Chapter 16Come down my throat like a good boy
sixteen
. . .
come down my throat like a good boy
Oh my god. How did I let this happen?
How did I let this happen? Am I seriously asking myself that? I put myself here. I have only myself to blame for this awful fucking predicament I’m in.
I sought him out and asked him to trade car knowledge for sexual confidence in a business transaction only, and I’m the one who went and caught feelings.
I love him.
How stupid?
Honestly, if I really cut the bullshit, I’m glad.
He may never know that I caught feelings, but I wouldn’t change anything because I really got to know him, and he’s amazing.
Everything he’s been through, not just leaving his entire everything but starting over and building a really good life for himself from nothing?
It’s so impressive. And he doesn’t brag about it like a total fucking douche bag.
He’s humble and hard-working and god, he is such a good friend.
He’s always bringing in our favorites, picking up the check, offering to help, and loaning out his things.
He’s so handsome, too. That part isn’t new to me. I’ve always wondered what those strong hands were capable of, and I got a taste last night.
The way he held my tits made my pussy throb. Seriously, I came from the way he squeezed and kneaded them, and my toes curled when he brushed his thumb over the nubbed tips. God.
I never stood a chance.
But when he ends up with a perfect-looking blonde with white teeth and big boobs, he’ll be her king. And she will be the one who gets to polish the King’s crown.
God, listen to me. Dreaming and drooling at the idea of sucking Miller’s cock. It literally makes me swell and get wet when I think of my lips wrapping around his crown, my tongue caressing his head.
I laid down with him after. Thank god my hair was frizzy and a mess after fooling around–it was perfect to absorb my bittersweet tears as I lay with him.
It’s hard to enjoy something you know is fleeting. At least for me, I guess.
We both fell asleep and slept so fucking hard. I’m not a bad sleeper. In fact, I sleep pretty well. But this sleep. My eyes opened, and neither of us moved a single inch. Our bodies were fused with warmth, and when the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Miller's hand on my arm, I freaked.
Jumped out of bed screaming. I yelled about being late for work. I shouted about how my parents thought I was going to be home last night. I screamed about how we weren’t supposed to do overnights. I said that one a few times.
Miller was confused and groggy, and honestly, he looked a little sad, too. Probably wanted to sleep in.
I left his house within three minutes of waking up and sat in my freezing cold car one mile down the road, waiting for it to properly defrost and warm up before making the rest of the drive home.
And here I am. Standing under the steaming spray of my shower, staring at the grout, wondering what to do.
There’s probably only a handful of things I need to learn before I can take the apprentice’s test to see if I can qualify to be in a program. Can I be in that close contact with him for four or five more weeks? Can I provide him with the emotional boost he needs from me for another month?
What will that do to my foolish heart?
But who starts up a whole thing and then doesn't finish? I need to become an apprentice if I want to move forward with my life. I don’t want to work at a desk forever.
And if I’m not going to be in a serious relationship yielding marriage and kids anytime soon, I should really focus on becoming a mechanic.
After my shower, still wrapped in a towel, I sit on my bed, The Mechanics Bible spread open alongside his notebook.
After forty minutes of thumbing through while looking at mechanic apprentice’s practice tests online, I decide there is only one other crucial thing I need to learn, which is a full engine swap.
Once we do that, I can quit. Miller doesn’t even need me, whether he knows it yet or not.
I’ll let him know. I won’t leave him high and dry.
I’ve already learned enough that even if I never moved forward with my career after this, I could still fix my car and my mom’s car for most small repairs that don’t require a lift. That’s worth it, even if quitting this thing will feel like losing him.
I’m not going to lose someone who was never mine.
Getting my phone, I send him a text. He responds, and we fall into conversation, which is exactly what I need. I need to tell him and get it over with.
Think you could teach me a full engine swap?
Whoa, that’s a big one.
Yeah, I can do that. When?
Are you feeling more confident?
I don’t know how to answer that
I haven’t been with anyone, so it’s hard to know
How have you been feeling with me? You said when we first started that you felt unsure around women. You worried about everything. Do you feel that when we’re together?
When I’m with you, I feel perfectly at ease
Why are you asking? Progress report?
After the engine rebuild, I think our arrangement should end.
This was only temporary anyway, so we may as well end it on a high note, you know?
I bite my thumb nail, awaiting his response. It is the first time he hasn’t written back instantly. I hope I didn’t hurt his feelings, but it’s true–why go deep into this when we both no longer need it? It doesn't serve a point anymore. It only serves to be dangerous.
If that’s what you want
The truth is
Here’s where you tell the truth, Delane, I think to myself. But I don’t dare type the words as some therapeutic release before deleting them because I don’t trust myself. Not when it comes to Miller.
You don’t need me to help you. You’re an incredible catch, Miller, and your instincts have you continually doing and being all the right things.
You’ll be someone’s baby daddy and future hubby in no time
Never before in my life have I hated the smiley face emoji so much. When it takes a moment for three dots to appear to show me he’s responding, part of me hopes he’s celebrating my words. Because I wasn’t lying–he’s amazing and will make the figurehead of a wonderful, beautiful family one day.
Of that, I have no doubt.
Do you like spending time together? Just you and me?
I blink at the screen and reread his message at least seven times, maybe more.
Tomorrow, let’s do spark plugs and brake lights. We haven’t done it yet, and you’ll need to know. Then next week, we can do the engine repair and ride off into the sunset, okay?
Smiling, knowing I should say no because more time with him is a bad idea, I quickly type back:
Fine. Tomorrow night we do spark plugs and brake lights. Next week we take two days doing the engine swap, then we’re good.
Engine swap is four days minimum.
Not my rules :-D
Fine, let's end on a high note like I said.
Locking my phone, I pull clothes from my closet and pull them on after slipping into a bra and panties. Fully dressed, I start combing my damp hair as I process.
Do you like spending time together? Just you and me?
I must’ve scrolled up and reread that about a hundred times. Then he just changed the subject, and I don’t know why.
And instead of combing my hair and stressing about the fact that I still have to make it out alive after another two weeks with Miller, I’m smiling.
Because even if it’s just two weeks, it’s two weeks with the hottest, sexiest, most amazing human I’ve ever and probably will ever meet.
After drying my hair, I head to work, peeking through the rectangular window to catch an eyeful of him.
With his back partially to the window, I take a moment to feast on him.
Tall with lean muscle everywhere, ropy arms, and solid thighs, work blues have never made me as wet as they are now.
And the way he twists his hat back as he slides under a split hood, god.
I’m breathless just imagining the man who held my tits and made me cum last night.
But it’s not that I’m picturing as I smile at him through the window like a complete fucking creep.
It was sleeping in his arms. It’s sharing life over warm food with him.
It’s working under a hood together, bumping elbows and laughing. It’s… everything.
“Creep,” Atticus gruffs from behind. I spin like I’m caught because I totally am, but because I’m in such a tailspin over Miller, I have no extra energy to pacify Atticus or get him off my scent.
“Yup,” I sigh, slouching into the chair in front of my computer. With a wiggle of the mouse, my screen wakes from slumber, and I log in, ignoring Atti. But of course, because he can sense when I want him to go away, he stays.
“Are you though?” he asks with as thoughtful of a tone as possible for him.
“Am I what?” I ask, turning to face him. His hands are on his hips, and his man bun looks like it could stand a wash or two, but his eyes are fixed on me like I’m a problem for him to solve.
“A creep.”
“You just called me one,” I say, shaking my head because I really do not have the energy for his weird mind games right now. I shake my head and sigh. “What, Atti? I’m too tired to dance, so just tell me what you want.”
“What’s up with you and Miller?”
“We’re friends,” I sigh. I’m sure my face is not going along with the bullshit my mouth is peddling, but I don’t care.
The stress of spending two more weeks with him and then having to turn him loose is suddenly tightening around my neck like a noose.
I claw at the neckline of my hoodie and lurch forward slightly. “What?”
“I know you’re friends, dumbass. Why are you watching him like the chicks in Hallmark movies watch their husbands from the window while they’re mowin’ the lawn?”
I tighten my gaze on him. “That’s pretty specific. Are you watching Hallmark movies?”
He glares. “Not by choice. Now quit tryin’ to give me the runaround. Spill it.”
“Why? It’s not like you were running to me like an open diary when you fell for Goldie.” I fold my arms over my chest. “Are we done?”