For the First Time: Twenty-One Brand New Stories of First Love (32 page)

“You don’t drive slowly.” I hear the trepidation in my voice.

“For you, I will.” He moves between my parted legs, slides his shaft along my pussy lips, wetting his skin. “I’d do anything for you.”

Drift lowers his chest to mine and rubs against me, the friction against my clit diverting my attention. Our gazes meet and hold. I see the need in his dark eyes, feel his hardness. He desires me. This is undeniable.

And he has my mark on his body. Permanently. I flatten one of my palms over the pipe wrench tattoo. He wanted a part of me to stay with him forever.

Because he knows he’ll leave me.

Drift pulls back and prods my entrance, aligning himself properly. I tremble with anticipation, with an irrational fear and a boundless excitement.

I feel the same way when I sit in his passenger seat, preparing to test a new car. Except today, I’ll be the one driven. His hands will be on my body.

“Are you ready to go for a spin?” Drift’s voice is gruff with emotion. He knows this isn’t a casual fuck, not for him and not for me.

Part of me warns that we’re forgetting something, that we’ve missed a step. But this isn’t Drift’s first sexual encounter. He’s done this many times. I trust him to take care of me, to take care of us.

I ignore the voice inside my head and nod, unable to say the words.

He pushes into me. I gulp air and grip his shoulders, the fullness bordering on pain, the sensation unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. He sinks deeper, his broad cock head peeling my inner walls apart.

My boss, the man I’ve idolized and loved for years, is inside me. I struggle to breathe, my chest as tight as my pussy.

He bumps against a wall of resistance. “This will hurt.” I hear the misgiving in his tone.

“I can handle it.” I don’t want him to stop.

The corners of his lips lift. “I know you can.” He brushes those smiling lips over mine, his kiss enchantingly gentle and loving. “You’re one of the most fearless women I’ve ever met.”

Drift pulls back. This is it. I brace myself.

He thrusts hard.

Pain streaks through me, the agony splitting me into two. My spine straightens. “Motherfuck—”

Drift covers my lips, swallowing my curse, and presses down, pinning my body to the hood of the car. Time passes. The agony eases. A bit. It still feels like he has taken a stud welder to my woman parts.

My boss forges forward. I dig my fingernails into his skin, fighting the urge to squirm, to push back, to battle the sexual invasion. He strokes his tongue along mine, murmuring into my mouth, the words indecipherable yet comforting.

The desire to beat him into unconsciousness subsides.

His base presses against my feminine folds and the sensual slide stops. I have a cock inside me and not just any man’s cock—Drift’s.

“It’s done.” I’m no longer a virgin.

“It’s not done.” He grins. “It’s just beginning.”

I eye him with dread, not knowing if I can take more pain. “Tell me it gets better.”

“Yeah, it does.” His lips twitch. The damn man is laughing at me. “It gets much better.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Trust me.”

I trust him. He does know more about sex than I do. “Okay, but if it doesn’t get better, this is the last time we’re doing this.”

I realize what I’ve said and I stifle a groan. This is likely the last time we’re doing this, even if it does get better. He agreed to help me with my problem and that’s it.

I brace myself for his reply.

“You’ll love it. I promise.” Drift doesn’t address the possibility of a second time. “You were made for this.”

He rocks, the movement shallow and slow. This feels interesting. Not as good as the pussy-licking. Nothing could compare to that. But I like having this connection with him.

My boss nuzzles against my neck, his attention to this spot on my body making my fingers and toes curl. Wishing to reciprocate, I wrap my legs around his hips and run my hands up and down his back, investigating the indent near his spine and the power in his shoulder blades.

He must like this. His pace increases. I try to move with him. Our bodies bump together, knocking his rhythm off.

I curse. Drift chuckles and guides me until I find my groove, mentoring me in this as he has mentored me in other tasks, patiently, carefully.

“You’re perfect.” His eyes glitter, his praise feeding my confidence. “Hot and wet, tight and mine.”

Hell yeah, I’m his. I lift into his thrusts, meeting him halfway. Our bodies smack together, this time in a sexy way, heat radiating from the points of contact.

Drift grunts and drives into me harder. Passion blossoms to life within me, an echo of what I felt earlier, building in strength with each snap of his hips.

I squeeze my pussy around his shaft.

He jerks. “Fuck, Cassie. Fuck.”

“Do you like that?” I grin, enjoying the power I have over him.

“Too much.”

I do it again.

“Christ, have some mercy on me, woman.” Drift’s jaw clenches. “I’m trying to hold back.”

Shit, no. I don’t want him to give me a half-assed fuck, a mere taste of sex. “Don’t hold back. Show me what you can do.”

“This is your first time. It’s supposed to be slow and gentle.”

“If I wanted slow and gentle, I’d fuck a Volvo driver. I chose you, a man known for his need for speed.” I smack my heels against his ass. “Pick up the pace.”

“Fuck.” His eyes glow with admiration. “You’re fearless.”

He lowers his head and applies himself to the task at hand, riding me with a hood-bending vigor, pistoning his cock in and out of my pussy, smacking his balls against my skin. A sheen of sweat covers our forms. His musk fills my nostrils. Every muscle in his fit form strains.

I kick my heels against his ass after each thrust, urging him to give me more. I’ll be sore tomorrow. Hell, I’m sore today. My pussy is numb. But I will satisfy him, show him that I’m his match in this, as with all other things.

Not that this matters. I rake my fingernails over the tattoo of the pipe wrench on his chest and he hisses, a wildness lighting his eyes. He’ll remember this fuck and remember me, the ink on his skin assuring this, but he’ll eventually leave me, moving to the next woman, the next wet pussy.

That could happen tomorrow. This might be all I’ll have of him, this sex spree on the hood of my car. I gaze up at him, memorizing his handsome face, the set of his lips, the dimple in his chin, wishing this moment could last a lifetime.

My passion rises.

Not quickly enough. Drift’s shaft swells within me.

“Cassie.” His voice stretches with wanting. He’s trying to hold back.

There’s no need. He’s already given me the best orgasm of my life. It’s my turn to please him. “Come for me, Drift.” I clench my inner walls around his shaft.

Drift bellows my name and drives forward, filling me completely. Hot spurts of cum arc from his tip, splatter against my inner walls.

He grips my hips, pushes even deeper, maintains this pose for one, two heartbeats and then collapses, his weight flattening me. I hold him as he shudders, petting his shoulders and his back, relishing the feel of him inside me, on top of me.

“I was wrong.” Drift’s voice is edged with wonder. “Nothing on this planet is better than sex with you.”

Joy bubbles within me. I love this man. So damn much. And I’ll never forget this moment, not for as long as I live. “I would try this a second time.”

“Good.” His shoulders shake. He’s laughing at me again. “The next fuck will be even better.”

It won’t be better because the next fuck won’t be with him. Some other man’s cock will be inside me, his flesh pressing against mine, his cum filling my pussy.

“Oh shit.” My eyes widen. His cum is filling my pussy. “We didn’t use a condom.”

“I’m clean,” Drift mumbles against my neck. “I get tested regularly and I always use a condom.”

“Not always.” I wiggle. “You didn’t use one today.”

“There was no need.” He lifts his head and looks at me. “I knew you were a virgin.”

“I’m not on birth control, Drift.” I avoid his gaze, too much of a chickenshit to face his reaction.

“You’re not?” He sounds surprised.

“I’m not.” I wait, expecting him to curse, to yell, to gather his clothes and walk away from me. He’ll come back. Eventually. Drift might be wild as hell but he has a sense of honor that surpasses that of any man I know.

If I’m pregnant, he’ll do the responsible thing, be a great dad, support us financially. I have no doubts about that.

But I don’t want to be the woman to mess up his life. I don’t want to trap him.

Drift braces his body upward. “Are you saying we could have made a baby today?” He splays his fingers over my stomach.

“Yes.” I nod, watching him closely.

“Our baby could be inside you.” My boss doesn’t seem upset. In fact, he appears damn pleased, his expression smug. “We’ll buy a minivan tomorrow.”

I blink. “A minivan?”

“A blue one.” Drift kisses my belly button. “We’ll get a car seat for the Maserati too. It has a back seat.” He looks around us. “And I guess we’ll have to keep this piece-of-shit car. We can’t get rid of it now.”

I frown. “We’re not getting rid of Bugs.” I love my car.

“I knew you’d change your mind.” He shakes his head. “That’s why I wanted to dispose of it quickly.”

Oh, God. He thought my car was the unwanted asset I was looking to dispose of.

“It can be a starter car for our firstborn,” Drift decides. “He’ll grind the gears to shit while he learns to drive.”

“He?” My head spins. “Our firstborn?” I sound like a fuckin’ parrot, repeating everything he says.

“He or she. I don’t care about the sex of our baby.” He shrugs. “And yes, our firstborn. You want at least two kids.” Drift’s gaze returns to my stomach. “I want four. We’ll compromise at four.”

He has made this joke in the past.

At least, I thought it was a joke. Now, I’m not certain. “You’re not upset that I might be pregnant?”

“Oh, you’re pregnant.” Drift’s eyes gleam. “Our kids will be like me, always in a rush, never waiting for anything or anyone.” He looks upward and searches my face. For what, I don’t know. “You’re the only person I have ever waited for, Wrench.”

Drift waited for me. He is talking about kids, kids we’ll raise together. Perhaps, in time, he’ll grow to love me. My chest warms. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He draws me into his arms. “And, although the delay damn near killed me, you were worth it.”

F
orty minutes later,
we’ve moved from the hood of the Volkswagen Beetle but we haven’t left the garage. Drift sits behind the steering wheel of my car, the seat pushed back as far as it can go. I’m cradled in his lap.

Cleanup took an entire spray bottle of water and four of my brand new ultra-soft polishing cloths. Drift’s running commentary while he buffed my pussy folds made me laugh. I’ll never look at washing my car the same way.

Both of us are now as dressed as we can be. My panties were unwearable. We found them draped over a waiting-to-be-recycled used air filter. Drift’s shirt couldn’t be saved. His chest is bare under his suit jacket.

I gaze at my phone’s tiny screen and scan through our work messages. “Powers is asking if you want the space on the second floor.”

Drift rests his chin on my shoulder. “We’ll talk to him on Monday.”

That’s been my work-hard, play-hard boss’s reply to the last six messages. “The space is in demand. He could offer it to another tenant.”

“Then we’ll make do with the space we currently have.” He shrugs, unconcerned. “You must have rolled the odometer back,” he changes the subject. “There’s no way a car this old has that mileage.”

“The seller tried to pull a fast one on me, claiming it was driven less than it had been.” I toss my phone into the passenger seat. My boss is clearly not interested in doing any work right now. “The guy didn’t know my mom had once been one of the best mechanics in the city, that she taught me much of what she knew.” Cars were some of the many things we had discussed during her last hospital stay.

Before she died.

I glance at the faded photo taped to the dash. My mom is clad in grease-stained coveralls, a pipe wrench in one hand, a big smile on her face. She was so strong, so full of life and laughter. Cancer stole that from her.

“I wish I had known her,” Drift says softly.

My heart clenches. “I wish you had too.” My mom will never meet him, never know how happy he has made me, and that sucks. Big time. I cover his hands with mine. “She would have liked you.”

“Yeah?” He links our fingers and squeezes.

“Yeah, my mom would have loved you.” As I do. “Maybe not at first. She wasn’t a fan of sports cars. When you rolled up to the house in your Ferrari, she would have given you the gears, busting your ass about it.”

He laughs. “I’d expect no less. She
is
your mom.”

Is, not was. Drift understands that she will always be my mom, that her death didn’t change that.

I lean back, savoring the unrelenting strength of his chest, the comfort of his scent, his body heat. “You’d win her over with your driving skills.”

“And our garage.”

“And your garage,” I agree. “That would have impressed the hell out of her.”

“It impresses you.”

His garage does impress me. I remember the first time he showed me the dual level space. My billionaire boss bounced on the balls of his feet during that tour, so damn proud and excited, like a teenage boy exploring his first used car lot. I quickly caught his enthusiasm, having never seen a garage that large and well-equipped. It has every tool an auto mechanic could dream of.

And the cars, sweet mother, the cars. He has a collection that would make any gearhead cry, every vehicle in impeccable condition, not a scratch on their finishes.

Silence stretches.

Drift fiddles with the radio. The shit disturber is changing all of my presets.

I can’t complain. I did the same to him last week.

“Your mom didn’t believe in marriage.” There’s a hint of insecurity in my normally cocky boss’s voice.

“My mom didn’t believe in tying herself to another person, simply because it was expected by society.” She never told me who my father was. I suspect she didn’t know. “If she had fallen in love with someone, she might have married him.”