33. Wildflower

33

Wildflower

Start Running, Wildflower

The bell on the red door chimes as I enter the lobby of Ramos Automotive. Sophie, one of Everett's mechanics, greets me from the front counter. "Hi, Dahlia." She smiles, green eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Hey." I wave. "I'm meeting Everett for lunch today. Is he in his office?"

I begin to step toward the backend of the building where his office is located when she stops me. "No, he's actually still outside working on the reno for the ‘60 T-Bird." She runs a tan fingertip through the end of her dark ponytail. "He and Carlos both get so carried away with that thing. Can you believe someone just dumped it here?" she asks exasperatedly.

I don't know what a 60 Birdie or whatever the fuck she just said even is, so it's hard for me to relate to the shock in her tone, but I respond, "No, that's crazy."

She smiles at me like she can tell I'm full of shit, but she holds out her hands. "Here, hand me your boxes, and I'll set them in his office for you." Nodding toward the glass door behind her, she adds, "You can go grab him from the bay."

"You sure?" I ask.

"Yeah." She laughs. "You might be the only person capable of pulling him away from that car."

Everett's staff have gotten to know me over the last few months, since I come down here for lunch about once a week. He spends a lot of time in the office above Heathen's as well, since we have regular meetings there. I like coming down here when I want to get off the boardwalk, though.

I thank Sophie as I hand her the paper bag filled with sandwiches I picked up from Everett's favorite spot downtown, and then I enter the deck through the glass door behind the counter. A few of his other workers greet me when I pass by. There are three cars in the garage currently, all seeming to be at different stages of repair or maintenance.

Everett doesn't seem to notice my approach, but I see him on the far end of the deck, bent over the hood of an old, classic-looking, teal blue car. The Birdie, I assume. As I get closer, I notice his face is pinched in concentration, staring down into the hood. He's got an enticing gleam of sweat on his brow and neck. His arms are bare, straining outside the black cut-off t-shirt he's wearing as he braces against the side of the vehicle. His full-sleeve tattoos ripple beneath his weight, and I find myself clamping down on my lip to bite back a literal swoon.

I'm starting to wonder if Sophie sent me back here so I could get a look at this man in action, and if that's the case, I'm going to need to send her a thank you card.

As I reach the car, I lean against the driver side door. I'm fairly certain he didn't notice me walking up, can't see me from behind the hood. "‘Scuse me. Sir?" Hearing a smack and then a groan, I continue, "I'm looking for a mechanic. I'm in need of a full-service tune-up. You know, pipes oiled and rack lubed." Everett's head pops around the lifted hood, eyes wide. "Nuts. Bolts. Whatever." His brows are in his hairline as he stares after me. "There's something there. You get what I mean," I finish, fighting a smile.

The entire deck falls silent before echoing laughter erupts throughout the garage, followed by claps and whistles. Everett's look of shock slowly morphs into something resembling endearment, and finally, a smirk flutters across his lips.

"I'm not sure I do, ma'am." He rounds the front of the car, closing the distance between us. "You might have to show me."

"You askin' for a look under my hood?"

"Always, Wildflower," he rasps, snaking an arm around my waist and tugging me against him. He appears to be done with my little ruse, because his mouth falls on mine, hot, soft, and needful, like he hasn't kissed me in years.

I love playing this way with him. I used to be like this all the time, pushing boundaries and not caring who heard or stared or judged. Everett makes me feel that free again, but part of me wonders if he's attracted to this version of me—the one with a sharp tongue and quick impulse, the one who's experimental in the bedroom and likes to banter when it's just the two of us—and if he could truly fall for all of me.

The anxious, insecure mother. The woman who struggles with her body image and what she wants to do with her life. The girl with trauma, who will never stop questioning if she's good enough at anything she does and whether or not she deserves love.

I'm a lot to take on, and as much as I love flirting, laughing, and having fun with Everett, a part of me feels so sure that the rest of it will catch up with us eventually, and he's going to walk away.

I sigh against Everett's lips. "I brought you lunch."

"You're incredible." He smiles. "I completely lost track of time. Let me finish up here, and then we can head into my office."

I nod, and he steps back, resuming his former place at the hood of the car and picking up whatever tool he was working with before. I walk up next to him, watching his nimble hands move beneath a pair of thick black gloves.

His gaze is fixed on the vehicle, entirely focused, but he's addressing me when he asks, "What's got you all flustered, Wildflower?"

"You?" I say it like a question, waving my hand in his direction. "All sweaty and muscled and working on cars. You're like a walking, talking wet dream."

He smiles to himself, biting down on his lower lip. "You know that's not what I mean, cari?o ." Gaze still fixed on the car, he continues, "You got that faraway look in your eye after I kissed you that tells me you're overthinking."

"How do you read me so well?"

That stops him. His head snaps sideways, eyes finding mine. "Because I study you. Because I want to know you better than anyone else does. Because I want to give you exactly what you need, tell you exactly what you need to hear, without you having to ask. Mostly because I know you won't."

His gaze turns intense, eyes of molten chocolate rushing through me.

"I'm afraid that now you've had me, you'll realize I'm not worth keeping." The words tumble from my lips, because I can't hide anything from his surefire presence. I know he'd get it out of me, no matter how hard I'd try to fight. I know there's no point in that anymore anyway, because I always melt beneath his heated stare. "I'm terrified because now that the chase is over, I'm not going to end up being what you dreamed of in your head."

I expect Everett to do one of two things: he's either going to go soft, pull me against his hard and steady chest, and speak those insecurities out of existence with reassuring words, or, he's going to get frustrated with me. As he lets out an exasperated sigh and stands straight, I assume we're going with the latter.

"Better start running." He's still looking at me, his face entirely expressionless as he slowly brings one gloved hand to his mouth, taking it between his teeth and pulling it off.

"What?" I ask.

"I said," he takes off his other glove, tossing both on the work bench next to him, "you better start running, Wildflower." Grabbing the hem of his cutoff, he lifts it to his brow and wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead, providing me with a glimpse of his tanned, toned stomach. "When I catch you, I'm going to fuck all those doubts right out of your pretty mouth."

My jaw drops open. Butterflies flutter through my chest, sparks ignite in my stomach, and heat pools at the center of my thighs. Everett's face is entirely serious—stern, confident conviction in his features. He means every word he says. The slow rise of his brow has my blood racing through my veins, and suddenly, I'm turning on my heel and sprinting through the bay.

We'd been talking quietly enough that I know his workers didn't hear our conversation, and their confused faces as I run by them, dodging equipment and darting between vehicles, is confirmation. I hear Everett laugh roughly, his footsteps growing louder as he gains on me. I fly through the glass doors that lead back into the lobby, catching the eyes of several patrons and Sophie. "Dahlia?" she gasps. "Are you—"

I move around her, and her question is cut off as Everett barrels through the door behind her. I'm the one laughing now as her eyes bulge from her head. I run through the aisle of tires and toward the back of the building where Everett's office is.

"I'm taking my lunch break, Soph!" he calls, voice getting louder as he catches up to me. "Field any calls and don't let the guys bother me!"

Her laughter follows us as I reach his office door. I fling it open, trying to shut it behind me, but he's on my heels, catching the door and slipping inside. His office is small—desk at the center of the room, two chairs in front of it, a bookshelf where he keeps financial records and employee files against the back wall.

I spin around, backing into his desk until I'm leaning against it. His predatory gaze tracks my every movement from where he stands against the door, reaching behind him and turning the lock. The click of it sliding into place is deafening. I'm prey, and I've been caught.

"On your knees," he growls.

"Keeping your promises, huh?" I ask breathlessly.

"I'm a man of my word, Dahlia," he rasps. "I mean what I say, and I think you need to be reminded of that. So I won't ask you again. On. Your. Knees."

His tone is primal and electrifying, and I'm instantly lowering to the floor.

He steps up to me in two long strides. His gate strong and purposeful. When he stops in front of me, I lift my head, and my blue eyes clash against his brown ones, enough heat between them to light the room on fire if we stared long enough.

"Take off my belt," he commands.

My fingers shake, but I immediately comply, reaching for the hem of his pants. I slowly unfasten the leather and slide it through the loops of his black jeans, feeling the bulge of his raging cock beneath my palm. My mouth waters at the idea of having it in my mouth again.

As soon as I slip the belt off, I move to toss it on the floor beside me, but he reaches out and snatches my wrist. "We're not done with that." Leaning down, he presses a quick, hard kiss to my lips. "If I do something you don't like, you tell me, understand? Say no. Say stop. If your mouth is full," he smirks, "you tap me on the thigh twice. Yeah?"

I nod.

"Good." He kisses me again before pulling away and standing straight. "Now, wrap that belt around your neck." My breath hitches, curiosity and anticipation shooting through my core. "Put yourself on a leash and remind me what a good girl you are."

Heat explodes between my legs.

I take the end strap and slide it past the buckle, pulling it all the way through until the belt is tight around my throat. Everett's eyes are on fire as I hold the strap out to him in silent submission. He lets out a low groan, wrapping it around his fist and tugging me toward him.

With anyone else, this would be humiliating, but with him, it's fucking enticing. I want to be at his mercy. There is vulnerability and trust in acts like this, and knowing he's doing this for my pleasure, to help me let go, gives me faith in his control of the situation.

I want to explore like this with Everett, knowing that he's going to take care of me, guide me through all of it, pushing the boundaries together until we find new levels of pleasure than we could've ever imagined, that we'd never be able to find with anyone else.

"Take my cock out, Dahlia," he demands roughly.

I pop the button on his jeans, keeping my eyes on him as I slowly unzip and tug them down his thighs. His hardness tents his underwear, thick and long. I dip into the waistband, letting my nails tickle the skin of his hips, and he lets out a hiss at the sensation. I drag his underwear down his legs too, and his cock springs free, hard, throbbing, and already glistening with moisture. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth as my throat goes dry.

Part of me can't believe this is the same man who crawled across my bedroom floor and begged to fuck me. He stands before me now so tall, rugged, and masculine, arms straining, the tattoos on his hands flexing where he wraps the belt around his knuckles. Pulling tight, my throat constricts, and my mouth falls open, sucking in air.

His other hand snakes behind my head, fisting my hair and holding me still as he slides his length between my parted lips. He's hard and hot against my tongue, pushing in slowly until he reaches resistance at the back of my throat. I lower my jaw, suction my cheeks around him, and force him just an inch deeper. He's nowhere close to being all the way inside, but it's enough for him to let out a low, strained groan. The sound is like kindling to my skin, lighting my body on fire.

Everett's head falls back, throat working as his eyes flutter shut. I flick my tongue across his base and attempt to pull back, but he tightens his grip on the belt around my neck, causing me to choke and sputter. "Stay." I still myself, and he moves his hips away, until just the tip remains in my mouth, before thrusting back in. "Good girl." A feral smile accents his lips as he brushes a hand over the top of my head, pushing my hair from my face. "You're such a pretty little pet."

I can't help the moan that tears from my throat at those words. The sound vibrates along his length, and he lets out a twin noise at the feel of it. He keeps the reins tight around me and begins a punishing pace, fucking my mouth with abandon. I can do nothing but take it. The control he has over me sends a flood of arousal straight to my core.

Each time he pushes deep, he holds there until my lungs seize and my throat constricts at the lack of oxygen. Then, he moves again, allowing me to breathe. A string of curses fly from his mouth as he moves faster, harder, deeper. My eyes are watering, nails clawing into the flesh of his thighs. Everett drops his head, amber eyes searing through me, hazed with lust and passion and something fierce.

"You think the chase is over, baby?" he growls. "Fuck, no. I'm going to be chasing the high you give me for the rest of my life." He thrusts deep, pausing. "You're such a good girl for me, choking on my cock." I moan again, and his lips tick upward into the wicked smirk that sets my soul on fire. "I'm keeping you, Wildflower. You're mine," he rasps. " Se mia per sempre."

He picks up his pace, thrusting deep into my throat—roughly and with purpose. I hollow out my cheeks, sucking hard and wrapping my tongue around his length as it moves in and out of my mouth. "Fucking dammit, Dahlia," he moans. "I'm going to—" His eyes are bright as he stares down at me with that unspoken question.

I squeeze his leg, attempting to nod my permission through the grip around my neck. He pulls on the belt, forcing it even tighter, his fingers knotting in my hair and pulling tight. The sting is electrifying. My vision goes blurry, but I fight to keep my eyes open, desperate to watch him come undone, to watch him lose control.

"C–Coming," he grits out through clenched teeth, and suddenly, his body is spasming around me, cock jerking in my mouth before his release coats my tongue, shooting hot and fast down my throat. His thighs tremble beneath my palms as I swallow everything.

My mind still hazy and clouded, I think I may hear him whispering my name again and again, but by the time the belt loosens around my neck and his fingers leave my hair, the room is quiet. He pulls his cock from my mouth, and I lick the remnants of him from my lips as he watches me with hooded eyes.

Everett tucks himself back into his jeans before reaching his hand out to me. I take it as he hauls me to my feet and slides the belt off my neck, letting it fall to the floor beside us. "You're incredible, and I think I'm obsessed with you," he says, taking my face between his hands. "Was it too much?"

I laugh. "No. I liked it." Gripping his forearms and pulling him closer so that his mouth hovers over mine, I whisper, "But later, I'm going to walk you like a fucking dog."

He smiles against my lips. "Yes, ma'am."