Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 167257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 558(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 558(@300wpm)
That took fifteen minutes, and after I’d returned from the bathroom, I noticed that Jail Bait was still hanging around. She was with Roc and Tuesday at the reception and actually smiling, which I realized was my first time seeing her do so.
I found myself stuck as I drank in the sight of her through the panoramic window separating the workshop from the lobby until she noticed me staring, and her smile dropped.
Playing it off, I turned away and busied my hands by setting all my tools back in their place so they’d be easy to find for the next repair.
I should have known Atlas was young and not just another baby face as I’d hoped. Yeah, she was legal, but the sixteen-year age gap was still a huge turnoff. Personally, I preferred my women a little more seasoned. I had enough clinging to my dick as it was, and most of them were twice her age with twice the experience.
I still heard her words from earlier, spinning like a record in my head, about only having sex with people you liked. The last thing I needed was to get the new receptionist addicted to my dick and then be caught in the middle of some fatal attraction soap opera. It was out of the question.
I just had to stop picturing her naked first.
I didn’t do missionary, but Atlas had me considering slow-stroking her pussy while I stared deep into her eyes on some sucker-for-love shit.
I’d barely known her an hour, and already I was at war with myself. Instead of starting on the Ford now parked at my station, I was sitting in the driver’s seat, trying to picture the kind of man Atlas did like.
Probably someone square and lame, who let her walk around with his balls in her purse because he didn’t even know what to do that pussy.
Fuck this.
Pushing thoughts of Atlas away, I shook off my thoughts and plugged the OBD2 scanner into the white port under the steering wheel. It wasn’t like I would force myself into a skin that didn’t fit just to fuck one girl. There were too many willing pussies out there for me to bother with a fickle one.
I hadn’t figured out what brought Atlas here, but I didn’t need her life story to know she was sheltered. If I touched her, I’d ruin her. There was no doubt about it.
An hour later, I was finished with the Ford and still thinking about that damn girl, so I left my station and headed upstairs to Joren’s office. He was at his desk pouring over the new tickets that had come in.
Along with being a partial owner, he was the shop foreman, and since his pretty ass didn’t like to get his hands dirty that often, there was no conflict of interest.
“I need a job,” I told him without preamble. “Give me the hardest one in the stack.”
“Um…”
I impatiently waited as he flipped through the stack.
“A possible engine replacement just came through, but I already promised it to Jerry. He needs the practice.”
“Fuck Jerry. Give him the commission; just let me do the repairs.”
Joren paused at that since I never passed on money, but I needed the distraction before I finished what I’d started earlier and dragged our new receptionist into the nearest dark corner.
Now that the frenzy had lifted and I was thinking clearly, I knew that under no circumstances could that happen. Atlas worked for me now, and fucking employees went against the code that Joren, Roc, Golden, and I had unanimously agreed on when we first started the business.
It was a rule that had never come close to being broken before.
In a single morning, one naive nineteen-year-old girl rendered me incapable of rational thought. Atlas had thrown me into completely uncharted territory, and damn if it hadn’t intrigued me more. I couldn’t get the image of my blood around her pretty mouth and her feral gaze staring me down out of my head.
“Cool,” Joren agreed before handing me the paperwork.
I could tell he wanted to ask questions, but I snatched the folder and keys from him and left his office before he could. I returned to the workshop, and thankfully, Atlas was nowhere to be found. Roc was behind the reception desk, flirting with one of the customers waiting to be checked in, which meant Tuesday must have been giving Atlas the tour.
Pride of Kings had four levels, including the basement—where we kept inventory. The workshop was on the ground floor, the offices on the second, and the entire third floor was one big room we used for formal meetings and the occasional party.
I guess, in some ways, we hadn’t completely let go of our past.
Outside, I noticed Miller must have either come to or someone had scrapped his ass off the ground, so I called the towing company we kept on call to put a boot on his car in case the ass whooping hadn’t knocked enough sense into him.