7. Marlowe #2
"Bay Three," he growls, but the hostility is completely gone, replaced by a dark, simmering warmth that sets my pulse racing. "Before I find something really tedious for you to do."
"On it, grump," I laugh, turning on my heel and strutting toward the direction of the bay.
An hour later, Kane finds me by the edge of the staging yard.
"Marlowe. Come here," he commands, gesturing toward the back section of the lot.
I follow him past stacks of rusted steel girders to where a massive, oversized industrial excavator sits parked away from the main crew.
It’s a monster of a machine with heavy treaded tires, a massive hydraulic boom, and an enclosed, high-mounted steel cab.
The engine is idling, letting out a deep, rhythmic, heavy vibration that shakes the very ground beneath our boots.
"What are we doing out here?" I ask, looking up at the hulking yellow beast. "Planning to dig a moat around the yard?"
"Inspecting the hydraulic seals on the upper cab," Kane says shortly, grabbing the steel ladder attached to the side. "Up."
I roll my eyes, but grip the yellow steel rungs and climb. Kane follows right behind me, his massive body practically shielding my back as we ascend. When I step into the cramped, glass-walled cab, he slides in right behind me, shutting the heavy steel door.
Instantly, the world outside gets quiet, replaced by the thrumming, powerful vibration of the engine beneath the floorboards. The air in the cab is hot, tight, and thick with the heavy scent of grease, warm hydraulic oil, hot steel, and Kane’s raw, masculine scent.
There is barely enough room for one person, let alone two.
I back up until my rear hits the edge of the high-backed operator seat. Kane looms over me, his broad shoulders blocking out the glass windows, trapping me completely in his space. The constant, heavy vibration of the idling engine hums up through my boots, radiating straight into my core.
"It... seems pretty tight in here," I offer softly, my bubbly humor vanishing as my throat goes dry. My pulse knocks wildly in my neck.
"It is," Kane rumbles. He takes a step forward, closing the last inch of distance. The heat off his body is both oppressive and addictive. His large, calloused hand comes up, resting heavily against the headrest right next to my ear. "You talk a lot of trash out there, sweetheart."
"Occupational hazard," I whisper, my eyes dropping to his lips. "Someone's got to keep you from turning into a statue."
"Is that right?" His dark blue eyes burn into mine, stripped of all restraint. The stoic boss is gone; the dangerous, possessive man underneath has taken total control. "You think you can tease me, feed me, laugh at me, and just walk away clean?"
"Kane—"
He doesn't let me finish.
Kane snaps. With a rough, guttural growl, his hands clamp onto my hips, lifting me effortlessly and pinning me back into the padded operator seat. My breath hitches sharply as he steps between my thighs, crowding me into the control console.
"Kane, we’re in the middle of the yard—"
"Door’s locked. Windows are tinted. Nobody sees you but me," he growls, his voice thick and dark. "And right now, I need to put my hands on you before I lose my mind."
Before I can form another coherent thought, Kane drops heavily to his knees in the cramped space between my legs.
My heart leaps into my throat. "Kane—what are you—"
His massive hands slide under the hem of my shirt, his rough, calloused palms gripping my hips with possessive authority. He doesn't ask. He doesn't hesitate. He hooks his thick fingers into the waistband of my shorts and underwear, pulling them down my thighs in one slick, authoritative motion.
"Kane!" I gasp, gripping the armrests of the seat as the cool metal touches my skin, contrasted sharply by the intense, engine-driven heat humming through the machine.
"Quiet, Marlowe," he commands, his dark head dropping down. "Hold onto the controls."
His hot breath hits my wet, aching center, and then his mouth makes contact.
I let out a high, sharp sob, my back arching off the seat as his tongue swirls forcefully over my sensitive nerve endings.
It’s wild, filthy, and unbearably hot. The industrial backdrop—the deep, rhythmic rumble of the diesel engine, the vibrating floor, the smell of grease and iron—amplifies every single sensation until my blood feels like liquid fire.
Kane eats me out with a ruthless, desperate hunger.
His fingers dig into the soft flesh of my thighs, holding me open and pinned to his mouth while he works me with a possessive intensity.
His tongue laps broad and heavy, then swirls tightly over my clit, matching the heavy, pulsing rhythm of the vibrating cab.
"Oh God... Kane... Kane!" I cry out, burying my hands into his dark hair, tugging him closer as the coil in my stomach tightens to a agonizing point.
He grunts against my skin, the sound vibrating directly through my core, pushing me straight over the edge.
My orgasm rips through me like a freight train. I shatter, my knees clamping against his shoulders as pleasure crashes over me in wave after white-hot wave. I scream his name into the enclosed glass space, my body trembling violently against the vibrating seat.
Kane doesn't stop. He licks me clean through every single contraction, drinking in my release until I’m completely limp, breathless, and trembling in the cramped cab.
Slowly, he stands up, towering over me in the tight space. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his dark blue eyes completely wild, heavy-lidded, and brimming with dark, primal satisfaction.
"Good girl," he growls low in his throat, smoothing my hair back from my flushed, sweaty face. "Now pull your pants up before I forget we have work to do."