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Rough Neck (Dirty Men #3)
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Dahlia Ferrell emerged from the back of a black limousine and stepped right into my life. I knew the second I saw those curves hidden behind a loose pair of khaki pants and blue button down, I was all but lost. I’m not sure she’s even legal, but it doesn’t matter, I’ll wait. Nothing female has caught my eye in years and now I know why. I’ve been saving all of me for all of her.
But, fate has a strange way of throwing obstacles in the path to happiness. She snatched up my heart with her wild red hair and dimples, then as quickly as I found her, she was gone. Leaving me back on the road, towing my house behind me on my way to yet another lonely drill site.
Only this time, fate decided to add a new twist and give me a second chance. I’m not letting her out of my sight again. I’m not sure what a sweet, wonder like her could see in a man like me, but I’m done questioning. I’m taking what’s mine and anyone that thinks otherwise better be ready for a hella of a fight. I’m never letting her go.
Author’s Note: This little smoking hot read is all about a dirty man and a smart young lady who destiny decides to toss together. He’s a little older, a little rough and she’s sweet, innocent but don’t let that fool you. This heroine isn’t afraid to be herself and that’s just what this roughneck ordered. It’s instalove, possessive obsession from first glance.
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“AND THEN, AS IF THE wind told me what to do, I opened myself to him, willing him to center his soul into mine. Driving his manhood forward, he took me in one swift, hard motion. His hands gripping my hair and driving his tongue between my lips, halting my scream—”
“Shut the fuck up!” I shout into the cab of the truck at my friend’s voice coming through the car radio. I’ve got my phone hooked up to the audio system, but right now I’m wishing I didn’t learn how to do that shit. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m reading to you.” His deep laugh does nothing to settle me. “This fucking book was on my mom’s kitchen counter when I got home! I don’t know whether to throw up or be turned on. It’s filthy. And this is the page she had dog-eared. You want to hear more? This shit’s wild—”
“Put it away. Jesus. Don’t read another fucking word to me. When are you leaving there?” I snap. My usual grumpy nature dialed up another notch.
Donald, ‘The Tank’, Richardson and I have been friends since the moment I tossed his roughneck ass onto his first rig job. I don’t know what it was about him, but I’ve loved the little shit from the very first day, when he sang fucking old Kenny Rogers and Hank Williams at the top of his lungs while he did all the bullshit tasks I assigned.
“I’ll leave after I get laid.” He laughs. “Christ, we were on the last job twenty-six days straight. My dick’s gonna fall off.”
I roll my eyes and grip the steering wheel tighter, looking over my right shoulder before I change lanes. Driving my pick up and hauling my forty-foot home on wheels behind takes some defensive fucking driving skills. But after nearly twenty-years of moving around I’ve yet to get in an accident.
“Don’t tell me that shit. How many fucking times have I told you I don’t give a about your dick, your sex life, or now, your fucking mom’s dirty books. There is something wrong with you.” A twinge of jealousy that he has a family to go back to ticks at me.
My dad vacated my life before I was out of diapers. My mom lived a hard life, and died in a car accident coming home from her night job as a waitress the day before I graduated from high school. After that, I don’t know, I just drifted. The place where I grew up, my family’s land, isn’t even far away from here, but I guess my nature is to be on the road. After my mom died, the only real relation I had was my Aunt Becky. Mom’s younger sister and I are close in our own way. We are the only other family we each have. I check in on her at least once a month, she’s had MS for years and I know her health issues are becoming more of an issue.
“Aww, you’d be in a better fucking mood if you gave it a try now and then. Jesus, man, I don’t get you. I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a good lookin’ fella. If I had a vagina instead of this huge rhinoceros cock between my legs, I’d make schoolgirl eyes at you and tempt you into my sweet—”
“Shut the fuck up! You ever, ever talk to me about your cock again, I’ll bury you so deep they’ll find you when they set the next rig.”
The truck hums under me. It’s a twelve-hour drive to the new drill site; just one nameless city in Texas to the next. Same deal every time.
“Deal.” Tank’s voice comes through the car radio. “Okay, I’ve got a date tonight, then I’m heading that way. If you weren’t such an ugly son-of-a-bitch you’d have one too. I don’t get why you don’t even take the day off in between jobs, man. You don’t know what the term ‘leisure time’ means.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh,” the thought just jumps into my head before I hang up, “remember to stop by that farm by your mom’s house and get my order. I called her yesterday.” We’re setting up on a new drill site, remote north Texas, and I’ve got to stock up on food before we settle in. Sometimes it can be a week or more before you get a break to run into town. And where we’re headed, from my research, it’s an hour plus drive to anything coming close to being called a town. “Don’t forget, Tank, I know what you’re like.”
Tank coughs then goes on. “Yeah, yeah. You and your organic obsession. Probably going to figure out one of these days that organic food causes cancer, you know.”