Racked and Stacked

by Lorelei James

  Ike froze. “Jesus, man. Tell me you’re not talkin’ about Riss.”

  “No, he’s talkin’ about the Kenworth!” Riss exclaimed. “Remember the semi I drove to Kansas? That’s Tito’s prized W900L. And it sounds like he’s gonna let us take that to Omaha.”

  Tito nodded. “Need something that’s got enough power to handle that load.”

  Riss jumped up and down. “This is so freakin’ cool! Thanks, T.”

  “Don’t thank me until golden boy proves he’s got the mettle to handle her.” Tito walked over and pulled open the top drawer of the filing cabinet. “He oughta be in the system by Thursday as long as all the paperwork is filled out today.” He handed Ike a packet of papers half an inch thick. “Lots of repetition. The one I’ll need you to fill out first is the background check. I can put a rush on it, but the insurance company requires it for all new drivers.”

  “Understood.” Ike gestured to the desk. “Is it all right if I start doin’ this here?”

  “Yep. I’ll take your driver’s license and social security card to make photocopies for our file.”

  Riss tried to contain her excitement as Ike handed the cards over to her boss.

  When Tito left the room, she jumped up and down. “Omigod. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner.”

  “Because you are an island and never ask anyone for help,” Ike said dryly.

  “Will Holt give you time off?” She paused. “We may have to stay in Omaha an extra day before we can pick up a return load. So it might be Tuesday morning before you can slip on your tool belt and hard hat. Will that be a problem?”

  He gave her a tight smile. “I’ll handle it.” Then he snagged a pen and moved behind the desk to start filling out paperwork.

  Riss unwrapped the flowers from the plastic and brought the bouquet up to her nose. The petals were velvety soft and vividly colored: dark red, deep pink, creamy white tipped with crimson. A droplet of water on the inside of a pink rose sparkled like a prism in the light. She inhaled the delicate perfume, which was different from the earthier aroma of the red ones. Her gaze scanned the bouquet and she counted each bloom. A dozen.

  When she glanced up at Ike, he wore the softest smile.

  “You like them.”

  “I love them. I’ve never gotten flowers before.”

  “Seriously?”

  She shook her head. “No dating, remember? How about you? Do you give out roses all the time?”

  “Never. The last time I bought flowers was when Jen had Elijah.”

  “Is it horrible of me to say I’m glad?”

  “No more horrible than for me to admit I’m happy to be the only man to have given you flowers.”

  “Hurry up and fill that out. I wanna get out of here so I can show my appreciation for how well you grovel, cowboy.”

  While Ike pushed through the paperwork, Riss was so tempted to flip through the maintenance records to see the last time the W900L had been serviced. The semi was one of fourteen that Tito owned. He’d been fortunate enough to buy an old warehouse, so none of his vehicles had to sit outside in the elements. Riss wandered into the garage—a generic name for the bays that housed the different semis.

  A few of Tito’s drivers had their own rigs. But as much as Ike and everyone else considered her a self-starter, at heart, she really wasn’t. Her lone purchase of a Peterbilt tractor barely two years into her trucking career nearly bankrupted her. She’d had to spend a year as a long-haul driver for a trucking conglomerate to earn enough to pay off the loan—even after she’d downgraded to an older semi.

  That was why she hadn’t pushed the issue with JSC. She could’ve picked up jobs here and there—and she had—but she’d actually lost money working for herself rather than taking a weekend run for Tito or dedicated runs with Desert Plains.

  Three of the five trailers parked on her property didn’t belong to her. The flatbed and stepdeck were a third hers; Lonnie and Lloyd owned the remaining two-thirds and they also owned half of the dump truck. Again, she’d made more money renting out the double-decker bull hauler and the small dry box for daily or weekly lease rates than she’d earned contracting for loads.

  So she’d run the gamut from working long haul for a big company to working for small owner-operator companies. She’d taken the shit runs to add miles and increase her safety rating, but she’d never found a company she wanted to stick around with long enough to become a senior driver, until she went to work for Tito.

  She remained in Wyoming because there’d been enough short-haul jobs to make a living. When Lonnie bought the garage she promised she’d help out, teaching him how to run a bookkeeping program, doing pickups for their fledgling tow truck business. She worked enough hours to qualify for health insurance. The real bonus was that both her brothers understood her bargain hunter mentality. They too scoured auction announcements, haunted junkyards and subscribed to online liquidators for deals where they could utilize their skills and make a quick buck.

  Riss wondered if Ike could accept the part of her that would ditch stability for adventure. Not “pack up and move to Costa Rica” type of adventure, but taking on a challenge just to see if she could do it. She certainly had numerous failures under her belt—more of those than successes.

  Would Ike want a life partner who defined unpredictable?

  She froze. Whoa. Life partner? Where the hell had that come from? They’d had one date and she’d started thinking long-term? People didn’t do that.

  Did they?

  You see yourself being with him for the long haul. No man has ever captivated your interest as much as he has. And he’s become more real since he stopped wallowing in what he used to be and focused on what he could be. It was important he’d taken your advice to heart after he’d shared his frustrations, failures and resentments with his life. A man who talks isn’t a rarity. But a man who truly listens . . . that’s what you’ve always waited for.

  But she couldn’t take credit for anything more than telling him what no one else would. Ike had been so closed off. So much more “I can handle this” than even she was. Ike reminded her of Lonnie. The responsibilities they’d taken on far too young in life. The fierce love they had for their siblings, even when neither of them chose to confide in their families about their struggles.

  And Ike had followed through on his promise to find a way to make this relationship work. He’d let her storm off yesterday, which, in hindsight, had been over-the-top dramatic for her. But she’d known if she’d stayed, she would’ve lit into his sisters and she hadn’t been sure how he’d react. Regardless if what she’d said was true. He’d given her time to think about the changes they’d face as a couple—but not too much time. Ike had figured out when to push her and when to leave her be.

  But if Ike hadn’t come to her, she would’ve gone to him.

  The classic Kenworth W900L was parked in a place of honor. This had been Tito’s pride and joy the last decade he’d spent on the road. Riss loved the longer nose of this model even when the hood was a bitch to deal with for a woman of her size. The first step up into the driver’s seat was a killer, but the interior was the best designed on the market. Even to this day.

  Some of the newer models, like the Kenworth T680, had all the bells and whistles in the sleeper cabin—almost to the point it resembled a luxury motor home. But this classic ran well, especially with the engine updates for improving fuel efficiency. Tito had overhauled this semi three times and he still had a soft spot for the rig that’d allowed him to expand.

  “She’s still a beaut, ain’t she?”

  Riss smiled over her shoulder at Tito. “That she is. I’m not just sayin’ that to butter you up, old man.”

  “I know, Red. I know.” He stood beside her. “Lots of memories. Lots of miles.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  He shrugged. “Some da
ys. But my back don’t ache like it did. My wife actually likes me again. After I’d spent so much time away, she’d gotten used to doin’ her own thing. I’d gotten tired of doin’ everything by myself, but we worked through it.”

  “Your son have any plans to take over this empire when you retire?”

  “Nope. He’s gonna be an engineer.” Tito paused. “So that’s your fella.”

  “Yeah.”

  “First time you’ve let any guy hang around here.”

  “First time I’ve let any guy hang around longer than a night.”

  He snorted. “I’m gonna let that one lie, bein’s I’m old enough to be your dad. But I’ll say I’m happy for you. Got too much to offer to spend your life alone.”

  “Thanks, T.”

  “You trust him with my favorite?”

  “I wouldn’t have suggested he drive it if I didn’t.”

  “I wasn’t talkin’ about the truck, Riss.”

  “Oh.” She felt a burst of happiness she didn’t bother to hide. “Thanks.”

  Tito put the keys in her hand. “I’m headed home. I’ll trust you to put Ike’s paperwork on my desk and lock up.”

  “I will.”

  “See you in the morning.”

  Not long after Tito left, Ike’s boot heels echoed across the concrete.

  Riss remained in place, damn near holding her breath until he finally reached her.

  “So you have a lady boner for this truck?” Ike said as he tucked his body behind hers.

  She leaned against him. “It’s such a classic. And it’s comfy.”

  “Those ten days we spent together hauling stock with Hugh and Harlow, you never invited me into your comfy, classy sleeper cab.” Ike nuzzled the side of her neck. “But I didn’t see you dragging other lucky cowboys into your lair either.”

  “Borrowing a luxury sleeper cab made me protective of it. Technically it’s a work vehicle, but when the truck is parked, that rear space felt sacred.”

  “Will you show it to me now?”

  Riss grinned. “You betcha.” Maybe she had an extra spring in her step as she hopped onto the running board. She opened the door and crawled inside, heeding Ike’s warning to be careful. Now that she was finally on the downhill stretch with this stupid cast, it’d suck if she set her recovery back with carelessness.

  Turning sideways, she lowered onto the thickly padded bench seat that served as the couch. Even when this unit wasn’t in regular rotation, it didn’t have a musty odor. The scent of oranges hung in the air, from a hidden air freshener or a lingering remnant from the cleaning service.

  The cab jostled and she watched Ike duck as he entered.

  His gaze started at the padded ceiling with button-tucked headers, the height of 1990s luxury—following the line down the padded walls to the flat-screen TV hanging above the built-in table, past the microwave and mini-refrigerator inset behind the passenger’s seat, stopping to where she’d settled in the living/sleeping area.

  He whistled. “Red seems an odd choice for an interior color. I’d think Tito would’ve wanted a soothing blue or pale green.”

  “Kinda feels like you’re in a Wild West whorehouse, doesn’t it?”

  “If I gotta pay to play, then I’m in.”

  Ike ambled toward her until she had to tip her head back to look at him.

  Oh lordy. Hunger and greed glimmered in his eyes. No man had ever looked at her that way. And her body responded immediately. Her skin went hot and he soaked her panties without saying a word.

  Still watching her response to him, he traced his knuckles down the left side of her face. From the outer edge of her eyebrow, down her temple, over her cheekbone and then following the line of her jaw to the tip of her chin. He repeated the exploration on the right side of her face with the same thoroughness. Then he brushed the pad of his thumb across her cheekbones and the slope of her nose. “These goddamned freckles are sexy as fuck. I wanna kiss every single one.”

  Riss kept quiet, opting not to jokingly point out the freckles dotting her chest, shoulders and belly would need equal attention so they weren’t jealous of the freckles on her face.

  Ike gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her head back, allowing him to move closer. “My fresh-faced and feminine Larissa. The dirty, dirty things I wanna do to you in this sleeper cab would make you blush so hard them freckles would all but disappear beneath the heat of your skin.”

  God, she loved the purely sexual side of this man.

  He teased her mouth with soft, slow passes of his lips and tiny bites as his hand kept her head where he wanted it. “Gonna give me what I need, baby?”

  “What’s that?”

  His free hand slipped between her thighs and he stroked her. “This pussy on my face.”

  She released a happy little hum. Ike hadn’t gone down on her Saturday night or Sunday morning because they’d run out of time.

  “You created a monster, girl, when you confessed no man has had you in any way in this sacred cab. I’m gonna be the first”—he bit down on her bottom lip—“no, make that the only man who’s gonna take you every way and then some. Startin’ right now.”

  Ike tugged her to her feet. “Pants off.”

  Riss might’ve set the world speed record for one-handed boots, socks, yoga pants and underwear removal.

  He’d made himself comfortable where she’d been sitting. His rough-skinned hands circled her hips. “Hop up, darlin’, and brace yourself against the wall above me. I noticed there’s a strap hanging down on the left side. I suggest you hold on to it.”

  “You want me to stand while you . . . ?”

  “Devour this juicy cunt? Yes.” Ike’s thumbs slid down and pulled back the flesh protecting her clit. “As soon as my tongue is on you, you won’t know if you’re standing or sitting, ’cause, baby, I’m gonna send you flying.”

  The man had better have an impressive tongue game, like, porn star—lesbian porn star—impressive, Riss thought as she stepped up, placing a bare foot outside of Ike’s jean-clad thighs. Reaching for the strap, she pressed her sling and the side of her face into the velvet-paneled wall, feeling more awkward than sexy.

  “Scoot that right foot out a little farther. That’s it. Perfect.” Ike dragged his mouth across her abdomen and he relocated his hands to her ass.

  Riss waited, body tense, jaw tight, her anticipation . . . dwindling.

  Then she caught a whiff of Ike’s scent. The one she’d discovered Saturday night when he was so hard his cock was about to burst. Had he already gotten so worked up by the idea of making her come with his mouth that he’d had to free his cock from his jeans?

  Tempting to lean back and check, but with her luck she’d lose her balance and . . .

  HOLY FUCK! was her last coherent thought as Ike Palmer enslaved her and proved he was an oral sex god.

  No, he proved himself to be the oral sex god.

  His mastery with that wicked, wet, whipping, winding, wandering tongue was unparalleled in the history of the world—or at least in her personal sexual history.

  Riss held on to the strap and let go of her sanity. Her legs shook, her insides quaked as she tried to prepare herself.

  But nothing could’ve prepared her for the lip-gliding, tongue-flicking, mouth-sucking, teeth-nipping deity who made her come the first time within a minute. Then he made her come again just with four hard sucks on her clit and BOOM, she hit orgasmal orbit.

  Ike’s mouth was on a mission to enslave her. Those lips. That tongue. Wait. Had he grown another one? Because how else could he do . . . that? Where it felt like he was licking her in two places at the same time.

  “Oh, please, don’t ever ever ever ever stop doing that,” she begged.

  He growled against her wet and swollen tissues as he ate her without mercy. The combination of
stellar tongue action and the vibrations of his hungry growls against her sensitive tissues sent her spiraling into orgasm number three.

  Before she’d regained any semblance of composure, he eased back to sweet kisses and soft smooches, lovingly pressed on the rise of her mound, the creases of her thighs, up and down her slit, until she realized that sneaky fucker hadn’t eased off at all; he’d been ramping her back up.

  Way up.

  A return-trip-to-orgasmic-heaven kind of up.

  Her tits shook, she sweated in places she didn’t have glands, her toes cramped from curling in pleasure so many times, her scalp tingled, her throat opened up so she could moan as she shattered with orgasm number four.

  When she came to, she was no longer standing, but sitting on Ike’s lap.

  She blinked at him. “Whoa. What happened?”

  “You gonna get pissy if I say that I made you come so hard that last time that your knees buckled?” Ike said, trying—and failing—not to look smug.

  “Why would I get pissy? Dude. I have no words for how fantastically lucky I am that you . . . that you can use your mouth . . .” She snickered, feeling half-sex-drunk. “See? No words.”

  “Riss Thorpe speechless. Write that on the calendar,” he teased.

  She kissed him, licking the taste of herself from his lips, then gently sucking the taste from his tongue. The kisses and touches continued, as neither was in a rush to stop this intimacy that was so new to both of them.

  “Can I ask you something?” Ike murmured in her ear.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Think we’ll survive livin’ in close quarters of the truck cab, eatin’ together, sleeping together, workin’ together for at least four days without a break?”

  “Are you worried?”

  “Only an idiot wouldn’t be a little concerned.”

  “Think I’ll drive you crazy?”

  “Baby, that’s a given. I just don’t wanna blow it with you, okay? This is too important.”

  She felt the same way. “It’s important to me too, Ike.”