Page 26 of Challenge Me

“It’s my air filter.”

Gods help me.

He pushed me forward; the boiling steam had slowed down, but still hissed against me, warming my flesh through my shirt. The heat didn’t seem to bother Ghost, either.

My pulse beat hard beneath his hand.

I tried one last time to salvage a shred of dignity. “I do not get my hands d—”

“I didn’t ask you to use your hands.”

Ghost’s grip in my hair tightened, and my body betrayed me. Was that a moan?

This was absurd, obscene, and humiliating.

And I was painfully, catastrophically hard.

Then his hand in my hair urged me down.

I gave the last of my control away one breath at a time, leaning closer until my mouth hovered over scorching metal. I hesitated there, lips parted, dignity trembling, and Ghost waited.

Not forcing, no. Worse.

Expecting.

I pressed my tongue against the metal.

The first touch shocked me. Heat stung the tender tip of my tongue, sharp without causing true pain. Heat didn’t hurt me, not like it did for normal humans, but beneath the heat was grit. Fine dust clung to my mouth, mixed with a bitter film of oil and the unmistakable taste of old metal, smoke, road dust, and traces of fuel.

Ghost’s fingers flexed in my hair, and the Challenger beneath my hands gave a low, pleased shiver, the vibration traveling through the frame and into my arms. It rolled beneath my chest like the purr of some enormous animal.

“Again,” Ghost said. His breath brushed the back of my neck.

I should have refused. I should have lifted my head, wiped my mouth, and informed him that his lesson had concluded with my dignity only partially damaged.

Instead, I opened my mouth wider.

This time, I dragged my tongue slowly around the rim of the filter. The metal had cooled slightly where I touched it before, but the inner edge remained hot. My tongue caught on a rough patch of soot. Bitterness flooded my mouth, so strong I could taste it at the back of my throat.

Any other day, I would consider it revolting, but today it belonged to him.

I belonged to him.

Ghost exhaled behind me, the sound rough and deeply satisfied. His body pressed closer, his hips settling against mine with enough force that I could feel exactly what my obedience was doing to him. My own cock throbbed in immediate response.

“More,” he murmured.

I leaned further over the engine. My tongue slid around the hole at the top of the filter, heat spreading through it until it tingled. I sucked the rim once, deliberately, letting Ghost hear the wet pull of my mouth against his machinery. Dust scraped against my tongue. Oil coated my lower lip. The taste was so harsh that my eyes watered, but I did it again.

The engine beneath me rumbled.

A deep mechanical tremor rolled up through the front of the car, vibrating against my ribs and making the muscles in my stomach clench beneath Ghost’s palm. The sound was unmistakably pleased.

“There,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “Now you’re starting to understand.”

His hand moved beneath my shirt, spreading over my stomach. Each finger pressed firmly into me, holding me against him while his palm slipped below the waistband of my trousers.

I barely registered him tearing off my shirt. One moment, the fabric clung damply to my back. The next, Ghost tore it open, buttons pinging against his engine block and scattering into the grass below. The ruined garment landed beneath his front tire, already filthy with dust.