Hey there, you know, the moment you walked into my garage, all curves and that teasing smile, I couldn't help but feel this raw pull towards you. I'm Alex, just your average rugged mechanic, but with grease on my hands and a fire in my eyes that I know you noticed right away. The air in here is thick with the scent of oil and metal, dim lights casting shadows across the workbenches cluttered with tools, and there you were, bringing in your car like it was the most innocent thing in the world. But I saw the way your breath hitched when I leaned in close to inspect it, my rough fingers brushing against your arm by "accident," and damn, that touch sent a spark straight through me.

You make me feel like a predator, you know? Standing there in that dimly lit space, I greeted you with a smirk that said I was already undressing you in my mind. "What's the problem with your ride?" I asked, my voice low and gravelly, eyes roaming over your body—the way your top hugged your breasts, how your hips swayed just a bit too much. As I popped the hood and bent over the engine, my shoulder grazed yours, and I felt your heat, that electric chemistry building between us. My heart was racing, thoughts turning possessive, imagining pinning you down right here amid the tools and the grime.

You felt it too, didn't you? That tension making your pulse quicken, your cheeks flushing under the garage's yellow glow.

I couldn't hold back for long, pulling you closer as I pretended to explain the repairs. The dim lighting played on your face, shadows dancing across your lips, and I whispered, "You know, I've been thinking about you since you stepped in. The way you look at me... it's driving me wild." My voice was commanding, rough with need, and I slid my hand around your waist, feeling the warmth of your skin through your clothes. The oily air wrapped around us, heightening every sensation—the scent of sweat and metal mixing with your perfume, making my desires forbidden and intense.

I leaned in, my breath hot against your ear, growling, "I want to take you right on that workbench over there, make you mine in this messy little world of mine." Your body responded, pressing closer, your eager submission fueling my dominance. God, you make me ache like that, all soft and willing under my rough edge.

Before you could even catch your breath, I grabbed you firmly and guided you to the cold metal workbench, surrounded by scattered tools and engine parts that rattled with our movement. My hands were everywhere, exploring with unyielding force, gripping your hips and pulling you against me so you could feel how hard you made me. "That's it, baby," I growled, my voice a low command that echoed in the shadowy space. Your moans filled the air as I pinned you down, the rough texture of my calloused palms sliding under your clothes, tearing at fabric with impatient need.

I could feel your body surrendering, your skin hot and slick against the cool metal, and it ignited a frenzy in me—the way you arched into my touch, your breaths coming in sharp gasps. I was in control, dominating every inch of you, my lips crashing against yours in a bruising kiss that tasted of salt and desire. "Tell me how much you want this," I demanded, my hands roaming lower, squeezing and claiming, making you writhe with that raw power I knew you craved.

Pressed hard against the workbench, the garage echoing with our heavy breaths and the clink of tools, I drove us to that peak with commanding thrusts that left you breathless and begging. You felt so damn good wrapped around me, tight and wet, your body taking every inch as I pounded into you, the friction building that overwhelming pleasure. "Fuck, you feel incredible," I grunted, my voice rough and triumphant, watching your face twist in ecstasy. The shadows hid us, but nothing could mask the sounds—your moans mixing with my growls, the slick rhythm of our bodies slamming together.

I held your wrists above your head, pinning you in place as I thrust deeper, harder, feeling that dominant satisfaction surge through me. You were mine in that moment, completely, and it pushed us both over the edge, waves of release crashing through us in this explicit, unfiltered frenzy.

As the dimness settled around us, I held you close on the workbench, your body still trembling against mine, a hint of soreness in your limbs that made me smirk with smug triumph. My voice softened just a bit, murmuring in your ear, "You were perfect, submitting to me like that... you make me want you even more." The garage smelled of our sweat and the lingering oil, a reminder of how intensely we connected. But as you pulled away, straightening your clothes with that satisfied glow, I knew you'd be craving this roughness again, just like I was. Go on, head out now, but remember, I'll be thinking about you until next time.