I lay back on the pillow in a sheen of sweat, panting, after clicking it off. I heard a distant slow clap, and my weary eyes popped right open. I pulled my hands to my face and covered it, fully groaning into my palms while simultaneously shaking my head.
“Quite the performer, aren’t you, little Cherry?” asked the tinny voice only slightly muffled by my apron. “I’m hanging up now. I suggest you do the same.”
I’d never in my life been so mortified. The shock of what I’d just done had me completely silenced. I was tongue tied, a state I’d not found myself in ever before.
“I can still hear you breathing. Listen, I don’t like those things, and I want you to gather them all up and toss them. It’s only my cock you come on when you’re riding it hard. Put the toys in the trash, and I’ll see you on the fourth. Don’t wear flag colors—that’s all I ask. And no peanut butter for twenty-four hours before you see me. Because I plan on drilling every hole in your body, so I need you free from allergens. You can hang up now if you’re ready.”
I reached into my apron and pressed the button on my phone to hang it up. My hands were shaking, and I was somehow horny again, despite more orgasms in the last twenty-four hours than the entirety of my lifetime.
7
Edison
I prided myself on certain things. I wasn’t exactly the classiest guy in the room—or on the Forbes list, for that matter. I didn’t go to Harvard. My blood isn’t blue unless you’re counting blue collar. Yet I’ve never done anything as uncouth as jerking off in a rest stop bathroom. However, the boner I’d been sporting since hanging up the phone with Laney had me pulling into the service station with only one thing in mind. Rub that girl out of my dick so I can keep my goddamned eyes on the road and drive. Make it home alive. She’d gotten into my blood like a virus. I wanted her so badly I couldn’t think straight.
I hopped out of the car and jogged to the cabin-like restroom structure set back in a patch of pine trees. Thankfully it was empty, and my footsteps echoed on the concrete floor. I was about to jerk off in a bathroom stall like a creep. I have half a mind to call her and have her listen, but that might be a tad too much.
I had no idea she owned The Lace Garage. Besides, she was the one who sought me out first. I tipped my head back against the door as I recalled her gorgeous tits nearly falling out of that dress. The girl was a handful—one to be reckoned with—but that’s what I liked about her. I liked the chase. The difficult time she gave me drove me insane and only made me want her more.
I couldn’t believe my cock could be so insatiable even after last night. I’d never tit-fucked a woman before, and now the erotic image of the head of my cock sliding into her lips wouldn’t leave my mind. I didn’t want to ruin her. I just had to make her mine. I’m at a loss myself for what that even meant. My nuts tightened and my cock was heavy in my fist as I milked a few strokes out thinking of her red lips. My Cherry was a fickle fruit, and I’d have to be careful about how I picked her. She wasn’t just going to jump into my bed like a lot of woman would. I was going to have to work hard to get what I wanted. With one hand I reached up and grabbed the top of the stainless-steel door, the muscles in my back flexing with the strain of my cock. When I came, I imagined releasing into her tight slit. Her lips, her tongue, Cherry’s strong thighs wrapped around my waist in a snug grip…
I didn’t live in a mansion, although there was no reason I couldn’t. I called the same small town I grew up in home. Leaving and coming back seemed to be my established pattern. I grew up in the Valley, and I knew everyone who lived there. They, too, won’t ever let me forget my own history—which was, primarily, that I grew up in a garage. I was up under the hoods of cars before I was tall enough, and I stood on overturned oil cans to see the engines get diagnosed by my father. My whole family worked in the garage, my mother included. My brother was a mechanic too, and so were most of my uncles. There was never anything else for the Roads men. You came and left this world with grease under your fingernails. But I was probably the first Roads man to don a suit for more than a funeral or a wedding. I was the first to strike out on my own and blaze a trail with my own business. Inevitably some of them thought I was putting on airs—my own father included—but that’s the price you paid with success. Not everyone had your back or your best interest at heart. But most of the men in my family were employed by me anyway, either by starting their own franchises or managing one of the shops. In the Valley, I’d bought my grandparents’ house, renovated and updated a bit, put in a deck, and bought a grill for the backyard. But the truth was I was rarely home to enjoy it. Most of my working days were spent on the road—traveling between shops and opening new ones.