Mine To Beg For

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POV: Caelen

I pulled into the lot twelve minutes early and sat there with the engine off. The bay doors were still open. I could see her boots under a blue sedan, the rest of her hidden by the chassis.

She didn't look up when my truck door shut and I walked in anyway.

"You're early," she said from under the car.

"Traffic was light."

"Liar."

I smiled at the undercarriage.

"You want me to leave and come back at the exact minute?"

"I want you to stop standing there looking useful when you're not." I crouched beside the front tire and waited. She rolled out a minute later, rag already in her hand, grease streaked across one cheekbone.

"You're early," she repeated.

"You already said that."

"I'm saying it again because it still doesn't make sense."

I took the rag from her and wiped the grease off her face before she could stop me.

My thumb brushed the corner of her mouth. She noticed.

"What was that?"

"Grease."

"I had a rag."

"Now you don't."

She snatched it back and pointed it at my chest. "Office.

Not the bay. I still have one car to finish."

"I'll wait."

"You never wait."

"I'm waiting now."

She stared at me for a beat, then turned and walked toward the office without another word. I followed. My hand found the small of her back as she stepped through the doorway.

Guiding her nowhere she wasn't already going.

I felt myself do it and still didn't pull away. She stopped just inside and looked down at where my palm rested.

"You're being weird again."

"I'm being polite."

"You're being handsy."

"Same difference."

She stepped back to let me in.

I closed the door behind me.

"What was that for?"

"Nothing."

"Feels like something."

She turned to face me studying my face.

"You're being off."

"I'm standing in your office."

"You're early and you're looking at me like you forgot how this works."

I closed the distance. My fingers brushed her hip before settling there, my thumb stroking the strip of bare skin.

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“Then act like you remember.”

I kissed her.

She met me, lips already parted, one hand fisting the front of my shirt.

None of this was new.

I’d wanted her exactly like this from the first night, her refusal to soften, and the precise weight of her body when she stopped arguing and let me take her.

I’d just kept that want on a leash, but tonight the leash wasn’t holding.

I backed her up until her shoulders hit the wall. My hands slid under her coveralls, spreading over the heat of her back, then up, tracing the line of her spine.

She made a low sound and arched into me.

I kissed her jaw, her throat, the hollow at the base of her neck, lingering longer than necessary.

Every second I stayed made it harder to leave.

"Caelen."

"Mm."

"You're stalling."

"I'm not."

"You are."

I pulled the coveralls down.

No bra. I took one breast in my hand, thumb circling the n****e until it tightened, then bent and took it into my mouth. She hissed through her teeth and threaded her fingers into my hair, holding me there.

I sucked harder, teeth grazing just enough to make her hips push forward against me.

My other hand shoved her coveralls and underwear down together. She kicked them free. I slid my fingers between her legs and found her already slick. "f**k," I muttered against her skin.

I pushed two fingers into her and watched her head tip back against the wall.

She was tight, hot, clenching around the intrusion like she was already chasing more. I worked her slow at first, curling against the spot that always made her breath catch, then faster when her thighs started to shake. Her hand tightened in my hair.

I kept going until her free hand gripped my wrist and pulled me deeper. "Inside." she ordered.

"Now!"

I freed my d**k, lifted one of her legs, and thrust up into her in one hard stroke.

She cried out and locked her ankle behind my back. I stayed buried for a second, forehead pressed to hers, feeling every inch of her gripping me. The control I usually kept was already fraying. I could feel it in the way my hips refused to pull back right away, and my hands held her like she might disappear if I loosened my grip.

"Move," she said.

I moved. I f****d her against the wall in deep, rolling strokes that forced a sound out of her every time I bottomed out. Her nails dug into my shoulders through the shirt I still hadn't taken off.

I shoved it up so I could feel her bare chest against mine and kept thrusting, chasing the exact angle that made her go quiet and tense. When she came it was sudden, her legs were shaking around my waist. I held her through it, still moving, dragging it out until she went soft and loose in my arms.

I didn't come yet.

I carried her into the office bedroom instead. She made a noise of protest that turned into a laugh when I dropped her on the mattress and followed her down. I stripped the rest of my clothes off while she watched, then settled between her thighs and pushed back into her slow. This angle was deeper.

She arched under me and I gave her everything I had; long strokes that made the bedframe knock the wall, then shorter, grinding ones that kept me pressed tight against her c**t.

My mouth found her neck, her collarbone, the soft skin under her ear. I couldn't stop tasting her. Every time I thought about pulling back and finishing, my body refused.

"You're different tonight," she said, with a rough voice.

"No."

"Yes."

I kissed her quiet and reached between us, thumb caressing her c**t while I kept thrusting.

She came again with my name in her mouth this time. The sound wrecked whatever was left of the leash. I followed hard, burying myself to the hilt and spilling inside her with a groan. My whole body collapsed.

I stayed locked against her, breathing hard.

We remained in that position, all sweaty. Her heartbeat slowed under my chest. Mine took longer.

I should have pulled out, rolled over as usual and left. That was the pattern. Instead I stayed inside her, face pressed to the side of her neck, one hand stroking idle lines down her side.

The clock on her nightstand was visible.

I watched the minutes tick past the time I normally walked out the door. Ten minutes over. Fifteen. I still didn't move.

"You're heavy," she murmured.

"You're warm."

"Get off me."

I kissed the corner of her mouth and eased free.

She stretched under me, unselfconscious, and reached for the sheet. I still did not leave, instead I stretched out beside her and pulled her back against my chest, and locked my arm around her waist.

She let me do it without comment.

Twenty-five minutes over.

“You’re still here,” she said.

“I noticed.”

“You never stay.”

“I’m staying now.”

She was quiet for a stretch. My hand kept moving over her stomach, her hip, the soft skin of her thigh. I felt every pass of my palm like a decision I couldn’t take back. Tonight I couldn’t remember how to put it back under control.

Thirty-five minutes.

She shifted enough to look at me.

“You’re being off,” she said again.

“I know.”

“You going to tell me why?”

“Not yet.”

I finally sat up and reached for my clothes, the absence of her skin against mine felt like a physical cut. I dressed slower than usual and she watched me from the bed, sheet pulled to her chest with an expression that read: 'what the f**k is going on with this guy.'

“Same time next week?” I asked.

“You’re the one who can’t keep a schedule.'

“I’ll see you Tuesday,” I said.

I left before she could answer.