Savor Me

  Savor Me

  Copyright © 2014 by Aly Martinez

  Editor: Mickey Reed

  Formatting: Self Publishing Editing Service

  All rights reserved. No part of this novel may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted without written permission from the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book with others please purchase a copy for each person. This eBook my not be re-sold or given away to other people.

  Savor Me is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and occurrences are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, events, or locations is purely coincidental.

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  Table of Contents

  WARNING

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  About The Author

  WARNING:

  This content contains material that may be offensive to some readers.

  Including graphic language and adult situations.

  For Ash and Fall.

  Without the hours upon hours of dirty iMessage chats, there would be no Mason and Hunter. Thank you for listening me bitch, whine, cry, and disappear. I have no idea what I would do without y'all. All I can do to thank you is dedicate this book to y'all. It has two hot guys. I figured y'all would like that best anyway.

  I LOST MY VIRGINITY at age thirteen. I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no. I wasn't raped or molested. Nothing horrible happened to me. I didn’t have a daddy complex or a shit life I needed to be rescued from. I just happened to like boys...a lot. I like them all. Tall, short, skinny, buff, light hair, or dark—I don't discriminate. My favorite kind, though, are the ones who like other boys too. Hey! Don't judge. Have you ever seen two completely straight guys making out just because you asked them to? They are willing to do anything to be with you, even if includes sharing you with another man. That's all right in my book.

  I realized early on that one man isn't enough for me. It's a simple mathematical fact. Why have one man when you can have two? Any more than two gets complicated. Hell, half the time even two gets complicated. But it’s worth it. Sometimes every woman has to make an exception though—two crappy losers or one fuck-hot man.

  The night I laid eyes on Hunter Coy, I made my choice. At least for a little while.

  "Lacey!" my best friend, Lydia, screams from across the bar.

  I'm chatting up two strong sevens when she catches my attention. I level her with an 'I'm busy!' glare, but her wide eyes have me abandoning my two mediocre sure things and heading her way.

  "What the hell, Lydia?" I question her.

  "Oh, you're going to want to see this," she says, tipping her beer bottle toward the front entrance of the bar.

  Damn if she wasn't right. Walking in is the hottest country boy a drunken redneck sperm ever produced. I don't do cowboy. It's just not my thing. Their jeans are always too tight, and I can't get down with flannel. I purposely avoid county bars like the plague. This is backwoods Georgia, but there are still some places you can go to forget that you are surrounded by hicks. However, if this fine specimen of man is any indication of what I'm missing, I might have a few new hangouts soon.

  "Fuck," I unintentionally breathe.

  "Please tell me you are going ride that tonight," Lydia whispers, never taking her eyes off the man handing his ID to the bouncer.

  "Like a rodeo queen." I continue to stare as he walks into the bar.

  He has to be at least six foot one, black hair, and even in the dim light of the bar, I can tell his eyes are dark. I can only hope he is half as dark as the attitude he's giving off. It's been a while since I have taken a bad boy for a ride. His jeans are tight enough to outline his toned thighs, and he's rocking black cowboy boots like it's his fucking job. Oh, he knows every woman in the room is watching him right now, the same way I know there isn't a man here who can peel his eyes away from me.

  "I'll be right back." I hand Lydia my beer and make my way over to tonight’s main attraction.

  Just as I get within steps from him, he lifts his head and makes direct eye contact. His dark glare levels me and renders me completely unable to move. Damn it, I've never frozen for a man before. He does a quick head-to-toe assessment over my body before turning back to the bar, completely ignoring me.

  My sevens catch back up to me and begin pushing me toward the bar. I just need to escape for a minute and figure out what the hell just went down. Cowboy openly judged me and apparently found me lacking. With any other man, I would have marched over, grabbed him by the balls, and made sure he never made that mistake again. However, this guy, well… He has me tucking my tail and walking away. I'm trying to shake off the guys who are urging me back to their table when I hear a deep rasping bark from behind me.

  "How old are you?"

  "What?" I ask, confused and slightly irritated by his tone. I have no idea who this guy thinks he is, but it’s obvious he thinks pretty highly of himself.

  "How old are you?" he repeats very slowly, implying that I'm stupid.

  "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

  "Hunter Coy, and you are, sugar?"

  "Did you just call me sugar?" I snap.

  "Do you have a problem with that?"

  "Not if you're my ninety-year-old paw paw, but judging by the arrogance that is currently dry humping your overly inflated ego, I'm going to say yes, I very much have a problem with you calling me sugar."

  "Is sweetheart any better for you?" he asks, amused by my rant.

  "You're getting younger, but you still sound like a sixty-year-old bartender with a bad comb over named Sunny. You may have nice hair now, but with a vocabulary like that, you are only a few years away from asking him for his barber’s name."

  He doesn't even try to fight back the laughter. Wouldn't you know his flipping laughing is sexy too?

  "Okay, let’s try this again. You know, before I start going gray like your paw paw or start balding like Sunny the bartender. What's your name?" he asks while sporting a crooked grin.

  Still annoyed from earlier, I roll my eyes and walk away. I don't make it very far because just a few steps away I come face to face with my worst enemy—my sister, Abby.

  "Lacey, you little whore." She reaches forward immediately on the attack.

  Luckily, after the last few years, I'm skilled at avoiding her bitchiness. I quickly step to the left as she topples over forward, narrowly missing the sevens. There is no question that she is drunk. Hell, she's always drunk.

  I take three giant steps back into the wall. Only it's not a wall at all—it's Hunter fucking Coy.

  "You okay, sugar?” He looks down at me with a smirk.

  "I've got to get out of here." I speed walk away as fast as my four-inch heels will allow. When I find Lydia, she is trying to ignore some guy she wouldn't even let refill her gas tank if she were stranded on the side of the road. "We need to leave. Abby is here."

  The sevens once again find me. I can't tell if they are dueling dicks to see who will get me in bed or if they are actually interested in sharing me tonight. That alone might bump them up to eights.

  I let out a frustrated sigh. "Jesus, leave me alone! Can you not see I am in full drama mode? This is not going to end positively for y'
all if you keep following me. I'll catch you some other night."

  "Did you fuck these two also?" I hear Abby yell as she stumbles in my direction.

  I quickly turn my attention to her and shout, "Quit being such a fucking cunt!" I have no qualms about telling Abby what I think of her. She is always embarrassing me. I need to get out of here before she starts airing all my slutty laundry like she usually does.

  "A cunt? Are you kidding me?" She lunges for me, but luckily she's caught around the waist by a muscular arm.

  My eyes flash up in silent gratitude—and also to figure out who I will later owe a blowjob—when I find humor-filled dark eyes. Strike whatever I said earlier. Hunter Coy is my new worst enemy. Well, not really. He is actually an orgasm in cowboy boots, but right now, I both love him and hate him. Sure, he’s holding my sister back, but he is laughing while he is doing it. Asshole.

  "I'm leaving," I say to Lydia as she smirks at Abby, who’s trying to fight her way towards me. If it weren't so fucking embarrassing watching her flail around Hunter’s arm, I would admit that this whole situation is funny too.

  I haul ass out the front door. It’s barely even ten p.m. and I'm already on my way home. This night fucking blows. As I'm digging through my bra to try to find my solo car key, I hear the sounds of the gravel crushing beneath someone’s feet.

  "Sugar?" I hear the rasp from behind me.

  Fuck my life with a huge pink dildo. "What?" I spin around, ready to unleash the brunt of my anger on him. I'm annoyed, pissed off, and—worst of all—sober. "What the fuck do you want? Do you need another laugh? Or maybe another opportunity to judge me?" I throw both arms out to the side and spin in a circle. "Well here I am! Now, if you will leave me the hell alone, I need to go home before my crazy-ass sister follows me out here too!" And just because God hates me, Abby chooses this exact moment to come bursting out the bar’s double doors.

  "Let's go!" Hunter grabs my hand, dragging me into the side parking lot.

  "What the hell are you doing?" I whisper-yell, but I'm way more willing to follow him than I am to face my sister again.

  "I'm getting you out of here." He continues to sneak through the parking lot, pulling me behind him.

  He stops beside a brand-spanking-new pickup truck. It's typical redneck in the sense that it’s jacked up with huge mud tires, but not many boys around here can afford something this nice. Oh yeah, this guy is definitely overcompensating for something. And since he is sexy as sin, I'm going to assume he is lacking in the pants.

  He swings open the door, revealing an immaculate interior. Everything is top of the line, from the leathers seat to the built-in navigation, right down to the custom stereo system.

  "Jesus, how small is your dick?" I ask, climbing inside.

  "Well, I haven't exactly measured it, but I'd be happy to let you take a peek if you'd like."

  "Would I need tweezers and a magnifying glass to see it?" I ask, causing him let out a loud laugh.

  "You know, if I wasn't helping you escape your whack-job sister, I might be offended right now."

  "Shit, you’re right. Get me out of here, and I'll insult your package somewhere else."

  "Now how can a man turn down an offer like that?" He climbs into the truck and drives out of the parking lot.

  "WHERE ARE WE GOING?" I ask Hunter after a few minutes of driving. I live in a small town, where crime is predominately limited to cattle theft, but it's not completely impossible that this man is a country psychopath who is going to take me into the woods and kill me.

  "Where do you want to go?" He smiles over at me without taking his eyes off the road.

  "Can you just take me home? I live just off Montgomery Street. I'll get Lydia to take me back for my car tomorrow."

  "No problem, sugar."

  I internally groan at his ridiculous term of endearment. "Thanks, Gramps."

  He laughs. "Speaking of, you never answered my question. How old are you?"

  "Twenty-two."

  "Really? You look like a kid! I'm going to need to see some ID, and I'm not talking about the fake one you use to get into bars."

  "And what exactly am I going to be doing that requires me to be carded first?"

  "Absolutely nothing until I see an ID."

  "Oh good, then I definitely won't be showing you," I say, staring at the window.

  "Please just tell me you're at least eighteen."

  "I'm twenty-two," I repeat. "Why the hell is age so important to you anyway?"

  "I'm twenty-four and you look like you're seventeen. The last thing I want to do is pick you up from high school on Friday afternoons."

  "What the hell are you talking about? You are taking me to my apartment and dropping me off. I can get my own ride home from school on Friday." I pause and watch his eyes go wide before I continue, "You know, if I hadn't graduated four years ago!"

  I know I look young. My entire life, everyone has told me that—even when I was young. I'm five foot three with a petite figure and a baby face. I'm sure I'll appreciate those things one day, but for now, it's kind of annoying. I try to make myself look more my age, but obviously it doesn't help. My blond hair is cut into an angled bob and I have a few dark stripes around my face that make my hazel eyes pop. My solid B-cups don't help my case either, so I have the girls tucked into very padded push-up bra tonight.

  "You're really twenty-two?"

  "Are you really asking this question again?" I huff. "Yes, I am twenty-two!"

  "You want to grab some food before I take you home?" he asks, suddenly changing the subject.

  My head snaps over to his. "What? Why?"

  "Um, because I'm hungry? I figured that would be obvious by the whole 'grab some food' thing."

  "You don't even know my name, you thought I was still in high school, and you helped me escape my crazy-ass sister. And now you want to buy me dinner?"

  "You forgot the part where you rudely assumed I have a small cock." He winks and pulls into the all-night diner parking lot.

  "I still stand by that too. You're hot as fuck and drive a truck like this... Your dick must be microscopic."

  He begins laughing. "Or maybe I just like to ride in a nice truck with my disgustingly huge cock. Ever think of that?"

  "Right. Whatever helps you sleep at night." I go to open the door when he grabs my arm.

  "Lacey, just so you know, I do know your name. I also have every intention of showing you exactly how right I am tonight. I knew it from the moment you stalked me across the bar. What you don't know is I spotted you long before you saw me. Now, if you will just swear to me you are really twenty-two and I'm not going to end up in jail for tearing that shirt off your body, I would greatly appreciate it."

  Very slowly, I reach into my bra and remove my driver’s license, never taking my eyes off his. He takes it from my hand and gives it a quick glance-over before tossing it over his shoulder into the back seat.

  "Perfect," he says, launching himself across the truck. He doesn't waste a second grabbing my head and slamming his mouth into mine.

  I'm usually the aggressor in sexual situations. I like to be in control, but in this minute, I am all too happy to let Hunter Coy have his way with me. His hand instantly snakes up my shirt, pulling my bra down so he can palm my bare breast. His warm hands roughly squeeze, causing a moan to escape and a smile to spread across his face.

  "You’re going to have to do better than that. I like it rough," I encourage him.

  "Oh, you mean like this?" He drops his head to my chest and sucks my nipple into his mouth. It's not a sensual suck. It’s almost painful, but I love every second of it. He reaches behind me and snaps my bra open, allowing him more room to play.

  A car pulls up beside us. Hunter tries to move away, but I stop him first. "Where the hell are you going? This just got interesting.”

  "Lacey, they could be watching. I'm not flashing them your boobs."

  "Your truck is at least fifteen inches higher than that car. They would need
a ladder to see in here, and if they are that dedicated to watching us, they deserve a decent show." I drag my tongue up his neck.

  "Shit, okay. Can we at least take this to the back seat? It's a bench and doesn't have this damn console in the middle."

  "Yes, please. God bless the extended cab!" I exclaim, diving over the seat.

  "Are you sure you're not seventeen? You seem entirely too excited for car sex. Should I remind you that we are two adults who both have a bed where we could fuck for hours?" he asks, raising a questioning eyebrow.

  "But then there wouldn't be perverts on a ladder watching us," I respond, making him laugh once again.

  "Good point," he says, stepping out of the truck.

  I rip my shirt over my head as he opens the back door in order to get back in, but he stops before climbing up. He does a quick glance around behind him to make sure no one is watching. Besides the car parked on the other side of us, the parking lot is empty.

  He turns back to face me, and his eyes are filled with mischief. "Take those off. I want to watch for a minute. I saw you eye fucking me tonight when I walked in. Pretend this didn't work out and you went home alone. Show me what you would have done while thinking about me."

  Oh yeah, I'm going to give my cowboy the best fucking show of his life. I quickly drag my jeans down my thighs, purposely leaving on my hot pink thong. In the process, I turn away from him and rise to my knees, pushing my barely covered ass into his face.

  “How does a tiny girl like yourself have an ass this nice?” He glides a hand over each cheek.

  "Little help?" I shake my feet, signaling him to pull off my heels.

  He's still standing with the door open, but he reaches behind to pull it against his back, blocking out any possible onlookers. It would be easier if he would just get in and shut the door. But I know exactly what he's doing. The height of his truck places him at eye level with the back seat. I flip to my back and lie down across the seat. I spread my legs wide, resting one against the back glass and draping the other over the back of the front seat. Hunter lets out a rewarding moan.