Total pages in book: 7
Estimated words: 5937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 30(@200wpm)___ 24(@250wpm)___ 20(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 5937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 30(@200wpm)___ 24(@250wpm)___ 20(@300wpm)
"Sure thing, stranger," Jessica says. Clare elbows me in the side. I had told her all about what my dad this morning and what my plan was.
"Marla," she whispers. "Get him before someone else does."
"How the fuck do I do that?" I ask.
"No need, babe. Buck’s got you," the man says, whispering in my ear. When did he get so close? I swallow and take a deep breath.
"And who the hell is Buck?" I ask, using my sassiest voice. The music has kicked back on a Garth Brooks song this time, and I can’t help tapping my foot to the beat.
"That’d be me, babe. Tell me your name, so I know what I’ll be chanting as I fuck your surely tight cunt tonight," he growls low so that only I can hear him. I can feel the blush rising in my cheeks. Usually, I think I would be offended by talk like that if anyone had ever talked to me like that before. Instead of being offended, I am turned on more than I ever have been, and I am compelled to answer him.
"Marla," I say, my voice breathy.
"Pretty name for a pretty girl," he says.
"Thank you, Buck."
"Can I buy you a drink?" he asks, placing the palm of his hand on my lower back, right above my ass. I can feel it burning my skin, and I know I am going to let him do anything he wants.
"Sure. Whiskey, neat." I say, forgetting that I was not going to drink tonight.
Oh well. I am sure I’ll get a ride.
Chapter Two
Leonidas "Buck" Buckley
As soon as I walked into the bar, I heard her laugh first. It was loud and throaty and went straight to my balls. Then I saw her—curves for days and long legs. Like a magnet, I am drawn to her. Standing next to her, I breathe in the scent of her. She smells like fresh-cut grass and wildflowers. On her, it’s mouthwatering. I inhale again, memorizing it.
The way I spoke to her was fueled by something more than desire. I can’t explain it. It’s not something I have ever felt before, but I have to have her. A fire has been lit in my veins, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Good thing because I don’t want to.
I order my girl a whiskey neat and take the empty barstool next to her.
"What brings you out on a night like this?" I ask.
"Just a Thursday night out with my best friend and her husband," she says, gesturing to her left. The man is standing behind his wife, protecting her.
"Bobby Ray Graham, my wife Clare," he says, extending his hand.
"Buck Buckley," I reply, shaking it.
Then she laughs again. Her curly light red hair shakes with the effort, and a hint of coconut hits my nose.
"What?"
"Your parents named you Buck Buckley?" she asks, hardly able to breathe. I chuckle.
"No, babe. Leonidas Buckley, at your service," I say, tipping my Stetson at her.
"Like the guy from 300?" She looks up at me biting her lip. Holy shit, I can just imagine her down on her knees in front of me, looking just like that before taking me into her mouth.
"Just like." She takes a sip of her whiskey that was just set down in front of her. "Dance
with me?" I ask, and her green eyes light up.
"Yeah, I’d like that," she replies, and I help her to her feet. As soon as we get on the dance floor, the music changes from a fast-paced song to a slow one. I don’t hesitate to pull her closer to me. Her curvy body molds to mine, and I could swear we were made for each other. She sighs in contention as we sway together.
I don’t let her out of my arms or away from my side for the rest of the night. We drink, laugh, and talk with her friends, but I know that I don’t want her to go as the night winds down.
"Ready?" I ask her like it is a foregone conclusion that she’s going home with me.
"Yep," she says, giving her friend a hug and grabbing her purse. We walk out of the bar with her hand in mine through the parking lot to my grey Chevy Silverado. The rain has stopped for now, but the thick, cloying air tells me it will soon start again. "Um... How am I supposed to get up there?" she asks nervously.
"No worries, babe. That’s what I am here for," I say, gently grabbing her hips in order to lift her up into the passenger seat. Her sweet gasp goes all through me. I shut the door and use the time it takes me to walk around the truck to get my shit together. I crank up the truck, and the country station I had on plays softly. The drive to my place is filled with a comfortable silence. Occasionally, she hums along with the song, but for the most part, she’s quiet. In the moonlight that’s pouring through the window, she looks like an ethereal angel.