The complete Risky Hookups series.
Four hot temptations — dangerous in all the right ways
Paying her way through college isn’t the only reason Tasha works the all-night shift at the convenience store. She has a secret, a hidden need to push the boundaries of small town life, and late at night is the best time to do it … in the store beside the interstate highway … where strangers, just passing through, are the only customers, the only candidates for what Tasha desires.
Four men will change the course of Tasha’s life, and they’ll do it Behind the Counter, Between the Aisles, Inside the Cooler and Against the Wall. She can’t stop until she pushes her luck to the breaking point.
This sample of the Risky Hookups collection contains language and sexual situations that are suitable only for adults.
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Behind the Counter
REGGIE GAVE ME A skeevy once-over. “You’re lookin’ real good tonight, Tasha.”
I ignored him and continued ringing up his purchases, the same crap he bought every night. People could be so predictable, from what they ate and drank, to making plays for convenience store clerks who have told them a hundred times to go home to their wives.
I gave Reggie his total, took his money then tossed his change on the counter. He didn’t touch it, just stood there acting like he didn’t remember I once told him I’d rather date a donkey than him.
I inspected my cuticles, knowing better than to meet his eyes. “You want a bag?”
He leaned forward across the counter, coming so close that I could make out the layer of dandruff flakes on his shoulders. “Nah. I do see somethin’ I’d like to bag, though.”
I shoved his soda and beef jerky into his chest. “Bubby!” I called to my outsized cousin who was in the corner playing a video game. “Reggie needs an escort to his car.”
“Aww, Tasha. I just put money in,” Bubby whined.
Reggie glared at me and snatched up his stuff. “No worries. I’m leaving. Oh, and I drive a truck, not a car.”
He marched out of the place like he was the injured party. Typical.
“I tell you, Bubby,” I said as I watched Reggie’s taillights disappear in the direction of the interstate. “You’re doing a fine job tonight.”
“You serious? Dang! Missed the bonus cow.” He pounded on the controls and shook the machine as if it would make the electronic cow reconsider being missed.
“I’m serious,” I said. “I bet you’re the best security guard for a hundred miles. All I have to do is threaten to sic you on people and they go running. Pretty sweet.”
His back got straighter and he smiled at the video screen. “Thanks, Tasha. And you’re the best convenience store clerk, too.”
I wanted to tell him to take it back, but I understood he thought I’d be pleased with the compliment. Bubby was a sweet guy, really big and really sweet, and totally not the fastest car in the family garage.
Lucky for Bubby, his daddy, my Uncle Wally, owned this convenience store. Thanks to that, Bubby had a steady job which wasn’t too demanding—protecting the store during the overnight shift. Out here in the boonies off a lonely stretch of interstate, we didn’t actually need protecting. The place had never been robbed in my memory.
I perched on a stool and flipped open my economics textbook. I had an exam in a few days. In my third year at the local community college, I’d be graduating this spring (I only went part time my first two years). If I wanted a scholarship so I could move on to university, I needed top grades and more money.
Money. I never had enough of it. My uncle let me work the overnight shift at the store so I could attend classes during the day and make enough to save for the next step of my education.
I didn’t mind working all night and going to school all day, only sleeping a few hours here and there. I sometimes missed having a social life, but I desperately wanted out of my small hometown. The only way I could see to do that was work hard and sacrifice a little now for the promise of a better future.
Besides, I had a few ways and means of making up for my lost social life—keeping things interesting without investing a lot of time. It was my little secret. And it was the reason I didn’t mind the heavy schedule, or the overnight shift.
Ah, yes, a big, little secret.
I read my textbook and Bubby played his game. Over the next hour only a couple of late-night travelers straggled in off the interstate for coffee and other pick-me-ups.
Three a.m. rolled around and inevitable fatigue hit, same as it did every night at that time. I chugged coffee and stifled yawns. Bubby made staying awake harder by wandering around the store yawning loud enough to rattle the plate glass windows.
He stopped in front of the counter, stretching his big arms over his head and giving another mighty yawn. “Whew! I’m so tired tonight. It’s boring. Aren’t you tired?”
“I’m always tired. So what?”
I groaned inside. He loved to ask me what I was reading so he could ask a million questions about it. I wouldn’t have minded, but it seriously cut into my studying time, and he didn’t listen to the answers anyway.
I set the book aside. “Nothing. I’m all finished.”
“Aww, shoot. That’s too bad.” He looked left, right, up at the ceiling and down at the counter. “Hey, Tasha.”
A red flush crept up his neck. “Maybe one of them magazines back there’d keep me awake.”
I hid a grin behind my hand. So that’s how it was. “Think so? Well, maybe you’d best come back here and see if there’s something to interest you.”
He smiled like it was Christmas. And it was, in a way—a pervy Christmas.
We lived in the Bible belt, which meant folks had limited ideas about what was and was not appropriate behavior, and they liked to press those ideas on pretty much everyone else. Temptation was considered a scourge, and corruption was hard to resist when it was waved in your face.
So, my uncle carefully hid away everything in the store which might be considered an invitation to stray from the righteous path. He could have decided not to sell these corrupt products at all, but that would have hurt his bottom line, an unthinkable sacrifice. So he created what I called the Sin Stash.
Everything that might be considered immoral or bad for you was hidden away behind the front counter. Nudie magazines, rolling papers, lighters and caps printed with risqué expressions, sleep-aid tablets, condoms, tobacco products, sexy-shaped air fresheners, cocktail mixers, shot glasses, dice, playing cards, and more.
It was a veritable promised land of iniquity back there, and I was the reluctant St. Peter, not thrilled with the job of holding the keys to the kingdom. If you wanted something from the Sin Stash, you had to ask me for it. I hated it. It was annoying to us clerks, and to most of the customers, too.
There were so many products under the counter that my uncle had the thing specially built to house it all. The crazy counter was nearly fifteen feet long and taller than normal. It came up on me just below my boobs, and the cash register had to be set into a lower cubby or we couldn’t have operated it properly.
I particularly disliked the cigarettes being hidden, since customers were always asking if we had such-and-such brand, and when they found out how few brands we carried, they’d ask, “What else you got back there?” and so it would begin. Ugh.
I got tired of the whole wink-wink-nudge-nudge atmosphere that the stash created, but nobody cared about my opinion.
Secrets. The little towns around here were full of them. And like I said, I had a few of my own, so I had no right to point a finger at anyone else.
Bubby shuffled around the counter and headed to the assortment of naughty magazines. He pulled out the glossy mags one at a time and inspected the covers like they held the secret to immortality.
I pretended not to watch so he wouldn’t be uncomfortable, instead peeking at him in my peripheral vision. It was hard not to smile at his serious demeanor and careful study, mainly because it was pointless; he always wound up picking either “Teeny Titties” or “Boob-a-ganza!” When it came to breasts, Bubby liked them all sizes, and good for him.
Tonight, he settled on the latest edition of “Teeny Titties,” discreetly stuffing it under his arm. He lumbered away, clearing his throat, mumbling about how he needed to make his rounds.
“Take your time,” I called after him.
He grunted and headed to the back. “Won’t be long,” he said before he closed the door behind himself.
That so wasn’t true. In fact, I’d have wagered a month’s pay that he’d finish himself off and be snoring on the office couch within fifteen minutes.
I tried to read my economics book, but I couldn’t focus. With Bubby out of the way, this was much-prized private time. It made me antsy.
I puttered around the coffee station and tidied up some shelves. Mostly, I stood in front of the plate glass windows, staring out toward the interstate. I willed something to happen. Something. Anything.
No, that wasn’t true. I knew exactly what I wanted to happen. But knowing it didn’t make it arrive.
A car pulled up outside and I held my breath. I released it when an older couple got out and toddled into the store. Too bad. I waited on them and hid my disappointment that they weren’t what I was hoping for. I did the same with the next two customers who came and went.
Bubby had been snoring in the back for almost an hour and I was brainstorming topics for a history paper when I heard a distinctive, distant rumble. I hopped off my stool and peered over the counter out the windows.
The rumble got louder, and I saw the single headlamp which told me what was approaching. A motorcycle. A loud motorcycle, a real biker’s bike, probably. I licked my lips.
I quickly ran my fingers through my long hair, flipped it around and fluffed it up. I ducked down and dabbed on some lip gloss.
The roaring machine rolled to a halt outside. I couldn’t make out details because the interior lights of the store created reflections on the windows that obscured my view. When the engine shut off, my belly quivered.
“Let it be someone good,” I whispered. “Let it be someone good. Come on. Someone good.”
The front door swung open. My breath caught in my throat.
Oh, it was better than good. Walking in the door was one seriously hot biker, tall, lean, with slim-hips and wide shoulders. Chrome gleamed on his black boots, worn jeans snugged his thighs and crotch, a tight navy t-shirt stretched across his firm chest, and his leather jacket had an insignia that told me he was probably a lone wolf.
I guessed him to be in his late twenties, maybe early thirties. His hair was thick and black, and a few days’ growth shadowed his square jaw. His nose was slightly bent, suggesting it had once been broken. The imperfection worked for him, made him even more appealing.
Then there were his eyes. Oh, his eyes. Blue. Bright blue, pale. Wicked blue eyes that probably never missed a trick in his life.
I swallowed hard, and moisture gathered between my thighs. I undid the top two buttons of my uniform smock.
He glanced my way and his expression changed when he saw me, filled with wakened interest.
“Evening,” he said, his voice a bass rumble.
“Hey.” I smiled my most winning smile. “How you doing tonight?”
“Can’t complain. Got any coffee?”
“Sure. There.” I waved my hand to the left. “I made a fresh pot about ten minutes ago.” I leaned against the counter, propping my boobs on my forearms.
“Perfect.” His gaze dropped to my cleavage. The corner of his lush lips curved up on one side. I noticed a small scar at the corner of his mouth. Something about that scar made me want to nibble around it.
After he walked past me, I craned my neck to get a look at his rear view. Mmm. A nice, tight, rounded butt, imminently squeezable.
I knew from experience he’d return to the counter quickly. I wriggled out of my loose, elastic-waisted pants, balled them up and shoved them behind the mop bucket. My shoes were okay, having some heel to them, and they made my bare legs look good.
My uniform smock barely reached mid-thigh. Perfect. Just how I liked it. I adjusted my tiny panties, smoothed them over my butt.
I snugged up close to the tall counter, knowing my biker wouldn’t be able to see I was half-undressed.
THE BIKER SAUNTERED BACK up to the counter, giving me a slow once-over as he approached, not that there was much to see but my face and cleavage. He seemed satisfied enough, enough to make my belly flutter.
“Little girl like you working the night shift on the highway?” he asked, then stopped to take a sip of his black coffee. “What’s the world coming to?”
“I can handle myself,” I said, “and anything else that might come up.” I dared a quick glance up and down his bad boy self, felt heat rise on my neck when his eyebrows raised.
“What’s your name, sweet thing?” he asked.
“Tasha. I like that.”
Of course he did. They always liked my name.
“What do they call you?” I asked, trying to sound sexy and calm, when I was actually totally hyped up and raring to go.
“Slade, if they’re a friend.”
“I’d like to be your friend, Slade.”
“Can’t imagine a sweet thing like you being an enemy,” he said, his eyes half-lidded and sexy.
I smiled, lowered my eyes, then looked back up at him. “You’re not from around here.”
“Most everybody is.” I sighed. “Nothing around here worth staying for.”
He leaned against the counter, close enough that I could smell his fresh scent. He smelled of night air, the highway and danger. My insides purred.
He nodded. “I come from a small town myself. Know how it is. I’d think working here at night would be pretty dull.”
“Sometimes. But I have ways to spice it up.”
By this point in the conversation, he knew “like what.” We both knew “like what,” but there was a pace to these things, a certain way one went about it that made everything better. Or maybe he didn’t know, and I just liked thinking that he did. Whichever way it was, it would turn out the same in the end.
“Little games to keep me awake. Sometimes I play them with customers.” I leaned forward on the counter. “Customers I like, like you.”
He chuckled then, a long, low affair that rumbled in the air like reverb from his motorcycle. “Do tell. You in the mood to play one of those little games right now?”
“As luck would have it, I am.”
“Well then, aren’t I one lucky son-of-a-bitch?”
I stood up straight and stepped away from the counter so he could see my bare legs. “I don’t know. You tell me.”
“Damn,” he said, his gaze on my thighs and the hem of my smock. “You don’t believe in taking it slow. I really am a lucky S.O.B. How does this game work?” He set his coffee to the side.
“One of my favorites is Tell and Show.”
“Never heard of it, but I’m a fan already.”
“It’s fun,” I said. “You tell me what you’d like to see, and I show you. Think you might be interested in a game like that?”
“Fuck, darlin’,” he said, his blue eyes darkening, “I can’t imagine anyone who wouldn’t be.”
I squirmed a little, wetness beginning to soak my panties. “Then let’s start. Start small. It’s more fun that way.”
Slade slowly shook his head. “I’m the one doing the telling. Remember?”
This one was going to be good, I thought as a little shiver shot through me. I nodded.
“I want to know if you’re wearing a bra under that ugly damned shirt,” he said, inspecting my chest.
I unbuttoned one, then another, then another button. I pulled the lapels slightly apart, revealing the bare skin between my breasts.
“Does that answer your question?” I asked.
“Damned straight,” he said. “You like not wearing a bra, don’t you?”
I said I did.
He met my gaze. “You like it because the rough fabric rubs your nipples and excites you. I know I’m right, so don’t pretend.”
I wouldn’t have pretended. I liked that he got it. “You’re right.”
“I want to see what color panties you’re wearing,” he said, his voice growing rougher.
I reached down and from the bottom, unbuttoned one, two, three more buttons, and pulled the shirt open, exposing my little, lacy pink panties, pastel pale against my even paler thighs and hips.
“Damn.” He looked me over slowly, from panties to chest and back down again. “I wanna see what happens when you undo those last two buttons. Don’t pull the shirt apart. Just let it hang.”
My fingers tingled as I did it, revealing a good three-inch stripe of bare flesh from neck to mid-thigh. I dropped my arms at my sides and watched his reaction.
His expression was intent, brows lowered. He unconsciously licked his lips, his red tongue flicking out for an instant then disappearing again. He shifted, turned and looked out the front windows.
“Anyone pulls up they’ll see you,” he said.
“No they won’t. Not if I stay back here,” I told him, totally assured that it was true. Positive, in fact, from experience.
He turned back to me. “Then show me your tits.”
Tits. I liked the way he said it. Show me your tits. Guttural, dirty-desire, from the scarred lips of a hot biker. Hell yes. I’ll show you my tits.
In a smooth motion, with no hesitation, I dropped my smock to the floor and stood there, on display in front of Slade like I had no shame. And right then, I didn’t. All I had was expectation and need.
“Fuck, those are pretty,” he said. “Not too big, not too small. Just the way I like them.”
“Thank you.” The heat on my neck reached up to my cheeks and down onto my upper chest. I imagine he couldn’t have missed it. I couldn’t stop, though. Not with Slade looking at me, wanting me. “What do you want to see next?”
He glanced up at my face, then back down to my breasts. “I want to see you touch those pretty tits.”
I cupped my breasts and lifted them for him, lightly squeezed them. I exhaled softly, my heart beginning to thump with force.
“Mmm,” he groaned, his eyes slitted in appreciation. “Pull on those hard little nipples. Just like that. I love that sound you’re making. Keep going. Give them a twist. Mmm. I—”
His head swiveled to the store windows. I leaned forward slightly and followed his gaze. Headlights, headed this way. Damn, damn and damn again.
I quickly bent down, snatched up my smock and had it re-buttoned and smoothed in place before the car stopped in front of the store.
Slade watched me with a raised eyebrow. “I was thinking that game was too good to be true. I’m seeing the downside now.”
My voice was breathy, shaken by desire and surprise. “Or you could say it’s part of the rush.”
Both of his eyebrows went up. “Is that so? You’re full of surprises, sweet thing.”
He picked up his coffee, stepped to the side and casually took a sip as if nothing in the world had been going on, as if I hadn’t just been squeezing my breasts on his command.
I admired his cool.
The front door opened, and unlike Slade, I actually looked to see the lame-o who’d interrupted our fun.
I almost groaned in disgust. It was Brianna Osgood, local beauty and in my opinion, all-around Queen Bee Bitch. This girl put mean girls to shame. And she had the additional nerve to be gorgeous while doing it.
Brianna wasn’t alone. Head toady, Jennifer Crump, flounced through the door behind her. Even at this time of night they were immaculately dressed and coifed. They looked like a walking high fashion advertisement. Great.
I stuck close to the counter so they wouldn’t see I wasn’t wearing pants. I suddenly felt ridiculous, like I was still in high school, the shy outcast who never got the guy nor even dared to try. I braced myself for the inevitable.
At first, they didn’t notice Slade. Brianna and Jennifer hardly glanced my way, heading straight to the coolers for drinks then wandering toward the snack aisle.
I waited impatiently, peeking at Slade from time to time. He appeared unperturbed, slowly sipping his coffee, gaze on the floor, seemingly in contemplation of something. Of me? I wished.
Brianna and Jennifer complained loudly about how there were no fat-free chips.
“There’s never anything healthy in places like this,” Brianna said in a faux-whisper loud enough to wake Bubby who was still snoring away in the back. “If any place else had been open, we’d have had better luck.”
“I know,” Jennifer said, voice high and disdainful. “Ew! What are these? So are they corn, or are they nuts? I don’t get it. Disgusting!”
They kept up a running diatribe nearly all the way to the counter, until they spotted sexy Slade leaning casually against the counter on the side away from the register.
“Oh,” Brianna said, her junk-food-induced horror interrupted by biker hunk.
Jennifer skidded to a halt beside her. They looked Slade up and down. By their expressions, they were impressed. I hadn’t expected otherwise.
Instantly, they turned off bitch-mode and switched into sexed-up baby-dolls. Jennifer stayed a step behind Brianna, doing her duty as faithful minion. Brianna sauntered up to the counter, dropped her water and sugar-free gum then turned to face Slade.
“Is that your bike out there?” she asked, her voice all innocent wonder and breathy anticipation. “It’s beautiful.”
Slade glanced up, gave her a lazy once-over. She preened and pushed out her chest. I managed to keep from rolling my eyes. Of all the bad timing in the world, Brianna Osgood was home from college on this night and came in this store to boot. Talk about terrible luck.
“It’s mine,” Slade said, then bent his head to look past Brianna at Jennifer, whose breasts were equally inflated and whose smile was equally wide and fake.
“Oh, it’s really something. So shiny.”
“Thanks,” Slade said. I thought I caught a hint of disdain in his response. Could have been wishful thinking on my part.
Jennifer tossed her water and breath strips on the counter without looking at me. I rang up the items quickly, hoping to get them the hell out of there before they blew everything.
“That’ll be $7.82,” I said.
They ignored me.
“I always wanted a ride with a biker,” Brianna said. “It seems like it would be dangerous and exciting.”
“Huh,” was Slade’s response. He sipped his coffee.
“Are you going to be in town for long?” Brianna asked, fluttering her long eyelashes, so black against her blemish-free, lightly-tanned skin. She never had even the tiniest blackhead in her entire life, I bet.
“Just passing through,” he answered.
“Well, you should stay a little while. There might be a few things around here worth seeing.”
I wanted to gag.
Slade smiled. “I’d been thinking that myself.”
Did he mean Brianna? I doubly wanted to gag.
“That’s $7.82,” I repeated.
It was as if I’d never spoken.
“Jennifer could take my car.” Brianna sidled closer to Slade. “And I could ride home with you. Show you some of the sights.”
Well, there it was. The end of my fun for the night.
Then Slade said, “Nah. I’m good.”
I think all three of us, Brianna, Jennifer and I, were equally surprised. Jennifer covered her gaping mouth with her hand and Brianna blinked as if she hadn’t heard him correctly.
But she knew she had. Her sweet-innocent-eyes morphed into experienced-vamp-slits. “No bigs. I’ve got a better idea anyway. How about you, me and Jennifer all go for a ride together?”
She had Slade’s full attention now. He met her gaze, then Jennifer’s, then back to Brianna’s. “I appreciate the offer,” he said, “but I don’t have the time.”
I must have made a sound, I don’t know what sound, but it was enough to draw Jennifer’s attention.
Her upper lip curled. She pointed at their stuff on the counter and sneered. “We’ll need that in a bag.” She said it like I should have known it already.
I didn’t mind, knowing it came from a public slam. I dropped their items into a plastic bag and Jennifer snatched it up.
Brianna, meanwhile, had been intently studying Slade, who watched her with a blasé expression. I imagined she was analyzing the situation, wondering where she’d made a misstep, and what might be done now that pimping out her friend had failed. Probably she was deciding that it wasn’t her, it was him.
Yes, it turned out, that was exactly her final analysis.
She lifted her nose in the air. “No bigs.”
She and Jennifer sailed toward the door like no one had ever told them no in their lives.
“Wait,” Slade called after them.
The pair turned, one kind of smugness replaced with another.
“You didn’t pay. She said you owe $7.82. Isn’t that right?” he asked, turning to me.
I nodded. Yep, he was right, but I never would have asked them for the money a third time; I would have paid for it from my own pocket instead.
Brianna sighed, drained from whatever it was that exhausted special princesses. She waved a hand at Jennifer then headed out the door. Jennifer sighed, drained from whatever exhausted special heel-lickers, and returned to the register.
She dug in her purse and tossed a ten-dollar bill on the counter. When I handed her the change, she finally looked at me.
“Thanks,” she said, “uh, Tracy, isn’t it? From high school?”
“Right. Well, see you around.”
I hoped not, I thought, as I watched her quick-step out of the store to Brianna, who was revving her car in the parking lot.
Brianna no sooner backed out of her parking spot than Slade moved in front of the counter and leaned across it toward me.
His smile was lazy and sexy. “Now where were we?”
I MIGHT HAVE THOUGHT being interrupted by an old nemesis who didn’t know she was my nemesis, would have put a damper on my mood. But it hadn’t, not one bit. In fact, watching Slade turn down not just Brianna, but the offer of a threesome with Jennifer, too, was a powerful aphrodisiac.
I clamped down on the urge to leap over the counter and rip Slade’s shirt off. My heart pounded. I stepped back, unbuttoned my smock and dropped it aside.
“Here’s where we were,” I said, my voice gone breathless.
Desire darkened his features and made my insides twist.
“Fuck it,” he said. “I can’t wait. Get those panties off. Now.”
Oh yes, the demand, the commanding tone, the slitted eyes and hard line of lips. I scrambled to do his bidding, pulled off my panties and tossed them after my smock.
“That’s good,” he said. “I’m thinking you aren’t the sweet little thing I thought you were at first.” He eyed me up and down, lingering between my thighs. “I think you’re a very, very bad girl.”
I quaked slightly. “I just might be.”
“Spread those legs and pull those pussy lips apart.”
I did so, pinching my already-swollen labia and pulling myself open for him.
“Hell yes,” Slade said. He looked back up to my face. “Let’s get something straight here.”
“You talked about this being a game, but it’s not a game anymore,” he said. “If this is just a tease for you, a way to amuse yourself without following through, you’d best confess it so we can end things friendly. Otherwise, you’re getting fucked tonight. So what’s it going to be?”
I swallowed hard, tried to find my voice. “Fucking.”
A wicked smile flashed across his face, changing into hot seriousness in the next instant. “Turn around and bend over. Spread those legs. I want to see that pussy spread. Go on now. Hands on knees. Stick that ass in the air. Yes, like that. Mmm. Yes. You have a very wet pussy, sweet Tasha.”
I didn’t answer, couldn’t, was too busy trying to remember to breathe. Oh, this Slade. He was different from the others I’d had, not that there’d been all that many … so far. Slade was hard, and demanding and knew what he wanted. I’d never been so turned on.
“Stick a finger in that pussy, Tasha,” he said. “Push it right in there. Hard. Like that. Yes. Hell yes.”
I groaned long and loud.
“You’re a very bad young lady,” Slade said. “Naked and bent over in a public place. What are you, a slut?”
“No,” I answered.
“You don’t look like a slut,” he said. “But you’re damned well acting like one. You don’t even know me. I’m a stranger. Stick another finger in that wet pussy. Now. Do it.”
I shoved a second finger inside myself and moaned.
“What are you?” he demanded. “Keep fucking yourself. Harder. Yes, like that. That’s what I want to see. Get yourself ready for me. Damn that’s hot. Now say it. What are you?”
I gasped, tried to find my voice. “I don’t know.”
“How many strangers have you done this with? How many men have stood where I’m standing and watched you finger yourself?”
“You’re lying. Fuck yourself good. Go on. That’s it.”
I sped up the action and my clit began to tingle. I wanted to reach down and stroke it with my other hand but was uncertain how Slade would react. “I’m not lying. No one asked me to do this before.”
“Oh, I see. How’d it happen? They just got back there with you, felt you up a bit and then fucked you? Is that how it went?”
I craned my neck around to look at him. I nodded, embarrassed.
“How many times have you done this?” he asked. “Don’t know why you’re shaking your head. No reason to be shy now, not when you’re standing there fucking yourself in front of someone you haven’t known a half hour.”
He had a point, I thought. “Twice.”
There was a silence then, a pause.
“I believe you,” he said finally.
It was a good thing, since I was telling the truth.
“So you’re just getting started,” Slade said, his tone ominous.
I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I wasn’t in any place to question him. I pushed my fingers inside my pussy and twisted. My knees were going shaky.
“What made you do it, the first time?” he asked. “And slow down there. Not so fast. I want a slow glide now. Good girl. Beautiful. Wet and slick. The first time … why’d you do it?”
I tried to bring my thoughts together, tried to make sense of them when I could only focus on my heady need and the delicious pleasure of showing myself to Slade. “The first time. I don’t know. I was bored and it had been a long time and I’m too busy to date.”
He made a tsk-tsk sound. “Bullshit.”
“No.” At least I didn’t think it was.
“You did it,” he said, “because you’re a fucking hot piece of ass.”
My pulse fluttered and a zing shot outward from my clit.
“Tell me what you are,” he said. “I want to hear you say it.”
It was horribly embarrassing, but a huge turn on, too. “I’m … I’m a hot piece of ass.”
“That’s right. And what happens to hot pieces of ass?”
I had no idea. I shook my head.
He grunted, a deep vibration of sound. “Pull your fingers out. That’s enough.”
I did as he told me, but I didn’t want to, not unless he was ready to replace them with something else.
I grabbed my knees, kept my gaze on the floor. I could hear his hard breathing behind me. It ran in tempo with my own.
“Are you touching yourself?” I asked.
He grunted again.
So he was. The idea of him standing there, staring at my naked ass and pussy and stroking himself through his jeans drove me half wild. My pussy clenched and released.
“Fuck, you’re wet,” he said at last. “The inside of your thighs is shiny wet. You’re ready to get fucked, aren’t you?”
“Yes, now,” I said, too far gone to be shy about what I wanted. “Come back here.”
I held my position, enjoyed holding it, while Slade walked around the counter and moved up beside me. I inhaled deeply, savoring his outdoor scent.
He gave a low whistle. Out of the corner of my eye I could see he was taking in the Sin Stash. “Well look at all of that,” he said. “I wondered where you kept the good stuff.”
“Everything sinful is behind the counter,” I said.
“You aren’t kidding about that, sweet thing,” he said in a way that meant he wasn’t just talking about cigarettes and dirty magazines.
I soon heard the crinkly sound of a plastic wrapper, a condom opening, I thought. A metal zipper unzipped. I shuddered. I sensed him moving up behind me, felt the heat of his body even though he hadn’t yet touched me.
“Those other two men you fucked,” he said, “I bet it started with some kissing and groping, didn’t it? Before whatever else happened?”
I said it did.
“That’s not how it’s gonna work with me, not when I’m dealing with a hot little piece of ass like you.”
I was beyond ready for him. I felt stretched, pulled apart. His dirty talk was killing me.
“I can smell that wet pussy, so sweet,” he said. “I’m going to give you what you really want, and what I want, too.”
He touched me then, his first touch. And it wasn’t kind. He grabbed a handful of my hair, wrapped it around his fist and pushed my head down further. On instinct, I reached up and grabbed his wrist with both hands. It didn’t hurt, what he was doing, but it was disconcerting and sexy at the same time.
“Keep those legs spread,” he demanded.
Something prodded at my pussy. His cock. I wanted to see it so badly. As he pushed harder at my opening, I knew it was a big cock. It spread me wider and wider.
“Open up for it,” Slade said. “One way or another, you’re going to take it all.”
And with that, he shoved his hips forward and drove his cock inside me. I cried out at the pain and pleasure of it.
“Take it,” he said. “That’s what you wanted. Take that fucking cock. That’s it. Fuck that’s a tight pussy. Yes. Fuck yes.”
Then he pulled up on my hair, yanking my torso upwards. His breath hit hot and hard on my neck.
His voice was nearly a growl. “Turn around, face the counter. I want those tits mashed up on it. Go on.”
He turned me around, toward the counter, and pressed me up against it. My bare breasts rode on top and I grabbed hold of the far edge.
Slade’s cock moved inside me. Because I was standing, he couldn’t go to full depth, but he was wide and every inch he crammed into me spread me open farther.
I was crushed against the counter and Slade dug his fingers into my hips. He bit my neck lightly. Taken. Claimed. All those words I’d never thought would apply to me. Yet here he was, behind me. A hot and dangerous biker straight out of my wildest fantasy come to take what he wanted.
“This is what you really want,” he said. “If anybody pulls up outside and looks in here, they’ll see those pretty tits of yours, and they’ll see me behind you. They’ll know what I’m doing to you. They’ll know I’m fucking your sweet little pussy. You love it. The chance that it could happen.”
I did love it. I was on fire for him. “Yes. Please.”
“Damn,” he said. And he pumped inside me faster.
I tried to spread my legs to get him deeper, but it couldn’t be done. He held me too tightly.
He reached around and squeezed my breasts until they ached. I let my head drop back against his shoulder, tried to pull more air into my lungs while he nipped at my earlobe and neck.
“Yes, yes, oh, God, yes,” I chanted.
“Tell me what you want,” Slade said.
“Fuck me,” I said. “I want you to keep fucking me.”
And he did, most assuredly he did. Faster and faster. My lower half full-on tingling while my pulse roared through my body.
“More,” I said. “Please.”
He pulled out of me, grabbed me by the shoulders and twisted me around. Next thing I knew, he grabbed me behind the knees and lifted me slightly. I propped my elbows back on the counter to help hold some of my weight.
When I was high enough, he rammed his cock inside me with enough force to shake the entire Sin Stash. I grunted, my teeth clacking together. He spread me as wide as I could go, his head lowered, looking at his cock driving past my swollen pussy lips.
Pump. Pump. Pump.
Ungh. Ungh. Ungh.
His black hair curled against his forehead which was damp with a scattering of sweat beads. He was still mostly dressed, had only unzipped his pants and pulled them down low enough to get his cock out. I meanwhile, was completely naked except for my shoes. This too, drove me crazy, heightened the thrill.
He looked up and met my gaze. The world stopped for me, for an instant. I’d never looked into the eyes of someone I was intimate with and seen what I saw in Slade’s eyes. It was desire, pure and unaffected, unashamed, so that it was like a new thing altogether, making my previous encounters weak, gruel-thin in comparison.
He was as turned on as I was, and for the same reasons. We had a special connection, this need for display, this need for something different, more exciting, more daring, flirting along the edge.
“Take it,” he said, fucking me like a demon, driving into me so hard that the edge of the counter was gouging a groove into my upper back.
I didn’t care. I wanted it like that. Raw. Unchecked. Discomfort was a necessity.
He leaned forward and sucked on one of my jiggling breasts. He pulled my nipple and bit down hard.
The buckle of his belt clinked and slapped up against my ass. He drove his hips against me, hitting my clit just right. I clamped down, letting my need rise up, letting it raise goosebumps on my arms and throb in my core.
I was coming. Unstoppable. I soared away, up to the peak and rode the high, my arms trembling from supporting my weight, but mostly from the pleasure of release.
I closed my eyes and cried out at the thrills rushing through me, spinning up and out, carrying me away.
I opened my eyes when I heard Slade’s “Ungh, ungh, ungh!” as he reached his own release, grinding his hips into me, sending me even higher with the extra pressure inside and out.
He was beautiful when he came, his hair wild, his arm muscles bulging from holding me up. He was all power and force, runaway desire.
Half the town could have walked in the store right then and I don’t think I would have noticed.
It was glorious.
And over too soon.
IT ONLY TOOK ME a few moments to get dressed, and even fewer for Slade to zip up his jeans and head around to the customer side of the counter. I fluffed my hair back into some sort of order and willed my breathing under control.
Slade brought over two colas from the cooler and handed me one. I accepted gratefully and took a long drink. I watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down while he drank and I found it strangely enticing.
He emptied the can and set it on the counter. His beautiful blue eyes briefly studied me before he said in a neutral tone, “You can come with me, if you want.”
I started. I didn’t know what to say.
“No commitment, though,” he added. “Don’t want to give you the wrong idea. I’m not that kind of man.”
It was just as well, since I wasn’t ever going to be anyone’s “Old Lady,” as they liked to call their women.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I live here. I’m going to school.”
“There’s nothing real about school. Real life is out there.” He nodded his head in the direction of the interstate. “And you’re the type who has to live it or die. Like me.”
He was probably right. Staying in this small town probably would be the death of me, the death of who I really was, deep inside, anyway. But I had my own escape plan.
“You go on,” I said. “It wouldn’t work, anyway. It says right there on your jacket that you’re a lone wolf.”
He smiled, long and slow. “Lone wolves can make exceptions for extra hot pieces of ass.”
It was tempting. So, so tempting. I toyed with the image of being with him, roaring off on his bike, leaving everything behind. Spontaneous, exciting, breathless encounters in all the wrong places, flashed through my mind. So hard to say no.
But I said it anyway. “Maybe you’ll pass back through again.”
“I might,” he said. He studied me for a few seconds. “I hate the thought of you not getting what you need. Not sure why.”
“I appreciate that.”
He nodded, then he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and dropped a hundred dollar bill on the counter. “Keep the change. Buy a book for school.”
I smiled at the sweet gesture. “Thanks.”
He leaned over the counter, coming close to me. “I never did kiss you.”
I leaned toward him. “That’s right. You didn’t.”
He pulled back with a sexy wink. “And I’m not gonna start now. That’s not how this works, sweet thing.”
I grinned and shrugged. He was right. That wasn’t what this was about at all.
“See you around,” he said, then turned and headed to the door.
“See ya,” I said, watching his great ass go, wishing I’d gotten the chance to give it a squeeze or two.
Maybe next time we’d play a different game. If there were a next time.
Not long after Slade fired up his motorcycle and roared out of the parking lot, I stuck my head in the back and yelled at Bubby to wake up and come watch the register while I took a break.
Bubby eventually wandered into the store, yawning and stretching. He put his naughty magazine away without comment. He perched on the stool, making it groan under his hefty weight.
“Go on then,” he said, looking like a giant, sleepy child.
I headed to the bathroom first for a quick wash which refreshed me and relieved some of the post-coital lethargy.
Afterward, I slipped into the office, logged onto the computer and shut down the interior security cameras. I scanned the files for the most recent footage and deleted them. Then I found a smattering of other files that had been stored during the past week or so, and deleted them, too.
I knew that my uncle wasn’t likely to notice the missing files, but if he did, he wouldn’t be able to find a pattern, since there wasn’t one. He’d think it was glitchy software. He wasn’t exactly a computer genius, luckily for me.
When I was finished, not a single frame of evidence remained of my encounter with Slade.
I went back into the store and found Bubby ensconced in front of the video game in the corner, stabbing at the controls and grumbling.
“Thanks for watching the register,” I said, not bothering to disguise my sarcasm.
“You’re welcome, Tasha,” he said sincerely, never quick on the uptake.
Ah, well. I didn’t care. Everything was fine. All was well.
The cash register and my secrets were both safe. For now. Until next time.
And I knew, as sure as I knew that Bubby would soon be complaining about pesky electronic cows, that there would be a next time.
After Slade, there’d be no going back. I was thoroughly corrupted, and I didn’t give a good damn that I was.
Some temptations were too great to resist, especially those kept behind the counter.
If you’d like to read Tasha’s continuing adventures in The Risky Hookups Collection,
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The Risky Hookups collection is approximately 240 print pages long and contains language and sexual situations that are suitable only for adults.