Traded to the Trucker (Curvy for Keeps Book 2) by Annabelle Winters

Author:Annabelle Winters [Winters, Annabelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rainshine
Published: 2020-09-06T16:00:00+00:00

6

QUINNIE

He’s kissing me and I’m kissing him back, my mouth opening wide for his tongue even as my mind shuts down like a bear-trap. My ass stings from that stern spanking, and I’m aroused in that desperate way that tells me I’m past the point of reason and common sense, in a state of disconnection from a reality that’s too crazy to comprehend.

Am I doing this because I need Quake, I wonder as I taste his salt on my tongue, smell his musk in my nostrils, feel his heavy hips push my legs apart as I spread for him, my body slung across the massive front bench-style seat of the old-style truck. He’s so big in his pants I can feel his cockhead grind against my mound. My panties are shredded, but still wrapped around my front, the soaked satin digging into my slit as Quake kisses and grinds and we gasp together between furious kisses so hot there’s steam in the air.

I gave myself to Richard for money and stability, comes the thought as Quake slides his big hand around the back of my neck and kisses me harder. Am I giving myself to Quake for pretty much the same thing? Is that what I am? Is that all I am?

Quake pulls back just then, his face beautifully scarred, brilliantly broken, those green eyes half closed but yet focused like moonbeams. I know he’s wondering the same thing: Am I doing this because I need him or because I want to?

You’re a keeper, he’d whispered to me. He’d said it and I believed him—not just that he meant it, but also that it was real. That I am a keeper. My two husbands didn’t want to keep me, but maybe that was my journey to this moment in time, this man in space, this trucker who said he wants to keep me.

Quake fists my hair and leans close, his eyes searching mine, his weight heavy on my body. “I’ll stop if you say it,” he whispers, letting out a shuddering breath as he drags his tongue down my cheek and along my trembling neck.

“You didn’t stop yourself from spanking me like a schoolgirl,” I say, blinking as a curious warmth coils down my spine. Quake’s fingers are tightening in my thick hair, and he’s so heavy against me it’s like I’m pinned under a tractor. He could use me like that sex doll and toss me into the woods for the bears and wolves and nobody would ever know. So why the hell do I still feel safe with him? Why do I believe that he really would stop if I said it? Is this what intuition means? Is this the sixth sense that I ignored in the past, the instinct that whispered David wasn’t the one and warned Richard wasn’t the one? Is it calling to me again, begging for me to listen, forcing me into a position where I have to find the part of myself to

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