by Frankie Love
“I never lie,” she moans as I begin to finger fuck her nice and good. I use my other hand to cup her round ass, squeezing it as she arches her back, her breasts practically asking to be devoured.
“You’re pussy’s so nice and tight.”
“You like that?” she asks, rocking her hips as she moves closer to orgasm. Her breathing is shallow, and her hands are in her hair, piling it up on top of her head.
“I fucking love it,” I tell her. Her skin is so damn warm and soft, I want her completely naked in my arms, legs wrapped around me, our bodies coming together as one.
I keep touching her until her little cunt is melting in my hands. “Oh, god, I’m gonna come,” she whimpers, leaning back until her back is resting on the dashboard.
My hand is drenched with her release and she cries out, “Oh fuck, fuck me, fuck yes!”
Her words have my cock hard as steel and when she finishes, she’s panting, eyes glistening.
“I love how vocal you are. Didn’t expect that.”
She covers her face with her hand. “Ohmigod. I don’t know what came over me.”
I pull down her hands gently. “Oh, sweetlips, I do. Turns out, you love to get finger banged on the first date.” We both start laughing hard--the exhilaration of the moment filling the truck.
“This a first date?” she asks after the waves of pleasure have swept over her. She bats her eyelashes, hand pressed to my chest.
“Some might call it that.”
“What do you call it?”
I cock my head to the side, trying to find her angle. Then I decide I don’t really give a damn what her angle is. I know what is mine. I want her. Now, and later. My words weren’t just smooth lines to get her to ride me in my truck. I saw this pretty thing on the side of the road and knew she was mine.
“I call it the first of many more to come.”
“You’re crazy,” she says, reaching for my belt buckle and sliding it off. The button on my jeans come next. Then the zipper.
“Crazy about you.”
“I’m the kinda of girl you want?”
I look at her as if she’s lost her marbles. “Hell, fucking yes, you are.”
She pulls out my cock without looking into my eyes. Her fingers run up and down my hard ridges, and I groan from the pleasure of her touch.
“Baby,” I moan, squeezing her ass.
“Don’t ‘baby’ me,” she says, lifting her ass.
“Okay, Millie. I’ll call you whatever you like just so long as you keep on doing this.” I reach for a condom in my glove box. There’s a whole Costco-sized pack and Millie sees it.
Her eyes go wide and then she smacks me in the shoulder, laughing. “God, you don’t mess around do you?” she teases ironically.
I shake my head, loving the fact that she isn’t getting worked up about the fact I’ve been to this rodeo.
“I like to be prepared is all.” I slide the condom on quickly, and then Millie sits down on top of me and I hold her hips as she eases herself down.
She sinks onto me, her perfect lips forming an ‘O’ as she expands to take me. “For now, why don’t you just call me your filthy-sweet girl.”
Chapter 6
Millie
When I give him my address, he turns on his phone and enters it into his navigation app. Doing so causes his queue of texts to download and they started rolling in. Each time it causes the navigational directions to pause as the message is read.
Hey, Moxy, wanna come over after work?
Another: I’m off in an hour if you wanna get dinner?
Then: I’m still so horny thinking about our time last--
That’s when he yanks the phone from the stand and turns it off, tossing in the back of the cab.
“Fucking-A,” he groans, running a hand through his thick hair. “Why don’t you just tell me where to go?”
We drive to my house in near silence. It’s not that it’s awkward, exactly, it’s more about me trying to catch my breath. Remember myself. Gather my thoughts.
I just fucked a stranger in an abandoned parking lot.
And I liked it.
A lot.
This can never happen again.
He’s not just maybe a manwhore. He absolutely is.
“Sorry about that,” he says when we pull up at my apartment. “The texts, I mean. Not the night.”
“It’s fine. It’s what I expected.” I feel my walls going up, and part of me hates that. Hates that the vulnerable woman who screamed out as she came twenty minutes ago is long gone. I’m not like the women he’s used to. A woman who sends booty-call texts and asks for what she wants and invites strangers into her apartment.
I’m just me, Millie, once again, and the confidence I had on the side of the road has vanished.
Now it’s just me in my driveway, ready to go back to my studio apartment, which is empty and lonely.
Moxon clenches his jaw and I know I’ve upset him. “I just mean, this was a one-time thing, clearly that’s all you’re capable of doing anyway,” I tell him.
“Maybe I’m more than what you think.”
I exhale. “Moxon, I don’t want a relationship with a guy who sleeps with half the town. A guy who...”
“What?”
I shake my head.
He reaches for my hand, and I let him take it. “Just say what you’re thinking. You haven’t held back all night. Why start now?”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I say, looking up in his eyes. “But I just don’t want a guy who isn’t put together.”
He pulls his hand back and scoffs. “I have a fucking job, I’ve got a cat––”
“I know. You know what I mean though.”
“I don’t think I do,” he says.
“I don’t care that you’re a player. I mean it. That’s your life and I’m no one to judge. But Moxon, I’m not a player. I don’t do casual encounters. If I’m with someone, I want it to be the real deal. I want it to be forever.”
“So, you wanna get married? Is that it? You wanna settle down?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not saying that. Not right now at least. I’m saying if I’m with someone, I want to be the only one. I want to be more than a booty call.”
“Good.” He smiles like he’s got me cornered. “Then let me be that man. I want to be that man.”
“Mox, we just met.”
“Aren’t you the one making a living from selling romance to people? Don’t you believe in love at first sight?”
I laugh. “This isn’t love at first sight. If anything, it’s love at first fuck.”
He grins. “So, you’re calling this love?”
I groan. “No. I just... Look, we both had fun tonight and--”
“That wasn’t just fun, Millie.”
“Oh, it’s Millie now?”
“It’s what you asked me to call you.”
I raise my eyebrows, my hand on my seatbelt buckle, ready to go. “After you ignored my request about twenty times.”
“Look, I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m not trying to present myself as anything other than what I am.”
“Me either.”
“I called you those names because I thought you liked it. Not to be an ass.”
“It doesn’t matter. The night is done.” I put my hand on the door to open it. “Thank you so much for picking me up and getting my car to the shop.”
Moxon nods, his face tight. I’m not the only one who seems to have changed since we left the parking lot. The easy-going man I’ve enjoyed for the last few hours, is long gone too. “You’ll need to give Malone Auto a call in the morning.”
“Right,” I say. “Of course.” I push open the door and step out. “Well, then, maybe I’ll see you at the shop?”
He shrugs, not meeting my eyes, hand already on the gear shift. “Maybe.”
I step out of the truck, feeling more alone than I ever have in my life. I want to apologize for clearly offending him, but before I can, he puts the t
ruck in drive, signaling to me that whatever was on the table earlier is certainly off now.
And then, without another word, he is gone.
***
Once inside my apartment, I feed Clyde and then jump into the shower. All I can think about is that I wish I had done something differently.
Everything differently.
I don’t regret the truck sex. Moxon’s hands knew what they were doing, and my body had never been treated so well.
It’s not that. It’s the fact I clearly read him wrong. I must have. Right? He is a player though. There is no doubt about that. Yet, when I told him as much, he seemed offended. Hurt. Like the truth stung.
I dry off, thinking about how easy it was to be with him. He seemed to appreciate the woman I am. He leads with a smile that would make any woman weak in the knees, and beyond that, he is funny and charming and the complete package.
Except, of course, he’s the complete package for about a dozen different women who called him tonight.
I pull on my bathrobe and walk to the stove to put the tea kettle on. The stove is approximately six feet away from the shower. My place is tiny and I just adore it. I don’t live in a huge city, but it’s my hometown and I naturally returned after college. I never wanted to live in a metropolis like New York or LA, and this town fits me just fine.
So, here I am in North Amber, Oregon, a few hours south of Portland. It has a lovely art district and good restaurants and enough going on during the weekends that I can always find something fun to do, like walk around the farmer’s market or catch a movie at a theater that only shows classics.
I love all that stuff, but the best part is my little apartment. My dad hates it. He worries it isn’t safe enough. He offered to buy me a condo in one of the new complexes that he just sold. But I want to pave my own way and make it on my own. Thankfully, with my card company, I am.
The tea kettle whistles and I pour the steaming water into my mug of Earl Grey tea. Then I carry it over to my desk and pull out a fresh sheet of cardstock.
I may not have left Moxon on the best of terms tonight, but tomorrow, I won’t arrive at the auto shop empty-handed.
I’ll make him the thank you card he deserves.
Chapter 7
Moxon
Fuckin-A.
The moment I peel out, I know I’m an idiot.
Millie is not the kind of woman you leave on the side of the curb. She’s the sort of woman you walk to the door and give a kiss on the cheek good-bye. The kind of woman you call the next day.
Instead, I treated her like every other woman I meet.
I’m a goddamn fool.
Millie is nothing like the rest. She is fucking everything.
Way too good for me, sure, but damn, maybe she’s the kick in the pants I needed. I’ve been acting like a fool for way too long, maybe it’s time I get my shit in order and become a real man.
Millie may have been teasing about the kind of man she wants-- the picket fence and 401k--but I think there was some truth in her jokes. At the end of the day, no woman wants a man who can’t provide and take care of his family. A woman wants a man who is committed, one who has his priorities straight and who can be counted on.
I sure as hell have a few things to do if I want this woman to be mine.
And I do.
This ain’t just my cock talking. This is my heart.
***
The next day, the shop is busy as it ever is. When I walk in, there Millie’s classic Beetle sits. The hood is open, and my brother Mike is staring down at it.
“Crazy huh?” Mike asks.
I know just what he means. “I know. The car made me do a double take.”
Mike and I share a knowing look, but then we turn back to the engine at hand.
“It’s not just the timing belt. The carburetor is fucked too,” he says, screwing back on the oil cap and then wiping his hands on a rag. “It’s gonna take a day or two to get the parts, then a few more to have it back up and running.”
I run a hand over my jaw. “Want me to call her and let her know?”
Mike shakes his head. “Nah, I already asked Tammi to call. Got the owner’s number from her insurance card in the glove box. But Tammi said it was a landline. Didn’t even know people had those anymore.”
“Huh. Okay.” Of course, I wanted an excuse to call her, hear her voice. Maybe apologize for all the sex I’ve had the last ten years, but I don’t really want to call unless I have something to say beyond telling her I’ve deleted Tinder from my phone.
“What, you wanted to be the one to call her?” Mike asks, walking over to the break room. I follow him.
“Maybe,” I say, pouring us both coffee. Handing him a paper cup, I lean against the counter. “She was something else, Mike.”
“Something good or something bad? Because with you and women it’s usually bad.”
“Hey,” I say, scowling into my cup of black coffee, feeling as bitter as the fucking coffee over not ending things better with Millie last night. For the first time in my life, I want to get my act together. Be the kind of man Millie would take home to meet her father.
“It’s the truth,” Mike says. “Least it has been since Mom died.”
I lift my eyes. “Like you should talk. You’re the polar opposite of me but that doesn’t mean that’s any better.”
Mike shrugs, not needing to say anything more about the fact he hasn’t been on a date in years. “I can’t go fucking up my life.”
“That’s because you have Louisa.”
“Fair enough. I have someone to worry about, a five-year-old daughter who’s counting on me.”
“Is she with you or Lesley this weekend?”
“Me.” Mike runs a hand over his chin. “Lesley’s drinking again, living with a new guy right now, totally breaking her agreement with the court.”
“Sorry, man.”
“I just want to keep her safe.”
“As long as she has you and her Uncle Mox in her corner, she’ll be alright.”
Mike shakes his head and then changes the subject, “So what’s the deal with the woman who owns the Beetle?”
I take another sip of coffee. “Millie doesn’t want a player.”
Mike grins. “Millie, huh? What’s she like?”
“Fucking perfect. And I need to step up my game if I wanna see her again. She’s not the kind of woman who takes less than she deserves, you know?”
“How you gonna do that?”
“I’m growing the fuck up, that’s how.” I toss my empty coffee cup in the trash and turn to see my bother grinning like a goddamn fool. “What are you smiling about?”
“What’s this woman got? A magic pussy? I’ve never heard you talk like this.”
A protective urge rises in me. “Never talk about Millie like that again, okay?”
Mike nods. “I can respect that.” And I know he can. We went into business together five years ago, built this shop into something we can be proud of, and while Mike might have bad luck with women, I know there isn’t a better guy on Earth.
I get to work, looking at the queue already here, and start working in bank two on an SUV that needs a new transmission.
A few hours later, it’s my lunch break and I make the call to the real estate agent who sold my mom’s place after she died. George answers on the second ring and I tell him what I’m in the market for.
“A nice starter home. Three bedrooms, two baths. A detached garage would be great. Something with a yard, not too far from town.”
“Okay, that’s workable. What’s your price range, son?”
I tell him, knowing I’ve kept my portion of my mother’s estate in a secure account for the last few years.
“That will really help things in terms of finding a place. What’s your timeline?”
“Soon. I’m calling the bank after we hang up.”
“Okay,” George says. “So, you’re a motivated buyer, I like that.”
“Hey, an
d if there’s a place with a picket fence, that would be awesome.”
George chuckles. “Why are you in such a hurry to have the whole nine yards? A young man like you could get a condo. I keep telling my daughter she should move into one of those new places. They have pools and restaurants--all the bells and whistles.”
“No thanks, I want the kind of place a woman would call home.”
“Well, congratulations, son. It’s good to hear you’ve found someone. I’m sure your mother would be very proud.”
I don’t correct him. I like the idea of him thinking I have someone. And he is right, my mother would be proud.
“I’ll be in touch, Moxon.”
After work, I do my best to clean up before heading to the bank. It goes smoothly, mostly because I don’t have any debt, no student loans, no loan sharks after me. I may be a manwhore according to Millie, but I’m not a fucking fool. I take care of myself, just like I took care of my mother the last five years of her life.
The bank manager, Linda shakes my hand and lets me know the paperwork will be coming electronically for me to sign. I thank her, heading back to my truck when the phone rings.
“You got an hour to look at a place? Just came on the market.”
I jump in the truck, feeling like all of this is too good to be true.
Chapter 8
Millie
I’m just getting out of the shower when the auto shop leaves a voicemail letting me know the Beetle is ready. The cardio class was no joke, I may take it three afternoons a week, but my love handles aren’t budging. Not that Moxon seemed to mind.
I don’t care about putting pretty panties or a push-up bra on if my makeup looks good. And even though it all does, it’s not for Moxon, it’s for me. I’m going to the auto shop for business, not pleasure. Once I’m all ready, I reach for my handmade, one-of-a-kind, card, and slide it into my purse.
I call a cab and it takes longer than expected to arrive. But I refuse to complain, I’m just glad my Beetle was able to be repaired. Losing that car would be such a bummer. I saved up for it when I was seventeen. My dad offered to buy me something new, but I was adamant about this pale blue bug.