Truck Stop Tryst

by Daniels, Krissy

  “Promise me something.”

  “What is it?” I asked, rubbing my hand over his and lacing our fingers, the pressure on my chest subsiding. Loneliness didn’t stand a chance against Tucker’s embrace.

  “Promise me, whatever you’re planning, you’ll talk to me about it. Promise me you won’t disappear.”

  I wanted to offer him the assurance he sought as much as I wanted to devise the proper plan of action. My wound, however, was too raw. I couldn’t process anything beyond the blanket of grief that weighed me down. There wasn’t room in my head or heart for anything other than sadness. “That’s not a promise I can make. Not right now. But you’re wrong if you think I’ll blindly go after whoever is responsible for my father’s death.”

  He sighed, tightening his grip. “I know you’ll do what’s right. Tango is convinced you’ll want revenge.”

  “Tango knows the old me. He’s only ever seen me at my worst.”

  He cleared his throat. “And me? Who have I seen?”

  Shocking how easily the answer sprang from my lips. “The me I’m learning how to be.”

  “Aida,” Tucker whispered again, his lips close to my ear.

  “Yeah?” I asked, turning my head, craving his mouth.

  Tucker drew in a breath. His fingers traced a slow, loopy pattern over my stomach. My body exploded with want. He rolled closer and whispered against my lips. “I’m so fucking sorry about your father. If I could bear the pain for you, I would, you know that, right?”

  “I know.” I nodded, blinking against the pooling moisture. “You have a way of making everything better without even trying. I hate that you have that power over me,” I confessed.

  I captured his wrist and guided his hand from my stomach to the apex of my thighs. He wasted no time stretching his fingers, a low moan rising in his throat when he found my sweet spot.

  “Make my pain go away, Tucker. Please,” I begged, voice breaking on a sob.

  In a heartbeat, I was flat on my back. Tucker hovered over me, arms boxing my shoulders, fingers brushing hair off my face, and hips nestled between my thighs. Warm, heavy, and exactly what I needed.

  “I can’t erase this kind of pain, Bambi.” He dropped a kiss to my forehead.

  I slid a hand up his chest, around his neck, and squeezed tight. “Then help me forget for a while.”

  Liquid eyes seemed to assess me. With a warm smirk, he pushed away, sat back on his heels, and peeled my leggings and panties down my thighs. I lifted my knees and feet, watching his muscles flex and roll as he rid me of my clothing. My body warmed with anticipation, my heart buzzed at the flush in his cheeks, the flare of his nostrils, the erotic sweep of his gaze.

  Oh, the high. I was drunk on his want. Obliterated by his blatant desire for me. And every time that heady glare swept over my body, I fell wholly mesmerized into an alternate universe where only Tucker and I existed.

  Tucker dropped forward, catching himself with one arm at my shoulder. With his free hand, he teased a finger between my legs, exploring with a gentle touch before pushing between my folds. I arched into him. He caught my moan with a kiss.

  Too soon, he pulled away and helped me out of my shirt, leaving me naked on my couch. Tucker stood. With heavy breaths, he stared down at me, taking me in, like he couldn’t get enough.

  My heartbeat skidded to a halt when he scrubbed his hands over his face, dropped his chin, and kicked at something on the floor.

  “What is it?”

  Hands to hips, he huffed and shook his head before raising his pained gaze to meet mine. “You are so fucking beautiful, Aida. Sometimes it hurts to look at you.” He pounded a fist to his chest, over his heart. “Right here. I can’t take the ache.”

  I couldn’t take the look of devastation on his face. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “You have the power to destroy me, you know. If you leave. If you disappear on me, I’m a goner.”

  “Tucker, don’t. Please.” I sat up, my body coiling to flee, but I was torn between running and desperate to hear what I feared he was going to say.

  “Before I make love to you, before I’m inside you, I need you to promise you won’t disappear. I get that you have responsibilities back home. I understand how deep you’re in. Just promise you’ll keep me in the loop. Don’t shut me out. Let me do this with you. Because whatever your fate, whatever shit you have to shovel, it’s nothing compared to the fucked-up mess I’ll be if you leave. Let me carry you through this. Or at the very least, let me stand by your side.”

  I couldn’t breathe past the lump in my throat. I was drowning in emotion. Emotion I’d never dared let in. “Why, Tucker?”

  “You really need to ask?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I love you, Aida Voltolini. I’m so fucking in love with you I can’t breathe most of the time. I know you think you can’t love me back. And I don’t give a shit. ‘Cause even if you never admit it, even if you never say the words, I’m gonna love you anyway. I’ve got no choice. You’re in my blood. You’re my fucking heart, the voice in my head. So, you see, if you disappear, you’ll leave me a hollow shell. That’s why I need you to look me in the eye and promise you won’t make a move without me. I’ll take on whatever shit comes our way. What I can’t take is losing my girl.”

  Painful, violent beats hammered my ribcage. Three words. Three simple words held more power than knives, fists, or bullets. Three syllables disintegrated my indestructible shield.

  I love you.

  He loved me.

  Had he been any other man, I would’ve laughed in his face. Or used his profession of love as a weapon, bent and twisted his misguided devotion for my own morbid needs, only to toss him in the trash after I’d had my fun. Not because I wasn’t worthy of another’s love. But because no one had ever dug deep enough to uncover the real me. No other had cared to lift the curtain and see the girl underneath my name, the promise of power and riches that overshadowed all my feminine complexities, all my quirks, my dreams, my hopes and fears.

  Tucker Slade had seen through my mask from the very beginning.

  Tucker loved me. Deep and true and without prejudice.

  I trembled under the weight of his confession. My body shook, tears fell, and I couldn’t mask my feelings any longer.

  Tucker dropped to his knees in front of me. “You’re shaking.”

  “I’m terrified,” I admitted, fingers curling into his shirt.

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t know how to do this.”

  “Do what, baby?” His voice broke.

  “Love you.”

  “Love me?” I asked, voice trembling like a damn pubescent teen.

  Aida fisted my collar in both hands and tilted her face to mine. “I love you.”

  I. Love. You. Three words used all too often and frequently for the wrong reason. Not in this case, of that I was certain.

  “God, I love you,” she said again, her body relaxing into mine, as if the weight of the world had just been lifted.

  I brushed a strand of hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear. I’ve never seen so much vulnerability in her eyes. “I know.”

  And there it was. That damn laugh. My soft spot.

  “You did know, didn’t you?” She dropped her gaze and lifted it slowly, the uncertainty gone. “I love you, and I fear by admitting that, I’m handing you a death sentence.”

  Fuck. My heart fucking exploded in my chest. She was worried about me. “If this is death, I welcome her with open arms.”

  Aida sighed and dropped her forehead to my chest. “I promise I won’t disappear. I can’t.” Her lips blazed a trail of fire up my chest and neck. “I’m terrified of losing you, too.”

  Aida pulled me in for a kiss. A salty, wet, passionate exchange. A contract, a promise, a sealing of our fate.

  I urged her legs around my waist, cupped her curvy, gorgeous ass, and carried her to the bathroom. When I set her on her feet, she snagged the hem
of my shirt and lifted it over my head. I reached into the shower and turned the nozzle. While the water warmed, Aida popped the button on my waistband and peeled my jeans and boxers down my thighs.

  Her heavy breaths and parted lips filled me with crazed lust. I captured her wrists, raising them above her head, and pinned her to the wall. While I fucked her mouth with my own, I stepped out of my pants and kicked them to the side. Christ, this woman. So soft and pliant against me. Molten temptation and cool pleasure.

  On a moan, I broke our kiss and pulled her with me into the welcoming spray.

  I took my time, washing first her hair, then her body. My greedy hands caressed every inch, every curve of her olive skin. She returned the favor, paying special attention to my erection. By the time we’d rinsed the lather from our bodies, I was damn near crippled with pain. My cock had never known such torture.

  We dried and made our way to the bedroom, hand in hand, naked and unabashed.

  Aida loved me. It cost her to say those words out loud, to offer a piece of her soul, but she’d said them. Aida was mine. And despite her grief, or maybe because of it, I would no longer hold back. Maybe the timing was wrong. Her wounds too raw. But I would take what she’d given, and by the time I finished reveling in her confession, there would be no doubt in her brilliant mind that I would be master, protector, and king of her goddamned universe.

  She looked up at me through weary, heavy lids, and I damn near caved and ordered her into bed. She needed rest. But she needed liberation, too. Hell, I needed to be the only person setting her free.

  “Turn around and crawl up on the bed. All fours.”

  Her brows furrowed in confusion, or was it warning? I couldn’t tell. Not that it mattered. Sooner or later, she’d learn that with me, it was safe to concede.

  “Ass in the air, Bambi. That pussy is all mine now. I’m taking it. With my mouth, then my cock.”

  Goosebumps covered her backside as she turned and prowled to the center of the mattress.

  I stalked behind her, my knees between her pretty little feet, my hands on her hips, and planted a kiss on the dimple above her heart shaped ass. “I’m going to help you forget for tonight. But know this…” I whispered against her dark skin. “I’m in charge. And by the time I’m finished, you won’t remember your own name.”

  Aida trembled against me, a moan rising in her throat. As she lowered her face to the bed, opening herself further, I trailed a finger down her crevice, parting her folds. I could’ve spent the next twenty years admiring the enticing sweetness she offered. However, my cock had other plans, and he was screaming at me to get the show on the road.

  I inhaled her heady scent, my erection jerking, eager for relief. But tonight was about my girl. With one hand on each cheek, I massaged her soft flesh. I flicked my tongue across her clit, then sucked it between my teeth. Aida slammed her hips back, grinding against my mouth. Always vying for control.

  With lips and tongue, I worked her, worshipped her. With my hands, I held her steady. My heart? Hell. I’d lost that weeks ago. Aida clutched it now, in her powerful fist.

  I played, explored, and teased until she came, crying profanities into the mattress, fucking my face. Before she could recover, I pushed inside her. Holy fuck, I nearly came as she rocked against me, her heavenly core a tight, warm vice massaging my cock.

  The room was quiet, aside from the sounds of our lovemaking. Moans. Sighs. Skin slapping skin, the fucking sexy sound her juices made while I pumped in and out of her tight, silky heat.

  Aida must have sensed that I was close to my release. With a groan, she crawled forward on the bed, and away from me, my erection twitching like a mad dog. She eyed my angry cock, then me, the devil lighting her grin. “Lay down, Cowboy.”

  So much for being in control. I obeyed.

  Facing away from me, Bambi straddled my hips, rewarding me with a glorious view. She reached between her legs and gripped my erection before sliding into position and taking me in, slow and deep, stealing my breath, and, I was quite certain, my soul. And then, heaven help me, she started to move, swaying her hips, gentle at first, back and forth, slow and controlled.

  I watched, unseeing, only feeling every slap of her ass against my abs, absorbing the weight of her plump rear as she ground against me on every down stroke, taking me deeper and harder. We were both slick with sweat and hypnotized by lust. Aida lost control, writhing and moaning, bucking, trembling, riding me like a woman in the throes of an erotic possession. Feral, and free, and fucking me into oblivion.

  I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t keep up. And when the world started to fall away from me, I bolted upright with the force of the storm raging through my gut.

  I came hard, holding her in a vice, my lips in her hair, her round ass still rocking against me. Sweet fuck. Sweet fucking hell this woman was going to be the death of me.

  Aida’s thighs quivered, back curled, and head dropped, as she rode out her orgasm on the most erotic string of dirty words I’d ever heard. She slumped forward, her hands on my knees, and started to laugh. “Aida. Aida Voltolini,” she said with a breathless rasp.

  I fell back, bracing my arms behind me, admiring her form. The arch in her back, the dimples above her ass cheeks. I reached forward, pushed her raven hair to the side, then over her shoulder, and traced her spine with my index finger.

  Aida shivered. “You promised I’d forget my name. I haven’t forgotten yet,” she said, glancing over her shoulder, offering a smirk.

  Didn’t matter that I hadn’t recovered. When she rolled her hips, tossed her hair, and reached between my legs to squeeze my balls, it didn’t take long for my cock to get back in the game.

  By the time the sun peeked through Aida’s small windows the next morning, she’d forgotten her name, and I’d come close to begging her to take mine.

  A HEAVY SNOW FELL the day before Thanksgiving, lulling the world outside into a sleepy quiet while my prison shrunk around me.

  Still no word from Tito. My father’s death no longer made headlines. The media frenzy surrounding the explosion, as well as speculation as to my whereabouts, had fizzled after the first week. Still, I wasn’t about to take a chance with my daughter’s life. Returning home, revealing to the world that I was alive, was not an option. My father, his bodyguard, his lawyer, and two of his closest associates had been executed along with the staff that had been commissioned to my father’s Poughkeepsie safe house. Several bodies remained unidentified.

  Chances were high that I had a price on my head, as well.

  So, I stayed in my little hole in the ground apartment. Out of the public eye, and halfway out of my mind. I paced my small living room, nervous and agitated, drowning in grief. Had my father been given a funeral? Had anyone claimed his body? I hated not knowing. Hated that a million miles away, my life had burned to ash. And I’d been the one to light the match.

  Bereavement, frustration, and rage consumed me, a slow smolder decimating my sanity. I had no outlet.

  Pace, pace, turn. Pace, pace, turn. The handles of my blades bit into my palms.

  Pace, pace. Lola whined. I ignored her.

  I paced some more, this time down the hallway.

  The knives were heavy in my hands. I couldn’t let them go.

  Lola cried again. I yelled at her to shush.

  Fuck, I was being an asshole to the dog. I marched over to the mutt and rubbed her tummy with my toes. “Sorry, girl. Didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s the hormones.”

  I blamed everything on hormones. Excessive crying. Ridiculous mood swings. House cleaning. I’d never cleaned a house in my life. Now, I couldn’t stop. I’d even rearranged furniture twice in the past two weeks.

  Tucker had spent every night with me, and Lola had spent every day by my side. We’d developed a routine, me and the cuddly black bear. At seven every morning, I would let her out to do her business, then feed her. Tucker would take her for a walk before leaving for work. I’d work out in front o
f the television, along with those ridiculous on-demand exercise programs. Eat. Nap. Eat. We’d go outside, to the private side of the yard, and I’d throw Lola’s ball for her.

  Some days, Lola and I would head upstairs to hang with Rocky. He was on vacation from school for the week, due to the holiday, and I had to admit, the little tyke was growing on me. He had his daddy’s exotic green eyes, and no surprise, he’d already learned to work them to his advantage, hence, my newfound affinity for Legos.

  I had just decided to head upstairs to add the finishing touches to my princess castle when I heard the scrape of a snow shovel. Lola and I pushed to our feet at the same time and raced for the front door.

  I stepped outside and quickly jumped back in, the icy cement biting my bare feet.

  Shielding my eyes from the blinding glare of white, I looked to the top of the stairs. Tucker rested an elbow on the handle of his shovel and crossed one heavy snow boot over the other. “Hey, Bambi. Get dressed. Time for you to get out of that house.”

  Lola pushed past me and trotted up the stairs, marring the crystalline perfection of the snow that had drifted down the first three steps. Crisp, cold air licked my nose, burned my lungs, tightened my nipples to painful peaks.

  “I’m not much in the mood, Tuck,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “It wasn’t a request. Get dressed, bundle up good, and be out here in ten.”

  I cocked my hip and lowered my brows. “Or what?”

  Tucker just shook his head and smiled, then turned his back and continued with the scoop and toss, clearing the walkway like a pro. He’d become awful bossy since we’d shared those three special words with each other.

  I stood in the doorway longer than necessary, in awe of his powerful form, and the grace in which he performed such a mundane task.

  Twenty minutes later, I emerged from my hidey-hole, bundled head to toe in wool, down, and thermal lining. Tucker had shoveled a path around the house, giving me easy access to the front deck. I found him sitting with Rocky on the porch swing, laughing and wrestling.

  “Aida!” Rocky hopped down the steps and barreled toward me, a fluffy, colorful bundle of winter gear. He could hardly put his arms around me, but that didn’t stop him from trying.