The first time Kadee noticed Dylan’s hands, she was holding a torque wrench in the middle of a motorcycle shop, grease smeared across her knuckles. He’d reached past her for a socket set, forearm brushing hers, and something electric shot straight to her clit. Ridiculous, really. She’d known him for two years. Two years of group rides, bonfire parties, casual hellos. But something had shifted three weeks ago when he’d shown up with his hair loose instead of tied back, and she’d caught herself staring at the way it fell past his shoulders, dark and thick and begging for her scissors.
Now she couldn’t stop thinking about him naked.
Dylan was having the same problem. He’d always registered Kadee as attractive in a general way—tight jeans, crop tops, that confident swing in her hips. But lately his dick had started taking over his brain whenever she was near. Today she’d bent over to grab a dropped bobby pin in her salon, and he’d nearly come in his Carhartts just watching the curve of her ass through those thin leggings.
“You’re staring again,” Kadee said, not looking up from the clippers she was cleaning. They were in her shop after hours, the excuse being that she’d offered to trim his split ends. The real reason was that neither of them could go another day without touching each other.
“Can’t help it.” Dylan’s voice came out rougher than he intended. He was sitting in her styling chair, cape draped over his chest, and underneath it his cock was already half-hard.
Kadee set down the clippers and stepped in front of him, her small hands settling on his shoulders. She was wearing a black tank top with no bra, and her nipples were visibly tight against the fabric. “I’m supposed to be professional right now.”
“You locked the door.”
“I did.” She smiled, slow and wicked, and climbed into his lap.
The chair creaked under their combined weight. Dylan’s hands found her hips immediately, fingers digging into the soft flesh there. Kadee ground down against the bulge in his jeans, letting out a breathy little moan that made his balls ache.
“Fuck,” he muttered, and kissed her.
It wasn’t gentle. It was two months of pent-up sexual frustration crashing together. Her mouth opened under his, tongue slick and eager, and she tasted like mint gum and something sweeter underneath. Dylan yanked the cape off his shoulders and tossed it aside, then grabbed a fistful of her honey-blonde hair. He pulled her head back, exposing her throat, and dragged his mouth down the column of her neck.
“Been thinking about this all week,” he growled against her skin. “Your tight little body under me.”
Kadee whimpered, her hips rocking faster. “Then do something about it.”
He stood up, lifting her with him like she weighed nothing—she loved that, loved how easily his muscular frame manhandled her. He set her on the styling station counter, sweeping bottles of product out of the way. They clattered to the floor, something glass breaking, and neither of them cared.
“Take off your shirt,” Dylan ordered.
She obeyed, pulling the tank top over her head. Her breasts were small and perky, nipples dark pink and already pebbled. Dylan groaned and bent to take one in his mouth, sucking hard while his hand worked her leggings down her thighs. Kadee arched into him, fingers tangled in his long hair, holding his face against her chest.
“God, yes,” she breathed. “Don’t stop.”
He didn’t. He switched to her other breast, teeth grazing the sensitive peak, while his fingers found her pussy. She was soaking wet, slick coating his knuckles as he slid two fingers inside her. Kadee cried out, her inner walls clenching around him.
“You’re so fucking wet,” Dylan said, pulling back to look at her face. Her cheeks were flushed, lips parted, eyes glazed with need. “You want my cock?”
“Yes.” The word came out as a desperate gasp. “Please, Dylan.”
He liked her like this—begging, submissive, falling apart under his touch. But he’d also seen the other side of her, the way she’d pushed him against the wall last week in his garage and ridden his thigh until she came. She was a switch, and that unpredictability drove him insane.
“Not yet.” He pulled his fingers out and brought them to her mouth. “Suck.”
Kadee wrapped her lips around his digits, tasting herself, her tongue swirling obscenely. Dylan’s dick throbbed painfully against his zipper. He freed himself with his free hand, cock springing out thick and flushed and already leaking pre-cum.
“On your knees,” he said.
She slid off the counter and dropped to the tile floor, looking up at him with those big hazel eyes. Her hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, and she gave a slow, teasing stroke that made his abs clench.
“You’re so big,” she murmured, and then she took him in her mouth.
Dylan’s head fell back. Kadee’s mouth was hot and wet and skilled, her tongue pressing flat against the underside of his cock as she bobbed her head. She took him deep, deeper than most women could manage, until the head of his dick bumped the back of her throat. She gagged slightly, eyes watering, and kept going.
“Fuck, Kadee.” His hand fisted in her hair, guiding her rhythm. “Just like that. Good girl.”
She moaned around his length, the vibration shooting pleasure straight to his spine. Her free hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently, and Dylan knew he wasn’t going to last much longer if she kept this up. He pulled her off his cock with a wet pop.
“Stand up,” he commanded. “Bend over the chair.”
Kadee scrambled to her feet and draped herself over the armrest of the styling chair, presenting her ass to him.