by Madison Faye
She cries out, pulling away from Tucker and screaming as her orgasm explodes through her. Her whole body clenches, and when her pussy clamps down on me and floods my swollen shaft with more of her cream, I’m done.
I roar as I sheath myself to the hilt and just explode deep inside her eager young pussy. Rope after thick rope of my seed splashes deep inside of her, mixing with whatever is left from Tucker until she’s filled to the brim with both of us. I can feel my cum dripping out from where we join, making a sticky fucking mess of her pussy as I just keep fucking her right through both of our orgasms.
Tucker groans, his hand sliding into her hair as he strokes his cock against her lips.
“Open up, princess. Open up for my cum.”
She moans wildly, opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out to swirl it over Tucker’s pulsing cock. He roars as the last of his control shatters, and thick, pearl-white streaks of his cum jet from his fat head to splash across her tongue and her lips. She closes those lips around him, moaning as I slow to a gentle thrust, and humming around Tucker as she swallows the rest of his cum.
I’m barely conscious as the three of us collapse, her nestled between us. The air is thick. The windows are steamed right the fuck up, and my heart is racing.
Holy. Shit.
It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt. Beyond it being hands down the best fucking sex I’ve ever had in my life, there’s something more. There's something so damn right about her, and us, and the three of us fitting together like this.
And I never want the feeling to stop.
* * *
It’s like that for the next two days as we slowly make our way up the backroads. It’s slower than the highway, that’s for damn sure, but we’re also staying off Lenny Carter’s radar.
…It has the added benefit of letting Tucker and I put our hands, mouth, and cocks all over Sierra.
Two days after that first night in the cab, I groan, my hands tightening on the wheel.
“Shit, princess, this is fucking dang— awww fuck yes.”
I groan as Sierra sinks her sweet mouth down on my cock, taking me deep into the back of her throat. Her eyes are locked on mine as she moans and whimpers around my shaft to the tempo of Tucker fucking her hard from behind.
I’m not going fast, seeing as it’s a back road, but it’s still dangerous as fuck to be doing this. And yet, how the hell can I say no? How the hell can I possibly resist this little firecracker?
I glance over to see Tucker groaning, his hands gripping her firmly around her waist as his abs crash into her ass over and over, making it ripple so fucking temptingly. He growls, his muscles rippling as he drives into her, fucking her so deep and so hard as she starts to lose it, ready to crash into her — hell, I’ve lost track — orgasm of the day.
She drops her mouth to my balls, sucking one between her lips and teasing me with her tongue as she strokes me with both hands.
“Fuck, princess,” I groan, panting as I grit my teeth and hold the wheel with white knuckles. “You keep that up and you’re going to make me come all over that pretty mouth.”
“You promise?” she gasps, gasping sharply as Tucker starts to drive into her harder and faster, their bodies slapping together as his big cock fills her little pussy with every thrust.
“Count on it,” I growl. One of my hands leaves the wheel, reaching under her to tease her nipples. I toy with them, rolling them under my fingers as her cries of pleasure get higher and higher. She drags her tongue up the underside of me, and when her lips slip over my crown, she hungrily swallows me into her throat.
My hand slides further under her, over her soft belly until my fingers find her aching clit. Tucker’s fucking her hard, his thick cock stretching her so good and filling the truck with the wet sounds of her eager pussy swallowing every inch. I start to roll her clit under my fingers, and very quickly, Sierra starts to come apart.
Tuck drives into her, my finger pinches her clit, and suddenly, she’s coming for us all over again.
She screams around my cock, the vibrations sending me right over the edge as the pleasure explodes through her. I roar, my hips lifting as my cock twitches in her mouth, pumping my hot cum down her eager throat. Tucker growls, his hands gripping her tightly as he drives in and lets go himself. Sierra shudders, moaning wildly and trembling as wave after wave of her climax shatters through her, all while Tucker pumps her full of every drop of his cum.
Like I said — I never want this to end. I never want to not be just trapped in this truck with her and Tucker — the three of us doing just this until the end of time.
Nothing’s ever felt this right. Nothing’s ever made me feel so whole before.
…And nothing is going to take her or this feeling away from me. From us.
Chapter 8
Sierra
I’m sore, but so wonderfully so, later that night when we park for the night. Walker’s pulled us off the road into a basically abandoned old truck stop the two of them know about, and it’s here that we’ve stopped to catch some sleep for a while.
We’ve already devoured the sandwiches that Tucker snagged from another stop earlier in the day — a stop where he returned to the truck to find me riding Walker, I might add — and now, we’re just sitting in the back berth of the truck on the double-sized. I’m squeezed in between them, relaxing as we look up at the stars through the skylight in the truck roof. Tucker reaches under the bed and pulls out a bottle of amber liquid.
“Little taste of home,” he chuckles, winking at me.
“Our friend Silas makes this shit back in Sugar County.”
“He makes it?” I eye the bottle skeptically.
“He’s kind of the resident moonshiner around those parts.”
I giggle. “Yeah, you might be from the south if you’ve got a ‘resident moonshiner’ in your hometown.”
The guys laugh. Tucker takes a swig, clearing his throat before passing it over me to Walker. Walker does the same before he passes it back.
I give them both a fake pout. “What, none for me?”
Walker grins. “Remind me how old you are?”
“Eighteen.”
He groans, his jaw tightening as a fire sparks behind his eyes.
“Well, exactly.”
“Exactly what?”
“You’re not old enough to drink,” he shrugs, grinning at me.
I stare at him. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. Carrying a college freshman across state lines while she does all sorts of unspeakable stuff with the both of us is one thing,” Tucker chuckles. “Let’s skip providing alcohol to someone under twenty-one for now, huh?”
I roll my eyes. “So I’m not old enough to have some of your moonshine, but I’m old enough to fuck you?”
“And thank God for that,” Walker chuckles, making me grin and then giggle as he tickles me under the arms with his fingers, kissing my neck as he does.
“Here.”
Tucker reaches under again and pulls out a can of soda.
“How about a room temperature Diet Coke?”
“Aww, and they say chivalry is dead,” I say sarcastically, grinning at the both of them as I take it and crack it open.
“This shit’ll put hair on your chest anyways,” Walker chokes out over a sip of the moonshine.
“Wouldn’t want that,” I say with a roll of my eyes.
“Hell no we wouldn’t,” he grins back. His eyes drop to my chest, a hungry look crossing his face as he bites his lip. “I like your chest exactly how it is.”
We laugh again, sipping our drinks as I just settle in between them. Damn does this feel right.
“You’re not from Mississippi originally, are you?”
I grin, turning and shaking my head at Tucker. “What gave it away?”
“Well yew see, miss,” I crack up as he lapses into this totally over-the-top southern accent. “It’s that yew tawlk lahk a dayum yankee is what.”
I snort another laugh, Diet Co
ke almost coming out my nose as Walker chuckles and rolls his eyes beside me.
“D.C.”
“Why Mississippi for school?”
I chew on it for a second before I answer. “I guess I always wanted to be a southern girl? My mom was from Tennessee, actually.” A shadow crosses my face. “She died when I was young. Plus, I guess coming all this way for school got me away from my dad.”
Walker scowls. “Yeah, know that story.”
“Both of us do,” Tucker adds. “What’s yours like?”
I shake my head. “No, nothing. He’s not bad, he’s just… I don’t know. Overbearing? He’s got this big important government job, and he just…yeah. Overbearing might be the best word. Strict.”
“Wouldn’t be too happy about you hitching a ride with us, huh?”
I groan, blushing. “Uh, no. Probably not.” I shake my head, pulling my legs up and draping them over Walker as I lean against Tucker.
“Tell me about where you’re from.”
“Sugar County, Kentucky.”
I grin at Walker. “Sounds…sweet?”
He laughs. “It’s got it’s good and bad parts. We like to get out from time to time, hence the truck. But we got roots there that we’ll never get away from, even if we wanted to. Our buddy Colton is still there, with his wife. His brother Shepherd’s around too most of the time. Both of them are like brothers to us.”
I’m about to ask more questions, when suddenly, there’s a sharp knock on the driver’s side door. My heart leaps into my throat, just as Walker and Tucker bolt up, muscles tensed and ready.
Tucker growls, reaching under the bed again, and this time pulling out a serious looking sawed-off shotgun.
“Tucker. Walker.”
Walker frowns, glancing at Tucker. “Why does that sound like Silas?”
I swallow, pulling close behind them as they crouch, bringing the gun to bear on the truck door up front.
“Silas as in the moonshine guy?”
Tucker nods. “Yeah. Question is, what the fuck is he doing out here?”
* * *
Walker’s hands hold my waist firmly as he easily lifts me down from the tall doorway to the truck cab. He swings me down, planting me on my feet before we both turn to the man who’s just knocked on the door.
Silas.
I swallow as his dark eyes sweep over me, burning across me like he’s looking right into my thoughts. He’s big too — as tall as Tucker and Walker, and just as built, with broad shoulders, thick arms, and a solid-looking chest. His shaggy dark hair is pushed back from his face, and a scruff of beard covers his chiseled, strong jaw.
Plainly, the guy is all sorts of gorgeous, in that rough, wild, roguish, woodsman sort of way.
“You got problems.”
His deep, resonating voice rumbles across the dark night between us. His eyes pull from Tucker and Walker and sweep over me again.
“And company, it seems,” he adds, his brows raising slightly.
“She’s with us,” Tucker growls, an edge of warning and possessiveness in his voice that sends heat through me and has me biting my lip to stop from smiling.
“Clearly,” Silas drawls.
“What’s going on, Silas?”
He turns to Walker, smiling darkly. “You mean what am I doing here?”
“That was my second question.”
Silas nods, his dark eyes flashing. He brings a hand up, raking his finger through his hair his muscles rippling the sleeve of tattoo ink across them.
“Heard some chatter on the CB channels about you guys mixing it up with Lenny Carter’s boys.”
Tucker snorts. “Yeah, well. You heard right.” He frowns. “News about a parking lot fight made it all the way up to Sugar County?”
“It did when one of the guys you fucked up was Lenny’s son, Kenny.”
Tucker hissed. Walker swears under his breath.
“Shit.”
“Yeah,” Silas scowls. “And apparently, Kenny’s sort of a big deal up with the football team up at the State University. Pro scouts snooping around and everything.”
“And?”
Silas chuckles darkly again. “And it seems one of you took a bat to his knee and tore every fuckin’ ligament he’s got.”
Tucker grins, his arm sliding around me and hugging me tightly. “Good.”
“Well, that may be. But now Lenny’s got his crew looking everywhere for you two.”
Walker frowns. “You could have told us this over the phone, Silas. Also, how the fuck did you even find us out here?”
Silas’s mouth tightens, his eyes darting to me first and then back to the two of them.
“All that fancy GPS and radio shit I installed for you when you first got the rig?”
Tucker groans. “Fuck man, you tracking us?”
“Relax. It’s not like I sit there watching you all day on a satellite camera.”
“Who knows what the fuck you do up in that cabin all day,” Tucker mutters.
Silas just shrugs. “Look. I don’t track you. But someone sure as shit is.”
A shiver runs down my spine as all three of us stare at him.
“What?”
“You’re being tracked. I installed a radar that’d ping when someone had a triangulation set up on you, and it’s been going off. It’s low level, but someone’s using some pretty fancy shit to track your cell phones.” He turns his steely gaze back to me, his eyes narrowing. “Yours specifically, miss.”
Walker bristles. “Who’s tracking her phone exactly?”
“They’re being careful, but all signs point to one of the acronyms.”
“The acronyms?”
Silas’s face darkens. “FBI, CIA, ATF maybe?”
“Motherfucker,” Walker hisses.
I pale, a shiver teasing over my skin.
There’s things I haven’t told them. Things about me. Things about my life. Things about my dad. Things that I’ve wanted to tell them, I just haven’t found the time to yet, because I’ve been too busy losing myself entirely with the both of them. But suddenly, those things are starting to feel very much like they matter. A lot.
…Specifically, what my dad does for work.
“Look, you’re avoiding Lenny and his crew pretty well, but—”
“You found us,” Tucker mutters.
“Yeah, well, I’m me,” Silas grins that roguish grin again. “Keep to the back roads and you’ll never see those wannabe gangsters. But this other thing?” He frowns, shaking his head. “Stay off your phones, that’s for sure. Turn ‘em off and take the fucking batteries out, actually. And whatever you’re carrying for Law?”
His look hardens.
“Either ditch it, or get it to him fucking fast. Someone’s looking through your dirty laundry for something, and knowing Law, you don’t want them finding whatever it is. Anyways, I gotta get back. See ya around, boys.”
Tucker and Walker glance at each other, looking confused as Silas just turns and starts walking off into the night.
“Where the fuck are you going?”
“Parked my bike further down the road.” Silas calls back over his shoulder.
“You’re just leaving?”
“Yep.”
Walker shakes his head. “It’s like four hundred miles to Sugar County, man.”
“Sure is. Drive safe.”
Silas’s deep, rumbling voice echoes back from the darkness, and then he’s gone. Faintly, there’s the sound of a motorcycle starting down around the bend in the road, and then it’s roaring away.
Tucker shakes his head. “That guy is fuckin’ weird.”
“Is he…” I swallow. “Is he always like that?”
“The guy lives in a cabin by himself in the middle of nowhere and makes moonshine out of God knows what all day.” Walker scowls. “Yeah, he’s always like that.”
“Fucking Rangers, man,” Tucker sighs.
Suddenly, both of them look up, and they must notice the look on my face, because s
uddenly the jokey tone is gone and their faces harden.
“Sierra, what’s wrong?”
“I—” I swallow, shaking my head.
“What is it, princess?” Tucker growls, both of them moving towards me, their hands reaching out to hold me close.
“I— I know who’s tracking my phone.”
They blink, glancing at each other before turning back to me, their brows furrowed.
“I’m so sorry…” I whisper, looking down and feeling my face burn — feeling like I want to just melt into the ground and disappear. It never seemed like mentioning what my father did really mattered before. Now, it very much does, and now I know damn well that it’s going to look like I withheld it on purpose.
…Right now, I know telling them what I’m about to tell them might shatter this perfect…whatever it is that I have right now with them. But the time for not telling them is over.
“Sierra, what—”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper again. The two of them pull me close, hands stroking my back, and I bury my face in both of their strong chests.
“What’s going on, beautiful?” Walker says quietly.
“The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms is tracking you, because of my phone.”
Tucker pulls back, frowning as he shakes his head
“Sierra, how you—”
“Because my father is the head of all eastern United States operations for the ATF, and I’m pretty sure he’s looking for me.”
Chapter 9
Tucker
Shit.
Double, triple, quadruple fucking shit.
I swear. Walker swears, whirling and shoving his fingers through his hair. Me, I feel deflated. Empty. Fucking cold. We’re being tracked by the goddamn ATF, and we’ve got a truck full of drugs and illegal guns. I’m not a lawyer, but even I know that with what we’re carrying, we’re looking at thirty years, minimum.
This is not fucking good. This is the opposite of fucking good.
“I’m so sorry…”