Mother Trucker (Crownville Truckers Book 1)

by Moxie Darling

  She hesitated.

  He grinned.

  Clenching her jaw, she pulled the T-shirt over her head and threw it in the weeds at her feet.

  Standing in nothing but her panties, she glared defiantly at him.

  His grin evaporated, and he stared at her. She grew self-conscious, her bravery fading as her common sense returned, and she started to cross her arms over her chest.

  “Don’t,” he said.

  He’d said it with so much quiet command that she instinctively obeyed despite herself. Lowering her arms, the sun warmed her pink nipples once more.

  “I’m not afraid of you,” she said, more to herself than him, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

  “Good,” he said. “Get in.”

  She didn’t think anyone had ever looked at her so intently. Or so boldly. Of the latter, she was sure. Her heart pounded as she made her way down the sandy, stony creek bank. When she stepped into the deliciously icy water, she gasped and jumped a little.

  He watched the way her breasts bounced, and though she couldn’t see it, she knew that, under the water, he was hard for her. The knowledge both terrified and emboldened her. “Remember what you said about not molesting me?” she murmured as she waded farther out. “Visually counts.”

  Her words drifted, and he abruptly turned away, grabbing his chin as if it would help him find the right apology. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not usually … like this.” He glanced at her and seemed relieved to see she’d gone up to her neck in the water. “It’s just …” His voice trailed off as he stared at her, almost as though he was trying to figure her out. “Your thing. It works.”

  Mae frowned, letting her arms weave through the water. “What thing?”

  “The ponytail. The T-shirt.” He studied her face, gazing at her mouth. “The innocent look. All of it.” A quiet, grudging laugh escaped him. “It fucking works. Well done.”

  There had been no judgment in his voice. Just a regretful sincerity.

  She glanced back at her T-shirt and cutoffs, which lay in a rumpled pile on the bank, and her frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

  He frowned, too, but said, “I get it. You stand out from the rest.”

  “The rest?” she asked with a clueless laugh.

  “The rest of the working girls,” he said, his dark brows drawing together. “It’s a marketing strategy, right?”

  “A marketing …” Her voice trailed off when she finally understood what he was getting at. Heat crept up her neck, and she was momentarily too stunned to speak. He thought she was a prostitute. Oh … God. He thought she’d joined him in the creek to fuck him for money. Embarrassment, shame, and fury flooded her all at once, and she rose, water splashing. This time, she covered herself with her arms as she glared at him. “Go to hell.”

  Before he could react, she hurried out of the water, doing her best to navigate the stones with her bare feet. Down deep, she knew she was irrational. The man had every reason to believe she was a prostitute. He didn’t know her. He’d scratched the surface and made an assumption. Hell, given the circumstances, she might have assumed the same thing. It just … stung. She respected working girls. Most of them were doing the best they could with what they’d been given. Surviving by the skin of their teeth in a dog-eat-dog world. Despite their chosen or unchosen profession, they were human beings with hopes and dreams, just like her. But she’d watched people use, abuse, degrade, humiliate, and discard them her entire life. Society saw them as disposable. Cheap. Worthless.

  She could never be that.

  Would never be that.

  Behind her, water splashed as he presumably followed. “There’s no shame in it,” he called. “We do what we have to.”

  She stopped, suddenly so angry she could barely contain it. Angry at her ma for dying. Angry at the dead trucker. Angry at every damn thing and so desperately needing to take it out on someone.

  And Clyde just happened to be within firing range.

  She whirled on him, her wet ponytail swinging, her arms clamped over her chest as if they might protect her from herself. She felt wild. Reckless. Out of control. “You’re right. I am a whore. Is that why you saved me?” she demanded. “Think you’d get a freebie or two?”

  It was cruel and wrong and so hateful, but she couldn’t stop herself. Her cheeks burned, and she shook all over despite the heat as she waited for an answer.

  A muscle in his jaw ticked, and she could tell she’d cut him. “No,” he growled, bending to pick up his jeans, water dripping off him.

  She dropped her arms, baring her breasts to him once again, then reached up and yanked the tie from her ponytail, letting her hair hang loose and damp around her shoulders. “You want to pay for it then?” she asked, her voice trembling. It was as if she was cresting the peak of a rollercoaster. Right now, she was a junky and he was the adrenaline. “Do you?”

  He jerked on his jeans but left them undone while he bent to retrieve his T-shirt. Straightening, he paused and stared at her, the shade-mottled sunlight glinting off his wet, tattooed chest. His gaze lingered on her hair. Her mouth. Her nipples. And as he inspected her, her heart pounded. She’d never felt so vulnerable. Or so rebellious. Finally, he met her eyes. She expected him to deny it. To appease her anger. To walk away. Instead, he said, “Yes.”

  For a moment, her heart stopped altogether, and she knew that rollercoaster she was on was about to go into a free fall. And that there would be no turning back. She raised her chin. “Well, it’s for sale, isn’t it? Come and buy it.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Rising Creek

  Willington, Ohio

  Clyde stared at her, unsure what the hell had just happened. He’d pissed her off, that much was obvious. Her green eyes were lit with fury and her mouth was pulled in a hard line. Her cheeks blazed as she glared at him like he was Lucifer in the flesh. She looked nothing like the unassuming, innocent girl he’d seen last night. This girl looked wild. Defiant.

  Savage.

  And, damn him, but he wanted to fuck the savage out of her.

  He wanted to fuck her until she was quiet inside.

  Until she whispered his name and came for him.

  “How much?” he asked and hated himself for it. He hadn’t intended on making this about her job. Hell, he hadn’t intended on any of this. But when she’d taken off her T-shirt, showing him her sweet, small tits with their sweet, small nipples, he’d lost his damn mind. He’d expected her to blush and walk away. She hadn’t.

  Mae blinked. “What?”

  He dropped the T-shirt he’d been holding and walked over to her. Part of him, the decent part, knew he should send her back to the rig before things went any further. She might be a prostitute, but it was clear she hadn’t been one for long. She was ashamed of it. Was probably only doing it to make ends meet until something better came along. Something more respectable.

  But he hadn’t been respectable for a very long time, and he wanted this. He wanted her. And if that meant he had to pay, then so fucking be it. “How much,” he repeated, so hard his cock ached.

  She slapped him.

  It was a fast, hard slap, and it stung like a motherfucker.

  He clenched his jaw and looked back at her. “How. Much.”

  She glared at him, a war waging behind her gaze. For a moment, he thought she’d walk away, but then she raised her chin and said, “Five hundred dollars.”

  “Done,” he said. If she’d demanded his heart for payment, he’d have carved it out and handed it to her.

  Her eyes widened as if she had expected him to balk at the number, but she nodded stiffly. “Fine.”

  He wanted like hell to kiss the angry frown off her mouth. “Fine.”

  She raised her chin. “Fine.”

  Unable to wait any longer, he took her by the nape, tangling his fingers in that glorious auburn hair, and pulled her to him.

  She gasped and halted him. For a moment, they stood like that, his fist in her
hair, her fingers biting into his bare chest. They stared at each other, and the air became so heavy with anticipation, he nearly came right then and there.

  “If you want to go, go now,” he managed, shocked by how unsteady his voice was.

  His heart pounded. He’d never been wound so tightly in his entire life. Even with Lila Jane, it hadn’t been like this. So consuming. So desperate. This … this was another animal altogether. Mae brought out something uncivilized in him. There was no honor in it. Only need. And he didn’t even recognize himself. He only knew he had to have her.

  And still he waited.

  God, he waited.

  “You bought me,” she said breathlessly, her chin tilted up from the stiff angle he held her in. Her lips were just inches from his own, parted and trembling. He could almost taste them. “I’m yours.”

  Growling, he took what he wanted, crushing his mouth against hers. This time, she let him, moaning into the kiss and wrapping her arms around him. Her compliance fueled his hunger, and he picked her up with a grunt, forcing her to lock her legs around his waist. She gasped, bouncing, her fingernails digging into his back and the hard buds of her nipples grinding into his chest. God, she tasted good. Felt good. Her ass in his hands was the best thing he’d ever had in them. He dragged his mouth across her warm cheek and nipped her earlobe just hard enough to make her cry out. In response, she grabbed his hair and tugged as if punishing him. The reprimand went straight to his cock, and he grunted, kissing her again. Mouths smashing, tongues licking, breath sawing. It was hard. Violent. Primal. The opposite of what he’d expected. What he’d wanted. He knew what she was. What she got paid to do. He knew the innocent act was just that—an act. But, dammit, he’d bought it. Both literally and figuratively. He’d wanted her shy and hesitant. He’d wanted to show her. Teach her. Touch her. Slow. Gentle. Instead, they were tearing at each other like two snarling dogs fighting over a kill.

  He hated it.

  He fucking loved it.

  And he was helpless to stop it.

  He walked her to the nearest tree and braced his palm against it, the bark rough under his fingers. “Hold onto me,” he breathed.

  She did, and he wound her hair around his fist and pulled her head back, forcing her to arch her spine. She gasped skyward as he sucked one of her small, tight nipples into his mouth. Oh, fuck yes. God, she was perfect. He released the nipple, and it jiggled, pink and wet. He kissed her collarbone, her throat, her cheek, until he took her mouth again, licking into it with hot, hungry strokes. She moaned, trembling in his arms, her thighs clenched around him so tight, he could feel them shaking. Letting go of her hair, he got his fingers under her panties, which were damp from creek water, and jerked. She gasped as they tore and his hand found bare skin.

  “I don’t want to be rough with you,” he said breathlessly, even as he squeezed her ass hard enough to leave marks. “Not like this. It’s like I’ve lost my mind.”

  “Please,” she managed, raking her fingers through his hair and kissing him as if to silence his regrets. “Please.”

  The desperate tremor in her voice was too much. Gritting his teeth, he reached down and freed his aching cock from his already-unzipped jeans and found her slick slit. He shoved inside her with a grunt, his forearm straining as he gripped the tree, his heels digging into the dirt. Holy … hell, she was tight. She tensed, letting out a harsh, hot breath.

  “Good?” he demanded, his fingers biting into her ass as he held her against him.

  She only nodded, kissing the hollow of his throat with unsteady lips.

  His restraint—what little there was—crumbled, and he fucked her like the animal he was. Soon, there were only grunts, whimpers, and the smack of skin. It was sweaty, frantic, and it took him over completely. The world fell away, and it was just the two of them grabbing, kissing, gasping, giving, taking. There was no intelligent thought. No reason. No humanity. He was just an animal rutting with the female of his species. He forgot about Lila Jane and the past and even the goddamned future. For now, Mae’s sweet, wet pussy owned him.

  She owned him.

  He came with a guttural, animalistic growl, holding onto her desperately, his chest heaving against hers. She clung to him, her hair a damp curtain down his back, her breath hot and fast against his throat. His legs were shaking, and he wouldn’t be able to hold her there much longer, yet he almost couldn’t bear the thought of letting her go. Being inside her, her heart beating against his, their sweat and breath mingling—it was the closest thing to alive he’d felt in so damn long.

  It was also the closest thing to fear he’d felt in so damn long.

  He’d just come inside her.

  Without a fucking condom on.

  He cursed and hung his head, squeezing his eyes shut. What the hell had they done? He’d been so caught up, so out of his mind, that there had been no room for rational thought. There had only been her and what she had between her legs and getting inside it. Barring the fact that she was a prostitute and was exposed to a buffet of diseases on the regular, he could’ve very well just gotten her pregnant. His absolute worst goddamned nightmare.

  “Hell,” he breathed, his voice hoarse. He pulled out of her, and she untangled from him, grabbing the tree for balance. Too pissed at himself to look at her, he turned away, raking his fingers through his hair. “That was a mistake.”

  “Sorry you’re disappointed,” she said behind him, sounding hollow. “No refunds.”

  Closing his eyes a moment, he let out an unsteady breath, then turned. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I—”

  His voice cut off abruptly when he took her in. She stood leaning against the tree, her arms crossed over her chest once more, tears brimming in her eyes. That wasn’t the shittiest part, though. Her torn panties hung off one thigh.

  One blood-smeared thigh.

  Shame burned through Clyde, his worries forgotten. “I hurt you,” he said, unsure whether to go to her or leave her be. He dragged his hand down his face. What was wrong with him? He’d been a damn madman. He should’ve taken his time. Done it right. Instead, he’d fucked her hard and rough, and she hadn’t been ready for it. “God, Mae, I’m sorry.”

  She cleared her throat and did her best to cover herself, and the blood, with her hands. “It wasn’t you,” she said, her gaze locking on her discarded cutoffs lying in the dirt a few feet away. “You didn’t hurt me.”

  Tugging up his jeans, he left them undone and retrieved her cutoffs, handing them to her. “Clearly, I did.”

  She looked younger now somehow. More vulnerable.

  Violated.

  He put his hands on his hips and stared down at his bare feet as she climbed into the cutoffs. “I’m so goddamned sorry,” he said, shame bearing down on him. “I don’t know what happened.”

  Finding her T-shirt, she pulled it on and then went for her boots. “It’s not from you,” she said quietly, embarrassment coloring her words. “At least, not like that.”

  Clyde shook his head, intending to argue, but then froze. Dread flooded him, and he looked up at her with widening eyes. No. No way. “Mae,” he demanded, his heart pounding for an entirely different reason. “Were you …” Unable to even say it, his voice trailed off. Fucking hell, it would explain so much. The shyness. The blood.

  She let out a humorless laugh as she hurriedly tied her bootlaces. “Yeah.”

  He cursed, grabbing his chin as if it might help him figure out what to do. What to say. He’d just fucked a virgin. Mercilessly. Roughly. A virgin he’d thought was a prostitute. One he’d thought was using her innocence as a marketing strategy. Those words had actually come out of his ignorant mouth. Good God. No wonder she’d looked at him as if he’d slapped her when he’d said it. A slew of emotions assaulted him. Shame. Regret. Sadness. Anger. How could he have been so stupid? Or so blind? He barely knew her, but other than hanging around Shifty’s after dark, she’d given him no reason to believe she was a hooker. He’d been an asshole. Assumed shit
he’d had no right to assume.

  And she’d paid the price.

  Still, as much as he loathed what had happened, a small, sick part of him couldn’t help but burn with satisfaction that he’d been her first.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Rising Creek

  Willington, Ohio

  Mae wanted to dive into the creek and let it carry her about a hundred miles downstream. Away from him. Away from her humiliation. Not only did he regret what they’d done, but he was horrified by the revelation of her virginity. He seemed almost as appalled by it as she was. She hadn’t planned for it to happen like that. She hadn’t planned for it to happen at all. But it had. Beautifully. Violently. Perfectly. Maybe on another day, with another man, she’d have wanted a gentle hand. A soft kiss. A tender embrace. But today, with Clyde, she’d needed that angry, feral, let-it-all-out fucking. It had been terrible and lovely all at once. In that moment, she’d been free. No, it hadn’t been how she’d always imagined her first time would be, but it had been just what she’d needed all the same.

  And that he so clearly regretted it was perhaps the most unbearable thing of all.

  “How old are you?” he demanded, zipping his jeans while staring at her.

  She paused, glancing over at him. “Don’t worry. You didn’t statutory-rape me.”

  His mouth thinned. “How old?”

  Sighing, she straightened. “Twenty-four.”

  He let out a breath, looking somewhat relieved. “Good.”

  She turned and started for the road.

  Behind her, he presumably retrieved his own clothes, then came after her. “Wait.”

  She didn’t.

  He caught up, taking her by the arm. “Goddammit, woman, wait.”

  She stopped and glared up at him defiantly. “What do you want?”

  His expression was pained as he studied her face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”