Dirty Deeds (Mechanics of Love #3) by Megan Erickson

Author:Megan Erickson [Erickson, Megan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Humor & Satire, Humorous, Romance, Contemporary, New Adult & College, Romantic Comedy, General Humor
ISBN: 9780062407771
Amazon: B00US2K4TC
Barnesnoble: B00US2K4TC
Publisher: Avon Impulse
Published: 2015-12-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

THEY WERE A mile away from the restaurant before Spencer could find humor in the situation. After the tension of their conversation, and the kiss that had blown his mind, he needed to release some steam. He started to laugh and Alex joined in with him. “So, that was bloody awkward.”

“I was about to take off my dress.”

Spencer nearly swerved off the road. “In the car?”

“You said a bunch of amazing things that made me want to get naked, okay? Quit being nice and stuff and I’ll keep my clothes on.”

Oh, well, that wouldn’t do. “Alex, you are the hottest woman to ever wear coveralls and hold a tire iron.”

Her eyes shifted to the side, and she hesitated for a moment. Spencer held his breath, then she pulled down the straps of her dress so they hung loosely on her arms. “Yes?”

This was incredibly unsafe, but at that moment, Spencer didn’t give a rat’s arse. “Your breasts are a work of art.”

She laughed and shimmied the top of her dress down to her waist, revealing a black lace bra.

“Oh, Christ,” he muttered.

“You like it?”

“Don’t ask questions you know the answer to.”

She hummed under her breath, entirely too pleased with herself, and stretched her arms over her head, glancing at him from under her lashes. “Tell me more, Posh.”

He swallowed. “Being inside you was the closest I’m sure I’ll ever get to heaven, especially since I’ll probably crash this car in the next five minutes and kill us both.”

She lost the sex-kitten look as she doubled over and cackled. “Oh, shit, Posh, that was a good one.”

“Yeah? What do I get for it?”

In a flash, she took her dress off. She now sat in the passenger seat, on his black leather seats, in a set of black lace lingerie that made his mouth water. “Sprite, you’re killing me.”

“Guess we’re both going to hell then.” Her fingers ran along the tops of her breasts, along skin that had pebbled into goose bumps from her wet dress, then her hand slid down her torso, over her hips, and then along the crease of her thighs. “God, I need you so badly, Spencer.”

He gripped the steering wheel harder and worked on breathing properly. “Sprite—”

“When we get to my apartment,” she said, those fingers now slipping under the top of her panties, causing Spencer to think he was going to hyperventilate, “I’m going to put on your jacket. And you’re going to follow me into my apartment knowing that I’m only wearing this under it.” Yep, he was going to go into anaphylactic shock. “And then once we’re inside, you’re going to sit on the chair in the living room. And I’m going to dance for you. I’m going to enjoy it. And so are you. And then I’m going to get naked. And then I’m going to take off your clothes, straddle you, and ride your cock until we both come.” She moaned as her fingers moved under that thin fabric. “Because we both deserve it.

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