La Puerta del Garaje

I saw him the moment I walked in, leaning against the workbench with a beer in his hand, and the air in the garage changed. Not the stale oil-and-sawdust smell, but something electric that tightened my skin under my dress. The office party had spilled out of the house into the converted garage, fairy lights strung across the rafters, a cooler in the corner, and Leo, the regular who'd been ordering coffee from me every morning for six months, watching me with those dark eyes that always lingered a second too long.

"Maya," he said, and his voice was low, cutting through the chatter. "Didn't peg you for the office-party type."

"Didn't peg you for the guy standing in a garage at his own company party," I shot back, and he laughed, that warm rumble I'd memorized from across the counter.

The others drifted away, drawn by a loud argument about football near the grill. Leo set his beer down and closed the space between us, his hand finding my hip like it belonged there.

"I've been thinking about you," he said, his thumb tracing the curve of my waist through the thin fabric of my dress. "Every morning. The way you bite your lip when you pour the foam."

"Leo..." I started, but his other hand came up to cup my jaw, and the word died in my throat.

"You don't want me to stop," he said, and he was right.

His mouth found mine, and it wasn't gentle. It was hungry, demanding, his tongue sliding against mine as his hand dropped to my ass and squeezed hard enough to make me gasp against his lips. I felt his cock pressing against my thigh through his jeans, thick and insistent, and I ground against it, needing more.

"Fuck," he breathed, pulling back just enough to look at me. "I've wanted this for so long."

"Then stop talking," I said, and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him toward the back wall where a stack of old tires created a shadowed corner away from the party noise.

He pushed me against the wall, his body pressing into mine, his hands already under my dress, sliding up my thighs. "No panties?" he asked, his fingers finding me slick and ready.

"I knew," I admitted, and he groaned, pushing two fingers inside me without warning.

I cried out, my head falling back against the cold concrete as he worked me, his thumb finding my clit and circling it with brutal precision. "God, you're so wet," he said, his voice rough. "You've been thinking about this too."

"Every—" I gasped as he curled his fingers. "Every damn morning."

He pulled his hand away and I whimpered at the loss, but then he was unfastening his jeans, and his cock sprang free, thick and hard, the head glistening with pre-cum. "I need to be inside you," he said, and it wasn't a question.

"Yes," I breathed. "Now."

He lifted me, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, the rough denim of his jeans scraping against my thighs as he positioned himself at my entrance. He held there for a moment, just the head pressing against me, and I could feel him shaking with restraint.

"Look at me," he said, and when I did, he drove into me in one brutal stroke.

I screamed, a sound I'd never made before, as he filled me completely, his cock stretching me, claiming me. He didn't wait, didn't give me time to adjust. He started pounding into me, his hips slamming against mine, the wall scraping my back with every thrust.

"You feel—" he grunted, his forehead against mine. "So fucking tight."

"Faster," I begged, digging my nails into his shoulders.

He obliged, his rhythm turning savage, each stroke hitting that spot inside me that made my vision blur. I could hear the wet sounds of him driving into me, the slap of skin, my own desperate moans that I couldn't control.

"I'm close," I gasped, my walls clenching around him.

"Cum for me," he commanded, his hand sliding between us to pinch my clit. "Now."

The orgasm crashed over me like a wave, my body convulsing around his cock, and I felt him swell inside me before he buried himself deep and spilled his hot cum into me with a ragged groan.

We stayed like that for a long moment, both breathing hard, his forehead resting against mine. Then he lowered me gently to my feet, and I felt his cum leaking down my thigh.

"Jesus," I whispered, my legs shaking.

He laughed softly, tucking himself back into his jeans, then caught my hand and pulled me close, kissing my forehead. "So," he said, his voice warm and teasing now, "the coffee's going to taste different tomorrow morning, isn't it?"

"Maybe," I said, smiling despite myself. "Or maybe I'll just have to find another reason to come by your office."

"I have a garage," he said, and his grin was pure sin. "And a lot of tools that need organizing."

CATEGORIES: [In the Garage, Office Party, Rough sex, Waitress, Creampie]