Dom swallowed, his tongue thick and dry as sandpaper, and drew a weary arm up in the close quarters, smearing oil across his skin as he swiped his perspiring brow with the back of his hand.
"Let," he barked, and waited, his back stiff from hour after hour on an unpadded creeper, until the well-worn combat boots of his woman were visible, toes just barely beneath the car. "Can you hand me that monkey wrench?" He listened as she pilfered through the giant red toolbox. Then she dropped to all fours and her face and long, slender arm appeared. She was as sweat-soaked and filthy as he was, had been working her ass off all day.
He looked at the proffered tool.
"Nah, Letty. The bigger one. The one I had before." She was not the source of his frustration, but he couldn't keep it out of his words. What was meant as a simple correction came across as a gruff reprimand, and Letty dropped the wrench she held beside him with an echoing clatter.
"Get it yourself," she said, and backed out from under the car, returning with dragging, lug-soled steps to the yellow Type-R she was detailing. He sighed and laid there, wanting nothing less than to roll out from under the car, stand up, locate the wrench, and go in again.
"Letty, I'm sorry. Please get me the other wrench."
There was an exaggerated sigh from the other side of the shop, and Dom let his eyes drop closed, the corners of his mouth drawing upward in a tired smile.
Letty chucked the other wrench in at him gently, muttering,
"Big baby."
"Keep it up," he warned with a grin, and she squatted near the Eclipse he was under. Showing nothing but boots, she jabbed one dirty little hand beneath the car and flipped him the bird. He laughed. Lightning fast, he caught her wrist and yanked it hard toward him. He saw her feet scramble for balance as she was pulled toward the car, and as he heard her front hit the passenger-side door, he laughed out loud.
"Let go, you fucker!" she exclaimed, muffled because her face was pinned to the sidepaneling, but there was weary laughter in those harsh words.
He let her hand slip from his, still grinning, and laughed as she pitched back onto her ass. It was the first humorous exchange there had been between them this whole, hellish week. He'd sent Jesse, Leon and Vince to Miami with a disgusting amount of money. There was an import tuners' convention, and he'd sent them in search of decals and rims. The DT shop needed to be restocked, and he wanted fresh flavor. Along with three of his four mechanics, he'd sent his younger sister, Mia, to babysit.
So, with the Stooges and Susie Homemaker gone, only he and Letty were left. She was the fourth mechanic, his right-hand man, and together the two of them had been fighting tooth and nail to meet the demands of the garage. Both the Acura and the Eclipse were scheduled for five o' clock pickup. It was two p.m., and Dom and Letty had been at the shop since four that morning. Thus far, everything had gone smoothly with both cars and they were in good shape.
A faint hint of a smile still lingering on his lps, he reached for the wrench and lifted it to use it, but he decided against it and let it clank back down onto the concrete. He wheeled out into the open air and grunted his way to his feet, kneading at the knot in his lower back, and he took a moment to just look at her.
Letty was squatting alongside the banana-yellow Acura Integra Type-R, smoothing on the black flame detailing with an almost loving caress. She wore a tight, dirty white ribbed tanktop, and blue plaid boxers peeked over the waistline of baggy ripped-to-shit cargos, which just barely hung on her slim hips. They were the hips he adored, hips that just loved to go. He felt a tight jolt in his lower belly. Yeah. Those hips were made for making love, could sink into any rhythm, fast or slow, and she was so damn flexible...
He grinned wickedly to himself. She didn't know he was looking yet. She was muttering the words to an edited rap song that had come on the radio, and she paused a moment, letting her silky black hair down out of its raggedy ponytail and pulling it back up into a neater one.
"Hey," he said softly, and she turned toward the sound of his voice, staring up at him with tired black eyes. "Breaktime."
Nodding briefly, Letty rose to her feet. Drawn by the nature of his glare and the tone of his voice, she approached him, and he smiled, almost shyly.
Busted, he thought. She knows exactly what you want, dawg.
All her smells hit him at once: grease, sweat, herbal shampoo, Secret solid, and the warm scent of her sun-browned skin. She slipped her hand into his, and he closed his great paw around it. Her turn to smile now, and she gave him a gentle tug.
"C'mon, Papi."
Dominic followed his Letty into the shop office, watched as she shut and locked the door and drew the blinds. They were expecting no one, but just in case...
He was dressed almost identical to her, he realized, as she peeled his wifebeater up and off of him and tossed it to the floor, then moved her hands to his waist, not taking her eyes from his as she unbuckled the large black leather belt, sprung free the button and dragged down the zipper. Dom let his arms hang at his sides and glanced over at the fold-out cot of a bed in the office's back room. He and Letty had been using it all week, but there'd been neither time nor energy to do anything but sleep on it.
Letty knelt at his feet and untied his boots, loosening the laces and tugging his feet out. She pulled off the thick white worksocks and slipped his pants and shorts down around his ankles. Kicking them aside, Dom now stood before her well and truly naked, and it was a beautiful feeling. The office was air-conditioned, and the cool, artificial breeze caressed his clammy, prickly skin as he set about baring Letty to his aching eyes.
She was the color of English toffee all over, half a shade paler on her breasts and bikini area where her suit hid her skin from the remorseless California sun. She was well-muscled but still feminine, with soft curves and a smooth, caramel-colored belly. He knew her body at least as well as he knew his own, and as he knelt before her, he rested his forehead against one of her silky thighs, freeing her little feet from the chunky black captivity of her boots.
When Letty was as naked as he was, he rose to tower over her and wrapped her in the giant security of his arms, delighting in the feel of her warm, moist skin, in her wiry form against his, and for a moment, he just held her. Nothing more. She was still, breathing deeply, hard nipples pressing at his chiseled abdomen, small hands holding onto his waist.
And suddenly, Dominic could wait no longer. He closed his hands on her ass and carried her to the messy, unmade little bed, easing her onto the mattress and kneeling between her legs. A gravelly moan made its way out of him as he caught the scent of her arousal, and he sat back on his heels, drinking in the glorious sight of her, naked and vulnerable, rosy-cheeked and spreadeagled, beautiful, his alone, and he wanted to give her at least as much as he wanted to take her. With a practiced hand, he reached between her satin thighs, parted her outer lips, and stroked her, slow and easy, intoxicated by the rise and fall of her delicate breasts as she breathed, the darkening flush of pleasure in her cheeks, the gentle opening of her pillowy mouth. And then her breath hitched and he twitched and he could take no more of the torturous foreplay.
Dom covered Letty with himself, propping up on one elbow and taking his cock in his hand, sinking into her with a depraved whimper of a sigh, easing in to the hilt. She was hot and wet and smooth around him, fit him perfectly; only he had ever been inside of her body.
Hungry hands clamped down on his shoulders, and he sought her mouth with his own as he began the familiar dance of thrust and withdrawal. Dom was slow at first, aware of his size and careful not to hurt her, but she wanted none of his caution, rocking those amazing hips insistently up to meet his, wrapping her legs around his thick, rock-hard middle, and soon it was an urgent, pumping frenzy, all but rhythmless, each of them careening head-first toward their own well-deserved, desperately-needed release.
They came together, bodies immaculately in sync, both crying out in weary shock at the power of the explosions within them. In the wake of the storm, Dom collapsed atop her, burying his face in the slick crook of her graceful neck. He breathed in rapid gasps, and her breaths jetted onto his shoulder and down his back, quick and jagged, as she clung to him.
They laid motionless, recuperating, for a long while, until their blood no longer boiled and they could inhale and exhale normally, and the two street beasts on the shop floor began to nag at them once more. Until the lust was gone and all they had left was the bone-deep exhaustion and the annoying sense of responsibility from before their delicious intermission.
Dom uttered a brief, rueful little moan, and Letty laughed breathily.
