I leaned into the large man’s warmth, and confessed, “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
Strong fingers curled into my thigh. He tossed a look over my shoulder, made a tsk sound, and shook his head before meeting my gaze. “Then you won’t be, sweetheart.”
He dug into his back pocket, retrieved his wallet, then threw a handful of bills onto the bar.
“Let’s go.” He slid off the stool, his heavy boots thumping on the wood floor, his thick fingers lacing with mine like we were seasoned lovers.
Holy shit, the man was huge, at least two hundred pounds of mean, unforgiving muscle.
Hand in hand, we made our way outside. I led him down the block and around the corner to my motel room. The second the door closed behind me, he flipped the lock, and caged me against the wall.
“Tell me you’re sure about this, ’cause my dick’s been hard since you walked into that bar, and the second you give me the go-ahead, I’m gonna wreck you.”
Oh. God.
Before reason could settle in, I kicked off my shoes, and attacked his belt buckle. That was all the go-ahead he needed.
In one swift move, he lifted me, then pinned me against the wall with his hips, both hands cupping my face. The man attacked. Forgoing gentle persuasion, exploring and tasting, and kissing me dizzy. He sucked on my tongue and oh my Lord, that tug reached all the way down to my belly.
“Gonna fuck you hard, sweetheart.” He rolled his hips, rubbing his erection between my legs, then gripped my butt with a painful squeeze and turned toward the bed.
Like a vice, I clamped arms and legs around his thick body, holding tight, holding him close, craving that connection. Loving the taste of whiskey on his breath.
I landed on the mattress, bouncing, with no time to recover before he was over me, blocking the light, claiming my mouth once again before moving down to my neck, then my chest. A few grunts and tugs, and my shirt was gone. My bra didn’t stand a chance, and he didn’t bother removing my skirt, opting to bunch it around my waist before tearing my panties down my legs and tossing them across the room.
I was breathless but doing none of the work. The man… “Wait.” I grabbed his head, halting the kisses he planted on my stomach. “What’s your name?”
“Does it fucking matter?” he growled, lips curling in a sneer.
Did it? I would never see him again. Our tryst was a one-time thing. Not knowing added mystery to what was quickly becoming the fantasy I would forever play in my head.
Settling broad shoulders between my knees, he rubbed where I needed it most, then pierced my folds with thick fingers, making me arch in pleasure.
“No. God no. It doesn’t matter.”
With that, the man smiled, ducked his head, and attacked me with violent urgency. Lips, teeth, tongue. My hips curled, thrusting against his mouth, riding the storm of pleasure.
I’d never felt dirtier or more used. More wanton, more passionate. More…free.
And when I came, thighs clamped around his head, fingers tangled in his hair, I let go and whimpered all kids of dirty, lusty words.
Boneless, I melted into the mattress, sweaty and spent, and riding a high I’d never thought possible. Grumpy kissed my thigh, pushed to stand, then dug into his pocket.
With a “fuck yeah,” he tossed three condoms onto my stomach, then turned off the light.
When he fell next to me, he was naked, and he settled me against his side, hands wandering to all my sensitive parts.
For hours he followed through on his threat, wrecking me with his body, his words, his foul mouth. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Sweet, tight cunt. Gonna fucking ruin you for anybody else. That’s it, gorgeous, come for me. My cock, take my cock. Yeah, like that.”
And before he came inside me for the last time, me face down on the bed, his chest heavy on my back, his cock thrusting between my closed legs, he coiled his arms around me and breathed into my ear. “Fuck, sweetheart. Could fuck you like this every day.”
His whole body shuddered with his release, and when he thrust his tongue in my ear, I came again, too. He rolled us to our sides but never let me go, our bodies tangled until his phone rang hours later, waking me from a deep sleep.
My mystery man rolled out of bed, pulled the comforter over my naked body, then answered the call. “Yeah.” Heavy breaths. “Shit. Yeah. I’ll be there.”
He stomped to the bathroom. Ran the water. Returned. The mattress sank, and rough lips landed on my cheek. “I have to go. Lock the door behind me.”
I nodded, stretched, then watched his shadowed form dress. My head spun, liquor taking its revenge, but I felt compelled to say, “I’ve never done this before.”
“No?” He tugged his jeans up those thick thighs.
“No. But I’m glad it was you.” I’d met my yearly quota for orgasms in a few short hours.
He huffed, then scooped his shirt off the floor. “Hope you’re not gonna ask for my number.”
I should’ve been hurt by his brush-off, but I knew better. Besides, my life was about to change forever. I had no time to pursue a relationship, sexual or otherwise. “I was just thinking how lucky I am, that’s all.”
“’cause of my monster cock, or my mad tongue skills?”
I laughed, despite the lack of humor in his tone.
“Both. Definitely both. And seriously, have you looked at you? Every girl’s fantasy come to life.”
He dropped his ass on the mattress and worked on his boots, our thighs and shoulders bumping, my skin coming alive all over again. “I’m no fantasy, gorgeous. Nightmare would be more accurate.”
His words were meant to be a warning, or maybe a shield.
“Definitely fantasy.”
He tied his laces, then rested his elbows on his knees. Head cocked my direction, voice thick with gravel, he said, “Trailer. My friends call me Trailer.”
“Trailer,” I whispered. My new favorite word.
He leaned closer, then kissed me hard and fast before pushing off the bed. He was halfway gone before he turned and said, “Moriah, promise me something.”
“Yeah?”
“Let me be your last one-nighter, okay? There are a lot of dangerous fuckers out there.”
Dane
I was dangerous enough on a regular day, but add zero hours of shut-eye, a hangover, and a raw dick to the mix? Better steer clear by at least three states.
“When’s the aunt showing up?” I asked, blinking the muck from my eyes, my jaw cracking with the force of my yawn. I hadn’t slept a fucking wink, the little girl waking all through the night, trembling, crying, screaming.
For reasons I couldn’t fathom, she only calmed when I held her. Only let the doctor inspect her while she buried her face in my chest. Me, of all people. How fucked was that?
“She’ll be here soon. Thanks for coming back,” Leticia whispered, tucking warmed blankets around the child.
The mansion had become a prison, the girl my steel cell. Last night had been my first venture out, and even then, I’d been snagged back into the child’s hell.
Tucker entered the room, coffee mugs in hand. “She finally sleeping?” he asked, kissing his mom on the head, then handing her a java.
“Yes.” She took a sip of her coffee, gaze meeting mine over the rim of her cup, a plan forming in her squinted eyes.
Oh, fuck. I knew what was coming next.
She swallowed. Smiled. Tilted her head. “Dane. You’re great with her. I know you don’t want to be here, but would you consider staying another day or two?”
“I can’t.”
I rolled, sliding my arm out from under the girl’s head, and waited, holding my breath, to make sure I hadn’t woken the sleeping angel. When satisfied she was still unconscious, I inched my way off the bed.
If my brothers saw me, they’d have me tarred and feathered.
Mother and son watched while I stretched the kinks from my weary bones, both eyeing me with suspicion.
“She ne
eds you,” Leticia said, a sugar-coated attack on my heartstrings.
Lady was wasting her breath. I didn’t have a heart.
“And I need to get the fuck outta this prison,” I snapped, agitation, nausea, and dehydration getting the best of me.
Leticia’s eyes narrowed, face reddened.
Aw, fuck. “Sorry, Doc. Didn’t mean to bark at you.”
The sweet doctor shooed me away like my short fuse was no big deal.
“Dane.” Tucker shot me a glare and gestured toward the door. “Outside.”
I followed the lug, too tired, and too fucking hungover to put up a fight. I did, however, snag the cup of coffee he’d left on the table on my way out.
I followed him down a narrow hallway, then up a set of stairs, another hallway, more stairs. He opened a door and led me into a massive, fully furnished studio apartment. “Listen. I don’t wanna know your business, but if you need a place to crash for a while, we’ve got spare rooms. No one will bother you.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” I didn’t need anybody’s help. Although the bed was huge, and tempting, and damn, how I needed to crash into something soft and sleep for days.
“Fine. Fine.” He stomped to the window and yanked the curtain, making way for the rising sun. “Could you at least wait until the girl settles in with her aunt before you disappear? She needs you right now.”
I’d given too much of my time already. But that girl had my guts wrapped around her tiny fucking fingers. I couldn’t walk away. “Only until she’s settled. What’s the aunt’s name, anyway, and when can I meet her?”
“You know damn well you can’t meet her, and you can’t know her name. Keeps everyone safe.”
“How do you know she’s not an addict like the girl’s mother, or a sadistic fuck like the asshole I found her with?”
Tucker smirked, and had I not been so exhausted, I might’ve knocked that dimple off his face. I shot him a warning glare instead.
Tucking hands into his pockets, he cleared his throat, then said, “Tito did a full work-up. She checks out. The woman’s squeaky clean.”
I nodded, not wholly convinced anyone would be good enough for the girl. Then again, what did I know? Tucker and Tito did the rescuing shit day in and day out. They were the good guys. Me? Heh. I ate pansies like them for breakfast.
Tucker nodded toward the bed. “Room’s yours. We don’t have any other kids at the moment, so you can come and go as you please.”
That four-poster frilly shit called my name. As much as I needed to ghost, I also needed a good night sleep, needed time to think. Change my game plan. “I’ll stay tonight. Not sure what’s gonna happen tomorrow.”
A phone buzzed. Tucker yanked a cell out his pocket, read the screen, stuffed it back into his jeans. “I’ll leave you to it then.”
My stomach protested, reminding me I hadn’t eaten in too damn many hours. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a car I can borrow? The one I drove here needs to disappear.”
“Pull the sedan behind the barn. We’ll help you ditch it later.” He yanked a set of keys out of his pocket, tossed them my way. “There’s an old Ford parked around back. She’ll get you where you need to go. Just bring her back. She was my first love.”
“No problem.”
I shot him a nod, then headed out, missing the hell out of my bike.
# # #
The Truck Stop Diner hadn’t changed much since I was a kid, even after a recent remodel. The same rusted three-tier sign still stood tall above the pines, visible for miles from any approaching direction on the highway. Fresh gravel had been laid in the lot in lieu of pavement, which somehow suited the landscape, and the million-dollar view was still a sight under-appreciated by those of us who’d squandered our youth in the small town of Whisper Springs.
A cowbell rattled when I entered. A feisty redhead greeted me and pointed to the only empty table. “Grab that one. I’ll be with you in a sec.”
I sat, my bones protesting, my muscles screaming, my weary head perking back to life when I spotted a wild head of auburn hair.
Moriah.
Damn if my mood didn’t shift.
The beauty who’d given me a rigorous workout mere hours ago sat alone, facing the window, gaze on the lake in the distance. She seemed eons away, lost in thought. My thoughts drifted to those creamy thighs, her soft moans. Her damn smile. She’d been a great fuck, best I’d ever had, but more than that, she’d made me laugh.
I’d thought she was gorgeous in the bar, a little sex kitten with an attitude, but damn, in the light of day, the sun hitting her skin, those freckles dotting her nose and cheeks, the girl was downright edible.
The thought of another go ’round had me shifting in my seat.
“Hey,” came a soft voice behind me.
Blondie.
The one woman I would lay down my life for.
My throat clogged when her son, my only living relative, bounced to my side, held out a hand, and announced, “I’m Rocky James Mason. Welcome to The Truck Stop.”
Fuck if I didn’t smile like a kid on Christmas morning.
I gave his hand a good shake. Nice to meet you, Rocky.”
“Do you want a milkshake?” he asked, nodding, as if willing me to say yes.
A fuckin’ milkshake of all things. My stomach grumbled, but hell if I’d turn the kid down. “You gonna make it for me?”
The little tyke stood taller. “I make the best milkshakes. Be right back.” Off he sprinted, leaving me alone with his mother, Slade Mason, the chick responsible for my first boner. The only woman I’d ever set sights on and hadn’t boned.
“How’s the girl?” she asked, sliding into the seat across from me, setting me on edge.
“Sleeping. Healing.” I considered the child’s night terrors and roughed a hand over my aching scalp. “Physically, anyway.”
Slade tilted her head, seeming to study me. “You heading home today?”
Home. What a fucking joke. Home was a refuge most people took for granted. Although Blondie had been present for most of my youth, and she knew damn well what “home” had looked like for me and Addy, I held back any sour retort. Wasn’t Slade’s fault, the cards I’d been dealt.
Blondie shook her head, soft coils of hair falling over those huge blue eyes. “I get it. You don’t have to say a word. Just know that I’m here if you ever need anything.”
“Pretty Boy’ll skin me alive if he thought you and I were back to being friendly.”
“Tango knows you’re here. He knows what you did for that little girl. He’ll never forget what you did for Rocky, or his father. He might beat his chest a bit, but he couldn’t do a damn thing to stop us being friends. You’re Rocky’s family, whether that little boy knows it or not, you’re his family. That makes you my family.”
Blondie’s eyes welled with emotion, and damn, her words hit like a bat to the chest. I offered the only gratitude I could muster. “Rocky looks good.”
Her smile sliced me to shreds. “He’s got Addy’s nose. He snorts like she used to do when she laughed, too.” She sighed, eyes losing focus. “I see her in him all the time.”
My dead cousin was the last person I wanted in my head. Her death was on me. Me. And the little bitch haunted me on the daily.
“He’s the spitting image of his dad, if you ask me.”
Slade shrugged, a look of pure bliss softening her face. “Can’t argue with that.”
Rocky barreled through the swinging doors, plopped a drippy cup on the table, then pulled a straw out of his back pocket and dropped it next to his concoction.
“Mom, can I have a milkshake with…wait.” His head bounced, attention shifting from his mom to me. “What’s your name?”
Slade bit her lip, brows quirking in apology, then pushed from the table to crouch next to her son. “Rocky. This is Dane. He’s an old friend of ours.”
“Cool. Do you play football, too?”
Definitely his father’s son. “No, kid. No football
for me.”
“Rocky, time for school.” Slade roughed a hand through his already messy hair. “Go grab your things out of the office.”
“’K, Mom!” With a hop and a skip, the boy sprinted off again.
Seconds later, he was back, a Seahawks backpack slung over his shoulder. “Bye, Dane!” he yelled, jetting by, and rattling that damn cow bell on his way out.
Slade leaned forward, hands splayed on the table. “It’s really good to see you, Dane. Take care of yourself, okay?”
“Yeah, Blondie. Take good care of that little shit.”
She nodded, then turned to leave, a light sway to her steps. I watched, unsure I’d see the two of them again, and fuck if that didn’t make me nauseous.
I chanced a glance at the beauty in the corner. She’d spotted me, her mouth tilting in a shy grin, her cheeks glowing pink.
I raised my hand in greeting, and what the fuck? I didn’t wave at people.
Moriah laid cash on her table, stood, straightened her skirt, and came my way. Her green dress hugged her chest and showed off the perfect amount of leg, skin dusted with freckles like on her nose. Pretty shoes and pretty feet. Hair the color of vintage leather. She glowed, and damn, she was far too clean and shiny for the likes of me.
Shit.
“Fancy meeting you here.” She laughed, shrugging her purse tighter up her shoulder.
“Yeah. What a coincidence.” Those eyes held me captive, rendered me speechless.
“I have a meeting to get to.” She shifted foot to foot, then offered her hand. “It was nice meeting you, Trailer.”
I took those soft fingers in mine and swear to Christ a cluster of bombs detonated in my chest. I cleared my throat, found my voice. “It was an effin’ pleasure meeting you, Moriah.”
Her laugh soothed my aches, and I held her longer than necessary, captivated by those gorgeous, fuck-me eyes.
The girl leaned closer, her soft lips parted, and she whispered, “Best night of my fucking life.” She pulled her hand free, winked, then turned on her heel and sauntered out the door, that damn cowbell clanging, an ugly reminder she was gone.
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