Page 2 of The Mechanic's Virgin

I pop the hood and look inside. The car’s pristine. Barely even dusty. I glance up at her gorgeous face. She looks like she’s never even had a sunburn. “What kind of noise was it making?” I ask, knowing I’m not going to get any real detail from her.

“Um, I don’t know. Kind of like a clicking? Clunking maybe?”

“Clicking or clunking?” I repeat with a nod, smirking. She doesn’t know anything about cars, but why would she? She doesn’t need to.

She gives me a slightly embarrassed look, and the light from outside catches her hair just right, causing a halo effect that makes her look like an angel. My cock jerks hard. I wonder if she can see it through my pants–the massive bulge already forming. It’s her fault. She’s responsible.

I stare at her, hypnotized by her perfection. I still can’t figure out what a girl like this is doing in a shop like mine. Her spotless beauty makes me want to run my filthy hands all over her–cover her in grime and grease while I show her all the things she’s been missing in life. Everyone would see she’s been claimed by me. They’d all know it. The things I’d do to her would have her coming so hard that she’d be back here again, over and over, begging me for more. And I’d give it to her.

I drop the hood and lie to her. “I can’t get to it right now, Grace. But I can look at her later today.” I can practically see her heart sink. She doesn’t want to sit around this garage all day waiting on her car. But I have a solution for that. “You need a ride home?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother you,” she says quickly. “I can call a car.”

“You could do that,” I say, stepping into her personal space, filling my lungs with her scent. I have no idea what the blend is, but it’s delicious. Mouth-watering. A thousand times better than oil and grease. “You could ride with some random weirdo, or you could ride with me.”

I guess technically,Icould be some random weirdo in her eyes at this point. But there’s something between us already. I can feel it.

The question is, can she?

She’s quiet for a long beat. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest as I drag my eyes up her gorgeous physique. I can’t remember the last time a girl came in here wearing a pleated white skirt and a matching blouse. In fact, I don’t think it’s ever happened.

She looks down for a moment, then nods.

“Okay.”

I call out to Craig, one of my employees, as I walk Grace to my truck. “Watch the shop for me. I’ll be back soon.” He nods, and his eyes move to check Grace out, but I caution him with a motion of my hand. He gets it, and quickly goes back to work on the brakes of the Toyota he’s been repairing.

I open the passenger’s side door for Grace. It’s an old beater with squeaky hinges and cracked seats. She deserves better, but she climbs in slowly, lifting her leg to reveal a glimpse of pink lace. Blood rushes to my cock as she quickly gathers the hem of her skirt, trying to keep secret what’s underneath.

I can barely move with my hard-on pressing against the fly of my pants, but I manage to climb in beside her and turn the engine on. The cabin of the truck is tight, and Grace is sitting close. The few inches of her bare thigh has me going crazy, and my hand is just screaming to grab her pale, soft flesh to mark her as mine.

“You don’t have AC?” she asks, fanning herself with a dainty hand.

I grin at her as I pull out of the lot. “Sorry. But you can handle a bit of heat, can’t you?”

She swallows hard. I hear it. I watch her throat move and am instantly filled with relentless fantasies of all the things I could do to her. I’m like a dog chained to a post; just one more jerk and I’ll be free, uncontrolled and going right for what I want.

We drive in mostly silence, with her giving me the occasional direction on how to get to her place. Finally, I pull up to a gravelroad with an old, wrought-iron gate, like something out of a Victorian castle. Yeah,definitelyold money.

“This is it,” she says softly. “Thank you for the ride.”

I put the car into park but don’t move. I turn and look at her.Reallylook at her. Her plump, pink lips just begging to be kissed. Her perky tits putting pressure on the buttons of her blouse. This girl can’t even be twenty years old yet.

She plays with the hem of her skirt, tugging it lower down on her thighs.

“Grace,” I say. My voice is lower and rougher than I intended. “Let me ask you something. Howgoodare you?”

Her eyes snap to mine, startled, wide and innocent. “Wh–what?”

“Because I’ve got a bad streak,” I murmur, leaning closer. “And it’s telling me to kiss you right now. But if I do, I won’t be able to stop. Not unless you force me to.”

Her mouth falls open, and she gasps. She should leap out of the car and run from me. But she doesn’t. She feels what I feel too. “But we–we just met.”

“You’re not a minor, are you?” I ask, my voice low.

She doesn’t respond immediately, and her lips are trembling. Panic grips me. Christ, what if she’s off-limits? Finally, she shakes her head and whispers, “I’m–I’m eighteen.”

My body relaxes. Thank God.

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