That isn’t fucking happening. Butch always has women wrapped around his finger. Scratch that, wrapped around his dick is more like it. He’s got women falling at his feet whenever we go out, and it’s probably because he’s always running his mouth. From what he says, I seem to have a ‘don’t talk to me’ look pasted across my face, scaring them all away.
I have the urge to lay him out for just thinking about talking to her, but I push the feeling back because it’s fucking ridiculous. Like either one of us have a chance with a woman like that. Who knows what she’s doing in a small - ass town like this. Probably passing through and something went wrong with her ride. Here today, gone tomorrow. The thought makes my gut clench. I’ll need a taste before she’s gone. Something I’m sure won’t be easy.
“Finish dropping the engine in. I got her.” The irritation in my voice is clear as I order him back to work. I want to be the first to talk to her, but I see Joey beat me to the punch when I enter the front of the office.
“How long has it been making that sound?” Joey asks, pulling a pen from her dark black ponytail. When her hair catches the light a certain way, it almost looks blue.
“Well I was - ” The blonde duchess stops talking when she finally notices I’ve joined them in the office. A slight blush hits her cheeks, and it makes my cock jerk. Double shit. A goddamn blush is making my cock ache with need.
I hear Joey drop the notepad down onto the counter, and I look over to see her rolling her eyes and returning the pen to her ponytail.
“I was sure it would be Butch.” Joey says with a smirk on her face. I’m sure she did think it would be Butch. Because chasing ass isn’t something I do. But it seems this little duchess has me bending some rules.
“He’s busy and he needs your help.” It’s a lie. Butch can finish the job on his own, but I don’t need Joey in here giving me lip or stocking up on things she can give me shit about later.
She snorts, but exits out the door I just entered and leaves me and the duchess all alone.
We both just stare at each. I’ve never seen a woman so perfect in my life. There is something about her, how flawlessly she is put together, that makes me want to throw her on the floor and fuck her right there. She’d be so dirty when I was done with her. The grease on my hands would smudge all over her clothes, her hair would be wild after I drove in and out of her, and her make-up would be smeared. I could look at her and know I did that. That I made this perfect little slip of a woman get dirty for me and she’d love it, beg me to do it over and over again until she was dripping with my cum.
She finally breaks eye contact, pulling those gray eyes from mine. It’s then I realize that I’m staring at her like a love-struck puppy. I clear my throat and get to the subject before I cum in my pants thinking about all the things I want to do to her.
“Your ride?” My voice comes out deeper than I mean for it to be as I make my way around the counter. I need to get a little space between us and cover up my hard cock before I scare her off.
“Oh yeah,” she says, biting her lip. I want to tell her to stop that, but I just brace my arms on the counter, waiting for her to continue. “I just got to town, and it started making some weird thumping noise.”
She looks like a scared rabbit, ready to bolt at any moment. I need to pull it back before I make her run. If she knew the things I was thinking about moments ago, she’d be long gone. I’m guessing the men she’s been with were smooth and soft with her, something I’m not sure I could be, but hell, if she asked I would sure as hell try just to have her beneath me for a few minutes. But I don’t think a few minutes would ever be enough with someone like her. I bet a taste would drive a man to his knees. She’s not used to talking to a dirty grease monkey like me. No, she’s more into suits and polos down at the country club. The thought of someone else touching her has a red haze hitting my eyes. They wouldn’t know what to do with her. I may not even know what to do with her, but I would die trying to give it to her. A woman like her should be worshiped and fucked regularly.
“It’s probably just your fan belt,” I finally say, trying to pull my thoughts from wanting to fuck her.
“Is that an easy fix? I have a ton of stuff I need to get done.”
I bite my tongue to keep from saying something rude. I’m sure duchess here has a big day of shopping ahead of her and doesn’t want to spend it in a dirty garage with the likes of me. I reach out wanting her keys, and she jumps back. She looks down at my hands, and I realize they aren’t the prettiest. They’re still smeared with grease from the last car I had my hands inside of. They show signs of manual labor, something she’s probably never done before. I bet her skin is soft and silky all over. Her hands wrapped around my cock would feel a whole lot better than my own, which is all my dick has been getting for a very long time. Maybe that’s why my dick is begging for something it shouldn’t be wanting right now.
“Keys,” I snap, making her jump again. I’m irritated that my hand repulsed her, and I can’t help the tone of my voice. I look up, and I can see the pulse in her neck start to pick up as she looks back at the door. I see what she’s thinking, but I put a stop to it.
“Only shop in town, duchess. Give me the keys.”
Her gray eyes go hard at the nickname, and she gives me an icy glare. Fuck. Even that turns me on. I’m starting to think there isn’t anything she could do to turn me off. How can someone piss you off and turn you on at the same time? I’m not sure how she’s doing it, but she is.
She digs in her purse, pulling her keys out and tossing them to me. I catch them in the air, wishing she would have just handed them to me. I could have stolen a touch and found out if she’s as soft as she looks.
“Come back in hour and she’ll be good to go.” I point to the clipboard on the counter. “Fill out your name and number so I can call you if I’m done before you’re back.”
She quickly scribbles down her number before turning and leaving the shop, giving me a nice view of her ass as she stomps out. I pull out my phone and look down to see her number and name and laugh when I see she identified herself as ‘Duchess.’ I program it into my phone before ripping her number off the sheet and putting it in my pocket. I hate the idea that it’s just sitting there for anyone to access it.
I quickly pull her Carrera GT into the shop and change her fan belt in record time. I’d like to say it’s because I’m just trying to get shit done, but I’d be lying to myself. I just want her back in here. The whole time I’m working on her car, I’m irritated at the idea that she’ll never give me
the time of day. I’m a fucking joke to someone like her. Why even try?
Pulling out my phone to give her a call, I look up and see she’s already standing in the front office again. This time I see her laughing at something Butch just said, more at ease with him then she was with me.
I’m going to fucking kill him. He may be a little rough around the edges, but his blond hair and blue eyes always seem to pull the women in. He cleans up nicer than I seem to be able to. I look over to see Joey trying to hold back a laugh as she looks between me and what’s happening in the front office.
“Pull the fucking car out and drop the keys on the front counter when you’re done,” I snap at her, only making her laugh more. After a second she lifts her hand, extending her middle finger at me.
I stomp across the garage and throw the door open a little harder than I mean to. I’m shocked the glass window in the door doesn’t shatter when the door hits the wall. The sound makes Duchess jump again. Shit. All I seem to do is make her jump.
Butch just leans against the counter like he doesn’t have a care in the world, and irritation boils inside me. I look over at him and put an end to the conversation he’s having. “Back to work. I don’t pay you to flirt with customers.”
Duchess blushes at my words, looking embarrassed. If I had my way with her, that blush would cover every part of her skin. Yeah, like you’ll get that chance, a voice in the back of my mind says. Girls like her who ooze class won’t give me the time of day. No matter how hard I work, or what I have in my bank, they just think they’re better than me. Types like her want men in stiff suits and five-star dinners. I met a couple girls like her growing up, and I’ve learned to stay clear, and I always have, but something about her is pulling me in.
Butch winks at her on his way out, and it makes me grind my teeth as he strolls out the open door. If I blackened both of his eyes, he wouldn’t be able to wink again for a while, I think to myself. Once he’s through the door, I reach over and slam it shut. I try to get myself together and push back all these foreign emotions. I take a breath and try to smooth things over.
“All fixed up. It was the belt,” I confirm. “Follow me to my office, and I’ll write up your bill.” I start walking back towards my office and feel myself release the breath I was holding when I hear the click of her heels following me. I look at the windows that line the garage and see both Joey and Butch watching. Probably wondering why I’m taking her to my office and not just checking her out in the front. I want her in my space. Maybe when we’re in my small office, I can finally get a smell of her.
I motion for her to sit down when we reach my office, and I close the door behind her. Then I hit the blinds on the window that looks out into the shop so no one can see us. Just her and me now.