Chapter 18
Scotty
Ilean against the Mustang’s fender and forget how to breathe.
Adrienne is on her knees between my boots, palms braced on my thighs, her mouth hot and wet and wicked as sin. She looks up at me, those mischievous eyes turning molten as she sinks down again and takes me deep.
“Yeah,” I rasp, fingers fisting in her hair. “That’s it, baby… look at you, taking me so fucking deep.”
She hums around me like she’s pleased with my comments. It vibrates straight through my spine. My head kicks back against the quarter panel, and a raw sound rips out of me. The big bay door is rolled halfway for air, late afternoon sun casting beams across the floor.
“Goddamn, you suck my cock better than anyone,” I grit the words out, so close now. She likes to be praised, likes to hear how good she is, making me lose my fucking mind. She likes the control, and I like to give it to her. I look back down, her eyes locked on mine.
Christ, I’m gone.
I stroke my thumb over her cheekbone, and she sucks me harder. She leans into it, lips stretched as wide as possible to accommodate me, eyes locked on mine like she wants to see me come apart.
“Good girl,” I grind out. “Don’t stop.”
She doesn’t. She takes me deeper, slow and filthy, tongue working me like she wants to write her name on my skin with every pass.
My thighs tense. My hands guide her, gentle and possessive, and she lets me, nails digging into denim as she gags.
“Easy,” I murmur, pulling back so she can relax her jaw, “yeah, just like that.”
I have said a lot of stupid things in this garage over the years, but right now, every word that comes out is the truth.
“Adrienne, baby.”
Her mouth seals tighter. She slides back, drags her tongue along the underside, then swallows me again until she takes me deeper than she has yet, deeper than I thought she even could.
My vision whites out at the edges. The Mustang’s chrome mirror reflects back a version of me I don’t recognize.
I’m completely lost in the moment, mouth open, hat shoved back, one hand wrapped in Adrienne’s hair, the other braced against the fender like I need the car to hold me up.
Mine. Forever.
The thought is dangerous and fast. It licks across my ribs and leaves everything scorched.
She pulls off just enough to breathe, eyes watery, my pre-cum on her lips, and smiles up at me.
“You like watching me do this, Bescher?” She grabs my cock with both hands, drags her tongue up in one painfully slow and agonizing stroke while maintaining eye contact.
“You like watching me suck your cock like a slut don’t you? ”
“Holy fucking shiiiiiit.” I groan, hips twitching despite how hard I’m trying to behave. “I like watching you do anything, Barbie. But this… this is gonna be the last memory I recall when I’m on my deathbed.”
She laughs, low and dirty, then sucks me back in like she wants to prove a point. I am seconds from losing it. My stomach tightens. My hand slides to the back of her neck, not pushing, just there, my thumb stroking the soft skin where her pulse flutters wildly against my palm.
“Open for me,” I manage, my throat raw. “Take what I give you.”
She does, eyes fluttering, lashes dark against her cheeks. The world narrows to wet heat and the way her throat works for me. I can feel it building, that sharp pull at the base of my spine, my balls so tight they’re ready to explode, and I warn her on a breath that comes out in one long gasp.
“Baby, I’m right there. You keep going, I’m gonna—”
Tires crunch over gravel outside. The sound is slicing through the lustful haze that’s burning at the edges of my eyes.
Every muscle in me locks. My head snaps toward the light slanting under the half-open bay door, my adrenaline spiking. A vehicle door thunks. Footsteps.
“Stop,” I hiss in a panic, tugging her gently off me as my heart slams into my throat. “Someone’s coming.”
She freezes, eyes going wide. She swipes her mouth with the back of her wrist, cheeks flushed, a streak of mascara beneath her left eye. A small, breathless laugh trips out of her like she can’t help herself, like the situation is insane and a little bit hysterical.
Boots scrape just beyond the bay. A shadow breaks the light. My zipper is still open. My brain finally lurches into gear.
Move, idiot!
I yank my shirt down, fumble my fly, shove myself back behind denim while my pulse hammers against my chest. My hands shake.
I can’t tell if it’s from almost coming in her mouth or the fact that I’m about to get caught with the Slade princess on her knees in my shop like a fantasy I never had the guts to say out loud.
She scrambles to her feet, coughing once, smoothing her hair with quick, guilty fingers, then grabs the nearest rag and pretends to study the Mustang’s engine like she’s been doing nothing but inspecting belts and hoses all day.
I rake a hand over my jaw, swallow hard, and try to look like a man who wasn’t just two seconds from coming down Adrienne’s throat.
“Holy shit,” I mutter, forcing my voice steady as I step away from the car like distance can erase the picture. “Act normal.”
She bites her swollen lip. “Define normal,” she whispers back, laughing even as panic buzzes between us. The shadow crouches. A familiar voice floats in, casual and too damn loud.
The bay door rattles, sunlight slicing through the gap just as I’m yanking my zipper up. And my stomach drops through the floor.
“Hey, man—didn’t expect to see you here.”
Axel’s voice is easy, but his brows draw together as he ducks under the half-open door. He’s holding a clipboard, keys jingling, completely unaware of the panic detonating inside my chest.
“Same,” I manage to choke out. “What are you doing here?”
“Decker needed a favor,” he says, strolling in. “Dropping off the truck, grabbing some equipment. You know how it is with the ranch, always something.”
Behind me, there’s a soft clang of metal against concrete. Adrienne’s knee has just clipped a socket tray.
Axel’s gaze snaps toward the sound, and time goes still.
“Oh my God—” His eyes go wide, flicking from me to Adrienne, who’s frozen mid-crouch, rag in hand, cheeks flushed a guilty pink.
I blurt the first thing that leaves my mouth. “We were just—uh—working on the car. You startled us.”
He stares for a long beat, then, mercifully, grins like a man who knows exactly what he walked in on but has the decency not to say it. He drops the keys on the workbench with a metallic clink.
“No rush on the truck,” he says lightly. “I’m out.”
And just like that, he’s gone—boots scuffing, head shaking, a low laugh trailing behind him.
Silence floods the garage again. Adrienne presses a hand to her face, her shoulders shaking with laughter she’s trying to smother. “So much for nobody knowing.”
I groan, dragging a palm down my face, but the sound that slips out of me is halfway to a laugh. “You think he’s gonna keep his mouth shut?”
She tilts her head, eyes glinting with mischief. “About as well as you can keep your hands off me.”
“Christ, Barbie.” I step closer, catching her waist before she can dart away. “Pretty sure my life just flashed before my eyes, and it was a slideshow of every way your brothers can and will kill me.”
Her grin widens, wicked and soft all at once. “Guess we'd better make the risk worth it then. Before I can answer, she leans in, whispering against my jaw, “Close the door, Scotty.”
“Not funny,” I mutter, but she’s already laughing.
“Come on,” she grins, tugging on the collar of my shirt. “You should’ve seen your face. I don't think I’ve seen that look since we were teenagers and got caught sneaking into the brewery to steal a keg.”
“Don’t,” I warn, but it’s useless. She’s full-on giggling now, bent over the hood of the Mustang like she can’t help herself.
“What? You were just getting a little afternoon tune-up,” she whispers, wickedly.
I groan, drag a hand down my face. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“Pretty sure my brothers will handle that for me,” she shoots back. “Although I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Axel look that shocked. He was truly speechless. It was hilarious.”
“Hilarious,” I repeat flatly. “Right. Nearly dying of heart failure is so funny.”
She sidles closer, her smile softening. “Relax, Bescher. He’s not gonna say anything.”
“You don’t know that,” I mutter, remembering the warning he gave me that night when we were playing pool. “He’s Axel Slade. He’s genetically incapable of shutting up.”
Adrienne leans against the fender, folding her arms, her eyes bright with amusement. “You really think he’s running to tell Aiden and my dad? Please. He’ll milk this for weeks before he says anything.”
“Great,” I deadpan. “That’s so much better.”
She laughs again, and I swear the sound undoes me more than her mouth ever could. It’s the sound that always makes me feel grounded, reminds me of careless summer days running around with her and her brothers.
I toss the wrench onto the tray and take a slow step toward her. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
She shrugs one shoulder, a smile turning sly. “Maybe I just like seeing you sweat a little.”
“Yeah?” I close the last bit of distance, hands braced on either side of her on the hood. “You sure about that?”
Her breath catches, but she doesn’t back away. “Pretty sure.”
“Because I can give you something to really sweat about,” I murmur, my voice rough.
“Promises, promises,” she teases, but there’s a tremor beneath the words.
I dip my head until my mouth hovers a breath from hers. “You’re sure about this?”
She blinks, the teasing faltering just enough for me to see the truth flash across her face. “About what?”
“Us,” I say quietly. “About letting it just… play out. No labels. No pressure. Just seeing where it goes.”
Her smile softens, all the mischief melting away. “Yeah. I’m sure.”