Chapter 3

London

I glance over at Bronx,the moonlight casting shadows across his face. He"s dozed off again, head tilted awkwardly against the window. The sight tugs at something in my chest. I know he"s been giving up the comfort of a proper sleep so I could sprawl out in the back, but it"s not right. Not when I see the lines of discomfort etched into his rugged features.

"Bronx," I whisper, reaching out to touch his arm. His eyes flutter open, heavy with fatigue. "Come on, you can"t keep sleeping here."

His gaze meets mine, a flicker of something vulnerable in those deep brown pools. "London, I"m good, really," he rumbles, but even his voice sounds tired.

"No, you"re not," I insist, my heart pounding harder with a mix of concern and...something else. "There"s plenty of room for both of us in the back. It"s silly for you to cramp up here."

He hesitates, and I know what he"s thinking. We"ve tiptoed around this unspoken line between us, but damn it, we"re just two people in need of rest. And if I"m honest with myself, the thought of being close to him sends a thrill straight through me.

"Trust me, it"ll be fine," I say with more confidence than I feel. My skin tingles at the prospect, heat pooling low in my belly.

"Alright, London," Bronx finally concedes, his voice a gravelly whisper that sends shivers down my spine.

He unfolds himself from the cab and follows me to the small sanctuary at the back of the truck. The space is tight, the bed hardly big enough for one, let alone two. But as I settle onto the mattress, I pat the spot next to me. "See? Perfect fit," I tease, trying to lighten the mood, though my pulse races.

Bronx hesitates, the tension in his body palpable as he towers over me. "London," he starts, his voice strained, "I"m not sure I can trust myself to just...lay there with you."

"Trust yourself?" I quirk an eyebrow, genuinely puzzled until I catch the subtle shift in his gaze, the darkening of his eyes. Oh. Heat floods my cheeks as understanding dawns, and I"m suddenly aware of every inch of space between us.

"It"ll be okay, Bronx." My voice is a breathy reassurance, even as my own heart thumps wildly. "I trust you."

He looks at me long and hard, something like vulnerability flickering in those deep-set eyes before he finally nods and eases down beside me. The bed groans under his weight, and I scoot over to make room, the close quarters forcing us into an intimacy that sends a thrill zipping through me.

With a careful maneuver, Bronx drapes his arm around me, pulling me back against him. It"s like being enveloped by a warm shield, and I let out an involuntary gasp when I feel the unmistakable press of his arousal against my backside.

Holy fuck, it's fucking huge. How is it possible to be so big?

"Sorry," he rumbles. His voice is low and rough, stirring something primal within me. I"m acutely aware of every point where our bodies connect, and it"s impossible to ignore the growing desire coiling in my belly.

"Nothing to be sorry for," I whisper back, daring to snuggle closer into his embrace. There"s no denying the magnetic pull between us now, the forbidden dance our bodies seem eager to play out.

"London..." Bronx warns, but I can hear the restraint in his voice crumbling, the hunger barely kept at bay.

The rhythmic rise and fall of Bronx"s chest against my back is the only thing steadying me in this sea of mounting tension. The tiny bed isn"t doing us any favors, his every movement sending ripples through me.

"Try to sleep," he grunts, but his voice is strained, like he"s lifting weights instead of words.

"Okay," I murmur, but then I feel wetness on my ass.

Is that…?

My face flames as I realize Bronx is leaking precum so much that it's seeped through his shorts and my own. I feel a resounding wetness pool between my own thighs, and a throbbing begins.

I shift, just a fraction, and there"s a sharp intake of breath from behind me.

"London..." His warning is a raw whisper, laced with a desire so thick I can almost taste it.

"Bronx," I breathe out his name like a secret, my body betraying me as I push back into him. It"s instinctive, this dance we"re tangled in, and when I feel him harden even more, a surge of something bold and brash floods through me.

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, and suddenly we"re grinding in a rhythm that"s as old as time. There"s no space left for pretense, not when I can feel him, hot and insistent, pressing into me.

"Bronx," I say again, softer this time, my voice tinged with an edge of wonder. This man, my protector and confidant, now the source of a heat that threatens to consume us both.

"Damn it, London," he groans, the sound vibrating through me. Our movements are desperate, seeking relief in the friction of fabric and flesh.

"Please," I whisper, not sure if I"m asking him to stop or urging him on. But it doesn"t matter, because right now, as our bodies speak a language all their own, I know we"re past the point of no return. And I don"t want to go back.

Bronx"s curse slices through the thick tension, a guttural sound, primal and possessive. His hips buck wildly against me, every thrust sending shockwaves through my body. I"m on fire, every nerve alight with need as he grinds into me, his cock a relentless pressure against my ass.

"Fuck, London," he growls, his voice a rough caress that sends shivers down my spine. "You"re going to make me lose my goddamn mind."

His hand sneaks around my waist, fingers finding the damp heat between my legs. A gasp escapes me when he touches me there, rough and insistent. My skin burns where he grips me, branding me with his touch. He rubs me in circles, pressing just right, and it"s like he knows exactly what I need.

"Bronx," I moan, giving myself over to the sensation, arching into his hand. His fingers are magic, coaxing pleasure from every stroke until it builds—tightens—explodes. The orgasm rips through me, fierce and blinding, and I shatter against him, my cries muffled by the night air.

"Good girl," he rasps in my ear, his breath hot against my neck. Satisfaction rolls off him in waves as he keeps moving, chasing his own release.

And then, it hits him—a monsoon crashing into me, his warmth spreading fast against my ass. His groans are ragged, filled with a relief so intense it"s almost palpable.

I"m still trembling, aftershocks rippling through me, when his hands start their exploration anew. They trace the curves of my body, igniting fires wherever they roam. I"m melting under his touch, soft moans slipping from my lips with each caress.

"Look at you," Bronx murmurs, wonder lacing his words as he rolls me in his arms, bringing me face to face with him. His eyes burn into mine, dark and fathomless, and I see the raw desire reflected there.

"Bronx," I whisper, and it feels like I"m saying more than just his name. It"s a plea, a promise, a surrender.

His hardness presses against me again, insistent, ready. And I know we"re far from done.

My breath hitches as Bronx"s gaze locks with mine, a storm of desire brewing in the depths of his dark eyes. His fingers brush a strand of pink hair from my forehead, a gentleness there that contradicts the raw hunger etched on his face. He"s close, so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body, and for a moment, we"re suspended in the stillness of our shared breaths.

"London," he whispers, and it"s like he"s dipped into my veins, his voice a warm shot of whiskey straight to my heart.

"Bronx," I breathe back, and that"s all it takes.

Our lips crash together in a kiss that ignites the night around us. It"s messy, fierce, a clash of need and longing. His tongue slides against mine, exploring, claiming, and I"m lost in the taste of him—spice and smoke and everything I didn"t know I craved until this very second.

"God, you—" Bronx groans against my mouth, his words dissolving into another hungry kiss.

His hands start moving then, roaming over my body like they"ve got a mind of their own. Rough and calloused, they map every inch of me, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I arch into his touch, craving more, the teasing pressure sending jolts of pleasure sparking through my veins.

A moan escapes me as his fingertips graze the hem of my shirt, slipping underneath to explore the skin beneath. The world outside the truck fades away—it"s just us, wrapped up in each other, the endless highways stretching out into nothingness.

"Bronx," I gasp, breaking away from his lips. "Touch me."

"Damn, girl," he murmurs, and there"s a wicked glint in his eyes. His hands obey, skimming down my sides, drawing patterns that set my skin ablaze.

"More," I plead, my voice raw with desire.

"I'll give you anything your pretty little heart wants, London," he promises, and I believe him. Because in this cramped space in the back of his truck, under the cover of darkness, Bronx is mine and I am his—completely and irrevocably.

And that emboldens me.

I shove at Bronx"s broad chest, and he falls back onto the bed with a look of surprise that quickly turns to smoldering heat. I straddle him, feeling the powerful muscles under me tense as my hips settle against his. The cab of the truck is our world, small and intimate, filled with the scent of leather and lust.

"London..." His voice is a low growl, but I place a finger over his lips.

"Shh, it"s my turn now," I say, my voice a husky whisper that betrays how much I need this—need him. I lean down, my pink hair falling around us like a curtain, and I feel his hands grip my waist, holding me in place.

"Bronx," I breathe into his ear, "I want you to be my daddy." The words spill out, raw and revealing, the fantasy I"ve tucked away in the dark corners of my mind now laid bare between us.

His body goes rigid beneath me, and I wince. I've fucked up. He thinks I'm a freak now.

But then, a deep, primal sound rumbles from his chest. "Fuck, London," he groans, and the restraint snaps.

He flips us over, pinning me down with the weight of his body, and there"s no more holding back. He"s daddy now, taking control, and I"m all too willing to surrender to the fantasy.

"Good girl," he grunts, the words sending shivers down my spine as he leans over me, his salt-and-pepper beard brushing against my skin, his breath hot on my neck.

"Please, daddy," I whimper, and the raw need in my voice seems to drive him wild.

Bronx"s hands explore me with a new fervor, tracing the lines of my body with an ownership that I crave. "You're so wet for Daddy," he growls as he touches my pussy.

"God, yes," I gasp, clinging to him, lost in the forbidden play we"ve unleashed. There"s no going back now—we"re both too far gone.

And then I feel a piercing pain as he shoves his cock into me.

"Ah!" I cry out as Bronx groans deep and low.

"Fuck, tight little virgin cunt. Been saving it all for your daddy, haven't you, baby?" Bronx croons at me approvingly as he strokes a hand over my face.

"Um-hm," is all I can manage as Bronx curses again and starts to fuck his big cock into me. The stroking is sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout my entire body, and I hold on tight to him as he picks up the pace, his breath coming out in harsh shudders.

"Bronx," I pant, my voice barely a whisper over the creaking of the truck"s suspension that struggles under the urgency of our movements. His hands grip my hips, guiding me, owning me in ways that words could never express.

"Fuck, London," he grunts back, his voice rough like gravel, but it"s the most beautiful sound in the world.

His dark eyes lock onto mine, deep-set and burning with an intensity that threatens to consume us both. "You"re so damn beautiful," he rasps, and the sincerity in his tone is more exposing than our nakedness.

"Bronx..." It"s all I can manage before the wave hits me, pleasure cresting and breaking over me in a storm of sensation that leaves me breathless. My fingernails dig into the taut muscles of his shoulders, marking him as mine as much as I am his.

"Come for me, baby girl," he growls, his control slipping as he drives into me harder, deeper, relentless in his pursuit of my undoing.

And then it happens—the dam breaks and I"m swept away. My body convulses around him, clenching tight as if to keep this moment, this connection, forever locked within me. Bronx follows, his own release tearing through him with a force that echoes my own.

"London!" His shout fills the cab, raw and unrestrained, and I feel him spill into me, our bodies trembling together in the aftermath of ecstasy. For a suspended heartbeat, time stands still, and there"s nothing but him and me and the endless highway that stretches out beyond the walls of Ol" Faithful.

Our chests heave, trying to catch lost breaths, as the last quivers of pleasure fade like the dying hum of a truck engine. I"m sprawled over him, our limbs entwined in a mess of sweat and satisfaction. His heart thuds against my ear, a steady drum grounding us after the storm we"ve just weathered together.

"Shit," I exhale, the word barely a whisper against his skin. It"s hot in here, but not just from the Texas heat outside—it"s the kind of warmth that blooms deep within when you"ve been thoroughly, completely loved.

Bronx chuckles, the rumble in his chest vibrating through me. "Yeah, shit is right." His voice is a low purr that stirs something inside me all over again.

He shifts beneath me, pulling me closer until there"s no space left between us. His arms are like steel bands, yet they cradle me with a tenderness that belies their strength. Wrapped up in Bronx, I feel small, cherished, and oddly powerful all at once.

"Never knew it could be like this," I murmur against his salt-and-pepper beard, inhaling the scent of him—cigarette smoke and motor oil, mixed with the heady essence of male and sex. It"s intoxicating, addictive. I"m getting drunk on Bronx, and I don"t ever want to sober up.

"Me neither, London." He tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet those deep brown eyes that seem to see right into my soul. "You"re something else, you know that?"

"I'm yours," I reply, my voice husky with the remnants of desire.

His rough thumb brushes over my cheek, wiping away a sheen of sweat or maybe a tear—I can"t tell anymore. Emotions swirl like the dust trails we leave behind on those endless highways. But for now, we"re parked, stationary in a world that doesn"t stop spinning, and I savor this quiet center with him.

"Get some sleep, baby girl," he whispers, kissing my forehead gently. The endearment sends a warm glow through me, more intimate than any carnal act we"ve shared.

"Stay with me," I plead, not ready to let go of this moment, of him.

"Always," he promises, and I believe him. With Bronx, I might just have found my anchor in the relentless chaos of life on the run. And as his breathing evens out, signaling his drift into sleep, I realize that for the first time in a long while, I feel truly, deeply safe.

I close my eyes, letting the rhythm of his heartbeat lull me toward dreams filled with endless highways, the roar of Ol" Faithful"s engine, and the man whose arms I never want to leave.