Page 17
Story: The Feud
17
FAITH
I t’s my first official shift at Holloway’s the next evening as a full employee, but before I head into the restaurant, April is giving me a good talking to.
“A truck bed? In some random field? Faith, are you for real right now?” April says. “I mean that guy was sexy, yes. And Mont du Marquette does vet their people. But like, come on. I will not have you be the next subject on my favorite serial killer podcast.”
“I know, I know. It’s just that I trust him, okay?!”
“I’m all for you having fun. But maybe this is just a tad extreme? Meeting for a first date with a guy you met once?”
I sigh.
April huffs. “You do realize this is how every Dateline episode starts, right? Girl meets mysterious guy with a hot voice, agrees to meet him in a field, and boom—next thing you know, we’re all lighting candles at your vigil.”
“God, April,” I groan. “You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being realistic . Do you even know his last name? Have you reverse image searched the abs?”
“I’ve thought it all through, okay? I just sent you a screenshot of his number, and I’ve got location sharing on with you, Daphne, and Maya. I’m taking pictures of the truck, the plate, the whole setup. If anything feels weird, I’m out.”
A pause. Then her voice softens—just a little. “Okay… better. Just promise me you won’t drink anything he hands you unless it’s sealed. And if he says he wants to ‘show you something in the woods,’ you run, Faith. Run like your life depends on it. Because it does.”
“Got it. No woods. No drinks. No unmarked white vans.”
“And no unbuckling pants until you hear at least one real-life last name,” she adds.
I laugh. “Okay, okay. I promise.”
“You’re lucky I love you. And if this guy turns out to be a creep? I’m taking that number and handing it over to every woman I know.”
“Which is, like, the whole prayer group and the local PTA.”
“Exactly. Consider it the small-town version of going viral.”
I grin. “Thank you for always being my emergency contact, April.”
“Text me the minute you’re done. And if he’s ugly? I want details.”
“Fair.”
I hang up, and heave a sigh.
Just then, a text comes in from Thor.
Thor: Hey I just want to let you know everything’s a go for tonight…I’ll text you the location soon. Yeah…this is wild lol. But then again, you did say your ultimate fantasy was…steaming up the back of a truck.
Faith: I did. What a coincidence that you’re a truck driver.
I stare at the screen, my thumbs hovering. This whole thing is ridiculous. And thrilling. And definitely not what Sunday School prepared me for.
Faith: Well… good. Because I shaved my legs. Which is kind of a big deal.
Thor: Well I’ll see you and those smooth legs soon.
I’m only working a half-section since it’s my first official night, and by the time Daphne and I are doing our post-shift utensil roll-ups in the back, I’ve already confessed to her about the “official” breakup with Keith.
“So,” she says, twisting a fork into a linen napkin. “How’s it feel? Official freedom. No man, no ring, no five-year plan?”
“I feel…” I pause, thinking. “Weightless. Free. Like I’m walking away from something heavy. But also? Like I might be walking into traffic with a blindfold on.”
“Relatable,” she says. “When I broke up with my first boyfriend, my mom told me I was nuts. Said I was throwing away stability. But deep down, I knew he wasn’t my forever. So I left.”
“Seriously?”
She nods, smiling. “Best decision I ever made. Because a few months later, I met Wendall. Spent the best ten years of my life with him. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real love. And now I’ve got little June, who’s basically his mini-me.”
Her voice softens, and for a second, I see all the depth behind her sass.
“Thank you for sharing that,” I say, genuinely.
She gives me a sly look. “Sooo… is tonight the big night? You finally meeting Thor Thundercock in the flesh?”
I choke on my own laughter. “Daphne!”
“What?” she shrugs. “You showed me the abs. I’m just calling it like I see it.”
I nod, still giggling. “Yes. Tonight.”
She stares at me like I just said I’m going skydiving with a stranger.
“You’re meeting a masked man—whose face you’ve never seen—in a truck, in a field. Girl, are you high?”
“I’m not high! I have met him before. Technically.”
“Technically…at a sex club.”
“Yes.”
Daphne tosses her last roll-up onto the stack. “Well, I made out with Sheldon in the walk-in freezer last Saturday, so who am I to talk?”
My jaw drops. “You didn’t!”
“It was a stressful shift!” she says, batting her lashes.
I shake my head, laughing. “You are the best trainer ever.”
“Thank you. I take great pride in my mentoring skills.”
“But seriously…” she eyes me. “A truck bed? Not even his house?”
“I don’t know where he lives,” I admit. “But honestly? Hooking up in a truck bed with Thor sounds…hot.”
She snorts. “If he’s as hot as that picture, I’d let him ruin me in the middle of Mont du Marquette with a live audience.”
My face flushes with heat. A sudden memory of our creekside phone call hits me—and the way my own hand had mimicked the things he described in that low, velvet voice.
I place my final roll-up on the pile, heart pounding.
“You’re totally thinking about him right now, aren’t you?” Daphne says, catching the glazed look in my eyes.
“Maybe,” I smirk.
Just then, the kitchen doors swing open. Hunter Holloway strides in.
“Hey, Sugar,” Daphne greets him like she owns the place, totally unbothered. It’s not flirty—it’s more like teasing your favorite younger cousin. A rite of passage, maybe. And somehow, it fits her.
Hunter doesn’t say a word. He gives her the faintest smile, then nods at her stack of roll-ups.
I hold up mine too. “I’m done,” I say, bracing for even a glance.
He gives a quick thumbs-up without even looking at me and keeps walking. Straight through the double doors.
“See?” I mutter. “He’s a dick.”
Daphne grins. “He doesn’t play by anyone’s rules. Never has. Come on, I’ll vouch for your roll-ups. Let’s go set the tables.”
As we head to the floor, I glance at her. “Actually… I need one more favor.”
She raises a brow. “What now?”
“I’m telling my daddy I’m staying at your place tonight.”
Daphne bursts out laughing. “So you can sneak off for a late-night truck-bed tryst with the faceless wonder. You’re scandalous.”
I blush. “It sounds worse when you say it.”
“Oh, it is bad. But I support it. Fully. I will be your alibi.”
I grin, feeling a giddy swirl of nerves. Maybe I am acting like a rebellious teenager.
But this time, it’s not about rebelling.
It’s about choosing something. Someone. Me.
Tonight, that something is Thor.
And whatever he’s planning for me in that field.
Every day, I feel it more clearly—how stifled I’d been. How easy it was to let Keith’s expectations become my compass. Or my parents’. How quietly I tucked myself into their ideas of what was best without ever asking what I wanted.
Maybe this isn’t recklessness.
Maybe it’s maturity in its rawest, messiest form. The kind that doesn’t come from doing everything right—but from finally daring to do something wrong.
I’m not throwing out my values. I’m just…making my own bed.
And Thor?
He’s going to show me how to mess it up.
Chills break over my skin.
“You want it, you got it,” Daphne says, giving me a wink as she grabs her purse. “Just promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“That you’ve got me on speed dial in case things go sideways. And you will drop your location the minute you step into that field.”
I roll my eyes, tucking my phone into my bag. “I’ll be fine. I know what I’m getting into.”
She smirks, that sly glint in her eye back in full force. “Do you?”
I open my mouth to argue—and then close it.
Because… she’s not wrong.
My cheeks warm as I think about the limited roster of men I’ve been with. About how “spontaneous” used to mean staying out past eleven.
This?
This is something else entirely.
And ready or not…
I’m going.
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, I’m pulling into a dirt lot on the outskirts of Vansborough, staring at a black semi-truck parked beneath a lone floodlight.
Okay. Maybe Daphne’s not completely wrong. This does have some murder podcast energy.
I park, get out, and climb the steps to the truck’s cab. The door creaks as I open it.
There, resting on the driver’s seat, is a bouquet of bluebonnets and a folded piece of paper that says, Read me.
A smile breaks across my face.
I step inside, close the door behind me, and open the curtain to the back of the truck. It's dark, almost pitch black, so I use the flashlight on my phone to scan the small sleeping area. The bed is freshly made, surprisingly neat, with a folded note and a pen resting on the pillow.
I pick it up and read:
Hi, Goddess.
Thank you for filling out this brief questionnaire. Please complete all steps and check yes or no to the following questions:
Step One:
Are you ready to be mine tonight?
I laugh softly. His handwriting is nearly illegible—like a third grader wrote it while on a bumpy road—but I don’t care.
Beneath the question are three options with little check boxes:
·
No
·
Yes
·
Hell yes
My heart flutters. My hands tremble just slightly.
Is this really happening?
Am I really about to...?
I take a slow breath, then check hell yes and keep reading.
Step Two:
Take off all your clothes. I do mean all. Then, put on the red bra and panties.
Well it’s helpful that it's a scorcher tonight, I grin.
Step Three:
Get on the bed.
Step Four:
Touch yourself. Just for one minute. Imagine what it’s going to be like when I arrive.
Step Five:
Put this blindfold on. Wait for me. It won’t be long now, my little goddess.
Step Six:
Safety. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, stop, or need me to stop—your safe word is:
Milkshake
Yours,
Thor
My body floods with heat.
“Milkshake,” I whisper with a laugh. “Okay.”
I strip off my Holloway’s uniform, folding it neatly out of habit, even though my thoughts are anything but tidy.
Then I slip on the red lingerie.
God. It fits perfectly.
The fabric hugs every curve, like it was chosen just for me.
I ease myself onto the bed, lying back against the pillow. My heart pounds. My skin is tingling.
I press my legs together, trying to quiet the ache, but it only grows.
I imagine the sound of him stepping into the truck, the roughness of his voice, the way his hands might explore me without hesitation.
And I touch myself.
At first, just a few teasing strokes. Then slower, deeper. I circle my clit as my breath hitches. Pleasure builds with every pass.
After a moment, I reach for my phone and open the voice recorder app.
Because maybe—just maybe—I want to give him a preview.
I hit record.
A soft moan escapes my lips as I keep touching, teasing, picturing him. The faceless man in the mask who somehow knows every secret craving I’ve been too scared to admit to anyone else.
By the time I stop, seven and a half minutes have passed.
Oops.
I send the voice message anyway.
Then I sit up, tug the blindfold over my eyes, and bind my wrists loosely with the hair tie—just enough to keep me honest.
My breathing is quick now. My heart pounds against my ribs like it’s trying to escape.
This is real. This is happening.
And I’m ready.
God help me… I’m so ready.
I shift on the bed, feel the cool sheets beneath me, and wait.
Seconds stretch like hours.
Somewhere out there, he’s coming for me.
And when he does?
I’m going to let him ruin me.
Even though I’ve never seen his face.
Does that make me bad?
Maybe.
Or maybe it just means I’m about to have the hottest night of my life.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17 (Reading here)
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43