Page 20 of Fast and Dirty

Fuck it.

I whip off my eighty-dollar tank top and grab the shirt off the chair, slipping it on again. The cotton feels like heaven whispering over my skin, and the smell of hot, sexy, rugged mechanic engulfs me. The lusty memory of yesterday comes rushing back to me, of the man in question staring into my eyes as he pummeled his cock recklessly into me. Those dirty hands smudging my dress, that dirty mouth making me ache.

My slutty little friend in my panties sighs dreamily, but then starts to weep forlornly when she and I both realize that I’m never going to have sex like that again. The filthy, no-holds-barred fucking that sinfully sexy man gave me yesterday was the holy grail of sexcapades, and now that I’ve found it, there’s no hope of finding itagain,and my vag should just retire.

Okay, that’s depressing, and now my panties are soaked. Call it arousal, or my vaggie’s tears, it doesn’t matter. I need to shake it off and grab life by the balls. West didn’t say he was in any hurry for me to pack up, and neither did Agnes, so perhaps I could get one thing out of the way.

Guilt over the getaway car is hanging over my head, and while I’m not eager to talk to anyone in Chicago other than Toby, I need to call one of them. And frighteningly enough, Preston is the least of all those evils. He’s a bag of dicks, but he’s all bark.

Shimmying out of my pants, I change into clean panties and flop on West’s bed. Wearing nothing but his shirt makes me feel empowered to verbally hand Preston his ass.

After dialing his number, I only wait one ring before he picks it up.

“You whore!” He screeches down the line and it startles meenough to move the phone away from my ear a second before rolling my eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Look, can we cut past the drama and talk about getting your uncle back his car?”

“Why the fuck would I want to do anything your way, right now?”

“You wouldn’t,” I tell him, choosing not to get into the blame game rabbit hole with him. It’s counterproductive to dealing with the car situation. I may be broke with no place to live, officially, but that’s my problem. The car gives me ties to that world, and something for them all to hold over me. “But listen, can you just get me your uncle’s number or give him mine? He didn’t leave any information in the glove compartment or anything.”

“That’s because that car was just for show, you idiot! He was being nice enough to let us borrow it for the wedding, but he didn’t keep anything anywhere in it, it was in pristine condition for display. What, you thought you’d find his registration amongst a users manual and some fast food napkins like some simpleton?!.”

This is going great. “Look, the car has some damage done to it, and I’m going to help get it fixed -,” I start to explain, but Preston cuts me off with more bitching, right when the door to West’s apartment swings open.

“Damage?!” Preston shrieks into the phone again. “What the fuck did you do to it?! I swear to god, you’re like every other woman that can’t drive for shit! Just another reason I’m better off without your useless ass! Seriously, what the fuck did you crash it into some podunk lemonade stand?”

My still somewhat hungover brain is trying to process Preston’s dramatic onslaught and West’s emerging presence, leaving me no time to react when I feel the phone taken from my hand.

“Actually, the car broke down due to lack of routine maintenance, which the owner should’ve known if he was any kind of car enthusiast,” West informs Preston cooly, holding the phoneup to his ear. “See, letting a car sit in a showroom without running the engine and getting the fluids flowing once in a while isn’t good for its performance or resale value.”

Speaking of fluids flowing…

Competency porn is a thing, it turns out. The way West is standing over me, rattling off all these complex, mechanical facts like it’s second nature is turning me on almost as much as the way he’s pinning me to his bed with his intense stare.

He’s in another pair of worn-out jeans and wearing a t-shirt similar to the one I’ve shamelessly confiscated only it’s black with the logo in white, and oh… shit. That’s why he’s staring at me. I’m in his shirt again and not much else.

“Beyond that, the spark plugs”—ooh, more dirty talk—“hadn’t been changed in fuck knows when, and had so much build up, I’m embarrassed for him. Oh but I will say the thing has good shocks,” he winks at me and I’m done. Another pair of panties soaked through.

“And as for you, son, you hadn’t maintenanced your woman properly - ever. Took care of that for you too, by the way,” he licks his lips as my thighs find each other and start caressing each other. Good god, the way he’s telling Preston off is a whole other aphrodisiac in its own class.

“You son of a bitch!” I hear Preston scream through the line, and West offers up a smug smirk. “Are you the fucking loser asshole who fucked my wife?!”

“She’s not your wife,” West scoffs, with narrowed eyes. “She’s all mine now. And if I were you, I’d get your uncle in touch with her before I just have that sorry excuse of a collector’s car impounded.”

“Who the fuck are you? Tell me who the fuck you are so I can -,”

“What are you going to do, rich boy? Beat me with a badminton racket? I’ve got a business to run here, and I don’t have time for this bullshit. Just get your uncle in touch with Kira.I’ve gotta go.” His hand finds my bare thigh and grips it possessively. “Looks like she needs me again.”

And with that, he signs off, leaving me staring up at him with my jaw hanging open and my breath coming in desperate little pants. I feel sweat forming at the back of my neck as he licks his lips again and speaks.

“I just said that to piss him off,” he explains. “I don’t have any claim on you. I just didn’t like how he was talking to you and I wanted to get under his skin,” he goes on, yet he’s not moving his hand from my leg.

Every cell of my skin starts to hum as I place my hand on his, and gently guide it up further, looking up at him to see if I’m the only crazy one here. My question is answered when his body comes down on top of mine, our lips crashing together, and his hand riding further up my leg to palm my pussy.

“Fuck you’re hot in my shirt,” he growls, nudging my legs open with his hips. The scratch of his denim jeans against my bare thighs makes me writhe.

“You’re hot when you’re putting my ex in his place,” I groan back as he nips at my bottom lip.

---