Seduce Me Tonight

Not that I hadn’t known what I was getting into when I married him. Mark had been recommended to me by my friend Hannah when my Mini Cooper had needed some serious work. He’d been so sweet and charming, I hadn’t minded the grease under his nails or the fact that he always smelled faintly of gas, oil and that harsh cleaner all men keep in the garage. I had even enjoyed hanging out and watching him work – watching the easy way he moved around a car, admiring his ass when he had his head under a hood. Mark was a manly-man and that had an appeal a girly-girl like myself couldn’t resist, even if he did take his work home with him. Or, in this case, drive his work home. I was trying to be patient, I swear I was, but a girl can only take so much.

The Mustang had belonged to his father and I knew there was no way he would part with it. And I wouldn’t ask him to. But we could afford another car so that the Mustang wasn’t his primary means of transportation. Mark wouldn’t hear of it. ‘A car is meant to be driven, not kept in a garage,’ he would say, repeating something his father had said back in the day when money was tight and there were five kids to feed. I tried to remind Mark that our financial situation was far better than his dad’s had been – and we didn’t even have kids yet to worry about – but my argument was as ridiculous to him as an automatic transmission in a sports car. It was enough to have me banging my head against a wall in frustration.

‘Well, why don’t you take a break and have lunch with me?’

Mark’s head had disappeared under the hood again. ‘Maybe in a few minutes,’ he mumbled. ‘Thanks, babe.’

Bang! Bang! ‘You stupid fucking –’

‘Right,’ I said, slamming the door on the cacophony of noise.

An hour later, when Mark was still a no-show for lunch, I gave up and ate my soup and sandwich alone at the kitchen table. Every weekend, Mark promised he’d give the car repairs a rest and every weekend, there he was, greasy and sweaty and cursing until all hours while I waited for him to return to the land of the living. It hadn’t always been like this. He used to put in a couple of hours on the car on Saturday morning and be done with it so that the weekends were our own. But since his father died a couple of years ago Mark seemed to spend more and more time on the car. At first I thought it was just his way of staying close to his dad, some sort of testosterone-fuelled grief process, but it was starting to feel like he was avoiding me.

Enough was enough. Either I needed an all-consuming hobby of my own or I needed to remind Mark that there was another kitten in his life in need of some attention. I didn’t want a hobby, though. I wanted my husband back. I decided it was time to bring out the big guns and stop waiting around for what I wanted.

Twenty minutes later, after some primping and a wardrobe change, I carried a sandwich and glass of iced tea out to the garage. Mark didn’t notice, of course, because his head was where it always was – buried under the car hood. I smiled, watching his bent head, blond hair tousled and a streak of grease along the back of his neck. His head would be buried some place else momentarily if I had anything to say about it. My confidence wavered for a moment. It’s not as if we’d just met and I could lure him with my pussy. Marriage had the effect of softening the edges of our lust. On the other hand, it had been a long time since I’d put this kind of effort into enticing him.

‘I brought lunch to you,’ I said sweetly. ‘Since you’re so busy.’

Bang! Bang! Bang! ‘Fuck!’

‘Honey?’

‘Thanks, babe,’ he said, not even looking up.

Not easily deterred, I put the sandwich plate and glass on his workbench and leaned against the car. ‘You really should eat something. It’s after three and I’m not making dinner.’

I didn’t know if it was the tone in my voice or the fact that I was in the garage for more than thirty seconds, but Mark finally looked up. Looked up and did a long, slow double take. Then he straightened to his full six-foot-two height and gave me a long, slow smile that made my toes curl in my four-inch shiny patent-leather fuck-me pumps. Even with the shoes, I was still several inches shorter than him. I felt a shiver of desire looking up at Mark, his broad shoulders straining the seams of his old white T-shirt. We’d been together since high school, but he still took my breath away.

I returned his smile and crossed my arms under my breasts, accentuating the low, low cut of my wispy white blouse and the fact that I was not wearing a bra. While his gaze hovered at my cleavage, I spread my legs slightly and watched the marionette-like shift of his eyes downward, to the denim skirt cut so short I was practically flashing him and the red heels that were a remnant from an ill-fated pole-dancing class I’d taken three years ago.

‘Going somewhere?’ Mark asked, though it took him three tries to get the words out.

‘Coming, not going.’ I licked my bottom lip, glistening with a lipstick appropriately called Sexy Harlot, and smiled. ‘I hope.’

I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have heard a 747 landing in the backyard at that moment. ‘Uh-huh.’

‘What’s the matter, sweetheart?’

He was trying hard to focus on my face and failing miserably. ‘Did I miss a holiday or something?’

I walked around him – enjoying the way he pivoted to watch me – and slammed the hood of the Mustang. I slid up on the car, feeling the cold metal against the back of my bare thighs. ‘Nope. No holiday that I know of.’

To his credit, he didn’t comment on how hard I closed the hood or on the fact that I was sitting on his ‘baby’. Maybe there was hope for him after all. The good thing about being together so long was that I knew exactly which buttons to push – and how far to push them – to get what I wanted. I might have gotten a little complacent with familiarity and my skills might have been a little rusty, but it was all coming back to me now. And I intended to make the most of every trick I had up my sleeve – or up my skirt, as the case may be.

Mark visibly swallowed when I braced my heels on the bumper of the Mustang. I wiggled on the hood, making a show of tugging at the frayed hem of my impossibly short skirt that I wouldn’t wear outside this garage. Normally, Mark would have gone nuts at the possibility of me scratching his precious paint job, but he didn’t so much as grunt a protest. I actually believe he might have forgotten about the car altogether. I bit my lip seductively and smiled. Chalk one up for feminine wiles and a neglected libido.

‘Do you think this skirt is too short?’

Mark’s gaze was riveted between my legs. He stared as if all the answers of the universe were contained in that shadowy space. ‘Too short? Um, I guess it depends on what you’re looking for.’

‘I’m looking for a little attention,’ I said, running a finger along my bare thigh.

At that, Mark puffed out his chest like a rooster, all gruff, masculine possessiveness. ‘From who?’

I lowered my eyelashes. ‘Hmm. Well, not you. You’re too busy for me lately.’

‘I see,’ Mark said. ‘This is a ploy to get me away from the car.’

‘Do you think that’s even possible?’ I crossed my legs, rotated my ankle and swung my red pump back and forth in front of him. ‘Can I distract you from your precious Mustang for a little while?’

‘I think I can spare a few minutes.’

Mark started toward me, his gaze fixed on the hem of my skirt and the sweetness it hid, but I wagged a discouraging finger at him. ‘Hold it one minute there, big boy. I don’t want a few minutes of your time.’

‘Huh?’

I tried not to roll my eyes. ‘Focus, baby.’

He finally glanced up at my face. ‘What’s up, Cat?’

‘You’ve been distant,’ I said, trying to keep the levity in my voice and still convey how concerned I was. ‘I miss you.’

Despite my tone, his expression closed down. ‘Sorry, I just need to get this car running –’

‘It’s not going to bring him back,’ I said gently.

He jerked like I’d slapped him. ‘That’s not why –’

‘Yeah, it is, honey. You miss him, I know you do. And you love this car almost as much as you loved him.’ I stretched out my hand to rub my thumb across the grease spot on his bicep. ‘I know that.’

He sighed, covering my hand with his own. ‘I can’t get rid of the car, Cat.’

‘I never want you to. But maybe it’s time to consider getting another car, huh?’ I shifted on the hood, the skirt sliding up another inch. ‘Take a break from the constant maintenance so we can enjoy the weekends together?’

He nodded. ‘Yeah, maybe it’s time.’

‘I miss you, baby,’ I said, putting all my longing and lust into the words. I was already wet, creaming at just the thought of him being inside me.

‘Your legs look a mile long in that skirt.’

And just like that, we shifted from serious conversation to full-on seduction. I was more than ready for it, and for him. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t planning on making him work for it.

I lay back on the hood of the car, braced myself on my elbows and placed my foot in the centre of his chest. ‘You’re not getting anywhere near me until you promise me some time.’

‘How much time do you want?’

Tugging at my skirt – up rather than down – I revealed a tiny, lacy navy-blue thong. ‘How much time have you got?’

I didn’t give him a chance to respond. He opened his mouth to say something and I hooked two fingers in my thong and pulled it aside. I watched his expression turn from amusement to lust. Bam. Just like that. Amazing what a glimpse of pussy will do to a man.

‘Damn. When did you do that?’ he asked, referring to my fresh Brazilian wax.

I teased him by running my fingers over my bare skin. ‘Two days ago. You might have noticed if you’d come to bed last night instead of staying out here with your car until I was asleep.’

I might as well have been speaking Latin. He could not take his eyes off my hand playing between my legs. Slowly, so he wouldn’t miss a thing, I slid one finger between the lips of my bare pussy. The purpose of this little exhibitionistic show was to get Mark hot and bothered, but I was so hot and wet I forgot about him for a moment and focused on pleasuring myself.

Dragging some of my moisture up over my clit, I gasped. ‘I’ve been doing this three or four times every weekend because you’re too busy lately. See what you miss when you’re working on your car?’

‘I’m seeing that.’ Mark wrapped his hand around my ankle and moved my foot from his chest. ‘But I’m not working on my car now.’

I kicked off my pumps and braced my heels against the hood of the car. ‘No, you’re not.

It’s nice to have your undivided attention for a change.’

‘You definitely have my attention,’ he said roughly. ‘I just wish you’d said something a hell of a lot sooner if this was the end result.’

‘Me, too.’

‘Damn, Catherine, I’m about to burst through my pants, you’ve got me so worked up.’

I smiled, noting his sizeable erection in his grease-stained jeans. ‘I see that. It’s about damn time.’

‘Yeah, it is, isn’t it?’

Mark moved closer, running his hands up my shins to my knees as I masturbated. He gently pressed my legs apart, until I was splayed across the hood of the car. Fully exposed to his view, I paused in stroking my clit to hold my labia open with two fingers.

‘Like what you see?’

Mark nodded, gaze riveted.

‘Want a lick?’

Again, he nodded.

‘Lick it,’ I demanded in a voice that didn’t sound at all like me but was, suddenly and passionately, all me. ‘Now.’

Mark wasted no time in leaning between my spread thighs and running his tongue slowly up the length of my pussy. He held my legs apart, pushing them up and back until my knees nearly touched the hood of the car. I was fully exposed to his gaze – and his questing mouth – but I needed more. I felt open, empty … and I wanted to be filled.

‘Push your tongue inside me,’ I whispered.

I was never this demanding. I was the quiet type in bed, moving him where I wanted with a sigh or a moan or my hands. But we weren’t in bed – and the combination of my slutty outfit and being spread out on Mark’s car like some kind of porn star was making me bold. I felt as if I was waking up from a very long sleep, all these months of waiting for Mark to snap out of his grief, trying to be patient but just becoming more and more resentful.

I knew we still had some work to do and that it wasn’t all better just because I’d concocted a silly plan to seduce him. But maybe this wake up call of what we had – what we’d always had in good times and bad – was a much-needed reminder for both of us. I hoped so. And, judging by the way Mark was staring at me, teasing me by making me wait, I think he was hoping for the same thing.

I sighed as he finally fulfilled my command. His tongue was velvety soft between my juicy slit as he nudged the opening of my pussy before circling around my clit. He made figure eights along the thick lips of my labia, tormenting me mercilessly before dipping back into my wetness. I squirmed against his tongue, but had nowhere to go as he held me pinned to the hood. Not that I wanted to go anywhere. I was exactly where I wanted to be, even if it wasn’t the most comfortable place to be.

My smell – the sweet and salty scent of my wet pussy and the hint of floral perfume I’d dabbed on my thighs – aroused my senses as it blended with the musky garage smells of oil, rubber and sweat. I was out of my element amongst all this testosterone and grease, but I suddenly felt like I was the one with the power. I reached down and gripped Mark’s head between my thighs, pressing him into me as I ground against his mouth. The combination of the hard metal car beneath me and Mark’s silky tongue on my pussy was driving me closer and closer to release. I moaned, on the brink of orgasm, and heard my voice echoing off the concrete walls and floor.

Rocking my pelvis against Mark’s mouth, whimpering and gasping, so close to release, balancing on a razor’s edge between pleasure and tension. Then Mark slid two fingers into me as his tongue nursed my clit and I nearly levitated off the car as my orgasm spiralled through me. A gush of liquid heat trickled down my ass as Mark stroked my pussy, every nerve ending throbbing as I clamped my thighs around his head. I clung to him, hands and legs, until I thought I couldn’t take another second of contact. But he kept stroking me, licking me, drawing every last sensation from my sweat-slick body.

‘Enough, enough,’ I wailed, pulling his hair hard to get him to release me. ‘I can’t take any more. I’m too sensitive.’

Mark pulled back, an amused grin on his glistening mouth. ‘Enough? Are you sure? I thought you wanted more than a few minutes?’

Still trembling through the aftershocks, I pulled my knees together and put my hand low on my stomach. ‘I do. I do. I just need a minute.’

I closed my eyes, my thighs quivering from the exertion of being held apart. I heard the rasp of Mark’s zipper and a soft moan escaped my lips. Eyes still closed, I felt him anchor my legs around his hips and pull the crotch of my panties aside again. I felt like I was falling, sliding, helpless. I reached out for him and my hands caught in his T-shirt. Then the head of his cock was nudging my pussy, opening me to him. He slid up and dragged his cock over my still-sensitive clit, my thighs quivering anew as I went rigid beneath his silky soft touch.

‘Oh, God,’ I moaned. ‘Oh, God. That’s – I don’t know if I can take it.’

‘Relax,’ he soothed. ‘You’re so wet. I want to be inside you. I need to be inside you.’

And then he slowly pushed into me until he was buried inside me, filling me up in a way his tongue could only hint at. I moaned as I hooked my legs around him and pulled him down on top of me. I slid down the hood and was impaled further on his erection. Metal and flesh, hardness and softness, my body was ricocheting from one sensation to the next, need overruling everything. The need to be filled, to be fucked, to be held. I was so needy. And Mark was there to give me everything I asked for – and everything I didn’t.

He took his sweet time with me, as if he wasn’t as needy as I was, sliding out to the tip of his cock before pushing back inside me. The squishy sounds of my pussy seemed incongruous in the garage – illicit, naughty. Dirty. I clung to him, not caring if he got grease on my skin or sweat all over my delicate white blouse, caring only about how it felt to have him inside of me like this. I raked my nails roughly down the back of his T-shirt, rending the thin fabric as I urged him on. I wanted everything he could give me, as hard as he could give it to me.

‘More, baby, please,’ I gasped. ‘More. Harder.’

Mark thrust inside of me, again and again, the car’s shock absorbers setting me in motion as we bounced. I cried out again, not caring that my voice echoed off the walls and that the neighbours could likely hear. The thought turned me on even more. I was aroused again, as if I hadn’t just had a full-body orgasm. My pussy, swollen and wet, gripped Mark’s cock the way I held onto him with my body. Maybe it was because we were fucking in the garage or maybe it was the fact that I’d taken the initiative, but I couldn’t remember being this turned on in a long, long time. I could feel the promise of another orgasm building inside me and I rocked up to meet his thrusts, my clit rubbing roughly against his pelvic bone on every upstroke.

He slid his hand under my ass, giving me something softer to push against than the car hood. He raised me up as he fucked me, pulling me on and off his cock so hard I whimpered. The barest hint of pain only fuelled my passion and drove me higher. I arched my back, every muscle quivering in anticipation as he drove into me. So ready, so hot and wet … I felt as if I was coming apart when another orgasm crashed over me. He kept fucking me hard and fast, not giving me a moment’s rest from the unrelenting sensation of fullness.

Then he went still, buried inside me as far as he could go. I was still floating in a haze of orgasmic release, so it took me a moment to realise he was coming, too. But then I heard the telltale catch in his breath and felt the shift from need to release in the way he moved inside me. He pulled me up off the car then, his hands supporting me under my thighs, his cock so deep inside me I whimpered, both of us trembling as his cock pulsed inside my quivering cunt. I wrapped my arms around him for support and bit his neck hard, screaming against his salty skin. Rocking ever so slightly against him, I was rewarded with his guttural moan.

Slowly, he lowered me back onto the car and I wrinkled my nose at the cold wetness that assaulted the backs of my thighs. I squirmed to the edge of the hood to avoid it, smearing my juices as I went. He noticed and I expected him to be horrified. Instead, he threw back his head and laughed, the deep, satisfied laugh of a man well loved and well fucked.

‘I’m sorry, baby,’ he said. ‘I’ve had my head someplace else and I didn’t realise how far away I’d gotten until you showed me.’

‘I think I showed us both.’ I shifted uncomfortably. ‘And this has been fun, but maybe we should take it inside?’

He caught my wrist in his hand as I sat up. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘We haven’t even tried out the back seat yet.’

I laughed, enjoying the look of possession in his eyes as he pulled me toward him. ‘Are you kidding? Really?’

‘Sure, why not?’

I eyed the car with new appreciation. ‘And the front seat, maybe?’

‘Sure, why not?’ he echoed me. ‘If I can’t get her running right, I can think of a few other good uses for her. And they all involve you, naked.’

That’s all it took. I scrambled off the hood and was indeed sprawled naked in the back seat before he could get his pants the rest of the way off. I opened my arms to him as he folded his big frame into the car and pressed his body on top of me.

He sighed, sounding utterly content. ‘You know I’m never going to be able to look at this car again without getting a hard on, right? Maybe it’s better she doesn’t run any more – wouldn’t want to risk an accident because my dick is draining the blood from my brain.’

‘I’m sorry about the car, but you definitely know how to make me purr,’ I whispered, and nipped at his shoulder with renewed desire.

‘Good.’ He moved against me, rubbing against my wetness until I moaned against his shoulder, his cock slowly thickening against me. ‘Because that’s all that matters.’

Love and Lust

I had been in a few relationships, but never one like this. Never with someone who had broken down every wall that I attempted to build, who left me feeling raw and exposed and vulnerable. Vulnerable. Me. I was the one that had ended every relationship I had ever been in, but the idea of leaving Christopher was incomprehensible. It was love, I guess. Maybe I had never really been in love before. Maybe you can’t really know what it means to be in love until you meet someone who gets into your head and knows you better than yourself. It’s a scary thing, having no secrets, no way to protect yourself. You have to trust that the one you love also loves you back – and I wasn’t so sure Christopher did. That, more than the vulnerability, scared me. Not that he might not love me – I could live with that – but that he might be the one to leave me. I was the one who escaped from relationships first. I was the one to say enough was enough. But with Christopher there was no such thing as enough. I wanted more. And I wanted him to want to give it to me.

The doorbell rang and I responded like Pavlov’s dog. My breath caught in my throat, my nipples tightened and I felt a spasm low in my belly. It annoyed me, and to give him so much power over me seemed dangerous, but I had no real control over it. I didn’t give him anything – my body simply responded to what I felt whether I wanted it to or not. I was in love, damn it all to hell, and there was nothing I could do about it. And now my thoughts scattered to the wind because Christopher was here.

‘Hello, Laura.’ He dropped a kiss on my upturned lips as I opened the door. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m good. It’s nice to see you.’

We sounded like strangers at a cocktail party, but I knew I was only responding to his stiffness and formality. Despite the affectation that made him seem distant, it was almost too easy to imagine myself as his wife, welcoming home my tired spouse. That image gave way to a more likely one of the bewitching mistress, desired, yet disposable when the time came. Mistress wasn’t right, either, because it suggested a relationship we didn’t have. There was no wife waiting at home for Christopher. He was all mine. Except he wasn’t. The barriers he had broken down in me were always in place for him. He probed my vulnerabilities and urged me to let go, something he could never bring himself to do. At least not with me.

‘You look pretty this evening. I like your hair down like this. You look very different, relaxed.’ His voice dropped to a husky drawl as he pulled me close and tangled his fingers in my long brown hair. ‘I can see your breasts through your shirt, bad girl.’

I didn’t bother telling him that I had chosen the sheer blouse and forgone a bra for just that reason. He already knew. ‘Thank you, Christopher,’ I murmured, pulling away and reaching for the glass of wine on the table. ‘Do you want some wine?’

‘Of course.’

I felt like the exhausted prey at the end of a long cat-and-mouse chase. Except the evening had only begun. My hand trembled slightly and the wine sloshed up the side of the glass as I handed it to him.

I watched him while he drank his wine. He wasn’t a handsome man, not in the conventional sense. He was tall enough that he attracted attention wherever we went, but his face was angular, his nose prominent, and his often serious expression rendered him harsh and hawk-like. But he had the lean body of a runner and everything about him suggested movement even when he sat still. Watching his long tapered fingers manipulate the stem of the wine glass made me shiver. He was energy and power in one tightly controlled package and I longed to be the one to snap his control and experience that energy and power in its purest form. Or so I fantasised.