HOT as F*CK

by Scott Hildreth

  Smokey coughed out a laugh and reached for her hand. “Sorry, it’s my first time.”

  He lowered himself to one knee. “Sandy, know this first. I love you dearly. If you’ll honor me in being my wife, I’d like to give you this ring, as a token of my promise to you to be your husband.”

  I truly loved them both will all my heart. Although my initial belief was that things needed to happen in a particular order, I now realized there wasn’t a recipe when it came to love. Love simply either happened or it didn’t.

  For us, it did.

  “I will,” I said.

  After those two spoken words, he slipped the ring on my finger.

  And, my fairy tale was complete.

  Well, almost.

  Epilogue

  Eddie

  We’re provided opportunities through our experiences. What we choose to pay attention to and what we choose to dismiss determine how our lives unfold.

  That’s what I think, anyway.

  What do I know? I’m just a seventeen-year-old girl.

  Wish I had a piece of apple pie for every time I heard that one.

  Seventeen, going on forty is more like it.

  My experiences in life molded me into who I am, therefore I have no regrets. Not one. My pinky finger will never bend again, and every time I look at it, it stands as a reminder of the night I was attacked.

  I wouldn’t erase that night if I could roll back the clock, though.

  It was on that night that I decided that my mom was pretty special. It wasn’t because she saved me, or that she shot the guy who was sure to kill me if she’d been absent from my life. It was what she said in a time of desperation.

  When she thought the least, and acted out of a mother’s God-given nature.

  She called me her daughter.

  My heart melted that night. But not as much as it did the day in the hospital.

  Sit down for a minute, and I’ll tell you how it all unfolded.

  We had an appointment to get the first ultrasound. I say we because the three of us went. Mom was excited, but not as much as dad and me. They wouldn’t let P-Nut come into the room, because he ended up trying to mack on a nurse, and then things went downhill fast.

  Well, that, and he was acting like P-Nut. He’s a hard man to understand. Not so much for me, but for everyone else.

  Anyway.

  The doctor put the gel on mom’s tummy, and started the scan. Dad and I had our eyes glued to the screen, and mom’s mouth went a mile a minute. That’s sixty miles an hour, if you do the math.

  “So, you can tell for sure?” mom asked.

  The doctor pressed the device to her stomach. “Can you hold still?”

  She reached for dad’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

  Dad’s eyes stayed fixed on the monitor.

  “Okay,” the doctor said. “You wanted to know sex, is that correct?”

  The three of us said yes at the same time.

  The doctor clicked a button and froze the screen. It looked like a jumbled up mess until she pointed to everything with her mouse.

  She moved the pointer. “These are the hips.”

  She moved it again, “This is the left foot.”

  She slid it over a little more. “And this is the penis.”

  “It’s a boy?” mom gasped.

  The doctor nodded. “Yes, this is a boy.”

  Her and dad oohed and aahed, but I said very little, other than smiling.

  The doctor pushed another button, and went back to a live feed. After a moment, she stopped the screen again.

  “These are the hips.”

  “This is the nose.”

  “And, this is the vagina.”

  I jumped from my seat, knocking the stool across the room. “Fuck Yes!”

  The doctor damned near fell from her stool. I turned toward dad and raised my hand in the air.

  He slapped his hand against mine. “I’ll pay you later.”

  “Oh,” the doctor said. “Did you have a bet about twins?”

  I shook my head. “No. We knew it would be twins. I bet one of them would be a girl.”

  I’d never been so excited in my entire life.

  Not once.

  My life was complete. I always had an awesome dad, and I was aware of that.

  But, ever since I was a little girl, all I ever wanted was a sister, and a mom.

  And, now I had both.

  I was so excited, I didn’t realize mom was crying. Heck, I was, too. I wiped my tears on my sleeve, leaned over her, and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

  “I’m so happy right now,” I said excitedly. “I need a milkshake.”

  She bit into her lip and nodded. Then, she raised her hand high in the air.

  “Girl power,” she murmured.

  She was the best mom ever.

  I slapped my hand against hers, and mouthed my mantra.

  Girl power.

  Dedication

  To the men and women of UMC Las Vegas.

  Thank you for all the fabulous care.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, are coincidental.

  NUTS 2d Edition Copyright © 2017 by Scott Hildreth

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author or publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use the material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author at designconceptswichita@gmail.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Cover design by Jessica: www.JessicaHildrethDesigns.com

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  Prologue

  Shirtless, he stood in front of me. The chiseled structure of his perfectly sculpted body would have commanded anyone’s attention, but my focus was on his eyes. The green specks around the iris gave perfect contrast to the golden-brown centers. Peering into them provided me a keen sense of comfort, and at that moment, I needed it.

  My knees wagged back and forth in anticipation of what might come next. He responded by lifting my shirt over my head. My heart thrashed in response. As the garment fell at my feet, my breathing all but stopped.

  He reached around me and unclasped my bra. The tips of his fingers gently traced the outline of my shoulders as he brushed the straps over my arms. My eyes fell closed momentarily. I heard myself inhale a quivering breath.

  With one hand cupping my breast, he lightly pressed the tip of his index finger against my lips. My mind fumbled with where to place my hands. I had so many options, all of which I’d held in reserve, yet they dangled at my sides like heavy weights.

  It was the most sensual moment that I had ever experienced, and I was on the cusp of making a fool of myself. Certain that revealing my lack of experience would lead to the demise of our sexual relationship, I did the first thing that came to mind.

  I flattened my palms and pressed them against his chest.

  I had no idea what to expect, but what I received caused me to grin a giddy smile. His taught muscles invited me to explore every inch of him with the tips of my fingers. Ever so slowly, I draped my hands down the length of his torso, savoring the rippled structure of his abdomen.

  His jeans put a temporary stop to my pleasures, preventing me from further exploration. Desperately wanting to proceed, but uncertain of how to do so, I opened my eyes.

  He was looking right at me. One hand cupped my breast while the other rested along my waist. His mouth held a content smile.

  My desires throbbed between my legs with every beat of my
heart.

  At the foot of his bed, naked from the waist up, we stood with our eyes locked on each other. Somehow, despite our combined desires, we’d reached an impasse.

  I waited.

  His thumb brushed against my nipple. A tingling ran through me, causing me to shiver. As if he sensed my satisfaction, he did it again. While I relished in the pleasure of his touch, his other hand slid from my waist, along my lower back, and came to a stop in the back pocket of my jeans.

  My eyes fell closed.

  Using my butt cheek as leverage, he pulled me into him and kissed me deeply.

  Dear God.

  I ached for him. My mind was reeling. He wedged his thigh between my legs. The tingling started again.

  I couldn’t take it any longer.

  I reached for his belt. With our tongues intertwined and our naked chests pressed to one another, I pulled against the leather strap and reached for the buckle. After what seemed to be an eternity of my bumble-fingered fumbling, it finally came free.

  Frantically, I shoved my hand deep into his pants.

  Holy cow.

  He was different than the boys I’d been with in the past. It made perfect sense. He wasn’t a boy. I held man’s girth in my hand. A real man.

  I squeezed his cock. After receiving no objection, I began to eagerly stroke the thick shaft.

  Our lips parted, and he leaned away from me.

  With his eyes fixed on mine, he pushed his jeans along his thighs and then to the floor. After adding his boxer shorts to the pile of clothes at our side, he stood before me completely naked.

  I looked him up and down. The muscles of his biceps were tense and bulging. His wide chest paid perfect complement to his narrow torso. The scars on his hands gave hint to his protective nature, and he stubble that had grown since he last shaved gave him enough edge to create pause.

  But. It was what he had on the inside that had drawn me so closely to him.

  In short, he was my perfect man.

  There was one thing I was versed on, and although it wasn’t all I had to offer, it was what I was comfortable giving him at that moment.

  I desperately wanted to please him. I lowered myself to my knees and looked up. “I want you in my mouth.”

  “You don’t have to--”

  “Please?”

  A slight sigh escaped him.

  He took a step forward.

  I licked my lips, opened my mouth, and ached in anticipation.

  He guided himself toward my lips. I flicked the tip of my tongue against the precum that glistened from the tip of his cock. Fueled by the slightly bitter taste, I eagerly took him into my mouth.

  I slid my lips up and down his thick shaft, taking fractionally more of him into my mouth with each stroke. With his scrotum cupped in my hand, I sucked excitedly, eventually accepting him into my throat fully.

  Hoping to see satisfaction in his eyes, I looked up. His head was tilted back and his eyes were fixed on the ceiling.

  Desperate for his approval, I gripped his bare butt in my hands. I forced what little of him that remained past my willing lips and waited.

  He drew an uneven breath and then met the gaze of my watering eyes.

  “Jesus,” he breathed.

  He reached for my head and pulled himself from my mouth.

  My heart sank. “You didn’t like it?”

  “I can’t fucking stand it,” he said. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

  “You liked it?”

  He guided me to my feet. “Loved it.”

  I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand and looked at him wantonly, hoping that he’d somehow justify continuing our sexual adventure. I’d waited a lifetime for what I was poised to share, and I was afraid I could wait no longer.

  I felt if he’d give himself to me, that we’d connect on a level that secured my presence in his life, and in his being.

  A magical existence known only to those who truly belonged in each other’s lives. A feeling so difficult to define, that any combination of words would fall short of an accurate description. These were the things I was certain we would share afterward.

  He lifted me from my feet and turned toward the bed. I sucked in a breath. He must have anticipated my desires, but it came as no real surprise. At times, it seemed he could read my thoughts.

  I hoped this was one of those times.

  I’m giving myself to you because I trust you.

  Be careful with me, please.

  You’re my first.

  Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Nine

  Joey

  I heard the heels of his boots on the tile floor long before he came into my line of sight. With my hope of sneaking out before he woke now crushed, I glanced toward the sound of his heavy footsteps.

  Just inside the kitchen door, he paused and rubbed the stubble on his unshaven jaw. Still wearing the prior night’s jeans and grease-stained tee shirt, he looked like living hell. His closely cropped hair and muscular build made confusing him with the Marine’s stationed at Camp Pendleton easy, but he’d been out of the military for six years. His mind, however, was still at war with someone or something.

  He fixed his tired eyes on mine. “You need to find a better job,” he said, his voice dry and raspy. “You’re not living here for god damned ever. You need to--”

  My stepfather was impossible to reason with. When he was sober, arguing came a little easier, but still exposed me to the risk of revealing his red-hot temper. Nonetheless, I took the chance and interrupted him mid-sentence.

  “It’s not like I’m lying around doing nothing,” I carried my cereal bowl to the kitchen sink. “I’ve got a great job, it’s just not good enough to support me. Yet.”

  “This food’s not free. All this shit cost money. The lights, the water, the mortgage. Money I work hard for. How in the fuck am I ever going to retire if you stay here for fucking ever? I can’t afford to have you mooching off me for a lifetime.”

  Finding a job that would support me wasn’t an easy task, especially with the high cost of living in southern California. It was frustrating and I was embarrassed, but it didn’t change the fact that for the time being I was barely making more than the minimum wage. I wanted to leave him and his violent outbursts more than anything, but if I could somehow double my income, I still wouldn’t be able to support myself.

  I glanced over my shoulder. “I bought the cereal.”

  “You put milk on it, didn’t you?”

  “I paid for it, too.”

  “Working at the parts counter of the fucking Harley dealer isn’t going to get you anywhere. I haven’t said anything for a while, but it’s high time you get where you can stand on your own two feet.”

  My face washed with skepticism. I turned to face him. “Haven’t said anything for a while?” I couldn’t help myself. A laugh escaped me. “You bitched me out last weekend. Pulled the covers off me at two o’clock in the morning, screaming. Remember that? Probably not. Too drunk, huh?”

  His jaw went tight. It was seven o’clock in the morning, and I’d already hit a nerve.

  His eyes thinned. “Don’t you dare call me a drunk.”

  He clenched his fists and took a step in my direction.

  Planning my path of escape, I glanced to my left. “If you so much as touch me,” I warned. “I swear, I’ll call the cops.”

  “You’re not going to talk to me like that, no matter how old you are. One of these days you’re going to learn to respect me, so help me god.”

  He may have been my stepfather and guardian, but I’d never respect him. Having grown up without a mother more years than I did with one, it would stand to reason that I’d be attached to him. That we’d have developed a meaningful relationship, something that may even resemble a friendship. His drinking, however, brought on unpredictable acts of violence that prevented it.

  Each time it happened, he later apologized.

  But, nothing changed. He was who he was, and despite my beggin
g that he quit drinking, he never so much as tried.

  He took a few stumbling steps toward me. We’d been in enough fights that I knew what was next. A wad of my hair in his clenched fist and the back of his hand against my cheek for starters.

  His weary eyes and awkward sense of balance told me he was either nursing a serious hangover or that he was still drunk. I took a step to my right, and he staggered in that direction. As soon as he did, I took off in a dead run to my left.

  In a few long strides, I was in the living room. As I rushed past the couch, I snatched my purse off the end table and headed for the front door. Halfway down the sidewalk my pace slowed to a brisk walk. I knew from experience that he wouldn’t dare come outside. At least for the time being, I was safe.

  While I fumbled to find my keys, I glanced over the top of my car. Sitting cross-legged in the driveway with a wrench in his hand, my neighbor glared at his motorcycle as if it had done something wrong.

  Since he moved into the neighborhood seven years past, I’d been fascinated by him and his obnoxiously loud motorcycle. Most of the people on the block viewed him and his Harley as annoying, but I didn’t share their opinions.

  I found it laughable that our neighbors saw my stepfather as a former Marine war hero, and the biker as an annoying burden. Truth be known, he was a violent drunk, and the biker was exceptionally kind.

  He was also smoking hot.

  Strangely, he didn’t even seem to know it.

  I gawked at him as I unlocked my car.

  While I got an eyeful of his bulging tattooed biceps, he glanced over his shoulder and waved. “What’s up, Smudge?”

  My mouth curled into a grin. “Nothing. Just going for a coffee.”

  “Not working today?”

  “I do. At 1:00.” I opened the door and glanced at my watch. “It’s only 7:30.”

  “Got a minute?”

  It wasn’t the first time he’d asked me to come help with something. My visits to assist him with motorcycle repairs wasn’t what initially got me intrigued with bikers or motorcycles, but it did get me interested in him.