Chapter 40
Georgie
Hanging up the phone, I check on Weston.
After I’m reassured that he’s sleeping soundly, I head outside in search of James.
I need to tell him about Charlotte’s phone call.
After the emotional upheaval and lingering uncertainty of the last few days, I hope we’re finally on the path to ending this ordeal.
Once we initiated the lawyers’ plan, it all but closed the door on the possibility of Nolan ever knowing his son. While I’m positive James will be a better father to Weston, I’m left to wonder if Nolan has the right to know he has a son. Would that knowledge change him for the better?
Part of me believes he has a right to know, but… a larger part of me believes that Nolan’s right to know shouldn’t trump Weston’s well-being. Thus far, Nolan hasn’t proven himself to be a good person, and I doubt he’s capable of being a good father either.
When I voiced my concerns to James last night, he said that my confusion indicated my good heart, but that Nolan doesn’t deserve a chance.
He’d fuck it up because he’s a selfish, narcissistic asshole who has never taken responsibility for his actions.
And he’s shown no desire to know his child.
Despite never having met Nolan, James already has a more accurate read on him than I ever did.
Wrapping my arms around my torso to fight off the November chill in the air, I jog toward the workshop.
When I push open the door, warm air greets me, and I find James working on Big Bertha.
By the looks of it, he’s almost finished fixing her up.
She already looks far better than she has since I took ownership of her.
James stands, his back to me, putting away some tools in one of the large red toolboxes. Hearing me close the door, he turns, shooting me a smile. “Should be able to take Bertha for a spin in the next few days.”
I’d like to take James for a spin.
Goodness gracious, the man is sexy personified, looking at me with those mahogany eyes and wearing the backwards baseball hat that always sends my ovaries into overdrive.
But then he flips off his hat and slides his sweatshirt over his head, lifting his T-shirt with it so I catch a glimpse of tan skin, taut muscles, and that alluring smattering of hair that trails down from his belly button.
My mouth goes dry, and I swallow with a gulp.
With disappointment, he tugs off the sweatshirt but leaves his T-shirt on.
All my earlier thoughts of Nolan disappear from my brain as I slink toward James.
With a raised eyebrow, James lowers his voice and states, “I recognize that provocative gleam in your eyes, Georgette.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s it mean?”
“That my greedy girl needs a good fucking.”
I’ve never thought of myself as particularly greedy before, but when it comes to the orgasms James delivers me, I am. Because I want them all.
“Yes, please.” I stop when I reach him, already desperate for him.
He strokes my cheek with the tip of the silver wrench that’s still in his hand. “Then be a good girl and get naked for me. I want to see every inch of your beautiful body.”
I step back a few steps. My hands tremble as I remove my sweater, pulling it over my head.
Toeing off my shoes, I kick them aside so I can yank off my jeans.
My hurried movements slow when I’m left in only my underwear.
I feel my breasts heaving as my fingertips trace along the lace cups of my bra.
With seduction in mind, I slip one strap down my shoulder, followed by the second.
Through it all, James stands quietly, his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest, his heated, hooded eyes watching my every move.
Flicking the clasps of my bra, the scraps of lace slide down my arms. My fingers glide down my body, diving underneath the sides of my panties as I lower them down my legs and step free of them.
Only once I’m naked does he move. His arms fall to his sides, and he strides to where I stand.
He drags the wrench over my chest, circling my breasts.
The cold metal sends a shiver down my spine when it meets my heated skin.
My nipples harden into diamond points, and my breath lodges in my chest when James skims the wrench down my abdomen.
Using the wrench, he traces it over my slit before parting my lower lips and pressing it against my clit.
I shudder at the illicit feeling of the metal on my most sensitive flesh.
“Do you want me to fuck you with it?” He whispers as his teeth bite into my neck just below my ear.
I moan, unsure of what I want because it all feels good. But the voice of reason springs out of my mouth. “Is that thing clean?”
As he nibbles my neck, he laughs, sending a gust of hot air over my skin. “Cleaner than my fingers.”
My eyes drop to where his hand grips my hip. Stained with oil and grease, they leave gray marks against my pale flesh.
His mouth leaves my neck, and he drops to his knees. While continuing to gently rub the wrench against my clit, his tongue darts out, swirling my nipple.
When he’s on his knees, he lifts my left ankle and pulls my leg up to rest over his right shoulder.
“My hands are dirty, but my mouth isn’t.” Dropping the wrench, he parts my lower lips with his thumbs, and then he dives in, his tongue cartwheeling over my clit with speed and precision.
But he’s wrong. So wrong. Because the wicked things he does to me with his mouth and tongue are definitely dirty.
My fingers itch to comb through his hair, so I grab his hat, tossing it off his head before raking my fingers through his honey-colored locks. I whimper as I rock my hips, tilting my pelvis against his face.
Between slurps, he murmurs, his words vibrating against my clit in the most delicious way, “Already ready for your first orgasm, aren’t you?”
“Oh God, yes,” I nod.
James latches his lips over my clit, sucking it into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue, and I detonate into a moaning, quaking mess as my head thrashes and pleasure rolls over me. My fingers twine through his hair, pulling on it as I grapple to stay upright.
Twisting his head out of my grip, James plants kiss after kiss on the inside of my thighs. The leg I have planted on the ground is wobbling like a newborn foal, so James drops my other leg and slides his hands to my waist to help keep me from collapsing.
“Fucking hell, James,” I mutter, blowing out a breath between smiles. “That felt amazing.”
“Glad you thought so because we aren’t done yet.” With his hands on my hips, he pushes me back, step by step, until I hit the Plymouth’s front bumper. Letting go of me, he closes the hood and then pats it, ordering me to sit.
I place one foot on the bumper and scramble onto the hood, the metal cold beneath my ass.
“Stay there. Don’t move a muscle, Georgie. I’ll be right back.”
I freeze. “Wait, what? Where are you going?”
He nods toward the house. “I’m gonna go grab the baby monitor. I want to take my time with you, and I don’t want to worry about Weston.”
Then, he jogs out the garage side entrance, but he returns quickly. Setting down the monitor, I notice he has more in his hand.
“What is that?” I point.
With a wicked grin, he holds up the black cock ring, a butt plug, and a bottle of lube. “Not only did I wash my hands when I went inside, but I also brought along toys. Thought we could have some fun.”
Setting those items down on the car’s hood, he steps between my legs, smoothing his hands up my knees.
He loops his arms around my thighs and pulls my ass to the edge.
With gentle hands, he grabs my ankles, one at a time, placing my bare feet on the car, exposing me to him fully.
I shiver, both at his touch and the cool metal.
He slings his T-shirt over his head and lays it behind my back, blanketing my skin from the metal of the hood. I watch with fascination as he grabs the lube, squeezing a generous amount onto the butt plug.
“Umm, is that for me or for you?” I ask with a little zing of trepidation. It looks a lot bigger than his finger.
With a smirk, James replies, “You, darlin’.”
“Fuuuck,” I whimper. My brain might be alarmed, but my throbbing pussy loves the idea.
Pushing my knees farther apart, James slides his fingers around my puckered hole, spreading more lube. He teases me with the end of the butt plug, circling my hole. He pushes against me, breaching my ass. “Just breathe.”
It burns as my body fights it at first, but once he makes it past the ring of muscle, the plug slides in.
“How’s it feel?”
“Big. Different.” I squeeze around the plug, unsure of how much I like it.
But then James distracts me by removing his jeans.
He palms his thick cock, working his shaft as he looks at my ass.
He grabs the lube again, distributing a generous amount onto his length.
With his hand, he spreads the lube, coating his cock with it.
Then, he stretches the cock ring and slides it down his length until it rests at the base of his dick, with the small vibrator facing up.
“Lie back.”
I do as I’m told. Closing my eyes, I inhale the scents swirling scents of the workshop—leather, gasoline, and sweat—that all remind me of James. I jolt when I hear the vibrator turn on and I feel his blunt head probing my pussy. With eagerness, I pivot my hips, encouraging him to enter me.
But he didn’t thrust inside me, not yet. His body crowds mine, leaning over me and pressing me into the car’s hood. There is no better feeling in the world than his naked body gliding against mine.
My legs wrap around his waist, and my ankles lock together, binding him to me. The head of his cock shifts over my clit, rubbing against it in a tantalizing rhythm.
“You’re so wet, it’s like a slip-and-slide down there.”
Throwing back my head, I cackle. “Gee, you know just what to say to a girl to make her feel sexy.”
“It is sexy knowing that I’m the one who made you fucking gush,” he rasps.