Page 1 of Home on the Road

Prologue

Ziggy Montrose buried his face into the pillow and screamed like a twelve-year-old girl at a KPOP concert. His balls contracted and his seed surged out the tip of his cock and filled the condom that covered it. At the same moment, his muscles clamped down around the long, thick cock that filled his ass.

Three heartbeats later, the heat of the man’s seed as he filled his own condom added to the heat in Ziggy’s ass. The man hovering over him grunted with each pulsation as his hips pushed tighter against his lower cheeks and thighs before melting to cover him like a big, weighted blanket.

Ziggy lived for these times when he could find release while causing his partner to come hard. He just wished this trucker came through more often than every other week. But Ziggy could not voice his wishes, hopes, and dreams. He was, after all, only a truck stop quickie for the man whenever he stopped for dinner and an overnight stay.

He whined as the trucker pushed up and eased his cock from his ass. He did not know how the man had the energy to move. He felt boneless and like the connection between muscles and brain was on the fritz. Of course, he had also worked a sixteen-hour day in the truck stop diner’s kitchen beforesneaking out here to the pretty purple truck where Ziggy was met with a hug, a kiss, and the most delicious sex of his life.

Twice.

But sexy time was over and it was time to head home to his lonely bed and the alarm clock that would wake him in a few hours.

“All right, Z-man, time to clean up and get some sleep,” the trucker said, petting the side of his ass affectionately.

“Don’t want to,” Ziggy replied as he pulled the pillow over his head then waved one hand around. “Just leave me here and go on about your business.”

“Sorry, sweets. I can’t do that. You’re lying sideways across my bed and I need to get some sleep before I head out in a few hours.”

Ziggy groaned, but pushed himself to his feet and gently pulled off the condom still clinging to his half-hard cock. After using a wet wipe to clean up his cock, he pulled his boxers and jeans up his legs.

A few kisses, a long, strong hug, and a promise to see him in two weeks, and Ziggy climbed out of the truck to trudge across the dark, expansive parking lot.

He needed to get some sleep himself since he had to get up in less than five hours to open the diner again.

At least the stepmonster was not home so he would not have to explain where he had been for the three hours since the diner closed.

Looking up, he smiled as a streak of light crossed the dark sky. A falling star. Would it be worth wishing on it?

“Please, universe, please send me a man of my own. A hero who will whisk me away from this nightmare of a life and give me a real home and a real love of my very own,” he whispered.

It might be silly for a grown man to wish on a falling star,but he needed a moment of whimsy in his life.

With his wish spoken aloud for the universe to hear and hopefully act upon, Ziggy hurried the rest of the way to the small brick house at the other end of the parking lot from where his lover always parked. He knew that by the time he headed to work in the morning, the pretty purple truck would be gone, and he would be locked back in his lonely work-filled hell until the truck returned next.

Chapter One

“Hey, Ziggy, that purple truck you’re always on the lookout for just pulled in,” Sally Jo called through the window that connected the kitchen with the rest of the diner two weeks later.

Ziggy Montrose took a breath, wincing as the pain in his ribs flared. He was tempted to run into the walk-in refrigerator and hide until that particular truck left again. The only problem was there were three meals on the grill that needed his immediate attention. Plus, there was the one yet to be ordered, though it was always the same thing. One twelve-ounce sirloin steak cooked medium-rare, a double order of hashbrowns with cheese, onions and tomatoes, a sweet tea, and a slice of apple pie for dessert. It was the same order he placed every time he came into the diner.

It just sucked that today Ziggy would not be able to sit with the man while he ate as he started doing a couple months ago. After three nights of sitting and talking until closing, they had become more than trucker and short order cook. They had become biweekly lovers, whenever the trucker stopped.

The black eye and bruises on his arms and pain in his ribs and hips were also the reason he hid in the kitchen all day, instead of roaming back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room as he normally did. Talking to the truckers and listening to the gossip and news from the road made Ziggy feel a little less alone. He missed driving a truck and being on the road himself. It had been six months since he’d given up being a long-haul driver to work here.

While he hated his job as the chief cook and dishwasher at the small truck stop in the middle of Kansas, there was not a lot he could do about it. His father had died six months before and before he could get to his truck and leave after the funeral, hisstepmonster cornered him to demand he give up his job to fill his father’s shoes in the diner.

She also insisted he live with her. His closet-size room was barely big enough for a single mattress on the floor, and he lived out of his duffel bag, but Ziggy did not know how to leave. At least not without shutting down the diner. Family honor dictated that Ziggy work here until he could come up with a better solution. One that would allow him to return to the road while the diner stayed open.

Problem was the diner was the only one along the highway in a fifty-mile radius and the truckers relied on it for gas, a meal, and a place to park and spend the night when needed. His sense of duty to his father kept him slaving away in the kitchen sixteen hours a day, seven days a week.

Between the exhaustion that had been getting worse in recent days, and the pain from that morning’s harsh beating from the stepmonster, Ziggy was moving at less than half speed. Sally Jo tried to help, but she was hopeless in the kitchen, so he had her take over the busboy duties, which had also fallen on Ziggy’s shoulders when the last busboy slash dishwasher had walked out two weeks before. Except for posting a sign in the window, his stepmonster did not seem enthusiastic about hiring anyone. Which left Ziggy doing everything except actually waiting on the customers. Thank god for Sally Jo, Kelly, and Inez, the waitresses that kept the food flowing from the kitchen to the customers.

The bruises on his body were hidden under his loose t-shirt and cargo pants, but he could not conceal the ones on his lower arms and face. The stepmonster had bruised his arms when she grabbed them to drag him out of his bedroom. She then began punching and kicking his face and body because his alarm clock had woken her up.

Twenty minutes after Sally Jo’s announcement, thecowbell hanging on the front door rang as his lover walked in. By that time, most of their customers had finished eating, paid for their meals, and left. The ones still eating who had heard Sally Jo’s announcement looked from the big, burly trucker to the kitchen passthrough where Ziggy peaked out while trying not to drool or be seen. Some looked intrigued, some looked disgusted, but at least no one, including Sally Jo, said anything as Harry Myles walked across the diner.

He was the sexiest thing—on two legs or eighteen wheels—that Ziggy had ever seen, though he had never told him. In fact, until now no one except Sally Jo knew of his attraction for the man. If his stepmother knew Ziggy was gay, she would do more than just beat him up. She would kill him for what she said was a perversion in the world.

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