by Q. Zayne
Moonlight illuminated his coat, the patterns that drew my eye like an intricate Maya carving. I blinked and he was gone. The scattered beams of moonlight showed me a trail of blood drops. I followed them.
Preview of Towed
The car died, just died as I drove out of town on the Marshall Road. It was a great shortcut to the state line, but seldom used. This late at night, there was no traffic at all.
I coasted to the shoulder for safety, gripping the steering wheel tight. I was heading for a club with a live band. All I wanted was to get out, get away from town, have some fun.
The car never misbehaved before. Dad had it inspected and tuned up before they gave it to me. It had to run. It couldn’t strand me out here.
It was the dark of the moon and there were no street lights for miles. I couldn’t see anything but the darker hulking shapes of oak trees against the dark sky.
I turned the key again. Nothing happened, just a clicking sound. The car was dead. I pulled out my phone. No signal, of course.
I’d seen movies like this, a girl stranded on an isolated road, no way to call for help. They don’t end well. I shivered and locked the car doors. No point looking under the hood. I’d watched Dad change spark plugs, change the oil, but I didn’t have a clue what to do when the car wouldn’t run. I was too far from town to walk back. Well, I could do it, but it would take a hell of a long time and be miserable in my new heels. I wouldn’t hitchhike. That was one thing I agreed with Mom about.
The headlights in the rear-view mirror blinded me. I shielded my eyes. My heart raced. Someone stopped right behind me. It was too big to be a highway patrol. Maybe a trucker. I heard some of them helped stranded motorists. Would it be safe to accept help? I had to do something. I didn’t want to spend the night in my car, and my sexy slip-on heels weren’t made for a long trek down the highway. I’d been hoping to dance in them, enough to leave my life behind for the night. I was nineteen, stuck in a nowhere town living with my parents. I needed escape, or my brain would explode.
A large man approached, silhouetted against the truck. My eyes adjusted, recognized it as a tow truck. Relief rushed through me. I was saved. There were still knights.
He angled himself toward his truck when he reached my window, as though deliberately placing himself in his headlights so I could get a good look.
Oh. What a man. A white T-shirt strained over his wide chest and rippling torso. He had the classic V-shape so many guys worked at the gym for. His worn jeans gripped his hard, narrow hips, riding low. Maybe I died.
He smiled. Bright as a laser. I had to be dead. Nothing like this happened to me in real life, not a stud out of a skin magazine looking into my car, smiling at me like I’m the best sight of his life. I forgot to be scared. Nothing in me but shock. And lust. The sight of him made me quiver in my panties.
The man waved. Mom’s voice cut through my reverie on his tattooed, bulging arms: ‘Never go anywhere with a strange man, no matter what he says to try to get alone with you. That’s how girls get in trouble.’ Trouble being the euphemism for getting knocked up. I stared right at the stranger. If I’d ever seen anyone who looked like trouble on legs, this was the man. If not for that friendly smile, I’d be scared out of my mind. I opened my window.
“Need some help?”
“Yes. I think so. The car died. It’s never done this before.” I felt so freaking helpless. I envied guys who could stick their head under a hood, tinker around and make a dead car come to life like Frankenstein’s monster. I wanted some of that mojo. But I didn’t really like getting my hands dirty.
“Pop the hood for me, and I’ll take a look.”
He pulled a flashlight out of a tool loop at his belt and headed for the hood. The man was used to being obeyed. I popped the hood.
He flashed the light in there, did some mysterious mechanical stuff. He stuck his head out.
“Give it a try.”
I turned the key. Nothing but clicking.
“My shop’s right in town. Let me give you a tow and I’ll get this running for you.”
Something didn’t feel right, but what choice did I have? I liked his friendly smile. I liked his eyes checking me out more than I wanted to admit. I was over the size limit for most of the local guys. They all thought they deserved cheerleaders. Another reason I needed to get away to the city. Maybe he could fix it and I’d still get my night out.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry. I don’t blame you for being cautious.” He pulled a card out of his jeans and handed it to me.
It was bent to the curve of his ass and felt warm. Damn.
“I own the main auto shop in town, right on Main Street.”
“Oh. Oh, yeah.”
“As soon as we get down the road and get a signal, you can call someone to let them know where you are. Give them my address. I want you to feel safe.”
“Um.” I didn’t know what to say. ‘No thanks, I’d rather stay here in my dead car than trust you, Mr. Stranger’? didn’t seem like an option. Well, it was an option, but it was a stupid one. It was probably the one Mom would want me to pick. He gave me an idea. I could walk until I got a signal, then call Dad to pick me up. Nice and safe, unless an ax murderer came along. I shuddered. Just then, I wished Mom hadn’t raised me on horror movies.
“Let me tow you in. I can get this fixed and get you back on the road in no time, but I can’t do it here.” He flashed a confident smile.
Not cocky, that would have put me off. Confident, exuding one-hundred-percent I got this. I chose to give it over, let him take care of it. I felt soothed. By giving up the burden of what was wrong with the car, I felt absolved of my nagging guilt that I did something wrong and Dad would be mad. Dad would never need to know. Mom either, blessed be.
The tow truck driver headed to his truck, he was that confident. I watched his broad shoulders and high, firm ass. Oh, wow. He had my complete attention. I followed him to the passenger door. He opened it.
“How about I give you a boost?”
I looked at the distance to the seat. I was short.
“Um, okay.” All my mom’s warnings about strange men ran through my mind. There were a lot of them.
The man grabbed my hips and lifted me to the running board.
I gasped. I’d never been lifted like that. It felt wonderful, except it was over too soon. I wanted it to go on and on like a carnival ride. If I jumped back down, would he do it again, or think I was crazy? I blushed to my roots. Keeping my face averted, I climbed onto the seat. He closed the door.
His smile looked possessive. I had to be imagining that.
More Hughes Empire Edgy Books
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As a reader, it doesn’t bother me that authors write in multiple genres. As an author, particularly because I write erotic books, it’s necessary to compartmentalize my work.
Some of you might enjoy my new shifter novella, even though it’s erotic romance instead of outright erotica. It’s a New Adult paranormal pregnancy romance.
I’m sure you won’t be shocked that it contains graphic, unprotected sex between an older alpha too-close man and a virgin. Writing Dad’s Friend: Taboo Shifter Love was enormous fun for me. It conveys my early impressions of the Yucatan when I arrived here six months ago, and it draws on Maya tales and local archaeology. It features a 19 year-old virgin and her father’s best friend, an intense billionaire explorer on a dig in the jungle. Yes, that’s a jaguar shifter on the cover—and there actually is a legend of a jaguar baby. :)
I took Roth coffee and oatmeal in the morning. He wore nothing but boxer briefs. Silver hairs in his chest pelt glistened in the light. That fur trail went all the way down into his shorts. Damn. Even injured, he looked hot as hell.
Get Dad’s Friend ~ My Dirty Knight Pregnancy Romance on Amazon
To find Dad’s Friend on Amazon outside the U.S., copy and paste this book number into t
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If you liked the chemistry between Cleo and Marcus, you’ll enjoy Towed, my new bad boy book from my dirty romantic alter-ego.
Vee Gets in Trouble
Bad Boy First Time ~ an Erotic Instalove Romance Novelette
This one is one-on-one, alpha & curvy virgin
“I enjoyed this sweet, steamy, short novella. It all happens in like two days but it goes from zero to 60 in that time frame. Themes of stalkerish, first time, nerdy-shy-heroine, may-dec, and alpha hero.” — Kindle Junkies
A large man approached, silhouetted against the truck. My eyes adjusted, recognized it as a tow truck. Relief rushed through me. I was saved. There were still knights.
He angled himself toward his truck when he reached my window, as though deliberately placing himself in his headlights so I could get a good look.
Oh. What a man. A white T-shirt strained over his wide chest and rippling torso. He had the classic V-shape so many guys worked at the gym for. His worn jeans gripped his hard, narrow hips, riding low.
Get Towed on Amazon
For a limited time: Dirty Fairy Tale Heroes & Dominant shifters take curvy girls and nymphs.
The five standalone stories include BDSM, bondage, spanking, hard and unprotected first times, multiple men on one woman, kink, shifters, interracial action, and pregnancy consequences. Some of the stories are from the alpha male’s point of view.
Please note: If you’ve read my fairy tales in other collections, you don’t need this book. In addition to Riding Red Hood and other earlier tales it includes my new older alpha and virgin story, Innocent: His Wood Nymph. Innocent is available as a single.
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Q
About the Author
Q. Zayne is the wicked pen name of a California horror writer and fantasist. Q. minored in Classical Archaeology and has an MFA in Creative Writing from San Francisco State University. After teaching at the university, working as an editor, and freelancing for several years, the author embarked on a wild digital publishing adventure. Thanks to fabulous readers and unflagging supporters, Q. writes fiction for a living from the Yucatan.
The author’s childhood included lots of monster movies, trips to ghost towns and daily life on an old ranch in California. And reading—Gothics, fantasy, horror, science fiction, adventure stories, and the ones hidden under beds. The gutsiest writers left the greatest impact.
Thanks for being part of my journey.
— Q.
BTW, I write all of my books. I don’t use ghost writers or group pen names. Some of my work appears under other pen names to make the different book lines easy to identify. The Viv Phoenix and Aly First books are mine, too.
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