Roadside Assistance

by Marie Harte

  “I think I can handle it,” she teased.

  “Handle him.” He cupped himself. “I’m big. And I’m getting bigger just looking at you.”

  “Quit bragging already. Let me see.”

  He gave a mean grin, then left the bed to slowly peel off the rest of his clothes. He hadn’t been lying. Foley was huge. He kept his gaze on hers while he stripped.

  “Just…wow.”

  He grinned and held himself for her. Definitely more than six inches was all she could think as he dug into his jeans pocket and withdrew a line of condoms.

  “One won’t be enough,” he said as way of explanation. He ripped open a packet and moved to put it on, when she stopped him.

  “No, let me.”

  He swore and said, “Fine. But don’t play, or I might go off.”

  She chuckled. “Off like a rocket, huh?”

  “Yeah.” He walked to the edge of the bed, and she sat up to meet him.

  On her knees, naked and aroused, she knew she had to touch him. She took the condom from him but didn’t put it on him right away. Instead, she ran a finger over his length.

  He clenched his jaw, looking almost angry as he stared down at her.

  She wanted to tease just a little more, so she cupped his balls, feeling the heavy heat of him. “You really are big, aren’t you?”

  “I’ll come all over you if you don’t put that fucking condom on and lie back. Now.”

  She trembled at his harsh tone, seduced by his dominance, and rolled the condom over him, hoping it would fit.

  It did, but the latex only confirmed how wide and long he was.

  “Now lay back and spread your legs.”

  She scooted back on the bed and did as ordered.

  Foley blanketed her in seconds and kissed her, shoving a leg between hers to widen her thighs even farther.

  The kiss was raw, passionate, and desperate. And she loved it.

  She grabbed his thick biceps and held on while he positioned himself at her core.

  “I’m gonna go slow. So slow you’ll hate me.”

  “I already hate you.” She arched up into him, trying to seat him inside her. But the bastard wouldn’t move. Cyn was no small woman, and she had her own strength. But she couldn’t get Foley to shift at all.

  “Damn it. Wait,” he snarled and started to enter her. He watched her face, unblinking, and gave her every solid inch of himself. “Yes.”

  He filled her up, almost uncomfortably so.

  “So fuckin’ good.” Foley closed his eyes and pushed deeper, and she moaned at the pleasure.

  Then he stopped talking. He opened his eyes and watched her watching him while he started to slide in and out of her. The gentle, slow taking turned rough, a claiming she welcomed from a man who seemed like he could handle all of her. Her breasts shook. Her flesh clamped around him with each thrust, trying to hold him deep.

  The bed rocked as he moved faster, his face a mask of agonized pleasure.

  Her climax rose again, because with every pass he grazed her clit. Filling her with his thick cock and rubbing against the bundle of nerves screaming with pleasure.

  “I’m coming,” he warned seconds before he ground hard and stilled.

  His movements pushed her into her own orgasm, and she moaned his name as she clamped around him.

  He swore and rotated his hips, still pumping until he had no more left to give.

  After a few moments, they lay joined, breathing heavily and exhausted.

  Foley leaned down to kiss her. She enjoyed letting him lead and softened under his firm lips. “Cyn, sweetheart.” He withdrew slowly and shuddered. “Be right back.” He left the bedroom and returned, joining her on the bed.

  He drew her into his arms, so they lay on their sides, facing each other. He brushed her hair back from her face and kissed her, a gentle caress that soothed. “A weaker man would have had a heart attack.”

  “Good thing you’re not weak.”

  “No shit.” He kissed her cheeks and forehead, then hugged her tight. “That was fucking amazing. Gimme some time, and we’ll go again.”

  “Really?” She felt worn out. Then again, she’d already come twice. In one night. A miracle.

  “Yeah, really. I told you nabbing a younger man was the way to go.” He chuckled when she tugged his chest hair.

  She loved everything about his body. Foley had body hair, but not too much. His muscles were massive. Being with a man with his frame, she felt small and feminine for the first time in forever.

  He cupped her breast and squeezed gently. “Oh yeah. A definite handful.”

  She blushed. “For you and your big hands.”

  “And only my hands,” he said with an authority that pleased her. “I have to ask you something.”

  She rose on an elbow and watched him. “Go ahead.”

  “Why the hell would you think you could go without sex for the rest of your life? Cat lady? Please.” His contented grin took the sting out of his words. “I have never in my life come so hard, baby. And I’m ready to do it again.” He stared at her mouth. “Maybe something a little different this time.”

  “No blow jobs until I know you better.” She read him like a book.

  His sly grin made her insides tingle. “Good thing I got nothing but time.”

  “Sure of ourselves, are we?” She touched him, because she could. Man, what a body.

  “Honey, I had you begging me to fuck you.” He leaned back and tucked his hands behind his head. “You were hot for it.”

  “I wasn’t the only one begging.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, not in so many words, but that last kiss before you put yourself in me. That was pretty desperate.” She sat over him, aligning their parts.

  To her surprise, she felt him stir against her. So much for needing a little time to recover.

  He gripped her hips, his lids heavy as he stared at her naked torso. “I admit. I was dying to come inside you. Hell, I nearly did that first time in your kitchen. You have no idea how hard it was to not fuck you that night, right on the counter.”

  She rocked over him, getting him wet from her arousal. “I didn’t expect an orgasm that night. You’re pretty good with your hands.”

  “And my tongue?” he taunted and stuck it out for her.

  She rubbed her sex against his thickening erection. “I love your tongue. Bet you can’t wait to feel mine.” She chuckled, feeling his response. “Oh yeah. Just wait. You liked me touching your cock, holding your balls.” She peppered in the dirty talk to see how he responded.

  His eyes darkened. His nipples were hard, and watching his corded abs contract was a beauty all its own.

  He started to remove his hands from behind his head.

  “No. Keep your hands there, mister. I’m in charge this time.”

  He smirked at her. “Think you can make me beg…the way I made you?”

  “I know I can.” She dragged herself over the hard length of him and watched him swallow. Then she cupped her breasts and flicked her nipples, giving a breathy little moan that was in no way fake.

  In a hoarse voice, he said, “Condoms are on the floor. Maybe you’d better get them. Fast.”

  She smiled. “Maybe I’d better.”

  Chapter 8

  Foley had no problem admitting it. He’d been pussy whipped. After spending the better part of the night with Cyn, she could have asked him to shave his head bald and tattoo Lou Is Great on his forehead, and he would have done it to make her happy.

  Fuck. He’d never, ever, been so done in after sex.

  He sat at his kitchen table, staring at nothing, at ten on Sunday morning. He would have slept through the night with Cyn, but he hadn’t wanted to freak her out. So he’d left after she’d fallen asleep, making sure to prop a note whe
re she’d find it, along with an invitation to Johnny’s for dinner.

  He couldn’t help it. He wanted her with him. Wanted to see her with the guys and make some decisions regarding their “relationship” before his body made them for him. Because right now, thinking again about last night, he wanted to go ring shopping. Marriage, kids, everything and anything with the red-haired witch who’d set his whole fucking world on end.

  “Must have been a good night,” Sam said, joining him. Sam looked no worse for wear. His eyes were clear, his hair mussed but no extra bruises on his bare torso or fists that Foley could see.

  Foley chose not to comment. Some things he did keep to himself after all. “How was Ray’s?”

  “Not bad.” Sam shrugged and made some coffee.

  “Hey, jackass, don’t use so many scoops.”

  Sam shot him the finger. “Next time you make the brew. Maybe if you quit daydreaming about last night, I’d be drinking some weak Foley coffee by now. And where’s my breakfast, bitch?”

  Foley sighed. “No way are you ever going to find some woman with that mouth of yours.”

  Sam smirked. “Found plenty of women. None I want to keep.”

  Or who’d keep you went unsaid, because Sam never took those comments from Foley as jest. He had a sore spot about rejection. No surprise, considering the way Sam’s mom treated him. The other guys could razz Sam about women, but if Foley did it, Sam took it to heart. The big marshmallow.

  “So you’re okay about Shaya being gone?” Foley stood, grabbed the coffee bag out of Sam’s hands, and shoved him aside.

  “Jerk. Yeah, I’m good.”

  “So were the guys betting on me?”

  “Yep.” Sam looked smug. “Two to one odds you fall for this one. Lou seems to think she’s just your type. Physically, sure. She’s got that Marilyn Monroe body going for her.”

  Foley chuckled. “I sometimes forget I wasn’t the only one forced to watch those movies.”

  Sam shrugged. “They were okay. No nudity or swearing, though. And not near enough violence, but hey, what can you do with the older generation?”

  “I dare you to say that around Eileen.”

  “I may look stupid, but I ain’t that dumb.”

  “So you say.” Foley looked in the refrigerator and found the can of sweet rolls he’d hidden behind the mustard. He set the rolls on a cookie sheet, then heated the oven.

  “Hey. I didn’t know we still had some of those left.”

  “No shit. I hid them.” Foley shoved the pan into the oven and set the timer.

  Sam narrowed his eyes. “Hmm.”

  “Yeah, hmm. And it’s your turn to go shopping.”

  Sam groaned. “Come on. Have pity. You’ve got a new piece of ass to tap, and I got nothing. Least you can do is—”

  “Okay, time for a few ground rules.” He straddled his seat backward. “First, Cyn is not ‘a piece of ass.’ Second, I invited her to dinner tonight. We’re picking her up if she says yes, so be on your best behavior.”

  “I’m not a fuckin’ dog.”

  “Easy on the swearing.”

  Sam growled. “Shit. Seriously?”

  “Look, I like this one. Can we not scare her off until I see if she’s as cool as I think she is?”

  “I guess.”

  “Don’t look so miserable. I don’t put up with assholes, do I? Did I stay with Michelle?”

  “Technically she dumped you.”

  Foley frowned. “I got rid of Desiree.”

  “She was okay.”

  “Bullshit. You hated her. And she was a little too selfish for me. I mean, I’m all for sharing my life, but not having it taken over.”

  Sam tapped his fingers on the table, a sure sign of his discomfort with the conversation. “You don’t really think that pushy, mouthy redhead with the smokin’ rack is going to let you set the pace? Man, she’s tough. No way she’ll let you lead her around.”

  Foley rolled his eyes. “I see we need another class on Relationships 101.”

  “What? Relationships? I thought you were just banging her.”

  “I said I invited her to dinner tonight.” Hopefully Johnny wouldn’t have a problem with that. Might be a good idea to text him in case Cyn said yes and Foley showed up with an extra body.

  Sam tapped faster. “Yeah, but that’s just to show her she’s not a one-nighter, right? You just met the chick. How can this be a relationship?”

  Foley waited for the coffee, still thinking about Cyn and how different she’d made him feel from his past girlfriends. Then again, maybe Sam had a point. Great sex could warp a guy’s thinking.

  “Look. Let’s not get ahead of things. She and I hit it off.” Big time. Probably best not to tell Sam that he and Cyn were officially dating, though. “I want to see more of her. So we’ll have dinner tonight, and I can figure out if she’s an actual bitch or just has bitchy tendencies. Okay?”

  That seemed to mollify Sam, because he stopped tapping. “Makes sense.” He glanced at the oven. “But I’m still not going shopping.”

  Foley frowned. “Yeah? ’Cause I’m thinking you are.” He stared at Sam and picked up his cell phone.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m telling Mom.”

  “Are you serious?” Sam gaped. “What are you? Six?”

  Foley held the phone to his ear. “It’s ringing.”

  Sam’s expression darkened like a thundercloud.

  “You really don’t want my mother to think you’re a dickhead, do you? No more than she already thinks it, I mean. Calling Cyn, her future daughter, a one-night stand? Insulting the mother of her grandkids?”

  “What?” Sam wore panic well.

  Foley disconnected and shoved the phone into his back pocket. “That’s what my mother will think. If I’m dating some chick, the same one you convinced her I’m into, she’ll be all wedding bells and shit. And then you come around and mess that up with some tough talk about how Cyn is a bitch? A piece of ass? Eileen will skin you alive.”

  “You are seriously messed up, you know that?” Sam paused. “So you’re not going to marry her or anything, right?”

  “Hell no. I just met the woman.” Foley snorted. “Even I’m not so hard up I’ll put a ring on a woman just because she slept with me. Even if she did ring my bell every time,” he added, still not sure how that had happened. An orgasm was an orgasm—unless a guy was inside Cyn Nichols apparently. Then it became a religious experience.

  “Hey, I’m not kidding when it comes to food,” Foley continued. “Your turn to get the stuff. Or do you want to go back to us shopping separately? I’m good with that.”

  “No, no.” Sam paused. “I fucking hate shopping.” He swore, creatively, for a solid minute.

  “You done?”

  “Shit for brains. Yeah, now I’m done.” The timer went off. “But I get extra cream cheese on my sweet rolls. You owe me.”

  “Still not sure how that shakes down, but whatever.”

  Foley ate, all the while tasting Cyn on his lips and remembering the radiance of her joy when she’d come apart in his arms.

  * * *

  Cyn couldn’t believe she’d been invited to dinner with Foley’s friends. From sex to a real date around real people. He was taking this boyfriend/girlfriend relationship seriously.

  To a guy, bringing a girl into his inner circle was like a girl bringing a man home to her mother. She didn’t know how she felt about it. On the one hand, Foley wasn’t treating her like some girl he’d banged for a night and had finished with. On the other, meeting his friends brought them to a deeper level than she felt comfortable with.

  She thought she’d have more time to get used to the idea of Foley as her new boyfriend. Put up or shut up, she told herself. She’d wanted Foley to treat her like she mattered, and he was. She
waited anxiously by her front door, wearing jeans and a pretty blouse that brought out the gold flecks in her eyes. Her jacket was the thin, sporty kind. Because if she’d worn a puffy version, with her size, she’d look like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.

  Foley pulled up in a black muscle car, one that looked a lot like the tattoo on his chest. Talk about some amazing ink. She wondered who had done his artwork. Or if it had hurt to have so much drawn on his body.

  She saw Sam get out of the car next to him and move to the backseat. Oh boy.

  Cyn hustled outside and locked up behind her, then met Foley at the passenger side. As usual, he looked ridiculously sexy. His dark hair was tousled, his five-o’clock shadow present, instilling all kinds of thoughts about what his raspy cheeks would feel like against the insides of her thighs.

  “You’re letting all the heat out,” Sam complained from the cramped backseat.

  “Oh, sorry. I should sit back there.”

  Sam nodded. “Yeah, you should. I—”

  “Ignore him. I think he’s on his period.” Foley nodded for Cyn to get in the car.

  “His period? Really?” She got in and buckled up as they tore down the road. “That’s a little harsh.”

  “Especially since I’m like, a guy.” Sam snorted. Then he said, “That’s a little sexist too, isn’t it, Cyn?”

  She turned so she could see him, and the dark expression on his face warned her Foley might like her, but Sam hadn’t yet made up his mind. “True. Actually, more than a little sexist.”

  “Sorry,” Foley mumbled.

  She glared at Foley. “You don’t sound sorry.”

  Sam agreed. “You don’t.”

  “Hey. No ganging up on the big boy.” Foley winked at her.

  Not going there with Sam in the car. “So where’s the SUV?”

  “At home. I thought my car would impress you better. It purrs, and it’s big. You know you like them big.”

  Sam snickered.

  She ignored her blush. “Are all your friends like you?”

  “Strong and sexy?”

  “Obnoxious and pigheaded,” she countered.

  Sam chimed in, “She’s got you there.”

  “Really?” Foley turned the corner, and Cyn held onto the dash for dear life. “’Cause I’m thinking you’re a friend, Sam, and you’re even more obnoxious and pigheaded than I am.” He grinned at Cyn. “And that’s saying something.”