Bad boy Billy knows what he wants, but is willing to use what it takes to make an older woman Belle his- even romance. And once she's his, as far as he is concerned, she will be his forever. But southern bell Belle, thinks this is just a summer fling and on top of that has reservations because her biker is younger!
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BELLE: Steamy Georgia Days & Nights
I leaned on the counter in the window of my food truck. I didn't have to look down to know I'd busted through my plaid western shirt. The plight of a thirty-six D in a medium-size world. If it fit my waist, it was tight on my bust and vice versa.
A head popped around the corner of my window. "Darlin' you look good enough to eat today." The workers at the factory I fed on Tuesday were now on the loose and hungry. He got a quick look at my breasts squashed together between my arms before I stood up. 'Whoa," he said waggling his eyebrows.
"Knock it off Woody," I said grinning and moving behind the grill. "You having a burger?" I said while tossing a few balls of my hand-ground meat on the flat top.
"Yeah yeah, the usual...." He looked at the day's menu propped against the truck. "Oh, you got that durn hummingbird cake today! Dagnabit I almost missed it! Good thing I got here early... I'll have me a piece o'that for sure."
Burger done perfectly medium rare. First came the peanut butter, crisscrossed with bacon and topped it with homemade sweet relish. I handed it out the window along with a plastic-wrapped piece of the ever popular hummingbird.
And so it went, for the remainder of their lunch hours. I've been scheduled here once a week for the last year. It was a huge textile mill and lucky for me the lunchtimes were staggered so I could easily keep up.
Summer in the south meant boob sweat and a river trickled between the girls nearly constantly. A cotton sports bra helped some but my shirt was still plastered to me. Georgia summer heat wasn't for sissies and it was hotter than a two-dollar pistol today.
"Belle, when you and me gonna run away together?"
"When you're old enough to shave," I quipped back.
Knowing his usual, I tossed his burger on the grill and gave him the last piece of cake, glad that I made three this time.
"Aw c'mon Belle. Who cares about age? So you're older than me, big freakin' deal." I rolled my eyes having had this conversation many times before. Billy was a big tease and we tormented each other since we met. He was dark-haired, fair skin with a build of a man that put in a lot of gym time, but I knew for a fact it was his job that created that body.
He looked inside the truck to see my fans still weren't working. It wasn't as though I couldn't fix them. It was just by the time I got home, cleaned the truck, and prepared for the next day I ran out of time. "How about I come by and finally get those fans fixed for you?"
"I reckon that'd be just about perfect, Billy." He flashed me a grin, grabbed his burger with hot pepper cheese and my special spicy relish.
Lawdy but that boy sure can get my britches steamed, but he was thirty to my fifty-two. Never too old to fantasize though, I thought.
I closed up the truck and headed home. My late husband bought this acreage and intended to farm, but he only got as far as a few pigs and goats before he was taken. I had the pigs butchered into country sausage for the truck, sold the goat, and bought chickens for eggs. I got enough daily from the girls to use in the truck and extra to trade for produce that I would include on the next day's menu.
I was scheduled six days a week, and it could have been seven if I didn't put my cowboy-booted foot down for a day off. I could afford to cut back another day, but all my stops were longstanding and I wouldn't know who to cut. Besides that, I'd feel downright terrible doing it. All of them were hardworking guys and gals, but one day that I sold at the local shopping plaza. I enjoyed that because I saw so many neighbors and townspeople.
I locked the door behind me and immediately had my plaid snap cowboy shirt and bra off and stood under the ceiling fan letting the air wash over my damp skin. I pulled my cowboy boots off and parked them by the door, dropped my frayed jean shorts and stepped into the cool shower.
I usually toted everything into the house from the truck first but with Billy coming by, I thought it best to get cleaned up a bit. And none too soon because I no more than fluffed my wet dishwater blonde hair and his motorcycle roared in. I quickly pulled on a tank top and shorts.
I swear those baby blues and long black eyelashes were going to be my undoing, I thought to myself. "Hey, Billy," I said, playing it cool.
"Not as good as your food, but thought you might be tired of cooking." He held out a bag from the best Italian place around.
"How'd you know that place is a favorite of mine! I'll get us a beer." I came back out and he had two meatball sandwiches nicely arranged on the picnic table. "You're a mind reader, Billy."
"Nah, if I was that I'd know how to get you to go out with me. How many years it been now Belle? When you going to give me a break?" He had stopped eating, waiting for an answer.
I picked at the bun trying to think of a reason other than I was too old for him. That was a tired argument that wasn't going to fly anymore. He took my hand and rubbed his thumb over my fingers. A little spark always went through me at his touch.
"You know why Billy. I've told you. I'm too old for you."
"Bullshit." I pulled my hand back and began to nibble at my sandwich, not as hungry anymore. "I'm not giving up darlin'. Just throwin' that on the table right now. So be prepared. I get what I want, Belle."
Knowing I'd give in if I looked into his eyes, I got up, tossed the empty containers out, and followed him into the food truck. I had three fans for air circulation and none worked. They really just blew the sweltering Georgia summer air anyhow, but it was something.
The truck was small and not meant for two. In the same place anyhow. "Don't run away Belle, I'm going to need some help."
Being right in front of me I couldn't help but notice how the tight white t-shirt clung to his muscles. As he worked overhead, I was mesmerized by how they flexed. His t-shirt had pulled out of his jeans and I got a glimpse of his flat stomach, a teaser of black hair that arrowed into his jeans.
"Earth to Belle, wake up," he said, annoyed. "I need you to hold this." He was looking at me and I flustered at getting caught ogling him.
I reached up and held the fan while he worked. Face to face and he was crowding me. On purpose. The edge of the counter was against my lower back, his chest pushed into my tits and when he turned to reach for a screwdriver his knee pushed between my legs. The action of him tightening the screws kept rubbing his chest on mine until my nipples hardened, poked through my tank and rubbed on his chest.
He lowered his arms while I was still holding the fan and put his hands on my waist.
"When you gonna gimme some sugar, Belle," his lips so close they brushed my lips when he talked.
"Can I quit holding this now?" I asked, finally on to his game. He ran his hands up my sides from my waist to my hands and lowered them to his shoulders. My fingers automatically flexed into the hard muscles.
"Now isn't this better?" he whispered in my ear pressing into me. I shuddered and got wetter.
I felt the hardness of his cock through his jeans. He kissed from my ear down my neck and I sighed. His lips pressed against mine, his tongue teased, wanting in. He wove his fingers through my hair to hold my head while he tipped his head and took the kiss deeper. His tongue dipped in, circling my lips and I sucked it back in. He moaned. His hand was splayed on my side, his thumb on the outer curve of my breast. He pulled back and gazed into my eyes and sighed.
"I knew your mouth would taste as sweet as your shoo-fly pie," he whispered and I smiled. I had enough of a participant that he now knew my objections were pretty lame.
"We uh-," I cleared my throat. "We should get to the other fans." He nodded and after a hesitation moved back.
I was busy as a cat on a hot tin roof that week and tomorrow I'd be back to see Billy again. When I was set up at the shopping center this week, I accepted a date with a fellow down the road I'd known for a long time. Mostly as a distraction, I suppose.
