Huge Working Hero (Hard Working Hero 3)

“I'd say we are.” He opens his eyes wide. “That was fucking hot.”

“It really was.” My eyes drift to the sun in the sky. “We should probably head back now before it gets too late.”

“Yeah, I'd hate for your father to think his two girls have gone missing.”

“You can drive back. My father doesn't let me or my brother drive any of his cars. You might think they were his kids and not us.”

Brand chuckles as he climbs out of the car. I get out of the front and walk around to the passenger side. He holds the door open for me and closes it once I'm inside.

“This was fun,” he says as he starts the car back up.

“It was,” I agree, giving him a smile. I can still feel the heat in my cheeks and my skin is still buzzing. “I'm going to be wearing this smile all day long.”

“You and me both.” Brand pulls back onto the road and drives me home.

No one is back yet, which is perfect.

We part ways. Brand watches me until I get inside, then goes back to work.

He's still smiling. I'm still smiling.

And this feeling, this feeling is something I never want to go away.

But good things always come to an end. . .

4

Brand

“You sure you'll be able to handle it?” Mr. Klein asks.

He's leaning against his overpriced, gas guzzling SUV. He's spinning his keys around one finger and looking down at his phone. His hair is slicked back tight against his scalp, and he's wearing a dark blue button-up with light gray dress pants.

The man looks like he's going to an business meeting rather than away for the weekend to a car show. The big bulky watch on his wrist blasts a beam of sun right in my eyes. I blink away the blindness.

“I can handle her just fine, Mr. Klein.”

He jerks his head up and pulls his sunglasses down away from his eyes. “Her? You're still on that? It's just a car, Brand.”

He really doesn't get it. Wilson Klein isn't a true car guy. That statement is proof.

“Either way, sir, I'll be just fine.”

“And we don't have to worry about the engine? You're sure you fixed it?”

“Absolutely, she's good as new, maybe even better.” I slap the hood lightly. “I’ll put my stuff in back if that's all right?”

“Yeah, that's fine. We're full anyway with all the kids’ crap.”

“Crap?” Kelsie's little brother Seth snaps. “It's not crap, and I'm not a kid anymore, Dad, I'm seventeen. When are you going to get that through your head?”

“I'll get it through my head when you finally stop whining about school and acting like a man and not a boy. Don't think I don't know about your late night video games and immature stunts with your friends.”

Seth grumbles something under his breath, but I can't make out what he says. He throws a suitcase in the back, then hoists his backpack over his shoulder and climbs into the back seat of the SUV, slamming the door shut.

Mrs. Klein comes out of the house, rolling her suitcase behind her. The woman is dressed like she's going to a church service. A pair of pleated white pants, a purple blouse with small daisies that decorate the collar, and a pair of purple heels to match to finish her look. Her hair is cut short into a bob that's high in the back and rides down to her jawline.

I've never seen anything like this. Every car show or race I've ever been to, everyone is either wearing jeans and a t-shirt, with dirt stains and grease splats, or bikini tops and shorts that barely hide their asses. But this, this is all new to me. It's like glamping, but without sleeping in the woods at all. There won't be a fire at night or marshmallows. We're heading to a luxury hotel, where room service and tiny liquor bottles in small fridges are endless.

Kelsie is behind her mother, her suitcase in hand. She's in a thigh high yellow sundress with spaghetti straps and a big white belt around her waist. She has thong sandals on her feet and her hair is pulled up into a messy bun.

She looks beautiful as always.

Our eyes connect and we both smile. I can see it in her eyes. The memory of two days ago, the unbridled lust we let overtake us and how great it felt. She bites her bottom lip, smiling coyly. We're sharing the same moment, the same memory, the same feelings.

My blood runs hot, and my heart starts to hammer. I can feel her lips around my cock again, and how warm and wet her mouth was. The way her tongue slipped over and around my length, and how her cheeks went concave as she sucked hard.

She bats her lashes, then quickly darts her eyes away. Waving her hand toward her face, she fans herself as if she's trying to cool down. Her lips form a perfect O as she exhales and stops at the back of her father's car.