“You ever been here?” he asked as he got out of the truck, leaving the radio playing.
The spot he had taken her to was known far and wide by high school and college kids alike. It was far enough off the road that a little lovin’ could occur without anyone seeing, but was close enough so that you could hear someone coming.
“Nope, no guy ever wanted to bring me here. They knew my daddy would kill them. See why I had to take you up on the offer of a summer fling? I’m really sheltered.” She laughed as he came around and opened her door.
He grabbed her hand and took her to the back, letting the tailgate down. He picked her up and placed her there, stepping in between her legs. Moving her hair back from her face, he tried to memorize every part of her. She would be leaving soon and so would he. It wasn’t written in stone when they would be able to see each other again and that worried him. It scared him even. Better relationships, he knew, had not been able to stand the test of time and mileage. And not even he could say how much mileage would be separating them when he started traveling with his team.
He cupped her face in his hands and bent his head down far enough so that his lips could catch hers.
“Have you ever brought anyone out here before, Mr. Harper?” she asked as he pulled away.
He grinned and she laughed. He had a devilish glint to his eyes, and she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to know what had taken place with him at this particular spot. She’d always known he was popular; she just wasn’t sure how popular. A part of her was a teeny bit jealous; the other part was proud that he had picked her.
“Yeah, I been here before, but let’s just say it never worked for me the way it did for other guys.”
“You mean you struck out, huh?” She tickled his stomach and hooked her hands in the waistband of his jeans.
“Yeah, struck out big time. One night Daddy drove by and saw my truck here. Needless to say, I went home with a huge welt on my ass and a hard-on that never got taken care of.”
She laughed loudly, throwing her head back. He never failed to make her laugh. Everything in their lives together just fit.
“So you mean to tell me no guy ever brought you out here? I find that hard to believe. A pretty little thing like you.” He ran his hands down her back, stopping where her shirt rode up, revealing a small portion of skin visible between that and the waist of her pants.
“Nope, no one. I guess they just thought I wasn’t worth the trouble.” She wrapped her legs around his body and pulled him closer to her, to keep them from hanging off the truck.
“I think you’re worth it. It’s the rest of ’em’s loss that they didn’t see what an amazing woman was being held back in those pageant costumes,” he whispered, toying with the hair that lay on the nape of her neck.
“Why, Wayne, are you trying to get me to have sex with you?” She laughed, scooting back into the bed of the truck.
“Maybe when you get your dorm room. We’re not doing it in the truck anymore.” He reluctantly released her from his arms and watched as she scooted all the way back, her head hitting the glass in the back window.
“Why not? It’s not like we haven’t before. In fact, the first time we did it in a truck was pretty spectacular, if I do say so myself.” She reached into the opened back sliding glass window and extracted a blanket he kept there for emergencies.
“What if we get, ya know, something on the truck? What if my boys or Lee saw it? I’ll never live it down. This is Lee’s new baby. I know he didn’t care if we did anything in the old one; hell, he didn’t know about the old one. This one makes me nervous though.”
She could see his will weakening as she grabbed the blanket and kneeled, spreading it over the truck. She got down on all fours and spread it into the farthest corners. She inhaled a deep breath as she felt his arm snake around her waist as he settled her soundly on his lap.
“Thought you wanted to wait.”
“Fuck what Lee or my boys think. They’re just jealous ’cause I got to you first.”
He turned them around and laid her down, grabbing his jacket from inside to serve as a pillow for her.
“Lift your head up,” he said softly as he stuffed it under her neck and arranged it just so for her.
He ran a hand over her stomach as he leaned down and captured her lips with his own. There was something different about the atmosphere, something different about them. Instead of the passionate encounter, as was the norm, there was something decidedly slow and sensual at work. He took his time and worked his way down to her neck, running his tongue lightly along the sides and moving over to nibble on her earlobes. His tongue made a path to her chest until it encountered the top of her shirt.
He grinned down at her, running the hands that rested on her stomach up to cup her lace-covered breasts before completely removing the shirt that covered her body. He inhaled deeply as he looked in her eyes and ran a finger down her nose in an affectionate gesture. His tongue resumed its path down her chest, running over her lace-encased nipples. She moaned at the sensation he caused. There was something erotic about the whole situation. His fingers reached behind her back and made quick work of her bra as her breasts were exposed to his eyes.
“Wayne?” She cocked her head to the side as she looked at him.
His gaze made it seem as if he’d never seen her before. His big hands cupped her breasts lightly, and he ran a finger over her nipples. The touch was so light and tender that if her nipples hadn’t reacted she wouldn’t have really been sure he had even touched her. Her hands that had lain still at her sides moved to his hair and pushed his mouth down to where his fingers caressed. His mouth formed a suction around her nipple, and his tongue flicked a steady rhythm as she grabbed the back of his shirt and started pulling it up over his body. He lifted up from his task long enough to get the shirt off and then resumed the task at hand.
“You’re so beautiful. I’m gonna miss you so much. I never thought it would be like this,” he breathed as he let his tongue travel low enough on her body to reach the buttons on her jeans.
Grinning up at her, he used his teeth to unbutton and unzip them. It took a lot longer, but she wasn’t complaining about it. He ran his hands all the way down her legs and feet as he took the jeans and underwear off her body. He traveled back up, stopping to flick his tongue at her clit one single solitary time as her hips bucked toward him.
“Not yet.” He grinned at the frustration showing on her face.
He ran his hands down to the warm heat that brought him so much pleasure and ran a finger across it. Not giving her the pleasure she wanted. He poised two fingers at her entrance and laughed as she moaned loudly.
“If you want it baby, come and get it.”
Her hips bucked up so far off the blanket that her shoulders and head where the only thing that remained touching. He groaned as his fingers slid into her.
“Wayne, can we please stop with the teasing now? I want you.”
It looked as if she were almost in tears. Wayne quickly divested himself of his pants and boxers. He plunged into her, his mouth at her ear.
“God, I love you!” he panted as he pushed himself up on his arms. It was the first time either of them had ever spoken of love. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been feeling it for a while now, but she was scared. It was all new to her and she knew that this part was new to Wayne as well.
“I love you too,” she whispered, her heart in her throat. This was no longer a fling of any kind and they both knew it.
He set a slow, steady pace. There was no deliberate quickness as there had been in the past. He whispered into her ear as he slowly built her up to a crescendo. She grasped his hair in her hands as she bucked herself up to meet every thrust. He could feel his release about to come and quickly stuck a hand between their bodies. He rubbed her clit furiously as she shouted her release so loud he was sure the people in the next county could hear. He groaned loudly as he came to a rest on her body, his arms finally having given out.
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He tried to regain his breathing and heard a noise come from Clementine. He glanced over and saw tears streaming down her face.
“Clementine? Are you okay? Did I hurt you, baby? What’s wrong?” he asked, concern evident on his face.
“That was beautiful. This isn’t just some fling anymore, is it? This is for real,” she whispered.
“You’re right, baby. This is the real deal. Never thought I’d be sayin’ that when we started out, but it’s become that. God, I don’t wanna let you go to school, but I know that I have to. I can’t hold you back, and we have to let each other go. We’ll make it work.”
“I really hope that you’re right, Wayne. I hope that you’re right.”
He tightened his arms around her, kissing her forehead. He refused to let her go and give up the feeling she gave him. Wherever life took him—whether it was staying in Soggy Bottom, Kentucky or moving to the mecca, Mooresville, North Carolina to race—he knew that Clementine Lewis would be right there with him. He couldn’t stand to have it any other way, and he would always remember these hot, summer nights.
The End
About The Author
Laramie Briscoe is the author of the bestselling Heaven Hill Series & the new Rockin’ Country Series.
Her grandmother encouraged a love of reading when she secretly passed along her romance novels after finishing them. That love of reading and a vivid imagination sparked a love of writing.
An avid TV and movie enthusiast, a nail polish hoarder, Starbucks addict, an obsessive book reader, and a lover of all things that sparkle and glitter. She lives in South Central Kentucky with her husband and her cat. She is currently writing and editing the millions of stories that roll around in her head on a day-to-day basis.
Follow along with her as she tries to make all her dreams come true!
Also by Laramie Briscoe
The Heaven Hill Series
Meant To Be
Out of Darkness
Losing Control
Worth The Battle
Dirty Little Secret
Second Chance Love
Rough Patch
The Rockin’ Country Series
Only The Beginning
One Day at A Time
The Price of Love
Connect with Laramie
Website:
http://www.laramiebriscoe.com
Email:
[email protected]
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLaramieBriscoe
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/LaramieBriscoe
Pinterest:
http://www.pinterest.com/laramiebriscoe/
Instagram:
http://instagram.com/laramie_briscoe
Substance B:
http://substance-b.com/LaramieBriscoe.html
Mailing List:
http://eepurl.com/Fi4N9
Heath
A Roughnecks Story
Chelsea Camaron
License Note
Thank you for downloading/purchasing this ebook. This ebook and its contents are the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied, and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download/purchase their own copy, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.
This book contains mature content not suitable for those under the age of 18. Involves strong language and sexual situations. All parties portrayed in sexual situations are adults over the age of 18.
All characters are fictional. Any similarities are purely coincidental.
Published by Chelsea Camaron
Copyright © Chelsea Camaron 2015
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of Chelsea Camaron, except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
1st Edition Published: March 2015
Editing by: Asli Fratarcangeli
Chapter One
Heath
‡
Nothing I’d rather do than fuck, fight, or trip a pipe.
Yeah, the sticker on the back window of my jacked up Chevy truck sums me up. I live for fucking, fighting, and my job as a roughneck. I worked construction for years. My long-time friend, Maverick Collins, got me a rigging job when the economy took a downward turn and houses weren’t being built as much.
Oil rigging is a way of life here in the great state of Texas. Our economy, in Midland, survives off of it. I am a derrick-man or derrick hand, whichever you prefer to call it. I work the top of the derrick, where I guide the strands of the drill pipe into the fingers at the top of the derrick, while tripping the pipe out of the hole. It is hard work, but it feels good to get a little dirty every day that I am on the rig. It isn’t an easy job and it comes with its own set of dangers. Leaving at the end of the day is a reminder I made it through.
It is more than a dirty job, but hey, someone has to do it. Me – I love a hard day’s work. Call me a good ole boy if you want. At the end of a long day, I want to feel it in my bones. I work hard and I play even harder. I am Heath ‘Hitman’ Thomas.
The job I do, the life I lead, is far from easy. It sure isn’t the life for a pretty boy. There was a time when I could have had more opportunities…maybe.
If I am real with myself, there was a time in my life where I had the potential to leave this town and avoid this life. Fate, karma, decisions of a teen boy all played a hand in where I am today.
Fucking, fighting, and working day in and day out is what I do.
The Basement. My home away from home. Who am I kidding, this gym is my real home. My ‘home,’ according to legal standards, is merely an address to send my mail, and a place to shit, shower, and sleep. I live, really live, here. This is the place I let myself feel alive. Here, at The Basement, is where my focus is, where my life is outside of my work.
The Basement is the gym my childhood friend, Wendol, owns. Ever the observer, Wendol has been in my corner long before I ever stepped into a ring.
Side by side, we survived being the small guys together. Neither of us hit our growth spurts until after high school. This made us both victims to bullies. After losing consciousness from having his head in a toilet one too many flushes, Wendol made a change in his life.
The lanky five foot five inch, barely one hundred twenty five pound, flyweight started running and lifting. He turned his parent’s basement into his own personal gym. Add a bag and he started boxing. Seeing the changes in him, as the months passed on, I wanted that too. He wasn’t gaining weight, no he was packing on muscle by the pound. I started spending my afternoons and weekends training right alongside him. It wasn’t long before those same bullies were trying to be our best friends. Fuck that and fuck them.
The girls noticed the changes too. They were lining up for a round between the sheets with either one of us.
Wendol and I didn’t stop at merely bulking up to prevent being picked on. No we trained. We even managed to get scouted. Wendol’s dreams quickly faded when it became apparent that no matter how good he was, he has a weakness. Glass jaw. Hit him in the jaw and he is out for the count. I have knocked him out more times than either of us care to count. We even went through a phase trying to strengthen it where I would hit him on purpose. It never worked.
On the flip side, I gathered sponsors. I was working my way up. I managed a few professional lower league fights before I was given the boot. Less than two years in and I was handed a lifetime ban in the World Boxing Association.
A league that wants to protect a scumba
g, like the one I fucked up, is not the place for me anyway. He deserved what I gave him and more. Walking past his locker room hearing the sounds of his wife saying no as he forced himself on her sent me into overdrive. The adrenaline from my fight, the rage from knowing she was being violated, it was all too much. I beat him to a pulp. He landed in the hospital. I ended up booted out of the association when she wouldn’t back up my story.
That is my past. Lesson learned – stay out of other people’s business. Now it’s me, Wendol, and the underground league. No titles, no trophies, no divisions, no weight classes, just a lottery and cold hard cash.
LoraLeigh
One day I will be more than an item to be bought or sold, won or lost. One day I will know what it is to be a human being.
Dear Diary,
Today is day two thousand one hundred and ninety, since my mom overdosed. It is day two thousand one hundred and eighty eight since her dealer sold me to the highest bidder.
Today is six years, to the day, I said goodbye to one prison only to fall into another.
At fifteen, I was helpless. At eighteen, I was ruined. Today is day one thousand and ninety five since I tried to run. Today is day two hundred and sixty four since my last thought of suicide. Today is day three hundred and twenty since my last attempt at suicide.
Today is day four hundred twelve with my current owner. Pete ‘Professor’ Charleston isn’t so bad now that we have an understanding. I have certainly been treated worse by others in the past.
Daily reminder-
I will survive another day. I will find hope. One day I will be free. One day I will be me.
Signed,
LoraLeigh Riffel
“Annie, doll up, darlin’, got a fight tonight,” Pete calls to me from outside my bedroom door.
Carefully, I tuck the diary into my pillow. I don’t keep the journals once I fill them, but I write daily to keep track of time. One small notebook slides easily into the seam of a pillow and no one is the wiser.
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