Page 15 of Truck Stop Titan

“Not a fucking chance, sweetheart.”

“Okay. Fine.” I lifted my glass toward Grumpy and waited for him to clink, because for some reason, the moment seemed monumental and toast-worthy.

His scowl bounced between our glasses, then back to me. “I don’t do that shit.”

“Fine.” I reached over, our shoulders bumping, and tapped my tumbler to his, then raised it to my mouth for a long swig before slamming it on the sticky wood.

I winced through the burn, cleared my throat, and shouted, “Fuck you, Matthew!”

“Fuck yeah,” Grumpy growled, raising his glass in salute. “Good girl.” He chugged his drink and hooked his finger at me. “Keep ’em coming.”

So, I did. “Fuck you, Matthew. Fuck you, cancer. Fuck you, drugs. Fuck you, douchebags who prey on women in bars…” And I continued with my list of grievances.

Grumpy started to laugh, andoh sweet Jesus,what a beautiful sound.

“See?” He chuckled. “Feels good, right?”

Perhaps it was the overindulgence of libations, or the release of pent-up frustration, or maybe the company, but the weight on my shoulders lifted, and I did feel better.

“Feels great.” I straightened my spine. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His hand landed on my thigh, an innocent gesture between two people sharing a laugh, but the heat his fingers ignited was anything but moral.

Obviously, we were both drunk. Had my head been in the right place, had I not just buried my mother, dumped my boyfriend, and agreed to take-in my dead sister’s daughter, I would’ve chosen that moment to say goodnight. Knowing that could very well be my last moment of freedom, my last chance at wild abandon, I threw caution and sanity to the wind.

I leaned into the large man’s warmth, and confessed, “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Strong fingers curled into my thigh. He tossed a look over my shoulder, made a tsk sound, and shook his head before meeting my gaze. “Then you won’t be, sweetheart.”

He dug into his back pocket, retrieved his wallet, then threw a handful of bills onto the bar.

“Let’s go.” He slid off the stool, his heavy boots thumping on the wood floor, his thick fingers lacing with mine like we were seasoned lovers.

Holy shit, the man was huge, at least two hundred pounds of mean, unforgiving muscle.

Hand in hand, we made our way outside. I led him down the block and around the corner to my motel room. The second the door closed behind me, he flipped the lock, and caged me against the wall.

“Tell me you’re sure about this, ’cause my dick’s been hard since you walked into that bar, and the second you give me the go-ahead, I’m gonna wreck you.”

Oh. God.

Before reason could settle in, I kicked off my shoes, and attacked his belt buckle. That was all the go-ahead he needed.

In one swift move, he lifted me, then pinned me against the wall with his hips, both hands cupping my face. The man attacked. Forgoing gentle persuasion, exploring and tasting, and kissing me dizzy. He sucked on my tongue and oh my Lord, that tug reached all the way down to my belly.

“Gonna fuck you hard, sweetheart.” He rolled his hips, rubbing his erection between my legs, then gripped my butt with a painful squeeze and turned toward the bed.

Like a vice, I clamped arms and legs around his thick body, holding tight, holding him close, craving that connection. Loving the taste of whiskey on his breath.

I landed on the mattress, bouncing, with no time to recover before he was over me, blocking the light, claiming my mouth once again before moving down to my neck, then my chest. A few grunts and tugs, and my shirt was gone. My bra didn’t stand a chance, and he didn’t bother removing my skirt, opting to bunch it around my waist before tearing my panties down my legs and tossing them across the room.

I was breathless but doing none of the work. The man… “Wait.” I grabbed his head, halting the kisses he planted on my stomach. “What’s your name?”

“Does it fucking matter?” he growled, lips curling in a sneer.

Did it? I would never see him again. Our tryst was a one-time thing. Not knowing added mystery to what was quickly becoming the fantasy I would forever play in my head.

Settling broad shoulders between my knees, he rubbed where I needed it most, then pierced my folds with thick fingers, making me arch in pleasure.

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