Buck Naked

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Buck Naked

Copyright
ã
2004 Vivi Anna

ISBN: 1-55410-148-4

Cover art and design by Martine Jardin

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by eXtasy Books, a division of Zumaya Publications, 2004

Look for us online at:

www.zumayapublications.com

www.Extasybooks.com

Chapter One

The wind whipped at Sabine’s cocoa-colored hair as she raced the Mustang down the open highway. It was a gorgeous, sultry summer day and Sabine made the most of it, driving with the top down. The high sun beat down on her cinnamon skin. Sweat trickled into the valley of her breasts and down her lean back to her shorts, carving out a moist path into the crack of her ass. Her skin goosebumped, causing electrifying shivers down her spine.

Sabine felt glorious.

It was the fourth day on the road. She should have felt tired; weary, even. In fact, she felt electrified, energized, and just plain old revved for action. She was only thirteen hours from her destination, and swore she could almost smell the salty moist air of the Pacific Ocean.

She smiled a feline grin, thinking about what awaited her in Vancouver. It was her meal ticket. Her old age pension. The big payoff. She had planned the score for the past two years, now it was only hours away from being realized. She had a hard time waiting as the home stretch neared, but her patience was one thing that had helped her excel at her chosen career. She could wait.

But even as she thought that, her foot pushed just a little more on the gas.

The car whined, then spurted. The oil light and other indicators flashed on, and it coughed and started to lose speed.

Sabine looked disbelievingly at the red lights on the dash, swore and slammed her fist against the steering wheel. The Mustang responded by whining its contempt.

She pulled off the road and stopped the car on the shoulder, leaning her head on the wheel.

“Merde!”
Shit.

She got out the car, and rounded the hood. She popped it and stared into the abyss. She didn’t have a clue what to do. Usually Jean was around to help her out. He knew his way around a vehicle’s parts. A woman’s parts, too. Ask the man for a lube job, you never knew what he would stick where. God bless him!

As she stood there, petite manicured hand on a flared hip, a pickup with two young men pulled up behind the Mustang. She stepped around the car and smiled as the two men jumped out of the truck.

They looked like they memorized every detail as they eyed her from the tip of her colored toenails, up long coltish legs, over her hard, flat stomach, small firm breasts to her full, pouty painted lips.

Sabine knew she made an impression. She was often compared to a black panther: long, sleek body and exotic coloring. This she attributed to her French-Canadian father and her Italian mother. She got her mother’s rich coloring and hot temper, and her father’s sensual charms. A deadly combination in any situation.

“Having car troubles, miss?” asked the scruffy-looking passenger with the John Deere cap on his head.

“I don’t know what to do. It just stopped.” Her accented voice dripped with honey.

The driver stepped up to car, and looked under the hood. He couldn’t have been a day over eighteen. Sabine noticed his jeans pulled tight over his firm rear end as she stood next to him under the hood.

“What do you think it is?”

He checked the oil and the radiator cap.

“Don’t know right yet. Could you start the car?”

Sabine slipped down into the Mustang's leather seat. She turned the key. Nothing. It didn’t turn over.

“Might be the battery.” John Deere suggested.

“Yeah, let’s hook her up.”

The young driver brought the truck around so the vehicles faced each other. He took out jumper cables from the truck bed, and hooked them up.

Sabine watched, as she leaned casually against the Mustang, her long, smooth legs stretched out in front of her. 'John Deere' stood near. He took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one.

“Could I get one of those?”

He offered the pack. She took one out and slid it into her mouth. He watched with intense fascination.

“Can I get a light?”

He flicked his Zippo. She leaned over, eyes never leaving his face, and touched the tip to the flame.

“
Mercì
.”

“Where you from?”

“Montreal.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“Holiday.”

“Are you planning to stay around here?” he asked sheepishly.

“Maybe. Why, what did you have in mind?”

She moistened her top lip with the pink tip of her tongue. She loved nothing more than teasing. It was a hobby she was quite skilled at.

“N-n-nothing. I-I-I was just wondering. I’m getting married next week.”

She pouted. “That’s too bad.”

The driver got out of his truck and stood next to his friend.

“I called O’Neil’s. They’ll come out and tow you into town. Quinn will be able to fix you up. We’ll take you to his garage.”

“Well, I look forward to the ride.”

She flicked her cigarette onto the road, put her hands on her hips, and smiled ferally at the two lost boys.

“OK, who’s driving?”

The drive into town was quick but painstakingly nerve wrecking for the two boys. Sabine sat in the middle and tortured them with her sensuous scent, a mingling of sweat and Obsession by Calvin Klein. She spread her legs to accommodate the stick shift and caught them both admiring the skimpiness of her shorts that seductively cut into her crotch. She smiled playfully at them both, then looked out the window as they neared the town.

Town was an overstatement. The sign welcoming visitors to Buck Lake seemed bigger than the hamlet they pulled in to. On the right of what seemed to be the main road was a community center and a trio of baseball diamonds. Up a little further, on the right, was a small grocery store and liquor store. Next to that was a little mobile trailer acting as the post office. Across the road on the left was a hardware store that also doubled as a video store, and the UFA for big rigs and trucks. And down the road a little was a little gas station and mechanics bay, O’Neil Motors. By the time, she was dropped off at O’Neil Motors, Simone noticed both boys were sporting major hardons. She could tell by the way the fabric at the crotch of their Wranglers stretched. They shifted uncomfortably in their seats as she jumped out of the truck. She leaned back in the window, a wide playful grin on her face.

“
Merci, cher
, for helping me.”

“It was our pleasure.” The young driver smiled. “Maybe, we’ll see you around.”

“If you do, then it will be my pleasure.” Sabine stepped back from the truck and winked.

They waved and peeled away from the garage. Probably in search of a private place to masturbate, Sabine thought. Speaking of private places, Sabine rubbed a hand over the crotch of her shorts. They were damp with sweat and juicy desire from her teasing. There was nothing sexier than two horny boys…

Except maybe a dark, dangerous man with a crooked nose, and a devilish smile. “Are you the Mustang owner?” He wiped his greased-stained hands on his overalls as he came out from the garage bay.

“I am, and you must be Quinn.”

He nodded.

She watched as he rubbed his face with one hand. She was a sucker for a man with big, strong, rough hands, and long talented fingers. She hoped he had talent.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

He moved near her. She could smell him. Motor oil and sweat. She shifted her stance so her shorts would quit rubbing at her sex.

“I was driving, maybe a little fast, and then the little lights came on and the car stopped.”

He grinned. “How fast?”

She grinned back. “One thirty or so.”

They both turned as the tow truck drove up with her car. The driver backed the Mustang up to the bay door. Quinn helped unhook her car. He ran his hands over the shiny metal, caressing each molding.

Sabine’s heart fluttered and her groin throbbed.

“Nice ride.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s a '96?”

“
Oui
. It was a present from my papa.”

He pushed the car into the bay over the pit. A hoist stood in the middle. He popped the hood and looked at the motor.

Sabine propped her hip up against the fender, very aware of the aching going on deep inside her vagina.

He looked up at her face, then down to her toes.

“When was the last time you had your parts inspected?”

“It’s been a while. Too long, really.”

He stepped back from under the hood.

“It will take some time for me to check things out. So, I would resign yourself to spending the night in town. There’s a nice hotel down the road.”

He wandered over to the worktable. He picked up a clipboard with some forms on it.

“I just need some personal information, then I can get started.”

He handed her the clipboard.

She filled out the forms, aware that he watched her the whole time. A couple of times she chewed on the end of the pen, just to keep him interested. She handed the completed form back.

He looked down at it. “Sabine. That’s very…”

“Pretty?”

“I was going to say sexy.”

“That’s even better,” she purred.

He set the clipboard down and wandered toward the bay door.

“You’re free to use the courtesy car.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

She looked across the lot and spied the dung-brown four-door sedan.

“This is a joke, right? I can’t possibly drive that.”

“Then I guess you’ll be using those long legs of yours to get you around.”

He turned to go back into the bay.

“What about that?”

He turned back around to see Sabine pointing at a Suzuki motorcycle propped up against a stack of wood in the tall grass.

“The bike?”

“
Oui
. I have my license to drive that.”

“It’s not for use or rent.”

“Are you sure?”

Sabine stuck her finger in her mouth and sensuously sucked on it. Quinn grinned.

Quinn shut the large bay door, as Sabine leaned against the hood of her car.

“You sure you know how to drive it?”

“
Mais oui
. I have taken many lessons.” Her French was coming out more, as it always did when arousal wound its way around her body.

He moved near her. She smiled and slid onto the hood.

“If anything happened to that bike…”

“I will treat it very special. Just like my own.”

He stood directly in front of her. She spread her legs and wrapped them around him.

“How do I know your special treatment is good enough?”

Sabine smiled. She took hold of the zipper on his greasy overalls and slowly pulled down.

“You don’t. You’ll just have to trust me.”

He wore nothing underneath except a pair of boxers and a smile. His body looked like it was chiseled out of marble. Smooth and hard.

Sabine trailed a finger down his sternum between his defined pecs to his washboard abs. He shivered at the feathery touch. She growled in the back of her throat when she reached the band of his shorts.

“Am I interrupting?”

Both Sabine and Quinn looked up. The doorway was filled with a man. And what a man, Sabine thought. He had to have been at least six foot two. His shoulders were so wide they nearly touched each side of the doorframe.

He entered the bay, a smirk on his chiseled face.

“Yes, you’re interrupting,” Quinn stammered as he backed away from Sabine, zipping up his overalls. “We were negotiating the use of my bike.”

“Interesting tactics.”

“Thank you,” Sabine said as she slid off the hood.

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

Sabine raised an eyebrow at his comment. She smiled. A challenge. She loved challenges. In high school, she was on every sports team and every debate team. She loved competition. She relished in every opposition, flourished even.

This opponent would be formidable, that she could feel all the way down to her tippy toes.

Sabine squared her shoulders, stuck out her breasts, and sauntered over to where he stood. “And you are?”

His icy blue eyes penetrated her hooded lashes. She could feel her heart quickening. Could feel shivers of delight radiating in her spine down to her tailbone and sliding deep into her crotch.

Quinn stepped up. “This is Evan Brady, our local…”

His eyes turned on Quinn.

“Welcoming committee,” Quinn continued.

She offered her hand. “Sabine Laurent.”

Evan looked down at it rudely.

Sabine batted her eyes, and pursed her lips. “Maybe you should get a different job.”

* * *