Page 1 of Hitch
Chapter1
Duane
six months earlier
There she is—aspec on the side of the road, an ant I could crush with my fingertip. But that don’t stop me from staring. Black hair runs down her back in a heap of waves and tangles, dark eyes rimmed with black makeup. Amber skin. Full puckered lips sucking the music right out of the radio. Her jeans are cut off at a jagged angle like she cut them herself, her ass hanging out the back like she don’t mind if anyone looks. In fact, she encourages it. The kind of woman you can have a good time with and never ask her name. A knot in a ball of rope where all you need is a good tug and she’ll roll over every which way for you.
Her hips sway as she walks inside the only gas station for fifteen miles. The convenience store’s fluorescent lights beam down on her like she’s the star on a movie scene.
I drive past, knowing that she’s a good way to get lost. I don’t need that tonight. I know what’s in the bed of my truck, and I need to get rid of it.
But as my truck rumbles past, the yellow lines on the road transform into visions of black hair wrapped around my fist, makeup bleeding down her cheeks as those dark eyes look up at me. My head spins. Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t been with a woman in a long fucking time. Maybe it’s because of what I just got done doing that makes me ache for my length between those pretty puckered lips.
After what I’ve done tonight, I make an exception. Might as well break another dry spell. Whether it’s blood or come, everyone deserves a reprieve every now and then.
I swing the truck around and head back to the gas station.
My truck’s got half a tank, but I fill her up anyway. My boots carry me languidly inside, the rubber soles thudding on the floor. Dirt lays a trail around my shoes, tarnishing the white tiles. Doo-wop music plays, bringing in all of that fifties nostalgia. Bright lights illuminate the space as if to prove that this is a clean, honorable establishment. Even the aisles of chips and candy bars are lined up like they’re ready for an order, except there’s no one in the store, but me. Everything’s immaculate, exactly the last place you’d expect a woman like my little ant to come wandering into.
But there ain’t no sign of my girl.
I head for the corner to find a bathroom, assuming that’s where she went, but it’s all boxes and cases of coke.
I’m about to head back to my truck—I ought to make sure the tarp is securely fastened so no one sees what’s underneath—when I catch a glimpse of a door leading outside. Slightly ajar. Calling out for another visitor.
Waiting for someone like me.
The door swings open to the back of the building. The moon is full, the night freckled with starlight, the cicadas serenading their lullabies. Still, I don’t see my girl. But then on the backside of the building, I catch another open door, leading to a dark room. Like a white rabbit, I follow the path, bringing myself into a bathroom. Dim fluorescent lights decorate the place, but the only one that works is above the sink, leaving the two stalls pitch-black.
But I forget all about that, because between the smell of piss and shit, I can smellher,that nauseatingly sweet vanilla drifting through the dirt and depravity. Graffiti and muck cover the walls. Posters ripped in half are glued to the ceiling. And phone numbers are scribbled in the shadows. The damn near opposite of the store inside.
Both the stalls have floor-to-ceiling barriers, and that don’t help with the lack of light. I check the far stall, but it’s locked, so I go into the one next to the sink. Inside, I find a hole right at my hip level. After a while, my eyes adjust and I can see a patch of amber skin through that opening.
Then her tongue sticks through the hole, and those cherry-red lips are suctioned and ready for me.
So Todd wasn’t lying. Thereisa glory hole on Mariposa Highway.
I unzip my jeans, my rod angry and red. Blood pumps with recklessness in my veins, surging straight to my groin at this anonymous act of perversion. I don’t even know for sure if it’s my black-haired vixen on the other side of the wall. Could be a man. Could be a woman. Could be someone not on the binary at all. But the excitement of it gets to me. This person is a complete stranger, and I’m about to trust myself inside of their mouth. It’s idiotic. Dangerous, even. No sane man would do it.
But goddamn, I want that mouth on me.
The tip of my length scrapes against the hole’s rough edges, sending a subtle jolt of pain to my spine, but that don’t stop me. I press myself against the wall, letting my cheek and forearms rest against the sticky surface, squeezing the base of length. My balls tighten against my boxers.
And then that stranger’s tongue settles on my tip, simmering me in a pool of paradise. My eyes roll back into my head as she swallows me up. It’s like getting wrapped in a glove, the way her tongue takes me in. She tries to take me deep—a gagging noise blubbers out of her mouth—and thatneedsets me off. I thrust against the wall, rattling the whole fucking stall. It’s like an earthquake about to break loose, but I shove forward again, the desire for her throat overwhelming me. I plant my hands on the walls for leverage, grime coating my fingertips, my nails tearing into the paint-caked plastic.
Then she takes it, past that dangling flesh, down her throat. Pleasure destroys my last sense of control and Iunleash,fucking the hole in the wall, because I need more from her. I need her mouth around me until she chokes so bad, tears ruin her makeup, proving that I’m destroying her. Her hands grasp my length, a flash of chipped black polish coating her fingernails, her red lips so full and soft, even this tiny glimpse of her makes her look like a depraved angel.
Her teeth barely knick my skin, a sharp bite of pain jumping through my bloodstream. Invigorated by her teasing, I thrust against that hole harder and harder, until the wall shakes like it’s about to fall down. My girl gasps so sweet and fearful that I growl a deep and guttural noise. She moans back, just as beastly for me. Her lips reach for my length once again, so eager to please. And at that, the spasms take hold of me, and I pull back, exploding through that hole, no doubt coating her tongue and lips. She licks me up, greedy little thing, moaning again at the taste, and I let out a sigh. My head spins all over again.
Within seconds, the door for the next stall crashes open and slams shut, like the dark-haired devil couldn’t wait to get out, possibly second-guessing her life choices right about now. I don’t blame her. I honestly never thought I’d get that lucky sticking myself in a hole like that. I ought to have gotten the whole thing bitten off, trusting myself with a stranger. But I chuckle, rinsing my hands of it. What’s done is done.
At the sink, I twist the handle, but the faucet stays dry. I wipe my hands on my jeans, letting those drips of come mix with other brown and red stains on the fabric. After the night I’ve had, stains are the last thing I’m worried about. Nobody’s going to question someone in my line of work. You expect that kind of thing when you own a farm.
Once I close up the gas tank, I get in the truck, humming to myself. The engine buzzes to life and we return to the road, back to the main task at hand.
But then I see that little knot of a woman on the side of the road again. I turn off the radio.
Ass jiggling. Black hair shimmering. Those red-stained lips.
