here, and please don’t remind me about the state of my roots. I’ve cried enough today. I gotta work with a more natural Aurora at the moment, and I know he’ll like exactly what he’s getting from me just fine, no room for self-doubt.
Glance down at the short dress I’m wearing, the maroon one that buttons all the way up the front, and I undo a couple more from the top, make sure the girls are nice and visible. Eh, might as well just open ’er up down to my belly button, keep that flimsy lace bra on full display so there’s no question as to what I’m here for. It doesn’t give the lift of a push-up, it shows the effects of all the years since he knew my body better than I did, but it’s hot as hell just the same.
Is the late October chill a little much for this tiny outfit? Perhaps, but I’m counting on Wyatt to warm me right up.
If we were in New York I’d worry about cameras on the building, or on the street. But back home? I should be safe to go unrecorded just about anywhere. The knowledge adds some extra swagger into my saunter as I approach the open garage bays.
Sure enough, Wyatt is bent over a car, just like I hope I will be in about thirty seconds. The hood is popped, his head is beneath it, and I get to take in how fine he’s gotten with time. He’s always been good-looking, but he’s aged in a way that is very promising for his older years. He’s thicker than he was when we were together, a slim waistline, with built shoulders, arms toned and streaked with grease. That tattoo that covers his forearm. After our night in the truck together, I now know it’s not his only one, and my heart picks up its pace at the memory. He’s back in his usual today, dark Dickies and a Henley with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Steel-toe boots that probably have more miles on them than most of the cabs in NYC.
Today, his dark hair is slightly mussed, but still pushed back, out of his tanned, rugged face. I can imagine the intensity in those forest green eyes as they stay focused on whatever’s between his hands right now, I won’t embarrass myself by trying to name it.
Wyatt hears my footsteps, the way the gravel and the crunchy leaves are displaced by the same heels I’ve worn since this morning, and he looks over in a way that stops my breath. He stands, using a rag to wipe at his hands, cleaning each finger individually as he thoroughly eye-fucks me on my approach.
“Don’t tell me you’re here to finally let me pick out a better car for you?”
I shake my head at him as I keep walking, eyes roving his tall frame.
“You need to be serviced?” The words shouldn’t sound so sexy, but from him? My nipples pebble, cheeks heat at the implication.
“You do lube jobs?” I toss out the best joke I can think of, flustered like this.
He tosses the rag onto the side of the hood he was just under and widens his stance as I get closer.
“You need your system serviced, your pipes need attention, Hellcat, I’ll give you a special deal.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’ll get ya good and lubed up, make sure you have a smooth ride, and I’ll send you on your way, free of charge.”
My eyes glide along his muscled, lean build, up and down, and decide I need to have a ride on this man, and soon. “What if I told you I was here to service … you?” I let the last word fall from my lips as I finally reach the space right in front of him. “That it was you I couldn’t stop thinking of all day? That it was—” My hand trails down the front of his pants, right over his fly as I speak. “—this cock I kept imagining in my mouth as I was logging billable hours at eight hundred dollars a pop.” The material beneath my hand twitches, and I feel him wake up. “That I watched the time tick down until your day was over, and I could race over here and show you what I’ve been wet over for hours.”
Wyatt pulls his lower lip through his teeth with a tight expression on his face. His eyes don’t give away his next move, so all the air whooshes out of me when one of his rough hands abruptly comes up to the opening of my dress and works its way inside, flattening against one lace-covered breast. His thumb rubs the hardened bud there, while his fingers press into the soft flesh surrounding it.
I let my hand rub up and down his hardening length through the material, in time with what he’s doing to my nipple.
“You’ve been sitting still, dripping for me, and didn’t think to text me to come fuck you?”
I don’t tell him how I wanted to come to him for once. To do something for him . To bridge that gap only he’s been willing to so far. That I wanted to thank him for being the only one here who doesn’t hate me for what I did all those years ago. Instead, I say silkily, “The anticipation is half the fun, don’t you think? Getting all worked up over the possibilities, visualizing the perfect … outcome?”
I peer around the shop behind him until I spot what I was looking for. I strut over to it, his hand falling out of my dress as I go, walking carefully through the shop in these heels, until I come to a car that looks clean enough to sit on. Turning to face him, I lean back, ass resting against the hood and cock my head at him.
“Wanna fuck my face while I sit on one of your favorite cars?”
He follows, striding across the garage in less than half the time it took me, steely promise painted across his stony features.
“I have a better idea,” he says roughly. His strong hands band around my waist and he lifts me off the car, hoisting me in the air to somewhere back in the far corner of the shop. To another car covered in a drop cloth that looks like it hasn’t been touched since MTV played music.
He rests me down on the ground momentarily while he rips the drop cloth off, revealing a hot orange car (or one that used to be hot orange) with black racing stripes, an old one, from the looks of it.
“I wanna fuck your mouth on Weston’s favorite car. Fuck up his paint. Let you make a mess all over it. He’ll never be back for it anyway, and if he ever is, well, only you and I will know what great care we took of his precious 1970 Charger.”
“Oh God, don’t make this weird, Wyatt. If you’re getting hard over pissing off your brother, I don’t think I want to do this.”
He comes back to stand in front of me, grabs my hand in his and places it over his distended fly again. “This dick only gets hard for you. You’ve goddamn jinxed it. Don’t get any other ideas, okay, Hellcat?”
That shouldn’t be a romantic line, but here I am swooning anyway.
He continues in that low voice that has my heartbeat fluttering between my legs. “The fact it’ll piss Weston off is just the cherry on top. Fucking your mouth is enough to get me off anytime, anywhere, Hellcat. Shit, all I had was the thought of it for long enough, the real thing will spoil me.”
He hoists me up again, plopping me down on the flat trunk of the Charger, but instead of unzipping his pants, pulling my head forward and putting me to work, he presses me back, lays me down flush on top of the car. My legs are bent, heels resting on the trunk, and I’m sure that can’t be good for it, but he doesn’t seem to mind. My noises of protest are shushed as he rounds the car, reemerging in my line of sight right above me.
Wyatt leans forward, hands wrapping around my wrists, and he yanks, pulling me further across the car, until I’m stretched completely flat out, my head falling off of the other side, neck curving with the car, and the rest of me on display for him. The way I’ve been pushed and pulled around, the skirt of my dress has ridden up, too, and my need for this man is enough that I’m not even going to complain about my bare ass being on a gross car like I normally would. If I move another inch or two, he’ll see the rest of me is bare and ready too.
He unbuttons the rest of my dress until the material is wide open, top of my tits spilling out of this lacy bra at this angle, and he can see it all from where he stands above me.
“How many times have you gotten yourself off thinking of this moment?” Wyatt’s gruff voice scrapes against my nipples, just like the rough lace would beneath his touch, and I hum.
“This week? Or ever?” I purr.
“Tell me, Hellcat,” he says, unbuttoning his pants and lowering the zipper. He pulls his thick cock out of his boxer briefs, stroking it a couple times before pausing to pull his pants and underwear down so I have a clear view of everything I need. “In your fantasy, do I come on your face? Your tits? Or down your throat?”
He wraps his fist around the base of his cock again, and steps forward to guide the tip to my lips. I open eagerly, and Wyatt smears the head across my mouth, dragging my lower lip with it and then releasing so it bounces back into place. The way he watches, the fascination roiling in his gaze, it’s intoxicating.
“You tell me,” I breathe out. “Because in my fantasy, it’s you doing whatever the fuck you want to me.”
The burn that flickers to life in those endless green depths sets off a need low in my body. So do his next words. “That’s a dangerous offer, Hellcat.”
Instead of answering him, I simply open my mouth as wide as it’ll go, and I wait.
A primal sort of growl leaves his chest as he positions himself, lining up his crown with my mouth, and pushes forward. My hands search for purchase on the car’s slippery surface as his head passes over my tongue, but there’s nowhere for me to grab. I do my best, digging my fingertips in to steady myself as he drives in for the first time. There’s no stopping the moan I make around his length, the way it stretches out my mouth in the most beautiful way. I can’t help but feel the pinch and sting of a burn in my pussy from the last time he got to do whatever he wanted to me, and I’m desperate to feel it again, stat.
“Nowhere to hold on tight, hmm?” I swear I can feel the vibration of the bass in his voice in my mouth as he speaks, connected the way we are. “Guess I’ll just have to hold onto you then,” he says and even though my line of vision is slightly obscured at this exact moment, I can still picture the smirk on his face, the way one side of his lightly bearded mouth will be twitched up, the evil glint in his eye. It’s enough to make me squirm with need.
Wyatt doesn’t give me time to ponder what he means, as he withdraws his length from my mouth and pushes back in, his hands come down on my breasts, roughly, and he squeezes, holding me for purchase as his hips piston forward roughly. He hits the back of my throat and a small scream sounds at the intrusion, the invasion, but it’s muffled by his girth.
“Come on, Hellcat, open up for me,” he urges. His fingers start to pluck and play with my nipples, my breasts, through the scratch of the fabric. My eyes flutter shut and the pool of wetness between my legs grows as my thighs fall open, heels scraping the surface of the car beneath me, but it must not be a priority for him right now.
I plead with my jaw to loosen up, unlock, and make more space for him. For my throat to calm down, to open wide and let him in.
“That’s it,” he praises me. “That’s my girl. Just like that.”
One of his hands leaves the breast it’s been worshiping, and he uses his fingers to stroke down the column of my throat, wholly exposed to him like the rest of me, encouraging it to open up and not keep him out. It works.
“Mmm, you’re taking me like a goddamn pro, Aurora.”
I moan around him and he pulls back, taking some of my spit with him, which drips down the corner of my mouth and across my face.
“Take a deep breath now, Hellcat. It’s the last one you’re going to get for a bit.”
Like I’ve been possessed, taken over by the spirit of someone compliant, I follow his orders for once, breathing in deeply through my nose as he leans forward, filling my mouth entirely, and not stopping as he breaches my throat. I gag, but he doesn’t stop. He pulls back what can’t be more than halfway, just enough that I can almost take a breath, but not quite enough, and then he’s pushing forward again, and again.
“Ah, fuck. That’s it,” he rumbles, continuing to murmur an assortment of curses, praise, and crude demands.
That one hand keeps stroking my throat, loosening me for him, before he circles my throat instead and tightens his grip, as his other hand continues playing with my nipple, and every part of me is his. He can fuck my throat, my soaking wet pussy, or anything he wants. I’d give him all of me. More than he ever had before.
I wonder if he can feel the way he’s driving into my throat with his hand, if it feels or looks like he’s fucking his fist. I wish I could see it.
“You’re a wet dream like this, you know that?” he murmurs the question, not expecting an answer, but I moan around him anyway, wanting him to hear my response.
Wyatt brings both hands back to my hardened nipples, paying them enough attention that I’m a squirming mess beneath him, pussy probably soaking this poor classic car, and I’ll never be able to look Weston in the eyes again if he ever finds out about this.
Wyatt pulls back, letting me gasp in a much-needed breath, and I relish in his salty taste on my tongue. I can feel the mess on my face, but all I do is lick my lips and open my mouth again, ready for more.
“You like sucking me off, don’t you?”
I nod, mouth still open for him, despite the complaints from my lower jaw. It’s been an age since I’ve had something as big as Wyatt’s cock in it. Or someone that lasted more than a couple of sucks. If I end up sticking around, I’m gonna have to enroll in some sort of training regimen so my poor mouth can keep up with his giant cock. Do you think there is some sort of Jane Fonda-esque workout tape for sucking massive dicks? That’s a Google search for a later time, and an incognito browser window, maybe on a burner phone. Or Alexis’s stupid Android when she isn’t looking.
Wyatt distracts my train of thought by pushing back in, rubbing his head up and down on my lips, then forcing more of himself into my waiting mouth. He puts those fingers to use again, strumming, plucking, and tweaking my nipples, and I swear to God, if this man makes me come from nipple play alone, I’ll get a new journal to write about him in it at thirty-three. Shit, maybe I’ll write an ode to him and put it up on Wattpad, call it fanfic. He’d deserve every possible sexual accolade and then some.
“Last chance,” he says in that husky tone he uses when he’s high on me.
Last chance for what? Breath? Not falling for this man all over again? Because I think it’s too late for both with how deep into my throat he is right now, and how deep into the rest of me, for that matter.
“Pinch my leg if you want me to pull out, otherwise you’re swallowing every drop you suck out of me.”
I bring my hands up to his thighs, run my fingers through the coarse hair there, but I don’t pinch. It’s more of a caress, silent consent to do whatever the fuck he wants to me and more. It might be more like begging for that, actually.
He growls in response and leans forward so suddenly it’s probably better classified as a lunge. Hands still gripping my breasts, he dives forward, burying his face in between my legs, the dress that’s pulled up there and revealing exactly how into this blowjob I am. His cock lodged deeper in my throat than it’s ever been, Wyatt takes one long, dirty, deep lick, from clit to crack, and my legs start to shake from the first contact. He pulls back up, standing, and looks down at me, starting to fall apart from a single touch. Or really, more accurately, from the buildup of so many other touches, the need that’s got me so worked up, bubbling over to the point where a single touch could have me splitting at the seams.
“Damn, Hellcat. You’re fucking soaked.”
I can’t even get air, don’t stand a chance to answer him, but I mumble incoherently around the intrusion in my mouth all the same.
“You should’ve told me how much you needed a little attention. Should’ve asked me to help you out with this,” he says, swiping at his several-day-old scruff and pulling away a handful of my need. “When are you going to learn that I don’t mind what a needy cunt you have? What a dirty fucking girl I fell for all those years ago?” He pulls back, letting me take a large gasp of air, then he fills my mouth again.
I’m so close to crumbling, to breaking under his form of teasing, of torture. My nerve endings feel like they’re on fire, every inch of my skin a pleasure receptor at the moment. I think if he touched so much as my cheek right now, I might come. But he doesn’t. He continues driving into my mouth, watching me from above, and I whimper, not caring that I have slobber on my face, that I’m writhing on top of this car like I’ll burn up if he doesn’t give me more.
“In fact,” he whispers the words so I have to strain to hear them, “it gets me off how fucking nasty you are. The fact that you crave this filth as much as I do.” My whole body starts to shake now, delirious in my need, this state of hyper-awareness, where I’m a breath away from combustion, and I need his release in my mouth to feel whole. I want to make him feel the way he makes me feel. Safe. Needed. Enough. And I want every last fucking drop for myself.
“How bad have you been, Hellcat?” Wyatt continues teasing me, pushing in and out of my mouth, not letting me answer him. “Fantasizing about my cum in your mouth when you were supposed to be working for your hotshot clients, hmm? Were you thinking about my cum in other places too? Maybe me filling your ass? You liked that preview the other night, I know you did.”
My eyes slam shut at the visual, unwilling to admit how much I like the sound of that. Of him exploring every inch of my body. Using all of me, making a mess of every part of me.
“It’s okay, Hellcat. You can be yourself with me. Every bratty, dirty impulse you have, you can do that shit with me. I’m not gonna judge you for it. Everyone else can tell you what a bad girl you are for what you like, but I get it. I’ll give you what you need, no matter how depraved. Because all your kinks are mine too.”
I give in, groaning and rolling my head along the side of the car, tears pooling in my eyes at how much he’s making me feel. Like he sees all of me, and he likes it all. The dirty part of me that wants to be used in any way he wants to use me. The overachiever who lives inside of me that needs to be perfect on the job. Even the overthinker who struggles with getting her mind to still. There’s no part of me that scares him away.
“Let’s make a deal,” Wyatt says almost playfully. He’s dragging this out when he could give it a few strong pumps and we’d both be done. He’s enjoying stretching this out. “The harder you suck on my cock, the harder I’ll go on your tits here, just the way I know you like it. Enough to hurt, enough to push you over that edge. That thrill you’ve been chasing since you first found what you like. What I give you. Go ahead. Show me how hard you want it from me.”
I groan around him, and my cheeks and tongue start pulling on his cock more firmly, sucking and stroking him in tandem, as hard as I’m capable of in this position. My moans are muffled, but he hears them and knows exactly what they mean, what to do with the response.
As the pressure in my mouth ramps up, so does the intensity on my breasts. What starts out as a light pull turns into a firm tweak and then pinching as it hits the scale of pain, and takes a big fucking jump up it. Just when I think he’s gone too far, fresh tears stinging the backs of my eyes, an unspent scream lodged in my throat, he releases my nipples, and the sensation swiftly changes to a massive rush of pleasure, straight through my bloodstream. It feels like every blood cell in my body is headed toward my clit right now, it’s so swollen I can feel the air against it like a caress from Wyatt’s tongue. A stiff breeze blows through this place and I might come.
“Get ready to swallow, dirty girl,” Wyatt gets out through strained breaths. “In three … two …” and on one I feel a sharp slap on my pussy, right on my clit. He slapped my pussy, and moreover, I liked it. I scream at the contact, but I know I liked it because it sent me spiraling over the edge, topping into a kind of pleasure I’ve never felt with anyone but him. The kind that’s so whole, so complete, it scrapes the edges of your soul as it takes you over, fills you up and ebbs, leaving you somehow more full than you were before the experience.
At my garbled scream, his dick grows thicker and pulses against my tongue, ropes of cum shooting out, spilling up and back onto my tongue as I struggle to swallow it, suck down everything he’s giving me as my own waves of release course through my entire body and I’m choked by his girth, upside down. My legs shake, my arms go numb, my entire midsection is on fire in the best possible way as I ride out the orgasm, wracking my entire body as it detonates.
There’s never been anything more satisfying. That deep of a release for me, the taste of his own in my mouth, proof that I give it just as good as I get it, the two of us intertwined, still connected in this way, nothing awkward between us despite the filthy things we just did together.
This might be as close to perfection as I’ve ever found.
And I’m the idiot who threw it away.
But I’m seeing a different path now. One where I’ve seen I was wrong to run. Where we’ve both grown since then. And where maybe it’s possible to let ourselves want more again.
Wyatt pulls himself out of me, rights himself and puts his clothes back on, then helps me sit up, wiping my mouth and entire lower face with the bottom of his Henley and pulling my skirt down. And as he does, I think my newfound softness is showing. I can feel it radiating out of my face, but I can’t stop my eyes from giving me away to him. I never could and why would I start now? Now that I finally see how we’ve both evolved, how this could really work.
His eyes harden, narrowed on my gaze. “Don’t look at me like that, Aurora.”
“Like what?” I ask him demurely.
“Like this is more than sex for you. Like you’re getting feelings here.”
“And what if I am?” I ask him, testing the waters, ready to start negotiating.
“Then I’m not going to fuck you again,” he says plainly. “We had a deal here, and you need to hold up your end of it. Sex, and nothing more. Can you do that, Aurora ? Or are we done?”