Dirty Deeds (Mechanics of Love #3)(23)

She reached around to her back with one hand, and unclipped her bra. It fell to the floor at her feet. She shot him a look over her shoulder, a smile on her face, and it was all heat and lust, and it sliced into him like a lightning strike.

“Alex.”

She faced him, her arms crossed over her chest, hiding her breasts. “What?”

He wanted to tell her to hop on his lap and make them both happy, but this was her show. And he wasn’t sure he wanted it to end anyway. “You’re gorgeous.”

She smiled bigger then, which he hadn’t thought possible, then dropped to the floor in a crouch. Her hair covered half of her face as she crawled toward him, the muscles in her shoulders rolling, her hips swaying, like a panther. She licked her lips. “Take your shirt off, Posh.”

It was a struggle because his limbs weren’t working very well, but he managed somehow to get his shirt off himself.

When she reached his feet, she took off his shoes and socks, then slid her hands up his calves and thighs. She undid his belt, tugged down his zipper, and then pulled out his cock. He sucked in a breath as she stroked him with a strong, sure grip. Her tongue flicked out, and she lapped at his tip. He jerked and then cursed himself to stay put.

She smiled, then took him in her mouth.

His head bounced on the chair as he threw it back, unable to stop the loud moan from escaping. Her mouth was perfect, her rhythm flawless. Her hands dug into his thighs as she bobbed her head in his lap. He didn’t touch her hair, not wanting to guide her, because she didn’t need it anyway.

As suddenly as she started, she stopped, stood up, and dropped her last remaining piece of clothing to the floor.

He wanted to stop time for a minute, take a picture, and store it away so he’d never forget the moment of Alex standing in front of him, hair wild, red lips smeared, grinning like the devil herself.

“You’re not real,” he muttered. “Right? This is a dream and we’re actually still standing in that parking lot in the rain.”

She straddled his thighs, grabbed his cock, and sank down on it. “Does this feel like a dream to you?”

No, no it didn’t, because that tight heat was real, spreading throughout his body, until he swore he was burning from the inside out.

She ground into him, rolling her hips as he latched onto a perfect nipple and sucked. She moaned, spearing her fingers in his hair, and began to work her hips harder, bouncing on his lap now. He let her nipple slip from his mouth and stared down where they connected, where he watched his hard cock slip in and out of her body.

She was beautiful everywhere, all curves and arse and breasts, like her body was made to be cherished.

“Tell me what you want,” he said.

And she moaned, her eyes flickering open. “T-touch me.”

He reached down and found the hard bud of her clit with his thumb. He rolled it as he thrust his hips up to meet her. She was panting hard now, those gorgeous breasts bouncing, brushing his chest and neck. “So close,” she whispered. “So close.”

He didn’t even think of himself in that moment, or his need to come, because this was all about her, about that flush that was covering her whole body, the way her eyes were hazy, the way she bit her red lips as she worked herself harder on his cock. He reached up and flicked a nipple, then gripped the back of her neck. “Wish you could see yourself right now, how fucking beautiful you look when you’re in control. When you have the power.”

She cried out and slammed her lips onto his as her body froze and convulsed. Her inner walls squeezed his cock as she whimpered into his mouth, her hips snapping against him. He gripped her back, holding on, so she knew he had her. That he was there. And he’d be there when it was over.

Her hips worked slowly as she panted against the skin of his neck. Her fingers twirled in his hair as her back heaved. “I just . . . need to catch my breath,” she said, as she tightened around his cock inside her.

“Can I move us to the bed?” he asked.

She nodded.

He picked her up and wrapped her limp legs around him as she clung to his neck. When they reach the bed, he laid her down, then climbed on top of her. She encircled him in her arms and guided him back into her body. “I want to feel you.”

He began with slow, gentle thrusts because he knew she’d be sensitive, and the whole time she stroked his hair, his back, grabbed his arse and squeezed. When he came, it wasn’t explosive. It was an orgasm that rolled throughout his entire body, into each finger, and to the tip of every hair on his head. He gasped against her chest as he swore it went on forever, him pulsing into her body.

When he was done, he rolled to her side, pulling her against him, her hair spread across his chest. He sighed, a sigh that he felt down into the marrow of his bones. He wanted to sink down into the mattress, fuse themselves to the bed so he never had to get out and deal with anything or anyone but this woman in his arms.

ALEX COULDN’T MOVE her limbs. All she could do was lay limply on Spencer and wish she never had to get up.

Okay, well, she could move a finger. One finger. A finger that was currently tracing the tattoo on his left pectoral. It was a fox, and not a particularly well-done fox. It was a little basic, the shading simplistic, the head in profile.

But it was over his heart. It had meant something to him, at least at one time.

“Why the fox?” she asked, tracing the outline of an ear.

His brow furrowed in confusion, then his face cleared as he glanced down at his chest. “Oh.” He blew out a breath and ran his hand through his hair. “That damn fox.”

“You don’t like it?”

“I don’t . . . no. Not really, to be honest. I don’t like it.”

She rested her chin on her fist propped on his chest. “That sounds like a story.”

“My brain hurts.”

“You didn’t use your brain for what we just did. Now tell me the story, dammit.”

He rolled his eyes, but his lips quirked into a small smile. “I got it when I was sixteen. I was still in that stage where I wanted to impress my father. This fox is the symbol of his repair shop. It’s Red Fox Auto Repair. Because . . . I don’t know. He likes foxes, I guess. And Manchester United.” She raised an eyebrow and he laughed. “So anyway, I went and got this tattoo to impress my dad. Lied about my age and the whole bit and finally found a tattooist to do it. Surprisingly,” he said drily, “he wasn’t the best. Anyway, my father thought it was dumb. So that was that. I just have this fox on my chest now for no reason. I could get it lasered off, I guess, but I’m not a huge fan of pain. Or lasers.”

She touched its snout. “It’s kind of cute.”

“Foxes aren’t bloody cute. They’re cunning.”

“It’s really not that bad.”

“It’s not that it’s a fox, it’s that . . . for years, it reminded me of where I was from. And what I wanted to get away from. So I hated it. Kind of awkward in college when I would mess around with a girl and I refused to take my shirt off.”

“Well, that’s a shame, since you look pretty hot with your shirt off.”

He smiled and ran a hand through her hair. “You’re just being nice.”

She shook her head. “You should know by now, I don’t do much just to be nice.”

“You offered me a ride that first day we met.”

He had a point but . . . “Who said I didn’t have ulterior motives to that?”

“Oh? I looked easy, then?”

She laughed and scooted up his body to press a kiss to his lips. “I don’t know that anything about this is easy.”

He sobered at that, his fingers teasing the strands at her temple. “No, no, I don’t think there is.”

“So does your dad still live in Britain? Do you get to see him often?”

His eyes went a little distant, like this wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. “He does. He lives in the same house I grew up in, and works at the same garage he did when I was a kid.” Spencer continued to play with her hair. “I do not get to see him often, no. After I graduated, I would go back a couple of times a year but it seemed like . . . the more I visited, the less close we became. Which is so backward, but it’s the truth. He acted like he didn’t want me there, like it wasn’t my home anymore. And so I stopped visiting.”

Alex rarely saw her mom anymore, so she knew what it was like to lose touch with a parent. “I’m sorry.”

He sighed. “It is what it is. How about we not talk about this?”

She nuzzled his jaw. “Will you stay tonight?”

“What? And miss out on my instant coffee in my hotel room?”

“I thought you Brits drank tea.”

“I’m a transplant.”

Something rumbled, and Spencer’s eyes widened. “Um . . . ”

“Was that your stomach?”

“Er—”

Alex sat up, bracing her arms on his chest. “Oh my God, we never did eat dinner, did we?”

Spencer shook his head.

Alex jumped out of bed and threw on a T-shirt and a pair of panties. “I can order a pizza. How does that sound?”

“You don’t have to do that, I’ll—”

“Oh, quit being all polite Posh on me. You’re hungry, and I want some damn pepperoni.”