Page 38 of The Woman in the Garage

A rumbling sound moved through Santo’s chest and vibrated into my own.

My arms went around his neck, pulling him closer, our bodies pressing close as his teeth nipped my lower lip, dragging a moan out of me.

His hands slid from my face then, slipping down the sides of my neck, my arms, my ribs, then slipping around to sink into my butt, dragging me more firmly against him.

There was no mistaking his desire then, his hard length straining against his pants, pressing into my belly.

I was helpless to stop the little whimper that escaped me at feeling it, my mind already imagining him slipping inside me, filling me fully.

Santo’s fingers sank in hard, squeezing, slipping under my skirt to touch me some more.

Suddenly, his hand left me, reaching out to the side and dragging the garage door partially down, the sound making me wince in the quiet space.

Before I could know his intention, though, he was pressing me back against the wall, then lowering down to his knees.

Need coiled in my core, making my breathing trip faster, making my heart cartwheel in my chest.

Santo looked up at me, hunger in his eyes, a devilish little smirk toying with his lips for just a second before he disappeared under my skirt.

Somehow, not being able to see him only made it hotter when I felt his teeth sink into my upper thigh, then trace the bite with his tongue, kiss away the sting with his lips.

I was dripping, aching, shaky with my need by the time his hand yanked my panties to the side, exposing me to his greedy mouth as he sucked my clit into his mouth.

The pleasure was so acute, it was almost pain as he just kept sucking in little strobes, making my hips rock against him, my little whimpers getting louder and more needy with each passing second.

Then his tongue was working me in relentless circles, making my thighs feel shaky.

Santo reached for my knee, lifting it, and coaxing my leg over his shoulder, opening me to him more.

Those same fingers teased under my thigh, then two of them slipped inside of me.

A long, choked moan escaped me at the welcome fullness.

Reaching down, I yanked my skirt out of the way, wanting to watch him as he feasted on me, as he worked me, his hair teasing my thighs in the way I’d already fantasized about a dozen times.

My hips rocked, silently demanding more as he drove me up, up, up, as the need coiled tighter and tighter inside.

Santo’s fingers worked me faster, long, quick thrusts that had me whimpering and gasping for breath.

But then they were changing, twisting, creating an entirely new sensation that had my whole body tensing, sensing the release just in my sights.

“Santo,” I cried, fingers fisting his hair as my hips rocked restlessly.

He made that rumbling sound again, but this time I got to feel it vibrate around my clit.

And that was it.

The orgasm crashed through me. My cries filled the empty unit—loud and shameless, too overcome with pleasure to care who might hear.

Santo worked me through it until I was breathless and slumped back against the wall, my body shaky. His head shifted, pressing a kiss to my thigh. Then another, an inch lower.

But then he was out from under my skirt, taking his feet, leaning over me, his breath warm on my ear.

“Been thinking about tasting you from the first fucking moment I laid eyes on you,” he said, making my belly go liquid again.

But before I could even think about lowering to my knees, to taking him deep in my mouth, about tasting him, about working him to and through completion, he was reaching out and pulling the door back up.

Lights flicked on in the hall, erasing the illusion of privacy.

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