Page 57 of The Woman in the Garage

He fucked me through it, dragging it out, then slamming deep and coming with me with a quiet curse.

There was nothing after, save for the clanking sounds in the garage and the labored breathing in my office as we both came back down together.

Santo reached down, pulling me up until I was against his chest.

Both arms went around me—one hand lightly closing around my throat, the other gently grabbing one of my breasts, a possessive kind of hold that had desire pooling once again.

“That was worth the wait,” he said, his breath on the shell of my ear making me shiver. “Though, next time, we need to be somewhere private. I want to hear you cry out while my cock is inside of you.”

There were a lot of things I could have clung to there.

But what came out of me was, “There’s going to be a next time?”

There was a neediness in my voice that I didn’t like. Santo, though, was nothing but sweet. His lips pressed a soft kiss to my temple. “Not if you don’t want there to be,” he said. “But for the record, I want a repeat. I want a fucking thousand repeats.”

I leaned back into him, turning my face in toward his neck, breathing in his cocoa coffee scent.

“I think I can get on board with that.”

“Yeah? How about tonight?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Don’t even need to think about it?”

“No.”

“No other plans?”

“Nothing I want more than that.”

That little rumble moved through him, vibrated into me.

“It’s settled then,” he said, pressing his forehead to my head for a moment.

It was then there was some shouting from inside, making us break apart.

I busied myself with tucking my boobs away then finding my panties while Santo dealt with the condom and got himself all tucked away.

“I should probably let you get back to work.”

I couldn’t think of anything I wanted less than that.

“Okay,” I agreed, giving him a small smile.

“But… tonight.”

“Tonight,” I agreed as he went for the door.

“Santo! Wait,” I called, a laugh getting caught in my throat.

“What’s up?”

“We still didn’t exchange numbers,” I reminded him.

“Christ,” he said, shaking his head at himself as he turned back, reaching for his phone, unlocking it, and handing it to me.

I did the same, and we both programmed our numbers before handing the others’ phone back.

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