Page 1 of Snowed In With the Grump
1
Lucy
My poor little Honda Civic wasn't made for mountain roads like this, especially not during what was quickly becoming the storm of the century.
Well, it was the storm of the century in my eyes, because I was in the middle of it. I have to admit, I do exaggerate a little sometimes. Just a little, but doesn’t everyone?
The engine made a concerning whining sound...one I hadn’t heard before...so that was a new worry to add to all my other woes. As I guided it through another curve, my knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
"Come on, just a little further," I muttered, as if sweet-talking her would somehow keep her running. "We can do this."
We could not, in fact, do this.
The engine gave one final protest before dying completely, leaving me stranded on a snow-covered road in the middle of nowhere, Colorado.
Perfect.
Just perfect.
I pulled out my phone, and...you guessed it. Fuck. No signal. Because of course not.
This was exactly the kind of luck I'd been having lately, starting with walking in on my fiancé and my maid of honor doing some veryunmaid-like things in our apartment.
And I’m sure you want to know whatunmaid-like things are...because even the nicest of people tend to rubberneck a car crash, don’t they?
And this was a car crash situation for me, for sure.
I won’t go into too many details, but visualize this:
Him on his back.
Her squatted over him.
His cock buried inside her.
They didn’t even see me as I stopped dead at the open door, staring in horror, my mouth hanging open and fury building from the depths of my being.
I had the urge to slap the bitch across the back of the head, but in a rare moment of clarity, I thought...Fuck this. Fuck them. Fuck you, Brady. You’re not good enough for me, and I hope she’s got crabs.
I stepped back and started packing.
I wasn’t quiet. I didn’t care. Within seconds of me stomping around, Brady came into the room where I was stuffing things into a bag and said, somewhat sheepishly, “Hey, babe. You’re home early.”
I didn’t even look up.
“A little too early, it seems. But don’t stop because of me. Samantha’s got two more holes she might like filled.”
“It’s not what you think...” he started.
“Oh, fuck off,” I said. “Even if I wasn’t thinking, I can’t unsee your cock buried in her pussy.”
Then I called out to Samantha, “I can throw some water on the stove if you’ve got time for tea.”
“Really?” my dumbass fiancé said.
I did look at him then...with awhat-the-actual-fucklook and a shake of my head.
“Oh,” was all he said.
