“Already did,” she said. Her eyes were wide and it looked like she wanted to tsk me. I stepped outside into the sunshine with a wide ass smile on my face.
Two hours later and my mood had faded. I realized I’d fucked Brook’s precious daughter and I’d soon be out of a job, probably even banned from ever showing my face in East Point again. They already all hated me and only put up with my presence by Mr. Brooks insistence that I was necessary and talented. And Harley. She’d wake up hating me. Realize she’d make the biggest mistake of her life and destroyed her whole reputation in a single fucking night. If anyone was unforgiving, it was the society East Pointers of Wexler. They’d tried to crush the Dunnes from the very beginning and maybe with my guard down last night, I’d let them succeed at it.
But fuck my life, Harley Brooks was on my mind and in my heart too. I’d never felt a love as sweet as hers and I wanted to keep it. Real. Fucking. Bad. I wanted Harley to myself, to spirit her away to some other time in another world. Make her my woman, my wife, my soul mate. Fuck her until dawn every damn day and wake her up with kisses and coffee and more love making. In the privacy of the garage, I bit my knuckles, thumped my chest, and punched the wall like a caged animal. Harley Brooks was untouchable and I’d gone and rubbed my filthy hands all over her.
…
It was almost nine-thirty when they drove the last car onto the truck. We’d successfully loaded the Bugatti, the Ferrari, the Pangani, and were finishing it out with Brooks prized Lamborghini. They had to be driven onto the trucks, wheels lined perfectly with the ramp tracks. The box trucks were tight and the men had to be meticulous to keep from scratching any of the polished bodies. Even a tiny nick in the polish could put them out of the show.
“Is Brooks home?” the head honcho asked me. He was a pot-bellied, stubble laden man in his mid-fifties, the other three workers were his son, his brother, and his nephew. They looked like South Banks residents, but I didn’t know them.
“Brooks and Stefano are in Rome until sometime tomorrow,” I told him as I signed the transportation papers.
“What about his hot fucking daughter. What a piece of ass that one is, holy shit!” one of the younger guys exclaimed.
I quit signing the papers.
I put down the pen.
I raised my head slowly and stared him directly in the fucking face.
The silence was heavy and the guy's eyes darted back and forth between his father and uncle as he looked for salvation.
“Never fucking speak of Harley again in your fucking pathetic life. If her name is on your lips, I will, personally, see they get cut off, along with your tiny dick,” I told him. I pointed a finger as I spit venomous words at him.
Just then, the front door slammed and Harley bounded down the steps. We all turned to look as she came running across the lawn wearing an afterglow that could light up the next power outage. She was wearing a see-through white peasant top that exposed her midriff and belly button and cut off jean shorts that were so short they left her whole thigh exposed and likely from the back view displayed the bottom of her ass cheeks. Instead of a bra, she wore a tiny fluorescent pink bikini top under her barely there shirt. Her hair was down in long waves and she was barefoot as usual.
Harley sprinted across the lawn and slammed into me full force, she draped her arms around my neck and kissed me smack on the lips in broad daylight. Heat flooded my chest and I balled my fists ready to flatten the nose of the first asshole who said anything.
“I made you breakfast, babe.” She fisted my shirt and kissed me on the tip of my nose. Her back was to the transport guys and I was certain they were getting a full view of her tight little butt.
“Harley, go inside. I’ll finish up in a second,” I told her gruffly.
She grabbed me around the neck again and came in for a kiss, this time shoving her little pink tongue in between my lips. I kissed her back and hunger for her roared in my chest.
“Go inside, I’m serious. I’ll be right in.”
She pouted and put a rebellious hand on her hip. She had no idea how volatile I was when it came to shit like this.
She turned to go and crossed her arms across her chest. “Hi Cameron, Aaron, Mr. Turner and Mr. Turner,” she said cheerily. “I made sandwiches if you guys want to take any for the road.”