In the darkness I could make out his shape. He was built like a fighter, his muscles bulging through his shirt. Those muscles were probably his only way of picking up women. I could just imagine him checking himself out in a mirror at the gym. Judging from the musky odor, he hadn’t showered in a few days either.
In short, he was the last guy in the world I wanted sitting next to me in my car. I hate guys like him. He thought he could act cocky, be rude, flex his big muscles, swing his big dick, and women like me should just swoon and throw ourselves at him. Get real.
He was wrong. He was so wrong. I’d made that mistake once, I wouldn’t make it again. I had more on my mind than muscles and a big cock.
I glanced down at his crotch. I was sure there was a bulge in there, inside his jeans. I pictured it.
What was I doing?
The truth was, this guy, the exact opposite of the kind of guy I was looking for, was making me hot under the collar. I don’t want to say my panties were wet, but just the sight of him made my womb throb with desire. Just the presence of his big, strong body, so close to me in the car, made me want to pull over. I wanted to straddle him and let him fuck my brains out. I wanted him to come inside me without a condom.
What was wrong with me?
I couldn’t even see his face. It was dark, he had a beard, a deep voice, a ball cap. He could have been anyone. But there was an animal magnetism to him. For some reason, I was drawn to him.
I’m not a sex maniac. Honestly. I’m a normal, healthy woman. At least I like to think I am.
I just needed it. God knows I needed it. I lived by the rules, I put my responsibilities first, I gave my kid a good childhood, and sometimes, just sometimes, I got so tired of it I thought I would scream.
I rarely allowed myself to feel that way. I felt guilty just thinking it. But I’d waited my entire life for a man I’d spent less than three short days with. I’d raised his son. I’d given up so much for the memory of a man that might never return. Fuck, sometimes I just wanted to scream in frustration.
Why did I wait for Jackson when there were so many other men around to tempt me?
Like this one.
I don’t want anyone to think I wasn’t grateful for my son. It’s just, sometimes, I wanted to let my hair down, set aside all my hangups, and surrender myself to the reckless pleasure a guy like this could give me.
Trust me, I know the pleasure that’s possible with a bad boy. I’d been burned before.
This guy was strange. One moment, he was a cocky jerk. The next he was sitting in silence, practically hiding under his hat.
There was something strangely familiar about him too. His voice was, I don’t know, it was strange.
Maybe I was just letting him get under my skin. He thought he could get in my car and I’d wrap my legs around his torso.
If only.
I have some self-respect. Just because we almost had an accident, just because I’d let him in my car, that didn’t mean he was getting any. I hadn’t had sex with a man since the birth of my son. And my son is eleven. That’s more than a decade.
“Where do you want to go?” I said. “The hospital?”
“Do you think I need to see a doctor?”
“A shrink? Sure.”
He laughed. I listened intently to his gruff voice. What was it? There was something about it.
“If you’d take me to my house, I’d appreciate it.”
“Where is it?”
“Down in the valley.”
“Oh, you’re a farmer.”
“Me? No. My father was. I’m more of a wanderer, I guess you’d say.”
I looked in his direction but I could see nothing in the darkness. I had the impression he was bearded.
“A wanderer? Are there good career prospects in that these days?”
I bit my tongue. I don’t know why I said that. It was judgmental. His career prospects were his own business. It’s just, he bugged me.
He sighed. “Look, if you don’t want to give me a ride, I’ll walk. I was doing just fine before you almost killed me.”
“I did not almost kill you.”
He looked toward me but I looked away before meeting his eye. I felt heat rise to my cheeks under his gaze. I didn’t want him to look at me. I didn’t want him to see through my defenses and realize who I really was. I didn’t want him to see the truth.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re high strung?” he said.
“Look. If I want your opinion on my personality, I’ll ask for it.”
“All I’m saying is, I can tell I’m putting you on edge.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Why is that? You don’t even know me.”
“I don’t know. You remind me of someone.”
“Who?” he said, and there was a sudden searching in his voice.
I didn’t answer.
He seemed to be thinking about what I’d said. I knew his type. The only thing he was interested in was my vagina.
I don’t know if I can explain why there was so much tension between us. I know it’s not normal. The truth is, this guy was pushing all my buttons. And it wasn’t even anything he’d said. It wasn’t his fault. It was all me. I was terrified.