She looks like trouble the second she walks in. Hell, if this was any other story, I might say some shit like “she looks like she doesn’t belong in a dive like this” or “she looks like a little lost lamb in a den of wolves.”

…But yeah, this girl? Not even fucking close. She walks right in like she’s the toughest motherfucker in a room full of tough motherfuckers. She’s all sass and attitude, from her wild red hair, to those green eyes flashing emerald fire across the whole damn bar. Those pillow-soft lips that look like they might just be the tastiest, sweetest kiss in the world or the filthiest mouth this side of a truck stop.

That vintage Lynyrd Skynyrd concert t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off and the waist tied up in a knot, giving just the briefest flash of the creamy, tantalizing skin of her hips and navel. Those ripped jeans that look like they were painted on by a goddamn master artisan. Those boots? Fuck me. I take one look at those things and all I want is her in my bed just wearing those boots — preferably up in the air while she screams for more.

She’s got this smug little smile on her face, like she knows damn well every hard-ass in the room in scoping her out, or mentally ripping her clothes off. That look says she knows all this and it doesn’t faze her one bit.

She sidles right up to the bar about four seats down from me and orders a tequila, straight up. One of the old-boy bubbas at the bar tries dropping some line that’s about as smooth as sandpaper on her. I don’t hear what she says over the Waylon Jennings record blasting over the speakers, but the look on his face says it all — going white and nodding as he mumbles some lame-ass apology and actually gets up and leaves.

The red-haired firebrand knocks back the shot, slams the empty glass on the bar and winks at the bartender as she orders another.

…Like I said, she looks like trouble. The only problem here?

I fuckin’ like trouble.

A lot.

I always have — drawn to it like a moth to flame. And her? Shit, she’s the brightest flame I ever did see. And instantly, I want her. No, not “want” like the rest of these fucking dipshits in this shitty little roadside dive want her. I want all of her. I want to possess her, and claim her. I want her as mine for always, and all that runs through my head in literally one second of her walking into the bar. By the time she’s telling bubba to go fuck himself and slamming back her second tequila?

Well, I just might be in love.

She’s getting chatted up by some other hillbilly douchebag when bubba comes waltzing back into the bar, and this time, he’s brought three friends. My muscles tense, and without even thinking, I knock back the rest of my whiskey. The fire burns down my throat, getting the wild going inside of me like it tends to do. My brother Colton would tell me to sit the fuck down — that this isn’t my fight and that if I keep going through life looking for trouble, I’m gonna damn well find it.

But Colton ain’t here right now. And like I said — me and trouble have a thing goin’.  Me and trouble go together like bread and butter. And this red-haired, sexy as all fuck little wildcat drinking tequila ten feet from me? Well, that’s something I want a slice of in a fierce way.

The big asshole she told off looks ticked as he marches over and taps her on the shoulder. She turns, smiles, and tells him get lost.

I grin, but bubba doesn’t. Neither do his buddies.

“How about a little fuckin’ respect, huh?”

“How about a breath mint?”

I’m grinning, but I’m also curling my hands into fists. I’m also tensing every muscle in my body. This little hellcat looks like she can handle her shit, but three on one doesn’t exactly seem fair. And call me old fashioned, but something about a man threatening to hit a girl makes me want to put him in a fuckin’ hole in the ground.

“Listen, bitch—”

He puts his hand on her arm. Yeah, that’s where my breaking point is. I lunge, but sure enough, it’s her breaking point too. She winds back and sends a haymaker right into bubba’s face before I can even reach them. The greasy bastard wails, clutching as his shattered nose as he goes tumbling back. I change course, and instead of him, I launch myself right at the closer of his three buddies.

The asshole’s already reaching for a knife in his belt when I catch him with a fist right to the gut, doubling him over and knocking the wind out of him. I follow through with a knee to the face, shoving him out of the way before going for friend number two. The girl looks surprised, but there’s that grin on her perfect pink lips — that fire in her eyes as she winks at me, ducks a swing from friend number three, and then swipes his leg out from under him.

Yeah, now we got ourselves a good ol’ fashioned bar brawl. At some point, my back is to hers — me dodging punches and taking a few from two of ‘em while she beats the snot out of a third. The one I caught with a knee to the face is still out cold, which drops the odds a little more in our favor, but shit if it isn’t fun as hell fighting from behind like this. I can feel her body press to my back, her ass against me, her cute little grunts as she blocks a hit and lays one out right into what sounds like a gut.

And then, in what either feels like an hour or half a second, the whole thing is over. We’re both panting, and maybe nursing a few hits that’ll be some nice bruises come tomorrow. But the four dipshits who came at her are laid up on the floor.

“That’ll do it,” Mitch, the grizzled old bartender mutters, racking a round into his ancient looking shotgun and nodding at the guys on the ground. “You boys be on your way now, hear?”

I watch them mutter and pick their own sorry asses up and head on out before slowly, I turn. I turn, I lock eyes with her, and instantly, something inside of me fucking roars. It feels like a beast trying to tear its way out of a cage — a wildfire that starts with a spark and suddenly ignites the whole damn county.

A wrecking ball that lays me the fuck out.

“Thanks for the help, cowboy,” she says quietly, biting her bottom lip in a way that gets my blood pumping like fire and my cock throbbing hard as steel in my jeans.

“Anytime, trouble.”

She snorts. “That what I am?”

“Yep.”

“Think I could still buy you a drink?”

“Only if I can buy you one first.”

She blushes, those eyes sparking green fire as heat blooms over her face. “This might be a bad idea.”

“This is definitely a bad idea,” I growl, moving closer to her as I nod at Mitch and hold up two fingers. Two tequila shots slide out of nowhere, and she and I raise them up together, clinking glasses, our eyes never pulling away from each other.

“Cheers.”

“And what exactly are we cheersing?”

I shrug. “To trouble.”

She grins. “To bad decisions.”

I chuckle. “That what I am?”

“Oh, most certainly,” she whispers before she winks and knocks back her shot. Mine follows, and then there’s two more coming out of nowhere.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

She winks. “I thought it was trouble?”

“Trouble it is then,” I growl quietly, knocking back another shot. The music changes to a slower number — Dolly Parton’s “Head Over High Heels.” My hand slides over her waist, right across the top of her jeans. Shit, I don’t even think before it moves on its own, but it’s like I can’t fucking stand going another second and not touching her. I half expected her to slap me, but the hit never comes. She only swallows thickly, her cheeks blooming pink as that bottom lip of hers catches between her teeth.

My hand just keeps on sliding, until I’ve scooped her right against me.

“And we’ll just keep calling you bad decisions, now won’t we?” she whispers.

“Darlin’, you can go ahead and call me whatever you want,” I growl.

Mitch throws us two more tequilas, and those go down even easier. At some point, there’s two more, and then two more after that. We’re dancing to Johnny Cash at some point. She’s laughing and spinning in my arms, and goddamn if it ain’t the most amazing sound I’ve ever heard.

At some point she decides she wants to see the stars, and then we’re out the door and tumbling into the night. I pull her to me, cupping her chin as I move in, and when she moans softly, I go ahead and crush my lips to hers.

…I was right. She tastes like the sweetest kiss in the world.

She moans into me, her body arching into mine. My hand’s barely left her waist since the second it landed there. But now, it slides down to cup that sweet little apple ass through her jeans. I groan into her, pulling her up into me, her legs going right around my waist as we stumble across the back parking lot towards my pickup.

The tailgate slams down, I slam her against that, and then all bets are off. Clothes rip away like they’re made of paper, and I’m pushing her up into the back of the truck bed, my mouth all over her as her moans drip through my ears. She cries out when I hook her legs over my shoulders and kiss and bite my way down her thighs. And when I pull those soaked little panties to the side and drag my tongue over her slick, sweet, pretty little pussy, she moans into the night sky.

I growl into her, shoving those panties out of the way as I push my tongue deeper. I wrap my lips around her aching clit, batting it with my tongue as she writhes and moans for me, her fingers clawing at my arms. She yanks my hat off and puts it on her own head, grinning down at me before I swirl my tongue around her clit and make her scream all over again.

She comes hard and fast against my mouth, her sweet honey coating my tongue and dripping down my chin as I groan into her. My cock is hard enough to drive nails as I kick my jeans away, sliding up between her legs. Her small hands wrap around me, and her jaw drops, her eyes going wide in the moonlight as she coos softly.

“Oh fuck,” she moans, stroking my big cock and panting as I spread her legs around my waist. I ease in, teasing her tight little cunt with my throbbing, pulsing cock — adrenaline and tequila roaring through my veins as the need to claim her, and make her all mine thunders through my head.

“This way,” she gasps suddenly, biting her lip mischievously at me as she pulls away and flips over. She gets on her knees, wriggling that tight little ass at me and turning to wink at me over her shoulder.

Challenge heard.

I line up, sliding my swollen head up and down her tight lips, leaking precum all over her pussy as I groan. My muscles coil, my hands tighten on her ass, and slowly, I push inside.

She cries out, arching her back and whimpering in pleasure as I slide my fat cock all the way inside — pushing deeper and deeper until every single thick inch of me is buried in that tight, velvety little pink heaven between her legs. Her sweet little pussy grips me like nothing I’ve ever even imagined, squeezing me like she’s trying to milk the cum right out of me.

Greedy girl.

I pull back, groaning at the feel of her lips just teasing and kissing at my head before I drive all the way back inside. My gorgeous, fire-haired little slice of trouble moans wildly, pushing back to meet my thrusts, clawing at the bed of the truck under us as we start to flat-out fuck.

Hard. Fast. Wetly — our bodies crashing together again and again. I watch my glistening, throbbing cock drive deep inside that hot little cunt of hers, my hands gripping her ass tight as I give her every inch again and again. I pull back, growling as I slap her pert little ass, making her scream in pleasure and hiss at me to do it again.

And who am I to say no to a lady?

I slap that ass again, and again, fucking her hard and deep and fast — I fuck her like there’s a primal urge in me to claim her. To empty my fucking balls inside of her and breed her like she’s the last woman on earth.

At some point, she screams, the orgasm rippling through her, her whole body arching as it slams through her. I grit my teeth, holding on for dear life.

…Cause I’m not done with her yet, that’s for damn sure.

I pull her down with me as I ease back, so that she’s straddling me as I lay back on truck bed. She moans, arching her back and rolling her hips, making that tight little pussy slide up and down on my rock-hard cock. She turns, keeping me buried to the hilt inside of her as she spins on top of me until she’s facing me.

She starts slowly, just rolling her hips and teasing me. Her hands slide up her body, cupping her own breasts and toying with her pale, pink nipples. She rides me, easing that tight little pussy up and down every inch of my big dick, my cum boiling in my balls. My hands grip her hips as she bounces on me, that wild red hair cascading down her shoulders with my hat still perched on her head.

My sexy little cowgirl, riding my thick cock like she can’t get enough of it

“Bounce on that cock, darlin’,” I growl, my hands tightening on her sides, my hips raising up to thrust deep inside. She cries out, riding harder, and faster, that slick little cunt dripping all over my balls as she rides me.

“Ride that fat cock, baby girl,” I hiss. “Ride me like a good girl, and then I want to feel you come again for me. I want you to come all over that big dick, cowgirl. I want you ride that cock until that pretty little pussy drips your sweet girl cum all over me. I want you dripping off my balls when I fuckin’ empty them inside of you. I want you screaming for more when I give you every drop of my cum.”

My hand slaps her ass. Once, twice, three times, and suddenly, it’s like pulling a trigger.

Trouble explodes on top of me. She throws her head back, my hat toppling off of her as her wild red hair blazes out around her gorgeous face like fire as she screams into the sky. I groan, feeling her slick, tight velvety little cunt grip me tighter than ever. And it’s all it takes to send me over the edge.

I roar, driving up into her as my balls pull tight. Thick, hot ropes of my cum jet into her, my whole world melting around me as I just keep thrusting and keep coming. She moans around me, riding me right through both of our orgasms until she collapses on top of me.

“I knew you were a bad idea,” she murmurs, her lips brushing mine, those sharp green eyes blazing into my gray ones.

“You had trouble written all over you, darlin,” I growl, just before our lips crash together again.

At some point, we pass out, and when I open my eyes, it’s just barely dawn over the horizon. The parking lot of Mitch’s dive bar is empty, the two of us wrapped up in a blanket and in each other in the back of my truck. She stirs, blinking awake as she turns and grimaces at the light.

“I have to go.”

Fuck.

I’m a big boy, and this ain’t my first one-night rodeo. But damn does hearing those words suddenly cut deep. Because I don’t want her to leave. Not fucking ever. I want her right here, her legs around my waist and her head resting on my chest, always.

But, I know what this is, and I know why it can’t be what I want it to be.

…Besides, it’s morning. And I’ve got a busy day. Meth-lab robberies have a way of taking up your whole goddamn day, you know.

“Still not gonna tell me your name, huh?”

She grins, biting her lip as she yanks her jeans on and shakes her head.

“Isn’t it more fun without it?”

No.

She dresses, and my mood sours more with every piece of clothing she puts back on — with every part of that gorgeous little body she covers back up.

“Thanks, cowboy,” she whispers. Her look hardens for a second, her eyes blazing right into mine. Her lips open, like she’s going to say something — like she’s going to say “just kidding, I’ll stay forever.” But I know that shit’s all in my head. And her lips close again without saying anything anyways.

“Thanks,” she whispers again, kissing me fiercely before she plops my hat back on my head, knocking the brim down so it covers my eyes.

I lift it, gritting my teeth as I watch her slide off the back of my truck. She turns, winks at me, and then she’s gone, off across the abandoned parking lot to the shit-heap beater of an old Buick parked across the way. The engine turns over, her tires kick up dirt, and then she’s gone.

I dress sullenly and get into the cab of my truck. I unlock the box under the driver’s seat and pull the double Berettas out. I do a quick check of the clip and safeties before tucking them into my belt. I open the glove compartment and yank out my ski mask.

I check the time.

It’s almost time. I’ve got a little bit of a drive ahead of me, which is good because I’m definitely nursing a hangover from all those fucking tequila shots. Coffee I can get on the way. And then, it’s payday.

Billy-Ray Coleman’s been muscling in on Sugar County with his meth business. I don’t actually give much of a shit about the politics of crime, so this isn’t about Sugar County being Lawson Banner’s territory when it comes to crime. No, this is about doing my homework and figuring out that Billy-Ray’s been keeping most of his profit at his main cook-house, guarded by a bunch of twitchy tweaker meth cooks.

Like I said, today is payday.

I crank the engine, step on the gas, and pull out of the parking lot. Shit, I can still taste her on my tongue. I can still feel her on my skin and under my fingertips.

But I growl, shaking that away. No, now it’s time to go collect my million bucks.

…Even if I’m pretty damn sure I’d give every cent of it up to get my hands on her again.

Yeah, I knew she was trouble the second I saw her. But like I said — I fuckin’ like trouble.

Shit, I might just love trouble.

Shame I’ll never see her again.