My Way Series: Books 1-3 Read online

  I packed up my couple of bags and set my eyes on the next leg of the journey. Before leaving “The Biggest Little City in the World,” I restocked my junk food pile and filled up ol’ Betsy with premium gasoline. Only the best for my little lady.

  It took about nine hours to get to Salt Lake. I pulled into the first hotel I spotted and crashed. When I woke, sunlight was poking through the window. Holy raining shit buckets! I had slept until 1:30 in the afternoon. Guess I missed the continental breakfast. I would survive because swollen sausage links that tasted of cardboard was never really my thing. I felt like a big ol’ platter of heaping goodness that some call nachos. I quickly showered while daydreaming of nachos and then hit the city to find some. After nearly gorging myself on a platter of the most fucking amazing nachos that have ever graced my lips, I decided that I needed to find a place to get Betsy’s oil changed.

  This may seem like a simple task to some, but considering Aaron always scheduled and maintained all of our cars, I was feeling a little lost and overwhelmed at the idea. Do I go with the Midas Touch, or some local business trying to make it? I felt like a new mother selecting a pediatrician for her firstborn.

  I roamed the streets of Salt Lake City on the hunt for the perfect truck doctor. I passed the typical chain businesses that had dancing oil cans out front, shaking it for some business. I finally spotted Malcolm’s Repairs. It was a freshly painted brick building with two bay garage doors. It was neatly trimmed with shrubs and yellow tulips. I made way inside to the empty office.

  “Hello, Ma’am! What can I help ya with?” came a voice from the hallway. When I looked up, I damn near had an orgasm on the spot. Holy shit! A tall, dark and very freakishly amazingly handsome man stood before me. He had a pair of faded blue jeans on and a buttoned up navy blue service shirt with his name printed on it. His dark messy hair, brown eyes and olive skin were doing damage to my panties. Not to mention his freaking rippling muscles.

  Omg! I have to talk to this guy. I plead with my goddamn brain to get words out of my mouth. Breathe, Milly! Get your freaking crazy ass under control. You can do this—it’s simple, just tell this nice young gentleman that your ‘66 Ford needs serviced.

  “Excuse me, Ma’am?” The smooth silky voice came from the man that had to be Malcolm.

  “Oh sorry, I need serviced,” I blurted. “I mean, I need lubed,” was the next fucking brilliant thing that flew out my trap. I started shaking my head from side to side because that even sounded worse.

  Malcolm let out a slight chuckle and replied, “Are you trying to tell me that you require my services there, sweet pea?”

  I was totally and completely fucking embarrassed. “Yes, I do need your services—and in more ways than one—however, my truck would sure appreciate an oil change and service,” I managed to squeak out. I’m pretty sure that my face was now the color of crimson and sweat beads were running down my face. Oh yeah, I was one charming bitch and definitely bringing the sexy back full force. It’s a wonder he wasn’t throwing me over his workbench and pounding the shit out of me right now.

  “Well, let’s take a look at your truck. I can get it all ready to roll for you, little lady, and then we can see what other kind of services I may be able to help you with,” he said as he winked at me and held open his office door. Holy shit, was this guy for real? He was a true flirt!

  I led him out to my truck. He went on asking me questions about types of oils and if I wanted my filter replaced. I told him I trusted his professional opinion. I took a seat on a metal bench while he worked on the truck. I dug out Frances’ iPad and buried all my dirty thoughts down deep by mindlessly pinning on Pinterest.

  Occasionally, I would peek over my iPad at Malcolm. Watching the man work made me tingle deep down low. When he lowered himself down to a rolling cart and then hoisted himself under my truck, I instantly became wet watching his thick thighs flinch while he was working. This was perfect because his head was under the truck and I had a clear shot of his bulging crotch and legs.

  I think I better just do some damage control and go take care of my tingle in the bathroom while fantasizing about him under my truck. Better yet, I could snap a picture of him and admire it while I took care of myself. What the hell was I thinking? I’m not going to go to a dimly-lit bathroom and masturbate to a picture. I needed to get a grip. So I decided to spend the reminder of the time keeping my eyeballs glued to the iPad.

  “All right, Miss Milly, your fine creation of an automobile is ready for you,” the voice of the hot as hell mechanic flowed around me.

  “How much do I owe you?”

  “Well, lucky for you I’m running a special today! It will be $62.35.” I passed him my debit card and signed my copy of the receipt.

  “I would like to go over my work with you if you don’t mind stepping out here to take a look.”

  I followed him out to my truck, checking out his tight firm ass on the way. Betsy’s hood was still perched open from when Malcolm was working his magic on her. He pointed out several doohickeys under the hood and commented that they were either changed or now properly filled.

  While he went on buzzing about the truck, my mind kept bouncing back to my bucket list thingy and all the things I needed to check off of it! Well I’m here, but do I have the balls to do it? What would I say, “Well, nice work, Malcolm. Can you bend me over and service me now?” I was way too courageous when filling out that damn list. Just about when I had convinced myself that there was no way in hell that I would make an advance at Malcolm, one word popped into my head: “Go!”

  That was all the motivation I needed to reach over and grab Malcolm’s ass. (Badass Move #2) With my hand still on his ass, he looked down at me with one eyebrow raised. He gently reached down to touch my cheek. His touch sent another wave of tingles throughout my body. His other hand wrapped around my waist and pulled me to him. When my body slammed into his it was like a dam of hot lust and want was released inside me. It was on like freaking Donkey Kong, bitches! I wrapped my arms around his thick neck, deepening our kiss.

  He pulled away to ask, “Are you sure about this?”

  I didn’t respond, running my hands through his thick black wavy hair. When he reached down and grabbed both of my ass cheeks, giving them a firm squeeze, I guessed he realized I was totally sure. A moan escaped me as he continued to massage my ass.

  In a flash, he spun me around so my back was to his chest. He grabbed my arms, guiding them up to wrap around his neck. I interlocked my fingers around the back of his head and gently tugged on the hairs at the nape of his neck. He then began to nibble my ear and continued down my neck, while his hands found their way to my lovely lady humps. He pinched and flicked each nipple while he bit down on my earlobe, causing me to let out a yelp of pleasure.

  Once my boobies were plumb satisfied, his hand wandered down south to the button of my shorts. My hips instinctively bucked back against him, begging him to go further. His rough, calloused hands slid down the front of my shorts into my lace panties. I could hear Shakira in the background singing “Loco.” Oh Jesus! This feels so amazing and liberating.

  His fingers quickly circled my sensitive bud in a slow, gentle motion. My hips continually circled, egging Malcolm’s fingers on to work their magic. Just when I thought this couldn’t get any better, he slipped two fingers into my wet opening without any warning. I was now violently thrusting against him. I was so close to falling apart in this stranger’s arms.

  He started whispering in my ear. He was coaxing me to let go. His words were my undoing, as I screamed and melted in his arms.

  “I want you in the bed of your truck,” he whispered in my ear. Without missing a beat, Malcolm spun me around and lifted me onto the tailgate. I shimmied out of my shorts and waited happily for Malcolm to unveil his package. He grabbed a condom out of his wallet and fully revealed himself to me. For the love of all things motherfucking holy, this guy was well-hung. I had only been with Aaron, and Malcolm outdid him by at least a
good healthy four inches. This was going to be like losing my virginity all over again (how exciting!). I know it’s impolite to stare, but I couldn’t help myself.

  He gently pushed me back, so that I was lying on the cold metal. The vision of Malcolm climbing up onto my tailgate naked with the sole desire to fuck the shit out of me would be branded in my memory for all of eternity. He gently eased his way into me while a groan escaped his lips. He filled me perfectly. I urged my hips upwards, giving him just a little convincing to bring it home. When my clit hit the base of him, I immediately started bucking back and forth against him. I was moaning and screaming, ready to bust at the seams. “Let go, my crazy little lady friend,” Malcolm growled. I followed his instructions and let go. I spiraled around in ecstasy for what seemed like forever.

  My body shook and my lady bits began tingling all over again. There was no way in hell I had another helping of orgasm goodness inside me. Malcolm picked up his speed. I knew he was getting close, so I dug my nails into his back as I felt the sensation of another orgasm building up. “Fuck me harder!” I yelled at him. The deep growl he made as he pounded into me let me know of his impending release. As soon as I felt him go, I let go again, thrusting and rubbing on him as much as I could, milking every last sensation out of him.

  It’s official! I can check off a random lay on my bucket list thingy. Woot Woot!

  Chapter 6

  The New Me

  4 Weeks Later…

  I sit here eating a slice of pizza while perusing Pinterest in search of my next creation. I spend most nights like this—nibbling on frozen pizza, junk food, slamming the wine, while surfing Pinterest. Once I find a project that strikes my fancy, I get to work creating it smack dab in front of the TV, fulfilling my reality TV fix.

  I’m pretty sure my apartment may be considered a candidate for Hoarders at this moment, because in my living room are mounds and heaps of colorful material, ribbon, hot glue guns, lace, bling and several other crafty items. The lack of a social life has really helped me create several amazing items for my new shop. I’m adding the finishing touches tomorrow and planning on flipping the switch on the Open sign this Saturday.

  This little town has been perfect for me. With a population around 1,500, it’s an upbeat, yet peaceful town. It could easily be labeled the picture-perfect small town, USA. Competitions for the prettiest yards are held monthly, every holiday there’s a huge town celebration and Main Street is always clean and decorated with American flags and hanging flower baskets.

  I’ve met several new people by doing business at their stores. I have yet to find a Malcolm in this sleepy little town. I do believe my Malcolm was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Old Man Jenkins at the local hardware store is probably my favorite new buddy in town. He really does take care of me by making sure I had the all the right supplies while I fixed up my shop and apartment. I’ve dropped a lot of money in his little dusty hardware store. I’ve restored my shop from head to toe. When I needed lumber cut or some strong muscles, Old Man Jenkins was more than happy to come help me out. I always offered to pay him, but he always refused, so I repaid him in coffee. I was trying to perfect my menu for the coffee shop. He was the perfect guinea pig, and always a good sport for drinking the fancy lattes and mochas I fixed him.

  The other place in town that became my home away from home was the local beauty salon. Lacey’s Salon was right across the street from my shop. It was a bright pink building with purple trim. I made my first appointment with Lacey. Fate was truly working because Lacey was the only younger hip hairstylist there. The four other hairdressers were veterans who had mastered the rolling curlers, back combing and perms, and were referred to as the old bags. I had no idea that people actually paid to still get their hair permed. Lacey’s bread and butter was the young crowd in town. She was a hair ninja when it came to coloring and trendy cuts.

  Lacey was my age with a current and trendy hair cut with big brown chunks of hair framing her face, while the rest of her hair was a beautiful golden blonde. Lacey’s arms were covered in beautiful tattoos and her ears were full of shiny piercings. She pulled off a beautiful grungy style with a lot of sass. I’m pretty sure Lacey was the type of gal who could pull off any style. She was the same height as me at 5’6” and a size eight. We were both blessed with chunky asses and gorgeous, plump boobies. We were absolutely sisters from another mister!

  Long hair was always expected of me. My chestnut brown hair was always long, thick and wavy. I wanted and needed something different for the new me. I put my faith into the newfound stranger and let her have her way with my hair. When the first lock of my hair hit the ground I felt lighter than I had in years.

  We struck up conversation easy. We chatted away about the weather and current styles. I even found myself telling her all about the Bastard, Frances, and my childhood. She was so easy to talk to and I instantly loved her for that. Lacey reassured me that she had a past that no one could live up to, so she never judged.

  She served me wine and snacks while she worked away. Her hands were made to do hair. They worked effortlessly through my scalp. While Lacey was shampooing the color out of my hair, she was bent over just chatting away, telling me about a time when she ran from the cops at a party. Halfway through her story, her gum came flying out of her mouth and went down my shirt. Without missing a beat, she reached down my shirt and grabbed her gum that was lodged quite nicely in my cleavage. We both laughed hysterically.

  When Lacey was finished, she left me with a blunt shaggy bob and bangs that swept to the side and rich, deep auburn hair. I loved it and I instantly loved her for giving me my new look, and for grabbing gum out from between my boobies! The friendship that we formed was instant and effortless. We were true, long-lost soul sisters, and she was my favorite bitch in town!

  Lacey also got the treat of my coffee concoctions. She enjoyed having a fancy mocha or latte delivered to her daily. She was the best critic, since she was always brutally honest with me. I made a pumpkin latte for her one day and she abruptly informed me that it tasted of dog shit and rotten vinegar. Lacey wasn’t shy about visiting my shop either. She loved to come over on her lunch break and adorn herself in headbands, new clothes, and jewelry. She was my personal walking billboard and my best friend.

  One evening at my apartment, I shared my bucket list thingy with Lacey. I waited nervously as she read over the list. She laughed at certain things on my list and asked about the checkmark by the random lay. I told her all about Malcolm in great detail.

  “By damn you are a true little ho-bag!”

  “Trust me, it was damn good!”

  “So what’s up with the potato salad?

  “Frances had a thing for it. I need to find a good recipe for her.”

  “Well, I have one, you little hoochie!”

  “You do? Is it good?”

  We raced to the grocery store to buy all the ingredients. This recipe had been passed down from Lacey’s great-grandma. I’ll admit there were some damn weird steps, like patting down the cooked potato pieces with a towel to take the excess moisture out of them. I was sure that Lacey was being a total twat waffle by making me rub down cooked potatoes with a towel, but nope, it was written on the card in her great-grandmother’s handwriting. The potato salad was fucking epic! I had done it—another check on my bucket list thingy. I made Lacey sign her name by this checkmark.

  I asked Lacey about her family and she said she didn’t have any. I could tell it was a closed subject, so I didn’t push any farther. I loved having my wild child Lacey in my life.

  “Hey, hoochie! Stay the night with me tonight. We can gorge on this amazing potato salad and watch Footloose.”

  “Anything for you, my little bitch!” Lacey replied.

  Chapter 7

  Shit! Fuck! Bitch!

  It’s now the day before opening and I had an old door that I was trying to hang from the ceiling. It was the last finishing touch I had to make to my perfect little shop. The door wa
s all rigged up with wire, and I screwed eye bolts to the beams. So all I had to do was climb up the ladder with the rustic door and hook the four pieces of wire to the eyelet hooks. I made it up the ladder rather gracefully and hooked the first piece of wire.

  I then went to hook the second piece of wire, when the pad of my finger entangled in the wire at the same time as the wire flipped onto the hook. The shooting pain from my finger being bit off by the wire instantly made me drop the end of the door, which in turn caused the wire to pinch off any remaining flesh attached to my finger. All at once I screamed, “Shit! Fuck! Bitch!” and instantly started sucking on my mangled finger. “Shit, fuck, bitch!”

  “Um, excuse me? Are you okay?” came a voice. I immediately whipped my head around, to see a stranger standing in the middle of my shop. A very fucking handsome, dreamy stranger. Oh real nice—the first time I injure myself in my shop, I turn to find a motherfucking hottie! Actually, handsome didn’t cover it. The man was tall and slender and had dark brown hair that stuck out beneath his trucker ball cap. He was downright, effin hot!

  “Oh yeah, I’m fine. I just decided to wrestle this door on top of a ladder in the middle of the day. I’m pretty sure the door won this round,” I replied coolly while my insides were screaming and writhing in motherfucking pain.

  “I just wanted to stop in to see how it was going. I’ve seen you working in here over the last month, but haven’t had the chance to stop in.”

  “I appreciate it! And I’m so glad that I provided you such a great show. Would you like a cup of joe? Try the new latte of the day. It’s a Rummy Tummy with butterscotch and rum in it,” I offered.

  “That would be great! Do you think you can manage with your finger? It’s in pretty bad shape.”