For the First Time: Twenty-One Brand New Stories of First Love (31 page)

He opens my door for me, guides me into the sports car, walks to the driver’s side, fills the seat beside me. “What are the numbers?”

I gaze at him. “You want to work?”

All I can think about is what we’ll soon be doing, how he’ll touch me, stroke into me, fill me. My ass twitches, my skirt pulling tightly across my hips.

Drift’s gaze flicks to my bare legs and then returns to my face. “Fuck, no. I don’t want to work. But we have to.” He starts the car. “That’s an expensive toy we bought today.”

He drives. I retrieve the sales numbers for the day, recite them. My boss asks more questions. I find the answers.

Too soon, we pull into my driveway. Ahmed, one of my neighbors, is watering the strip of grass separating his pavement from mine. He stares at the Ferrari, his brown eyes as round as the car’s wheels.

I own a tiny one-bedroom townhouse, wedged between two larger units, situated in the suburbs of Toronto. Residents drive beat-up Toyota Corollas, not expensive sports cars. Drift’s visits to my home create an excitement in our neighborhood rivaled only by the visit of the ice cream truck. Within minutes, a group of kids will be gathered around the vehicle.

Ahmed will stand guard. He’s a father of three girls, dotes upon all of his children, and is also extremely protective of me, a woman living on her own, without parents to watch over her.

He’d whack Drift over the head with a shovel if he knew what we were planning to do.

My boss, oblivious to the possible danger he’s in and to the attention he’s drawing, helps me out of his car and walks me to my door. My nervousness escalates with each step. I fumble with my keys and let him into my home.

“Do you want a drink?” I do. I need something heavy on the alcohol to calm me down.

“Fuck, no.” Drift folds his fingers over mine. “We’re not delaying this.” He pulls me toward the attached garage.

“But.” I gaze over my shoulder. Shouldn’t we be heading to the bedroom? “But—”

“No buts, Wrench.” He flicks on the lights.

Bugs, my baby-blue Volkswagen Beetle, dominates the small space. My car isn’t one of those modern Beetles. It’s a classic, older than I am.

Drift jokes that it’s held together by bumper stickers. Some of them I applied. Some of them I inherited from its previous owners.

He also calls it Slug and refuses to drive his sports car behind it when we travel separately to off-site meetings. He fears the roof will fly off and land on his beloved vehicle.

My boss might constantly ridicule my car, but he spent three days locating a hard-to-find part for it when it broke down last year. He devoted a full weekend to soundproofing my garage so I could work on my car late at night without disturbing my neighbors. The fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror are also a gift from him.

He leads me toward the car he loves to hate on. “We’re doing this.”

“Here? Now?” I hadn’t pictured my first time happening in a garage.

Though that
is
appropriate. Cars are a huge part of our lives.

“Yes, here and now. It’s worthless.” Drift pats the rounded hood. “I’m surprised you held onto it this long.”

That’s harsh. My face heats. “My mom said I shouldn’t give it away to just anyone.”

“Your mom wanted you to hold on to it?” His voice softens. He knows about my mom, that her loss sticks with me.

I nod. “It was one of many things she told me to do.” She had tried to squeeze a lifetime of parenting into the last few months we had together.

“Oh, Cassie.” Drift draws me into his long, lean body, hugging me tightly to him. “I didn’t realize that.”

He sweeps his hands up and down my back, caressing from my shoulder blades to my ass. I snuggle into his solid form, swiveling my hips against his, slipping my palms between his jacket and his dress shirt. Drift shudders. The muscles over his abdomen ripple under the fabric.

He hardens, the length and width of him almost daunting, pressing against the confines of his suit pants. My boss wants me. I tremble, this knowledge setting my own passions alight.

I undulate against him, teasing Drift with my entire body, brushing my breasts against his chest and my mons against his groin. His grip on me intensifies and I smile against his shoulder. I might be a virgin, my pussy and ass having never known a cock, but I’m not fresh off the lot. I can please a man.

“Wrench.”

“Drift.” I look up. His eyes are black with desire, his lips flat. I pull on his shoulders, trying to lower those lips to my level.

He doesn’t move.

“Kiss me,” I find the courage to demand.

“I won’t be able to stop at one fuckin’ kiss.” Drift’s voice is a low rumble. I feel every word in my bones. “If I take your mouth, I’ll take all of you. It’s everything or nothing with me. You know that.”

I do know that. His driving is indicative of the way he lives his life—he’s either at a complete stop or moving at full speed. “Then take all of me.”

“Fuck, Cassie.” He shakes. This is how much he needs me. “You don’t understand. We’ll end this kiss with me balls deep in you. You’re not ready for that.”

“I’m ready.” I’ve been ready for months.

Lines etch around his mouth. He doesn’t believe me.

“I want this.” I wiggle against him. “I want you. I ache for your kiss, for your touch.” I lower my voice. “For your cock.” I gaze up at him. “Don’t you want me?”

“I want you with every cell in my body.” Drift’s eyes glitter.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“Fuck. I don’t know anymore.” He hesitates for one more heart-twisting moment and then crushes my lips with his, the force of his kiss driving my head back.

I gasp. He plunges his tongue into me. This isn’t a casual embrace. It is a claiming of territory, a brutal, hungry branding of ownership.

I cling to his shoulders as Drift ravishes my mouth again and again. He tastes of mint and desire and I moan softly, wanting more, more, more.

He gives this to me, walking me backward until I bump against the hood of my car. Drift cups my ass and lifts me onto the metal. I spread my legs and he fills the space between my thighs with his hips, this action pushing my skirt up to my waist.

His pants-covered cock connects with my panty-clad pussy and we both groan, the contact deliciously intense, fantastically right. This is where he belongs, where he has always belonged.

Drift rubs against me, drawing more moisture from my core. Our tongues twine and tumble.

I knew it would be like this between us—as thrilling as a high-speed lap around the track, our wants and needs accelerating with each touch.

When this is done, a part of me will be left on the pavement, but I can’t, won’t, stop, not until I reach the finish. I arch against him, my nipples taut, my breasts aching for his hands.

“Cassie.” Drift pushes me back on the hood of the car. “Cassie.” He licks over my chin, down my neck, his mouth hot against my skin.

He reaches the neckline of my blouse, nudges the fabric over my shoulders as far as it can go. My boss looks down at my exposed skin and frowns.

“That damn harness hurt you.” He traces the red marks with his tongue, as though trying to ease my pain. “I’m sorry, Wrench.” He scatters light kisses over me. “I’ll take better care of you in the future.”

Drift continues to undress me, unfastening each tiny button on my blouse one by one, his progress slow and careful. My heart turns to mush because I know how much this costs him. My always-in-a-rush boss never waits for anything.

Once he has finally undone all of the buttons, he parts the flimsy fabric and gazes down at me.

“You’re supple and sleek.” He covers my white lace bra with his much larger hands. “Curved in all the right places.”

I bask in his compliments. “You like that?”

“I love that.” He flexes his fingers around my curves and releases, flexes and releases. “You’re a custom, one-of-a-kind vehicle.” Drift’s eyes glow with appreciation. “Designed especially for me.”

“Then drive me.” I grip his forearms, holding onto him. “See what I can do.”

“I’ll rev your engines, make them purr.” He bends his dark head and nibbles along my collarbone, tormenting me with his lips.

I pull on the cups of my bra, needing his palms on my nipples. Cool air sweeps over my skin. His skin meets mine and my eyelashes flutter, pleasure rippling over me. “Drift.”

“You’re so beautiful.” He nuzzles against my right breast, the hint of stubble on his chin leaving a trail of exquisite heat across my chest. “I’ve wanted to do this for years.”

He’s desired me for that long. I glow with happiness. “I’ve wanted you to do this for years.”

“During our first interview, I was one pert reply away from pulling you over my desk and licking you all over.” Drift laves my curves with the flat of his tongue, escalating my bliss. “I thought that might scare you so I did the next best thing.”

“You took me to the track.”

“And that made me want you even more.” He nips at my skin and I wiggle. “You looked positively orgasmic. I have never seen anything as arousing as your expression after that first drive.”

“I almost came,” I confess. “It was so—”

He flicks my nipple, pleasure races across my chest, and my brain empties. All I can think about is him, his hands, his mouth, his tongue.

I don’t want this to end.

D
rift shows no
signs of ending our encounter soon. He licks and nips and worries my breast into a frenzy of feeling.

Oh, Christ. My eyelashes flutter. My boss’s tongue on my nipple feels divine.

He covers the taut peak with his hot mouth and sucks. I cry his name, levitating off the hood of my car, pushing my body against his.

He tugs and lets go, tugs and lets go. I throb to this tempo and sink my fingers into his thick black hair. He mumbles his approval. I hold him to me as he works my right breast with his lips, my left breast with his fingers.

God, I could come from this alone. My form is stretched tight with desire, ready to snap. “Drift, I need.” I don’t know what I need.

“Don’t come, not yet.” He clamps my nipple between his lip-covered teeth and pulls, extending the sensitive flesh. A whine escapes my mouth. It’s too much, too good.

He releases my nipple and my pleasure subsides. I growl, expressing my frustration.

The bastard laughs. “I’ll give you release soon.” He skims his lips over the hollow between my curves and repeats this erotic torture, teasing my breast, heating my blood to the boiling point, making me crazy with wanting.

I wiggle my ass. “I need release now.”

“I’ve spent countless nights, planning this course, Cassie.” Drift straightens, his expression stern. “Let me take the wheel.”

He curls his fingers over the waistband of my bikini panties and draws them down over my thighs, legs, ankles. The white lace is flung over his right shoulder and he gazes at me.

I’m sprawled over the hood of my car, half naked and completely exposed. My boss peruses me, slowly, his keen eyes noting the deepened color on my nipples, the strip of brunette hair over my mons, the drops of moisture on my pink pussy folds.

This image can never been unseen. Drift might view our encounter as casual sex, as a means to help his assistant ‘dispose of an unwanted asset’ but I realize it will change our relationship forever.

On Monday morning, when he calls me into his office, he’ll remember me like this. Will he treat me with respect, with professionalism? Can I view him as my boss and nothing more?

I don’t know.

Fuck. I could be losing both my virginity and my job today.

The damage is already done. I take a ragged breath, count to five, and expel it. We can’t flip this into reverse. We can only drive forward. “Take me, Drift.” Before I chicken out.

“I’ll take you soon.” He inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring. “Fuck. You smell good.” My boss cups my ass, raising my body. “First, I have to taste you.” He lowers his head and licks me from ass to clit.

I’m primed for release and his touch sets me off. I scream, losing my fuckin’ mind, bucking upward, pleasure shattering me.

Drift’s grasp on me intensifies. He sucks and slurps and licks, sweeping his tongue over my feminine folds, plunging the tip into my virgin entrance.

I test his mastery of my physique, twisting and writhing, fighting for freedom, not truly wanting to escape. This is where I yearn to be, in my boss’s hands, his mouth on my pussy, bliss rushing over me.

I come and come and come, giving him everything I have until there’s nothing left and then I slump on the hood of the car, drained, lifeless, sexually sated. “Drift. Drift. Drift.” His name is all that I’m capable of.

“You’re delicious, Cassie.” His tanned cheeks glisten with my pussy juices. “And you’re so fuckin’ soft.” He shrugs out of his suit jacket. “I have to feel your skin against mine.”

I lay back and watch him as he undresses. He removes his tie, dropping it on the garage floor, yanks on his white dress shirt, tearing the fabric into strips. Buttons ping against the car’s metal body.

The man is fit, his pecs flat and defined, his abs a cascade of muscle. A tribal tattoo flows down his left side, the black ink vivid against his golden skin.

I glimpse a familiar silhouette encased in the design and my breath hitches. “You have a pipe wrench hidden in your tattoo.”

I reach out and trace the handle, jaws, and teeth with my fingertips. He shudders.

“It’s the same shape as mine,” I whisper. “What are the chances of that?”

“The chances are damn good.” Drift unbuckles his belt. “I had it done after I met you.”

“Why would you do that?” I stare up at him.

“You’re a part of me, Wrench.” He unzips his dress pants, pulls the garment along with his boxer briefs to his knees.

He’s erect, long and thick and hard. Black hair curls around his base. His balls already hug his shaft.

I swallow hard. I might be a virgin but I have seen naked men, have held them in my hands, in my mouth. His size is intimidating.

“You can take me.” Drift reads my mind. “It’ll be tight this first time but I’ll go slowly and we’ll manage.”