Coaxing the Roughneck

“What are you doing down here, woman?” I throw down my rag, irritated by the hoarse hunger in my voice. “This is no place for you.”

Her outline shifts side to side, then steps forward into the yellowish light. “My name is Cindy. Not woman. And I’m here with great news. You get to leave this pit of despair, Butch! The world awaits your arrival.”

Cindy.

Anything she said beyond her name doesn’t penetrate. I can see her now.

All of her.

Jesus. Christ.

My cock was already semi-erect, but the rest of it fills with lead now, smashing right up against the zipper of my jeans. Inside my head, there is nothing but the echo of her name and the harsh rasp of my breaths. I’m flexed, head to toe. Primed in a matter of seconds, thanks to this beautiful, young trespasser.

Trespasser.

That’s right. She’s trying to get me to leave—and it’s not happening. I resent anyone who tries to convince me to go. I need to stop salivating over the tiny U-shape of her pussy, hugged by the frayed denim of her shorts. Need to stop licking my lips and imagining the taste of her nipples. Her mouth. Her neck.

Fuck.

She steps closer. Her tits jiggle just a little inside her white tank top—

And I ejaculate in my jeans.

A guttural groan leaves my mouth and I reach for the closest pump to steady myself as the monstrous orgasm tears through me, my cock pulsating painfully, shooting thick ropes of come against my fly, down the leg of my jeans. Just when I think my climax has reached its end, her nipples swell into tight points against the front of her white tank top and I growl brokenly, reaching down to stroke myself roughly through the denim, snarling at her until she finally takes a step back.

Finally, finally, the tide ebbs and I hunch over, panting with hands on my knees, unable to look her in the eye. Especially because from this vantage point, I can see her little red-tipped toes, the delicate outline of her feet in her sandals and I’m already getting hard again just imagining those ankles locked behind my neck.

Yeah right.

Like this girl could ever get wet for a monster.

Like she’d ever open her legs for me voluntarily.

Like she’d ever want anything from me, except to make me leave, just like everyone else has been trying to do for years.

“Um…” She tightens the flannel around her waist. “That w-was one heck of a greeting. I don’t think anyone has ever been quite so happy to see me.”

I grunt, grateful for the dim lighting so she doesn’t see the tips of my ears are burning red. “You shouldn’t be down here,” I manage past the rawness of my throat. “It’s not safe.”

She considers me a moment. “How else are we supposed to communicate? Rumor has it you never leave the engine room.”

“That’s right. And it’s not going to happen now.”

After a beat, Cindy nods. Then she walks back to the staircase and parks her sweet, sexy ass on the third step from the bottom. “Then I guess we talk here.”

“I don’t want to talk,” I growl, surprised when she doesn’t recoil. “If you’re here to make me leave, you might as well save your breath. This is where I live.”

She looks around. “Where do you sleep?”

“On a cot,” I answer, jerking my thumb over my shoulder. “Back there.”

“I didn’t realize they made cots that large.”

“They do. And it’s comfortable. Sturdy.” A lot better than the hot, dusty, hard packed ground of an enemy prison camp, that’s for damn sure. “Would you like to go test it out with me?”

Christ. I don’t know why I ask her that when obviously the answer is no. I’m surprised she’s here at all after I popped off in my pants after one little bounce of her tits. Maybe I’m trying to shock or derail so I don’t have to listen to her try and convince me to leave. “Is that something you’d be willing to…trade?” Her voice trembles. “Me on your c-cot in exchange for evacuating the rig?”

Lust grips me like an iron fist, squeezing my abdomen.

Yes.

For the first time in five years, there is something being offered to me that might actually sway my ironclad resolve. This gorgeous young girl will let me ride her if I leave afterward? Having to walk into the sunlight would be like razorblades tearing at my flesh, but I’d have lifelong memories of her pussy. God, I bet it’s warm. Tight. Bet I’d have to lube her up just to get my tip in.

Unfortunately, she’d scream while I rutted. Scream at me for being too big.

Claw at me, slap me.

Tears would fall from her eyes.

This is my curse in life. Being too well-endowed to please a woman. I stopped trying when I was twenty-two and I’m now thirty-one. I’m blessedly alone now, exactly the way I like it. She must really want me to leave if she’s willing to sacrifice herself to someone so much bigger and uglier. No woman in their right mind would lie down for me voluntarily—and she hasn’t even seen my cock yet.