Page 130 of Truck Hard

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He groans against my neck. “You feel so good.”

I bite my lip to keep quiet, very aware of Cam upstairs. Liam’s hand slides between us, his thumb finding my clit with practiced ease. The combined sensation of his cock stretching me and his fingers working me has pleasure coiling tight in my belly.

His other hand grips my hip, pulling me into each thrust. The angle is perfect, hitting that spot inside me that makes me come every single time. My head falls back against the cabinet as tension builds, threatening to snap.

“That’s it,” Liam whispers, his voice rough. “Come for me, sweetheart. Let me feel you squeeze my cock.”

His thumb circles faster, matching the punishing rhythm of his hips. I’m so close, teetering on the edge. He shifts slightly, changing the angle, and suddenly I’m coming apart. My pussy clenches around him as waves of pleasure crash over me.

“Hannah.” He groans, his hips stuttering as he follows me into the blissful oblivion of our joined pleasure. His cock pulses inside me, filling me with his release.

For a moment we stay frozen, breathing heavily against each other. His forehead rests against mine, our breaths mingling in the small space between us.

My body still trembles from my orgasm as Liam slowly pulls out of me. His eyes darken as he watches his cum drip down my thigh, a possessive groan rumbling in his chest. The sight of him staring at me like this, like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, makes my heart race all over again.

“Don’t move,” he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before stepping away.

I hear the kitchen faucet run, then he returns with a warm, damp cloth. His touch is impossibly gentle as he cleans between my legs, wiping away the evidence of our passion. The tender care in such a simple act brings tears to my eyes. How different this is from what I knew before, how much love can exist in the smallest gestures.

Once he’s satisfied, he tosses the cloth aside and cups my face in his hands. His kiss steals my breath—deep and desperate, like he’s trying to pour every ounce of emotion into this one moment. My fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer as his tongue sweeps into my mouth. He tastes like coffee and desire and everything I never thought I’d have again.

“I love you,” he whispers against my lips between kisses. “So much.”

I feel his words in my soul, in every cell of my body. This is what real love feels like—safe, consuming, freeing all at once.

His kisses grow more urgent, his hands sliding into my hair as he presses closer between my thighs. The counter digs into my back but I don’t care. I’m lost in the feel of his mouth on mine, his body against me, and his heart beating in time with my own.

The rich aromaof roasting potatoes and garlic fills my kitchen, mingling with the sweet scent of the cinnamon rolls cooling on the counter. I can’t help but smile as I watch Liam through the window, showing Cam how to properly hold a baseball bat in our backyard. Golden evening light bathes them both, highlighting their matching dark hair and determined expressions. My heart swells at the sight of them together like this—father and son, making up for lost time.

Parts of this old house still hold echoes of darker memories, but we’re slowly replacing them with new ones. Better ones. The sound of Cam’s laughter drifts through the open window as Liam demonstrates an exaggerated batting stance that has them both cracking up.

I turn back to stirring the gravy, not wanting it to scorch. The recipe is one of Grams’s. She’s been teaching me her cooking secrets bit by bit. Tonight’s roast is my first attempt at making it completely on my own.

The timer dings, pulling me from my thoughts. As I pull the roast from the oven, savoring the mouth-watering aroma, the screen door slams followed by thundering footsteps.

“Mom! Did you see? Dad showed me how to bat left-handed!” Cam’s cheeks are flushed with excitement as he bursts into the kitchen.

“I saw through the window, honey. You’re getting really good.” I ruffle his hair, earning an eye roll that only a pre-teen can truly perfect. “Go wash up for dinner, okay? It’s almost ready.”

“It smells amazing in here.” Liam comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing a kiss to my neck. “Just like Grams makes it.”

“Don’t jinx it.” I warn, but lean back into his embrace. “I’m still nervous about the gravy.”

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest against my back. “It’ll be perfect because you made it.”

The simple confidence in his voice soothes something inside me I didn’t even realize was anxious. That’s what Liam does. He makes me feel steady, grounded, and safe. Not through control or demands, but through unwavering support and love.

“I love you,” I murmur, turning in his arms to face him. His brown eyes are warm as they meet mine, crinkling at the corners with his smile.

“Always.” He replies softly, brushing his lips against mine in a gentle kiss.

The moment is broken by gagging sounds from the doorway. “Gross! Can you guys not be mushy when it’s time to eat?” Cam complains, though I catch the hint of a smile he tries to hide.

“Sorry buddy.” Liam releases me with a final quick kiss. “How about you help set the table while your mom finishes up in here?”

As they move around the kitchen gathering plates and silverware, trading easy banter, I’m struck by howrightthis feels. The three of us together, building our little family one moment at a time. A year ago, I never would have believed this was possible. But here we are.

Once everything is ready, we gather around the table—not the formal dining room where Charlie insisted we eat, but the cozy kitchen table that’s become the heart of our home. Steam rises from the plates as I serve everyone, the rich aromas making my mouth water.

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