Dirty Men 02 - Hard Hat Page 2

  I stop at the library on my way home; this place is really my second home. I love bringing a thermos of tea and sitting in a cozy corner, reading current magazines and the newspaper. The clerks know me by name and when I walk through the front doors I wave a hello.

  This may be a big city, but I grew up here. No matter how much the neighborhood has changed over the years, I love that there's family history in so much of this place.

  "How is the job hunt going, hun?" Melinda asks as she rolls out a full book cart.

  "Not great. I wish the library was hiring."

  "I know, sweetie." Melinda shakes her head. She has been working here for twenty-five years. "They haven't hired anyone new in three years. But of course, when there’s an opening you'll be the first to know."

  "Thanks, Mel. I understand why no one would leave once they got a job here."

  "Keep your chin up, Lottie. I know things have been hard since Charlotte died."

  I swallow my tears. It's only been four months since Grandma Charlotte was buried and the feelings are still so raw.

  "Thanks." I try my best to smile without letting my chin quiver. "I'm just gonna go check my email."

  I duck away to the last row of computers and take a far seat, not wanting to cry in public. I just need a break. A tiny little sliver of hope.

  Maybe there will be an email from a prospective employer.

  I exhale.

  There is one.

  An interview, tomorrow morning.

  It's my last shot.

  My final hope.

  I can't be late tomorrow, no matter what I do.

  When I get to the apartment and see Luke and his jackhammer working away, I think maybe the reason things went bad for me today had everything to do with my own attitude.

  I'm so ashamed.

  When he sees me, he sets down his equipment and wipes his hands on a towel hanging from his back pocket. Removing his yellow hard hat, all I can think is I wish he would remove his shirt again, too. But he doesn't, instead, he walks right over to me and picks me up, carrying me to the front entrance of the building without a word.

  I don't speak either.

  When my feet are planted on solid ground, I open my mouth to apologize, but before I can he's already turned around. Thinking he is going to go back to work, I'm surprised when he walks away, toward the street.

  Squinting my eyes, I try to see what he is doing, but a second later he is back, carrying a box.

  In his heavy work boots, he sidesteps the rubble and stands before me once more.

  He hands me the white box.

  "What's this?" I ask.

  He shrugs. "An apology."

  I frown. "You don't owe me an apology. I was the one who was an absolute brat this morning." I look down, embarrassed for the way I yelled from my window, blaming my problems on him. He was just here doing his job. "I'm sorry for shouting."

  "Nothing to be sorry for. We all have bad mornings. And I could have been a bit easier on you, knowing things weren't going quite going your way."

  I lift my eyes, smiling at him in gratitude. Up close, and without my bad mood in the way, I notice how big Luke is. His broad shoulders take up so much space. He's the kind of man who walks into a room and people notice. His stature combined with his piercing brown eyes and chiseled jaw—there isn’t a woman in this city who wouldn’t take notice.

  "So, what's in the box?" I ask.

  "Donuts."

  I open the lid, inhaling the sugary glaze.

  "All these are for me?"

  Luke laughs, shaking his head. "Well, I thought maybe we could share them?"

  My cheeks heat up. "Ugh, what is my problem today? I swear I'm not usually so rude and thoughtless. Of course, we should share them." I bite my bottom lip, taking a hard look at him and making a decision. "Wanna come up? I can make you some coffee?"

  Luke's eyes light up. "I was hoping you'd say that."

  A few minutes later, we're upstairs in my apartment, and I look around, wondering if I have panties on the floor or if I left out anything incriminating. But I haven't. I may have had my head up my ass this morning, but I'm pretty tidy.

  He follows me into the kitchen and I set the box of donuts on the round table. His eyes roam all over the apartment and while he is looking it over, I start the coffee, scraping the bottom of the canister as I scoop up the last of my ground beans. I turn on the pot and get out the cream while it brews.

  "This apartment is amazing." He raps his knuckles against the countertop. "It looks like it's seen better days, but the bones are solid. And it's fucking huge. Are there two bedrooms?"

  I reach for the coffee mugs. "Three, actually."

  He whistles. "And you live here all alone?"

  I swallow, remembering when Grandma was alive, how for so many years she would host book clubs and bridge meetings in this spacious apartment. How I'd invite friends over from school, who always marveled at how much space we had, their walk-ups were always more snug.

  "My Grandma started renting this place in 1964. I lived here with her all my life. My parents were never in the picture." I arrange the donuts on a plate and pour our cups. Setting them on the table, I explain, "And it's rent-controlled so I never left after she died."

  "Lucky girl," he says. Then seeing my reaction, he raises his hands in apology. "Fuck, I didn't mean it like that. Of course, you're not lucky to lose your parents and grandma."

  "I know what you meant. This neighborhood has changed so much over the last decade, I hardly recognize it." I reach for a donut and break it in half, dunking it in my coffee. Taking a bite I groan. "This is heaven. I haven’t had a donut in ages."

  "You one of those girls who takes it easy on the good things in life?"

  I smile softly. "Not intentionally." My eyes meet his. "Where do you live?"

  "Only a few miles away. But it's a tiny studio. Nothing like this."

  "Are you from Brooklyn too?"

  "Yeah, born and raised. I'm guessing I finished high school about seven, eight years before you, though." He smiles and I ask what he's thinking. He takes a sip of coffee, then runs a hand over his jaw, as if debating his next move. "When I first saw you this morning I thought you were one of those kids who move into a neighborhood they know nothing about, with their parents’ money and no skills except being a full-time student."

  "Wow, you got all that from a few minutes of conversation? Judgy much, Luke?"

  He shrugs, and I have to admit I appreciate his honesty. Truth is, I appreciate a heck of a lot about this man. That he is here. Now. Looking at me with eyes that make my lady parts all wobbly.

  "Well, the old-school clothes were my Grandma Charlotte's. I'm a sucker for anything old school."

  "I noticed, that's why I picked those donuts."

  I look at the plate of old-fashioneds, and my lips spread into a smile. "That's pretty cute, Luke."

  "Yeah?" He leans over the table, closer to me. "You think I'm cute?"

  I scrunch up my nose. "You're bad, you know that?"

  "Not all bad, though, surely." He lifts an eyebrow, signaling that things are changing between us. I want to go where he leads.

  "No, not all bad," I tell him, my body filling with heat. "Besides, I was pretty bad myself today." I twist my lips, knowing my words could be taken a few different ways. I don’t want to be too forward… but at the same time… maybe a hook-up with Luke is the exact sort of thing I need to get my mind off my situation.

  Not that I would ever admit that out loud.

  I lift my eyes, wanting to see if there is any attraction on his end.

  "Lottie," he groans. "You're killing me here, you know that?" His eyes suddenly look hungry, craving more than what a donut might satisfy.

  I lick my lips, not having a man so close to me in forever. My only real boyfriend ended up being a lying sack of you-know-what… which put me off the idea of relationships for a while. He really did a number on me. And that guy never knew how to pleasure me anyway.

  But Luke is a man who knows how to work with his hands, whose body was made for labor and blood, sweat, and tears. He's the kind of man who would know what I need.

  I want that. My life is a mess, my options limited. And I may not know what tomorrow will bring, but today has brought him here, to me.

  And I'm going to take whatever good things the universe wants to offer.

  "I'm not a tease," I tell him. "If that's what you're worried about."

  He pushes his chair back and then pulls mine around the table, closer to his. His legs are apart, and his hands tug my chair closer still, forcing my knees between his.

  "Good," he says firmly. "I don't like women who play games."

  His mouth is so close, and I lean toward him, practically wiggling in my chair.

  "What do you like, Luke?"

  "I guess you’re about to find out."

  Then he kisses me.

  4

  Luke

  Her mouth is as sweet as it looks, and sugary too. Her lips part and I fucking inhale her, not wanting to waste anything she offers. She's the sort of woman a man could get lost with, forget himself in. She's the kind of woman who could lock a bachelor to a ball and chain in ten seconds flat if she wanted.

  But she isn't looking to tie me up and throw away the key. That isn't Lottie. Lottie is all about free-falling and forgetting and giving in. She kisses with longing and desire, but without assumption. It's like her mouth knows that this is a stolen moment, and she doesn't expect anything more.

  But damn, maybe that is exactly why I want to give her the goddamn world. The fucking sun and moon—because as my hands hold her face, and she leans closer to me, the tiny whimpers escaping her mouth reveal nothing but absolute gratitude.

  Sh
e is more than I deserve, I'm just a man who works with his hands, trying to make something out of nothing. Lottie has a fancy apartment and manners (when she remember to use them) and is classy as fuck. Me? I wear a hard hat, sweat bullets over backbreaking work, and make a living using the body God gave me.

  "You want this, Lottie?" I ask, knowing her body is already telling me plenty. But I'm not going to unzip this dress and lick her up and down if she isn't ready. Wanting. Willing.

  "More than anything," she answers, kissing me again. My mouth moves down her neck, my hands on her hips, needing her closer.

  "Good, because I've got more than just a hard hat, darling. I've got a rock hard cock, too."

  She pulls back smiling. "You are bad."

  "Takes one to know one, Lottie."

  I stand, lifting her from her chair, and carry her from the kitchen. "Second door on the left," she tells me, her legs wrapped around my waist.

  Her bedroom is bright white and pale pink. The window is open, the one she yelled at me through earlier, and the sheer curtains flutter in the breeze.

  I set her down, and reach for that blue belt, unhooking it, as her fingers undo mine.

  "I kinda wish you'd worn your tool belt here, Luke," she tells me.

  "That's not necessary," I tell her, knowing I have the only jackhammer this woman needs. "I have plenty to keep you busy." I take her hand and press it to my still-covered cock.

  "Oh, Luke," she moans, pushing at my jeans eagerly.

  I smile, spinning her around, and unzipping her dress. As I pull it past her shoulders, I inhale sharply, seeing the smooth skin of her back, the curve of her hips. And when I push that dress down, her round ass makes me believe in love at first fucking sight.

  "God, woman," I tell her, my fingers on the waistband of her panties. "You are perfection."

  "Shush," she tells me, looking over her shoulder. "I'm far from perfect."

  "Maybe. But in this moment, you are."

  Her eyes are aglow with happiness, nothing like the worried eyes she flashed my way this morning. It's like I came upstairs and whatever was bothering her flew out the window.

  "Thank you, Luke,” she says, turning back to me, and stepping out of her panties. She reaches back to her bra clasp, and when she undoes it, letting her bra drop to the floor, I shake my head, utterly speechless.

  "If I thought you were perfection before, I don't fucking know what to call this." He breasts are glorious, round and so damn full, her nipples small, hard, pebbles of pleasure. Her waist is narrow, but her hips are wide, made for a man to hold onto. Her body is an hourglass, under a prim and proper dress, all the while hiding temptation from the average man.

  Standing with her now, I don't feel average. I feel like a fucking king.

  I look her up and down, my eyes are drawn to her pussy, she has a soft tuft of hair, nothing waxed, and it surprises me, her natural beauty. But I fucking love it, how she isn't trying to be anything she isn't. And damn, why would she? Because who she is more than fucking enough.

  "Lottie," I say, at a loss for words as I try to express her beauty.

  "Stop talking," she tells me playfully. "I want to see you undressed too. You teased me earlier by taking off your shirt outside this morning, but I need more."

  "Bossy too?" I cock a brow at her, ever so slowly lifting the hem of my tee-shirt in a faux-striptease.

  "You said you didn't play games," she throws back.

  I laugh, and she does too. "Touché."

  The giggles escaping her mouth give this afternoon delight the perfect touch of light-heartedness I can now tell she craves. She wants a reason to smile, to laugh. I don't know what has kept her weighed down, but I can help lighten her load. I can give her that.

  I pull off my tee-shirt and untie my boots, kicking them off, along with my jeans. Then I pause before pulling down my boxer briefs.

  "You sure you're ready for this, darling?"

  "Should I be scared?" She crosses her arms, pushing her perfect tits together.

  "No, but you should be worried. This cock is going to ruin other men for you forever.”

  She steps toward me, pushing my briefs down, her eyes on mine the entire time. "Prove it, Luke."

  Then she throws back her head, laughing at the words meant to taunt me. I tickle her sides, not letting her get off the hook that easily.

  "Oh, you're ticklish." My hands run between her thighs, feeling that she's already wet for me. "Let's see if I can make you really squirm." I pull her to the bed and lean over her naked body.

  "You weren't joking about that screwdriver of yours, were you?" she murmurs as I press myself against her gently.

  "Does my size scare you?" I take her hand and press it against my growing shaft.

  She groans in pleasure. "I don't scare easily," she tells me, her hand wrapped around my hard length.

  I brush back strands of hair from her brow, an arm wrapped around her. "You seemed worried this morning."

  Her eyelids close, and I know I've touched on something hard to say. "There’s a lot on my mind right now. But that's different than being scared." Her eyes open and a smile warms her face. "I'm a fighter and I don't give up easily."

  Knowing now isn't the time to talk about the messier parts of our lives, I plant kisses on her chin, her neck, her collarbone. "So, what you're saying is, if at first, I'm too much for your sweet pussy, we'll keep trying until I can ease right in?"

  She twists her lips, laughing, and she slaps my ass. "That’s exactly what I was saying, Luke. Now, are we gonna get on with it or should we go back to our donuts and coffee break?"

  I don't need her to ask me twice. I pull this woman's legs to the edge of the bed, and kneel before her, spreading her knees.

  "Let's see just how ticklish you really are, darling."

  5

  Lottie

  His mouth devours me. In seconds I'm squirming, my knees buckling, as his tongue expertly slides up and down my slit, licking me in ways I've never before enjoyed.

  And he seems to love each and every roll of his tongue.

  "You taste so fucking good, Lottie."

  I'd be lying if I said his words didn't cause my spine to tingle and my core to tighten with pleasure. To be wanted this way, so out-of-the-blue, when I least expected it, is something out of a fantasy. And the timing couldn't have been better.

  If Luke hadn't shown up like this, Top-Ramen would have been my noon-time meal for one. Instead Luke is having me for lunch.

  He runs a finger over me, my cunt so wet for him. He presses inside me, fluttering against me, teasingly. Then he pushes a second finger inside, and my back arches, I gasp in surprise, and my knees squeeze against him.

  "Not so fast, Lottie, lie down," he orders. My breathing becomes shallow as he eases me back down. Then he moves his fingers faster, bringing me closer and closer to where I need to go. As I'm about to come, he pulls his fingers out, and presses his mouth back to my pussy, taunting me in the most sensational way. He blows hot air against me, his tongue on my clit, then moving his mouth back and forth against me, fast, as if my cunt is the only air he needs to breathe.

  I can't hold out any longer.

  I whimper, clawing at the sheet. I moan, desperate for more.

  "You like that, baby?" he asks as I'm pushed past the point of oblivion.

  "Yes," I cry, his hand is back on my cunt in the most glorious way. He moves so hard against me, so fast, that I can't think or see or feel.

  I am bliss, personified.

  "Good," he groans, pounding his fingers deep inside me as I release against him. "I'll fucking give you everything."

  "I just need you," I beg. "I need all of you."

  He growls in response, standing before me, his solid cock so big, so ready; my pussy is dripping all over again. I crawl back on the bed, my head resting on my pillows, and he leans over me, ready to fill me up. He reaches for a condom, rolls it on, then kisses me again. I taste myself on his lips, which isn't something I thought I'd like, but somehow, in this moment, with Luke, it's erotic and exciting.

  "Your pussy is nice and ready for this jackhammer, but the question is, are you?"