My Way Series: Books 1-3

by H. J. Bellus

  “I want you,” I whisper, need clouding my voice.

  The sight of Miles’ mouth around my nipple sets me completely on fire with need for the man. My man.

  “Miles, you are mine. Mine. You are mine,” I yell at him as my hips continue to ride his jean-clad erection.

  Tears start to slip from me at the thought of Miles not being mine. Panic grips at my belly and more tears fall the longer he is silent.

  “Baby, I’m yours. I’m all yours, Wils,” Miles finally whispers.

  He grabs me by the hips to stop my movement. I look at him in confusion and a slight twinge of embarrassment dances across my face. Before I can protest, he covers my mouth with his, kissing me with everything he has, in a slow, unhurried fashion. I first hear and then feel my pants being undone. Miles’ finger snaps my panty line, causing a slight sting on my skin. Then his fingers glide down deeper and he hits the spot. My hips instinctively start to ride him again, but he stops me with his free hand.

  “Let me take care of you, Willow. You don’t have to beg for my love or scramble to hold onto shreds of it. Willow, that’s the only love you know. Let me show you how to be loved, baby,” Miles says as he reaches forward and kisses my bare neck.

  I lean back onto the steering wheel, laying myself before Miles, baring all my fears, weaknesses, and insecurities for him to prey on. He pushes up my shirt and trails kisses up his favorite part of my body. When he reaches my bra, he uses his teeth to bare my breasts. Miles lets out a loud grunt and completely buries his finger inside me. If even possible, I arch my back further with my head thrown back and let out a scream.

  I scream with the purest pleasure I have ever experienced. Miles starts to work his hand in and out of me while paying close attention to my sensitive bud. Miles leans forward and starts to suck on the front of my neck. His tongue continues to caress my neck while his hand works my core.

  “Miles, oh God, Miles! I’m going to—”

  My words are harshly cut off as I spiral out of control. My orgasm hits me so hard that I scream and grab Miles by the hair with all my force. I have never felt such anguished blissful sensations with an orgasm. Greyson has nothing on Miles. My body instantly slumps down into Miles’ lap.

  “Oh. My. God,” I breathe. “Can we do that again?”

  Miles starts to chuckle and move his fingers in me. Every single sensation of my last release tingles throughout my whole body with the movement of his fingers.

  “I can do this all day, baby,” Miles says as he picks up the pace with his fingers and guides my hips to ride him again.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, is everything okay?” comes a very strange deep voice.

  The voice instantly snaps me out of my hormone induced Miles coma. My eyes land on an elderly gentleman dressed in a farmer’s outfit.

  “Uh, sorry, ma’am. My wife and I were out picking asparagus and heard you screaming. She insisted that I come over and check on you. You just say the word and I’ll signal for her to call the police. She’s ready with her cell phone,” the stranger says while he assesses the situation.

  Horror. Sheer humiliation and horror instantly wash over me. Miles is sitting straight up now and looking the good Samaritan straight in the eyes. I bury my face in Miles’ neck on the opposite of the stranger, hoping, just like a toddler does, that if I can’t see him, then he can’t see me.

  “Miles, do something, please. Miles. Miles, Miles,” I whisper into his neck.

  The asshole starts to laugh with my desperate plea for help. I really doubt he would think it was so funny if it had been his boobie bared to Farmer John. I sucker punch him in the gut to get his attention to focus on solving the damn problem in front of us. He lets out an exaggerated grunt of pain when I land the punch.

  Then he starts to speak. “Sir, you have this all wrong. I’m so happy help finally arrived. I offered to give this young lady a ride in my car,” he says, definitely over emphasizing the word ride, “when I came upon her hitchhiking. I refused her money, but she insisted she pay me back somehow.” Miles shrugs his shoulders and waggles his eyebrows.

  He wiggles his fingers inside me and shoots me a wink. Oh, two can play this little evil game. I carefully place my Jenny boobie back into her holder, and sit straight up.

  “Really? Is that why your hand is in my cookie jar?” I ask, and point to the evidence.

  “Oh, dear. I see,” the farmer stammers out. “By all means, young man. I woulda given her a ride, too.” The very amused farmer walks away just shaking his head.

  “Miles,” I squeal, and smack his chest.

  He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. It’s so easy to fall into him.

  “I think I found my favorite spot in the world,” I mumble into his chest.

  “Oh yeah? Where might that be, baby?”

  “In your arms, Miles.”

  Kissing the top of my head, he whispers, “I love you grande, Wils.”

  Stunned, I look him in the eyes and ask, “Why did you say that?”

  “Uh, because that’s how I feel.”

  “Oh,” I simply reply.

  “Willow you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “My momma use to tell me that every night,” I whisper.

  “Oh baby, I had no idea. Really…”

  I place my fingers over his lips to quiet him, and then whisper, “My momma always knew.”

  Miles sucks the tip of my finger into his mouth and waggles his eyebrows at me. I can’t hold back the giggle escaping me. Then he starts talking around my finger. “She knew you were going to fall madly in love with an overgrown boy who devours Cap’n Crunch in his tighty whiteys, supplies you with endless fortune cookies, and makes grown women cry with his devastating good looks?”

  “She knew,” I say as I slip my finger from his mouth and put it in mine to lick off his taste.

  Miles lets out a low groan and thrusts his hips up into me. I drag my finger from my mouth down to my nipples and gently squeeze them. Right when I think Miles is going to pass out from the seductive show, I hop off his lap and slide to my side of the car.

  “Now drive, asswipe. My boyfriend is waiting for me in the next town. I told him it would only take a couple hours to hitch a ride to him.”

  “Are you shitting crazy, Willow? And here I thought you were a victim. You know a boner this size left unattended for long periods of time can cause blindness.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” I giggle.

  Miles grabs my left thigh and drags me over to the center seat. “If you’re mine now, you’ll always be riding bitch twenty-four seven.”

  “Did you just call me a bitch?”

  Miles lets out a loud laugh.

  “Miles, seriously, you just called me a bitch. You really are going to start out our road trip out by calling me your bitch, you asshole?” I ask in horror.

  Wiping the tears from his eyes, he replies through more streams of laughter, “Baby, you are riding bitch. I didn’t call you a bitch. You know riding bitch is like riding shotgun, and as long as you’re my girl, your sweet little ass will be right here by my side. I want to feel your thighs rubbing on mine.”

  “Oh, I can do that. By the way, where are we going?” I ask him.

  “To hell,” he replies in a somber tone.

  I snuggle as close as I can to him, and ask again, “Be more specific, please.”

  “My personal hell located smack dab in sunny California.”

  I reach up and nibble on his ear. “The beach?”

  “Yeah, baby, I’ll take you to the ocean.”

  “We can do this together, Miles. We can,” I reassure him.

  “You have to quit nibbling on my ear while I’m driving. I’m positive that at any given moment I’ll be going blind from this raging boner.”

  “Oh, Miles, I love you.”

  It feels so good to say it out loud. Scratch that, it’s the most liberating and exhilarating feeling a girl could ask for. For the first time in my life, I know
now what Momma meant by true love tingling your toes. I finally found my Miles. He has set my toes on fire. His past is something we’ll have to work on, and we will together, hand in hand. Cree is going to go ballistic.

  Miles cranks up “Basket Case” by Green Day and continues our journey down the highway. I let the scent of my man, the warmth of the sun, and the tingling sensation in my toes lull me to sleep.

  “Baby, wake up. We’re stopped for a bit. Are you hungry?”

  Stretching out across the front seat of the car, I lay my head in Miles’ lap and look up at him. His sad face instantly hurts me. Whatever we’re walking into isn’t pretty, and I can tell he’s not okay with bringing me, but it was my stubborn ass that begged for it.

  I reach up and pet his scruff. “It is going to be all right, Miles. I’m not leaving you.”

  “You haven’t met her yet and you haven’t seen it yet. You have no idea what life is like on the other side of the tracks, Willow.”

  “You’re right, I don’t, but do you think I’m that shallow of a person to turn my back on you for it?”

  “No. It’s just all a huge mess. I mean, say you survive this trip, but then the real shit storm goes off when we go back and tell your family. They’re going to take you away from me,” Mile says as he pets the side of my face.

  “Well, from down here it looks like you got me right where you want me.”

  “Quit trying to be funny. This is serious shit, Willow.”

  “I know it is, but we’ll deal with it as it comes. Can we just enjoy this trip together? I’ve never been on a road trip with my boyfriend.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine. Oh, that was real convincing there, Captain Obvious. Let your worries go for the week, baby. I don’t care what your house looks like or how awful your mom is, I love you. And I’ll probably even love all of that because it’s who and what has made you. Without it, I wouldn’t know the Miles I love today. Now pep up your step and get happy. We’re about to play the first round of road trip challenges.

  “Road trip challenges, uh?” he replies with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yep. We’re going to go in this truck stop and buy the most hideous piece of clothing for each other, and we have to wear whatever the other buys at all the other stops.”

  “You’re not joking, are you?”

  “No, you have to wear it and no chickens.”

  “No, I mean you’re not kidding about sticking by my side.”

  “Absolutely not. You’ve stuck by mine the last couple months, and I fell in love with you for it.”

  “Say it again.”

  “I love you, Miles.”

  “Thank you,” he whispers.

  Miles leans over and gropes both of my boobs in a very vulgar, non-romantic way, and says, “We have some shopping to do.”

  Chapter 11

  Home Sweet Home

  Willow

  Miles decided to drive through the night. He finally admitted to me that if we stopped and stayed the night at a hotel, he would probably turn around and take me back home.

  I woke from the dead about two hours ago when I felt the car come to a stop. My tummy turned with dread and excitement to see Miles’ home, but we’re just at a Walmart. He bought new bedding, soaps, shampoos, towels, a coffee pot, and numerous other things to help my stay be more comfortable. I finally cut him off and had to threaten him with my singing ninja skills in the aisle. He finally gave in and headed for the check out.

  “We’re about an hour from my house, but I want to take you somewhere first.”

  “Where?”

  “The one place I love here.”

  “Where?”

  “You’re going to the ocean, baby.”

  “Oh my God, Miles. I do love you.”

  ***

  Three Hours Later…

  We pull into La Padre Fiesta Trailer/RV Park. It definitely fits the stereotypical image. Most trailers don’t have a yard, but rather junk and old cars littering the space. One in particular looks like a graveyard for old car parts. I can’t help but stare at the poor trailer hidden by rusty car parts and skeletons of has beens.

  “That’s my cousin’s house. Well, I guess you’d call her that, her daddy was with my momma’s best friend for about a year, and she stayed here, but she always roams from place to place still.”

  Then as if transplanted from a Hollywood movie set, there is the perfect single wide trailer eloquently decorated with various flowers and plants, and with cute little statues scattered throughout the front yard.

  “That’s my hero’s house.”

  My trance is broken by the sound of his voice, and I detect the first real piece of happiness coming from him.

  “You had a hero?” I ask with genuine surprise.

  “Yes. You have to meet her before we go home.”

  “Deal! I’d love to, baby. Do I need to wear my hat, though because I’d hate to lose the challenge?”

  Neither of us took off our items for the road trip challenge, I proudly wore my trucker style hat that read, “I heart Pussy” and Miles wore his “My Grandma Loves Kitties” shirt for the remainder of our trip.

  “No. You better take it off. I want you to meet the woman who made me who I am today. My Wynnie.”

  Before we can get out of the car, a very petite elderly woman steps out on her front porch.

  “Boy,” she screeches.

  Miles grabs my hand and slides me the rest of the way out the driver side of the car.

  “She’s going to love you,” he whispers as he grabs my hand and leads me to the porch.

  “Oh my, Miles, I told you that you didn’t have to rush home. I have Eddy going to get some of your mom’s meds.”

  “I’m here, Wynnie. Now show me some lovin’ and feed me.”

  The woman in front of me is slightly shorter, slim, and put together perfectly. The first thing I notice are her cotton candy painted finger nails. She’s wearing an apron dotted with colorful tiny roses, bright red terry cloth pants, and a striped shirt. Her hair is painted a gorgeous silver and curled perfectly.

  “You little shithead, how many times have I told you to say please, and before I feed you I want to meet your friend,” she scolds Miles while she reaches up and bops him upside his head.

  “This is my girl, Wynnie. The one I told you about. Willow, this is Wynnie. You can thank her for raising such a studly, strong animal for you to love.”

  “Willow, so nice to meet you.”

  I go to shake her hand and say thank you, but Wynnie has me wrapped up in her arms before I know it.

  “You be good to my boy or I’ll hunt you down,” she whispers in my ear.

  Her words cause me to choke on my saliva.

  She continues with her threat, “I don’t mess around, either. If you don’t love him, leave him now before you hurt him. If you do love him, never let him go.”

  “C’mon, c’mon, quit threatening to break her legs if she breaks my heart.” Miles chuckles.

  “My boy does know me well. Now get your little asses in here. I have a roast all ready for dinner.”

  Wynnie’s trailer is just as perfect on the inside, with knick knacks and afghans galore. The first thing I notice is the lack of pictures. In a house like this, you would expect to see pictures everywhere of her children and grandchildren.

  “Miles, you set the table and I’ll get dinner served,” Wynnie bosses.

  The two of them fall easily into their routine like a well-oiled machine. Miles pulls the dishes from the cabinets without missing a beat, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think this was his childhood home, and Wynnie his mom.

  The dining room/kitchen is an open space without any visible barriers and my eyes finally land on some pictures. Her refrigerator is covered with school pictures of a boy. I get closer and realize it’s Miles. I smile back at the kindergarten boy and then the awkward teen, taking a mental note that his school pictures only go to about tenth grade.

  “Who
is this?” I ask, trying be a smartass.

  Miles comes up from behind and smacks me on the ass. “That, my dear, is the man of your dreams.”

  “Well, Willow, that’s my boy. I never had children of my own and when I moved here in 1976 after my husband died, well, I never dated again or made many friends. But one day this family moved in across the road and I spotted a little brown headed boy carrying a suitcase. The moment I laid eyes on him I knew he needed someone to love him. My heart picked him that day.”

  “He has a habit of stealing hearts,” I whisper.

  We enjoy a very simple dinner with Wynnie. Her love for Miles is very clear cut. She would do anything for him, and the love reflected back from Miles to Wynnie is undeniable. His hero.

  “Well, you kids better get a move on. Your mom will be excited to see you.”

  “Always Mrs. Positive. We all know she’ll either be drunk or high and mean as a goddamn snake.”

  “Miles, that’s your momma. Be kind, boy. That’s who you are.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he repeats as he wraps Wynnie up in a hug.

  “Nice to meet you, Wynnie, and thank you for dinner,” I say.

  Miles grabs my hand and leads me outside.

  “You ready?”

  “Just always hold my hand and I’ll be ready to do anything with you, Miles.”

  “Let’s go.”

  We start to walk across the road and I motion to his car.

  “I always leave it here.”

  The trailer we’re walking towards is in the worst condition of the lot with its rusty siding and debilitated fence nearly lying on the ground. The only thing missing from this trailer is the barking dogs.

  “My mom doesn’t have a filter. Please don’t take anything to heart that she says,” Miles pleads.

  “Deal,” is all I can get out.

  We reach the steps that are a mixture of cinder blocks and wood. I wouldn’t trust them enough to spend more than five seconds on each. Miles reaches up for the door knob from the first step.

  “Wait,” I shout.