Table of Contents
1. Hammered
Dedication
The Playlist
A Better Man
Carlin’s Cocktails
Waking Up
This Land
Why Do I Feel…?
Like A Back Road
Strip It Down…
Black
My Babies
Girl Crush
Crazy Bitch
Driving Stick
Ride
Wreaking Ball
Being Honest
Get Off
The Boy(s)
Burning House
Ain’t here to kiss…
Hurt
Back To Good
Blown...Away
You Good?
May We All…
Turning Tables
Wide Open Spaces
July 4th
2. Destroyed
Dedication
The Playlist
To The Reader
Vegas
We’re All The Same
New York State of Mind
Chasing Dragons
They’re All The Same
Reality’s Foul
Facing Hell
Calm Before...Her
On My Knees
Once Again
Torn
Be A Man
Living Hell
Cowboy Up
Owned
Respect
Reminder
In Deep
Falling Part II
Spilled
Pain
Clean Up
Popping Pills
Make Her Feel Beautiful
Explosive
Lucky She’s A Girl
Fear of the Dark
Re-Cast
Mags’ Girl
Memories
All New
Tractor Ridin’
Epilogue
3. Wasted
Dedication
The Playlist
To The Reader
Prologue
The Road Leading Back
See You Around
Bacon and Bedtime
Bells and Bliss
Body Language Issues
Who Wrote the Book
No More Tears
Burning Inside
See You Around...Again
Cop Car
Harder
Circles
Gonna Wanna Tonight
Wet
Secrets
Body Language
Middle of a Memory
Porch Swing
Cake and Countertops
Confessions
Bacon and Blowjobs
Butts Bared
Hurt
Another Great Day
Lights Down Low
Ferris Wheel
Long, Hard Ride
That One Is My Dad
Crashed
Even If It Breaks Your Heart
Craving
Epilogue
3.5. Hitched (A Steel Country Novella)
Dedication
To The Reader
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Acknowledgements
About The Author
Other Titles By MJ Fields
Steel Country (Complete Series)
Copyright © 2018 by MJ Fields.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage or retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, photocopying, mechanical or otherwise, without express permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, story lines and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales or any events or occurrences are purely coincidental.
This book contains mature content not suitable for those under the age of 18. Content involves strong language and sexual situations. All parties portrayed in sexual situation are over the age of 18. All characters are a work of fiction.
Hammered © 2017 by MJ Fields.
Edited by C&D Editing
Edited by Ellie McLove
Proofread by Kim Ginsberg
Cover Model: Jonny James
Cover Photographer: Wander Aguiar Photography
Cover Design, Interior Design & Formatting by Jersey Girl Design
Destroyed © 2017 by MJ Fields.
Editing by: C&D Editing
Proofed by: K. Ginsberg
Cover Model & Photographer: Nathan Hainline
Cover Design and formatting by: Jersey Girl Design
Wasted © 2017 by MJ Fields.
Editing by: C&D Editing
Proofed by: K. Ginsberg
Cover Design and formatting by: Jersey Girl Design
Hitched: A Steel Country Novella © 2017 by MJ Fields.
Editing by: C&D Editing
Cover Design and formatting by: Jersey Girl Design
To the lovers of all things Steel, this is for you!
To all you single ladies who have been lured by ‘F’ boys, you know the type, ‘fucks like a man, acts like a boy’...I give you Gage Falcon.
Forever Steel!
XOXO
MJ
Playlist
“Die A Happy Man” by Thomas Rhett
“Hello World” by Lady Antebellum
“Wide Open Spaces” by The Dixie Chicks
“It’s Different For Girls” by Dierks Bentley and Elle King
“She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy” by Kenny Chesney
“Black” by Dierks Bentley
Chapter One
A Better Man
Gage
I pull into the little dive bar that is twelve miles from my property at Lake Hopatcong and hop out of my 1975 International Scout. An old classic, a man’s truck, a pet project of mine for the past couple years. No, I don’t have time for that shit, but any minute spent alone is a minute wasted unless you have something to keep you busy.
Cars have been my thing since I turned sixteen and was given my father’s, a man I had never known, ride. He died when I was sixteen months old.
Then, because shit happens—divorce—every third Saturday there wasn’t shit keeping me busy, so I bought this damn thing to keep me that way, busy.
I check out my surroundings. There are about twenty cars in the dimly lit, dirt parking lot. Not one meets the description of the woman’s car who is supposed to meet a need tonight.
I walk into the bar and almost laugh. Apparently, everyone drove two cars and every one of the drivers is looking at me. I half-expect them all to call out my name, except they don’t know it, and that’s exactly why I’m here. I know no one. No need to do a meet and greet at a place where you’re recognized or known when you know damn well you and the little lady won’t be hanging out in a bar for that long.
She’s busy, I’m busy, and we both just need a little adult interaction once in a while. Both of us are adults and agreed on this shit in advance.
“Friends with benefits?” she asked when we spoke on the phone.
“Really don’t have time for friends,” I replied honestly. “I’m also not looking for my next forever.”
“I totally understand.” She laughed. “I’m in the same situation. Kids, work, every other weekend, no time. I’d like that...to...you know—”
“Get off,” I finish the sentence for her.
“Yeah,” she whispers in a breathy tone.
“Perfect.”
That was it. No bullshit, no lies, no nothing. Just an agreement between two consenting adults to meet, make sure there is an attraction, have a couple of drinks, then fuck for a solid ten hours. Maybe order some room service between rounds.
I sit at the bar and order a drink from the old man. “Jameson, on the rocks.” Then I sit back in my padded barstool and take a drink, the liquor burning as it goes down my throat. It feels fucking good.
I keep my eyes lowered, not wanting to make any fucking friends here. Hell, I wish I could be sure no one in the place would recognize me if they saw me again, but that shit’s not possible.
I toss down my drink and think to myself, Here’s to hoping this shit works out.
I hold up my empty glass to the new bartender. She nods then grabs the bottle of Jameson while I look down at my phone.
I hit the app with the flame and check my messages. No cancellation, which means we’re on.
I look up and only then do I notice the tiny, hot as hell, little exotic Asian bartender pushing my drink toward me.
Sexy as fuck.
“Thanks, babe.” I nod, then wink and pick it up.
She turns and walks away.
Okay, that’s not fucking right. Women, all women, get fucked up on my look. This one, she’s not giving a damn. I made eye contact, and I fucking winked. A wink typically gets me at the very least a smile.
Something must be wrong.
I look up in the mirror behind the bar just to be sure I don’t have some shit on my face or hair sticking up in the wrong direction.
“Hey,” I call after her.
She turns back and looks at me, annoyed as hell.
I feel the smirk forming in the corner of my mouth. “What’s your name?”
She rolls her eyes at me, holds up her middle finger, turns around, and walks away.
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
I know myself too damn well. She’s a challenge. I always liked a challenge.
Step back, man, I tell myself. Step. Fucking. Back.
But fuck, I would like to make her eyes roll again...with my cock shoved in her pussy.
Get a fucking grip, I scold myself. You’re not a fucking kid anymore.
“Are you Gage?”
I turn away from what my dick seems to want to be in and look left at the blonde sliding onto the barstool next to me. I look her up and down before answering. She has great tits, long legs, her face is good, all matching her profile picture.
I nod. “You’re...”
Shit, shit, shit. What’s her name?
I could pull a real dick move and look at the app, or I could ask. I mean, she’s down for doing the hookup thing, so why would that offend her? But I don’t. I pull out the charm.
“A very good-looking woman.”
She blushes, smiling shyly. “Thanks.”
I hear a loud slap against the bar and look away from whoever the hell her name is to the exotic, little piss pot.
“What can I get you to drink?” she asks in an almost annoyed tone that makes me snicker immediately. Her reply is the eye roll...again.
“What wines do you have?” my date asks the reason I’m getting hard. The challenge.
“Merlot, Lambrusco, White Zin,” she answers, trying to be hospitable while holding back hostile.
“That’s it?” my date’s tone is unmistakably repulsed.
I have no idea why she’s being that way, but she is. I also have no fucking clue why she’s pissed off, but it’s kind of hot.
“Zin, I suppose.” My date shrugs then looks at me. “So, what do you do again?”
“Construction.” I give her the answer I give them all. I don’t tell them I own a company; it’s not necessary. I don’t want to give them any false hope that they will be the next Mrs. Gage Falcon. There won’t be another.
“Do you want to know what I do?” she asks.
Not really, I think as I force my focus on her. Instead, I say, “Sure,”
“I’m an accountant. I’m really good with numbers. I love them. In fact, they are everything.” She beams.
Another smack on the bar makes me look away from her and at the little hottie.
“Who’s paying?” she asks, looking at me and then...Fuck, I need to figure out her name.
“I am,” I answer, sliding a pile of money across the bar.
“By the hour,” the bartender says under her breath as she walks away.
What the fuck is wrong with this chick?
I quickly look at...the date to make sure she didn’t hear that shit.
Fuck it. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, hit the app, and look at my date’s name. Tonya.
I look over at her and she smiles. “Do you have a call?”
“Yeah, but it can wait, Tonya.”
I swear I hear the bartender laugh.
I look over to see her shaking her head, looking down as she turns on the faucet under the bar, about two stools away from us.
What the fuck is with her? No way I fucked her. Hell, she looks just a few steps past legal.
I look back at Tonya, who looks at me then the bartender then back at me.
“Am I missing something?” she asks.
“No, of course not,” I say, catching exactly what she’s implying.
“Are you sure?”
“He’s sure,” the bartender says, walking past us to the couple a few seats down.
“Look,” Tonya says, shaking her head. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
She starts to put her coat on, one I didn’t even notice she had taken off because I was too busy checking out the bartender when she walked in.
I push back my stool and stand. “Let me help—”
“No, I’ve got it. Thanks, anyway,” she stammers.
“Did I miss something?” I ask, knowing damn well I didn’t. But it’s not what she thinks. Well...No, it’s not.
“I don’t know what it is you’re into. I was good with enjoying some adult time, but I’m not into being a third.” She motions between the bartender and me.
“Oh no, you definitely got it wrong, Tammy—”
“Tonya,” she corrects.
“Fuck, right, I apologize.”
I look toward the laughter.
“You two sure are something, you know.” Tonya shakes her head and walks away.
I point at the bartender. “What’s your problem?”
“Mine?” she says, still chuckling as she points to herself.
I point toward the door. “You did that shit on purpose.”
She walks over, laughing, and grips the edge of the bar. “Now, why would I do that?”
“No clue, but tell me; what’s your deal?”
She stands up taller. “Putting men like you in their place.”
If I wasn’t pissed that tonight’s ass just walked out the door, I would laugh at the chick who stands at maybe five-foot without heels, and who clearly feels like she’s some sort of badass when she stands on something to make her taller.
I lean in closer, and she holds her badass steady, not moving an inch as I lean closer. With my face an inch from hers, I look over the bar. Then, leaning back, I bite the side of my cheek to stop a grin.
“Oh, here we go with the short jokes,” she sputters. “Let me save you the time.”
“I wasn’t gonna make jokes...shorty.” I pause to watch her face contort into obvious annoyance. “I was trying to answer a question I had running wild through my mind.”
“Short trip, men like you only have one thing on your mind,” she smarts back.
I shake my head and sigh.
“Don’t deny it. Your hooker just left because she wasn’t into a threesome.”
“Let me clear things up for you. I don’t pay for sex. I don’t enjoy threesomes. And
women like you and her,” I toss her sexist shit back at her, “come off as wanting no strings, but you all do. You think your pussy has some magical power that gets you the man and everything he’s worked for.” I can’t help myself. “Like catching a leprechaun for his pot of gold.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” she chides. “I’d prefer to pay my own way than deal with a man like you. And I prefer batteries over brawn.”
“Shorty, you couldn’t handle a man like me.”
“Oh really?” She crosses her arms over her chest, pushing her tits closer together. Nice little titties, too. “So, what the hell are you doing sniffing around like a dog looking for a place to hide his bone?”
“Sweetheart, there is no way in hell you could handle my bone.”
“Then what the fuck are you doing sniffing?”
“Wasn’t sniffing. Just trying to answer that question I had.” I toss a few bills on the bar and turn to walk away.
“And what question is that?” she asks at my back.
I turn around and smirk. “I was wondering how much of my cock would come out of that smart little mouth of yours when I bury it in you.”
I watch her reaction, feeling satisfied when her jaw drops and she is unable to give me a smartass comment. Then I turn around and walk out the door...half-mast.
I look up at the neon sign and read the name of the joint, Carlin’s Cocktails. More like cock-fucking-tease.
Zandor fucking Steel, you son of a bitch, giving me shitty dating advice.
Payback’s a bitch, Steel, payback’s a bitch.
Twenty minutes later, I am pulling onto the dirt road surrounded by trees and tall grass leading to my place. A quarter of a mile in, I see the black metal sign with copper-colored lettering, Falcon’s Landing. Didn’t want the sign on the roadside; wanted it as private as it could be. So it is...for now.
Falcon’s Landing is one hundred and twelve acres of peace and fucking quiet. Land that once was empty, now has ten small, two-bedroom vacation cabins, and my home away from home.
We moved back to the States from Portugal when I was fourteen and my brothers were twelve and ten. That was when my parents bought five acres of lakefront property. We used to come here to hunt, fish, camp, and get away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. When they retired and my divorce was settled, I bought everything that bordered their land.
It was at the same time my brothers—half-brothers—Garrett, Grayson, and I were handed down the construction company, which neither of them wanted. They hated it. I didn’t like it much either, but we—I—owed it to our parents to keep the business that they had built and loved almost as much as they did the three of us running. It afforded all of us the lifestyles we had grown accustomed to. It also made my dream, this place, Falcon’s Landing, a reality. It became bigger than I planned, yet there is still a lot of work to do, a lot of time and money to keep this place running, and it wasn’t going to finish building itself.