Tristan

1

The back of the old car smells like fabric and patchouli, but the man who has his thick arms wrapped around me keeps the rest of the world at bay. The only thing besides him that I can even perceive is the sound of the heavy rain pattering on the top of the old Cadillac we’re in, sighing in each other’s embrace.

He’s so tall that he takes up most of the space in the back of the car. He looms over me as he presses his lips against mine, his large, rough hands roving up and down my back. He’s possessive, fierce, and lustful. Soft, deep groans come from his chest between kisses as he pulls me tighter into him.

His hand traces down to my ass, squeezing it, pulling me closer and closer to his lap until he pulls me on top of him. His dark eyes devour me, and he wets his lip as that grin of his flashes. Thunder rumbles outside, and his chest rumbles with desire as it’s pressed against my bare breasts. My shirt is on the other side of the car — he ripped it off the moment I was foolish enough to let myself into his grasp.

My bra went next, and now, there’s nothing between his lustful groping and my tits. He yanks me closer, teeth grazing my nipples while he pinches my ass. I know he wants my tight-fitting jeans down, and he’s working on that fast.

There’s no finesse to this guy, but god, he’s rough and eager, and he’s strong enough to make it happen. I’m getting turned this way and that like a doll, and he’s enjoying every second of it. I realize the massive bulge between his legs as I grind up against it, and I bite my lip as I start grinding harder, hearing him grunt in pleasure with each moment I work him.

Finally, he pushes me back just enough to take out his massive cock, and I feel my whole body warm up at the sight of it. It’s beautiful, like some kind of religious relic in the temple that is this beat-up old Caddie.

This is dirty, sloppy, and anything but classy. And I can’t get enough of it.

His musk is all over me, and I’m going to get even more of it as I lower myself onto his cock once he works my pants off. There’s a loud slap as he strikes my ass, and I cry out, but nobody can hear us out here — we’re utterly secluded, thanks to the pouring rain outside.

“How’s about you come with me on tour, baby?” his husky voice growls as his huge cock sinks into me, and I start rocking back and forth, feeling up the endless muscles along his shoulders. I know this guy’s type. He’s trouble. He’s the kind of guy to take a small-town girl and run all over the state with her, not wanting to head anywhere in life than some other run-down parking lot for a quick hookup before crashing in a beachside motel.

He’s exactly the type my dad would hate. And he’s exactly the type I want to fuck until I’m sore.

“Anywhere you want,” I breathe, holding onto his sides for support, but his strong arms reach up around me one hand taking a bunch of my long, dark brown hair in his fist and pulling it back just enough to tilt my neck, leaving my whole front exposed.

“You know how much I love those freckles on you?” he muses, running his thumb over the dark spots on my shoulders while he pushes himself up, bouncing me on his cock while I thrust desperately, trying to please this titan of a man. “I’d never get tired of having them up against me, babe.”

He’s looking right into my warm brown eyes, and for a moment, I want to believe him. Maybe this guy really is the type to treat a girl right, even take her on the road for the trip of a lifetime. Or maybe he’s just another lustful sex machine roving the California coast for his next conquest.

Either way, I want him inside me, and I don’t want it to stop.

“You can have me,” I gasp, feeling him buck up into me harder and harder, pulling me back and rendering me helpless to do anything but take everything he’s pounding me with. “I want to be yours, just don’t hold back!”

“Fuck,” he groans as I feel him tightening under me, “oh fuck, Sienna.” My name is like sweet honey on his lips. “Sienna...Sienna...Sienna…”

2

“Sienna! Sienna!” the voice says, morphing from a sensual male voice to a gruff female one. “Wake up! Break’s over and table three is getting rowdy.”

I open my eyes and realize that in the place of a handsome stranger is actually my surly, no-nonsense boss at the diner where I work. Her name is Thelma and she’s staring at me with her hands on her hips. My delicious dream fades away and I immediately get to my feet, sweeping my dark hair back into a bouncy ponytail and straightening out my fifties-style apron and skirt.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” I answer quickly. I leave my little corner in the kitchen and head back out to the main dining area with my waitressing pad in hand. To my dismay, when I look up, I see that table three is populated by three familiar faces: Cami, Lindsey, and Jackie. My high school’s resident mean-girl cheerleaders who made my school days a living hell. And now I have to serve them.

Forcing myself to stay calm, I walk up to the table with a smile. “Good evening, I see you’ve already gotten your waters, but could I put anything else in for you?” I ask sweetly.

Cami props her chin up on her thin wrists and says, “We just want fries to share.”

“Okay, got it,” I reply, all but hurrying away. But then there’s a clatter behind me and I look back to see that Cami has “accidentally” spilled her plastic water cup all over the floor. She gives me a shrug and distinctly unapologetic “oops!”

“No problem, I’ll clean it up,” I respond quietly. Grabbing a mop, I start tending to the spill, and as the girls start talking, it dawns me why they’re doing this.

“Oh my god, did you hear about Rob Harvey?” Lindsey says loudly, and my ears perk up at the mention of my ex boyfriend’s name. My wealthy, popular, jock ex-boyfriend who dumped me right after graduation and headed to L.A., while I stayed behind in my tiny hometown of Big Lagoon to work as a waitress over summer vacation. All the rich kids I went to school with were off on big, fancy vacations before starting college, and here I was, mopping up a spill at a kooky little coast side diner.

“You mean how he met up with his gorgeous model girlfriend in Los Angeles right aft

er graduation? And how they’re getting engaged? Yeah, I heard about that,” Jackie adds, with a pointed look at me. My heart sinks. So that’s why he was in a huge hurry to leave me. I was just a placeholder for his real girlfriend all along.

“It’s so sweet how he finally gets to be with someone who’s really in his league, you know? Someone on his level,” Cami remarks, staring right at me. Then she feigns surprise and clucks her tongue, adding, “Oh goodness! I’m so sorry Sienna! I totally forgot you were even there! It must really hurt to find out about Rob this way.” Her voice is falsely apologetic but there’s nothing but cruel enjoyment in her cold blue eyes.

I have to grit my teeth to hold back the wave of emotion threatening to take control. These girls, all three of them blonde, perfectly tanned, and well-off, made high school hell. They called me names, started cruel rumors about me, and did everything in their power to constantly remind me that Rob was out of my playing field. He was one of them, and I — well, I was not. But high school is over now, and I’ll be damned if I let them see how much they hurt me. I have to be strong.

So I straighten up and smile, saying, “No big deal. It was just a silly high school relationship anyway, and I would like to think life has more in store for me than to just peak in high school. Oh hang on, let me go get you another water and put in your order for fries.”

I swivel around and march back to the kitchen, slumping back against the wall and trying to stay calm. Does it hurt to find out that Rob was cheating on me all along? Hell yeah, it hurts. But I know it will hurt more to let them see that. So I just continue to serve them as though nothing is wrong.

They barely pick at their fries, wrinkling their noses at the plate since I’m sure it doesn’t live up to their lobster-and-caviar tastes, but finally they take their check and — big surprise — they don’t leave a tip. Nothing. Nada. Of course. As the girls walk out the door, Cami looks back over her shoulder and gives me a bitchy wink and a wave, and it’s all I can do not to throw up a middle finger in response.