- Home
- Chloe Lane
Twice Taken: An MFM Romance
Twice Taken: An MFM Romance Read online
Twice Taken
An MFM Romance
Chloe Lane
Contents
Twice Taken
Mailing List
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Want more from Chloe Lane?
About Chloe Lane
Twice Taken
We rescued her. Now it’s time for her to pay her debt.
Addison is on the run from somewhere when her car breaks down two blocks from our shop in the middle of the night. She doesn’t have any choice but to ask us for help.
And there’s no way we could refuse that sweet, innocent woman…not when she happens to be so unbelievably gorgeous that she has both of us falling for her at first sight.
There’s only one problem. She doesn’t have a way to pay us, and we don’t work for free.
I’m caught between a rock and a hard place.
The two tattooed mechanics who come to my rescue in the middle of the night on my very first night in town are not my type. They’re too hard, too rough, too filthy.
Then again, my taste in men is exactly what made me run in the first place.
I don’t have enough money to pay them for fixing my car, and I should hate the fact that there’s only one way out of this. I shouldn’t want their hands on my skin. I shouldn’t want to submit to them.
But I can’t help myself…
Twice Taken: An MFM Romance is is a quick, dirty, steamy standalone MFM romance with two dirty-talking alpha heroes who will have you melting, a heroine who’s head-over-heels, and a sweet-like-candy HEA. If you’re looking for something over the top and molten hot, this is it! As an MFM romance, this story is all about her, so relax and enjoy...
Mailing List
Join my mailing list and get two free short stories in a mini collection called Billionaire Boss! Just click the link below or paste it into your browser and tell me where to send them:
http://list.chloelanewrites.com/exclusive
You’ll also be the first to know when my new titles drop and get access to exclusive subscriber giveaways! See you there!
xoxo Chloe
1
Grace
The beams of my headlights bounce up and down on the pavement ahead of me, as if dancing to the off-tune rhythm of the bumps lining the road, and cutting a path through the sweltering summer night. Loose strands of hair, escaped from the bun I threw it into in my dash to the car, whip around my face from the hot, sticky wind. The windows are all rolled down because the damn air conditioning in this piece of crap car is broken, but that’s the least of my worries right now. Despite the heat, cold shivers of fear trickle down my spine. They ricochet all the way through my arms to my fingertips, and my knuckles are white, clenched around the steering wheel.
I’ve put fifty miles between me and Dale, and it still doesn’t feel like it’s even close to being far enough.
It especially doesn’t feel like it’s far enough away now that the engine is making a strange chugging sound, rattling the entire car. The check engine light glows red next to the gas gauge. I’ve been ignoring it for weeks. Looks like I should have taken it to the shop to be repaired instead of using my last few dollars to buy groceries. Dale, on the other hand, had enough money last month to buy a new Xbox.
I grit my teeth and try not to be sick at the thought of him. What the hell was I doing with a guy like that? And why did I think I had to stay with him?
Because I felt bad, that’s why. I felt sorry for him because his mother died last year, and he was so devastated. How could I leave him to fend for himself after suffering through a loss like that? I’ve been on my own since I graduated high school two years ago. Well—not quite on my own. At the time, Dale seemed like my ticket out of an overcrowded house with a domineering stepfather who seemed to take over the whole place with his presence and never enough money to go around. He sure sold it to me that way. He said we could save up for me to go to school, live together, and be happy.
Instead, he treated me like a maid and spent all his money on stupid shit, while I scrambled to make ends meet.
And then the drinking started. Or should I say, the drinking got worse.
That’s why it’s nearly midnight and I’m speeding down the highway, trying my best to get away from him. When he came home earlier tonight...
A pair of headlights appears suddenly in my rearview mirror, and my entire body tenses and my heart starts pounding. There’s no way it’s Dale. He was too drunk to come after me. He would never have had the strength to climb into his precious truck and chase me across the state to a town I’m sure he’s never heard of, because until tonight, I’d never heard of it either. But I can still feel his calloused hands gripping my shoulders, shaking me so roughly that it seemed to rattle my brain. But on second thought, maybe he would.
The headlights come up fast on my tail, and I hold my breath.
Then it swerves into the other lane, and I can see that it’s not a truck—it’s not Dale, thank God—just a silver SUV with somewhere to go.
Every gauge on the dashboard is pointing somewhere red. I don’t know anything about cars, but I know it’s not good. Please don’t die on me in the middle of the highway, I plead with it silently. I just need to make it to Baker’s Ridge.
I picked Baker’s Ridge randomly off a map I’ve kept taped to the fridge since I moved in with Dale. It used to be a cute reminder of all the things we were going to do together someday, all the places we were going to see, but after a while it became a painful snapshot of where I was stuck, stuck, stuck with Dale.
And for nothing.
He didn’t love me.
He barely even touched me, aside from a few half-hearted attempts when we first got the apartment together. He’d always say he wasn’t feeling it, then he’d disappear for hours on end to his job at the mall. That should have been the first sign. The mall closed at nine, but he’d constantly make up excuses about having to stay late every night to restock the shelves at the game store where he worked the register.
I slam my hands against the steering wheel. I was so stupid.
I whizz past a sign on the edge of the road—Baker’s Ridge, 10 miles, and for the first time since I pulled onto the highway outside of Springfield x hours ago, my heart dislodges from my throat. I might just make it…if this car can hold it together for ten more minutes.
I ease up on the gas, just a little, and the car rattles harder. No, no, no.
I take in a deep breath and let it out as slowly as I can. “I’m sorry I was so rough,” I say to the car in a soothing tone. Then I sit back in the seat and feel like an idiot for talking to a car.
The last few miles tick by, and I’m so close to town I can taste it. I haven’t had enough money for a smartphone…well, ever, so I don’t have directions to the one small family-owned motel in Baker’s Ridge. I just know it’s on the main road. That’s what t
he woman on the phone told me. I have just enough money to stay for a couple of nights, that is if she wasn’t lying about the rate. All I have to do is get through town, and then it’s a couple of miles past the gas station on the right.
I’m so close.
My car rattles as it makes its way through downtown, past several abandoned storefronts and even more shops that are closed for the night, and my engine is so loud I’m worried I’m going to get pulled over. I can’t afford to get a ticket because I’ve got to save every penny I have to pay for the motel.
And some food.
Now that I’m almost at my destination, I can finally feel how hungry I am.
My stomach growls as if on cue.
There’s a 24-hour supermarket right past the downtown, and I swing into the nearly empty parking lot. I’m going to have to be really careful about what I buy, but I know it will be more expensive if I wait to get something out of the motel vending machine or pick something up at the gas station.
I come out ten minutes later with a bag weighed down with potatoes, salt and pepper, eggs, peanut butter, and bread. It’ll be more than enough to get me through the next few days, but the potatoes seem like they weigh a ton.
I set the bag down on the passenger seat beside me and turn the key in the ignition.
The car hesitates.
“No,” I whisper under my breath. I say a silent prayer and turn the key again.
This time, the engine wheezes to life, but it’s a near thing.
A couple more miles. That’s all it needs to go...
I pull out onto the road, willing the car with everything I have to just keep going.
The car doesn’t care. Two blocks past the supermarket, the chugging kicks up a notch, and then another, and everything on the dashboard has now shifted into the emergency zone. I have just enough time to pull over to the curb before there’s a loud bang. It startles me so badly I scream, my hands flying off the steering wheel to cover my mouth.
And then the car goes still.
2
Hunter
I’m wiping the grease off my hands with a rag when the sound of an engine taking its last shitty breath echoes from across the dark street. That makes me perk up because nobody in Baker’s Ridge has any business being out at midnight. There’s nothing to do, unless you’re going to a movie one town over, where the theater actually schedules shows past seven o’clock. I’m only awake because it’s the hottest part of summer and everybody’s air conditioning is broken.
The car I’ve been working on after hours every night this week belongs to one Mrs. Drake, and I’m definitely not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. She’s a much easier woman to deal with first thing in the morning, that is before she’s had all day to stew about whatever’s pissing her off at the time.
The light from the shop floods out onto the sidewalk, but the car isn’t out by our curb. It’s on the other side of the street, snugged up in front of the only drugstore that’s still this close to the center of town.
I squint through the shadows at the car across the street. It’s not one from Baker’s Ridge, and I would know. I’ve fixed just about every car in this place, and I hear all about it when people buy a new car at the dealership fifteen minutes out of town.
What the hell is a stranger doing around here at midnight?
It’s not like there’s much beyond Baker’s Ridge either. Just a national forest and a mountain range. You’d have to be going in the other direction to get anywhere decent.
There’s someone sitting in the front seat, but I can’t see who it is. Maybe it is someone from around here who has just borrowed somebody’s car.
I’m curious.
A door slams, and someone gets out and moves around behind the car.
Come out to the front. Come on...
If I’m going to be working this late, I at least want some perks, and I’m willing to take them in the form of gossip. Not that I have many people to gossip with. Not that I want many people to gossip with. But somebody showing up in town at midnight is going to be big news, and I’m an eyewitness.
After what seems like forever, the person comes around to the passenger side, and I suck in my breath.
It’s a she, and she is fucking gorgeous.
From the dim light being cast from a nearby streetlight, I can tell that she’s petite, her blonde hair thrown up on top of her head in that kind of messy bun that looks stupid as hell on some girls, legs that go for miles. She’s wearing cut-off denim shorts that cup her ass just right. I’d like to get my hands on that. Just the sight of her has my cock tenting my coveralls.
She’s wearing a backpack that looks stuffed to the brim, and she opens the passenger door of the car and pulls out a grocery bag, cradling it awkwardly in her arms.
Then she turns to face in my direction, and I’m a fucking goner.
I’ve never seen a girl so beautiful in my life. Full lips, huge eyes, and a wide-open, innocent expression.
She looks one way, then the other, before she seems to boldly decide something, the set of her jaw exuding determination and grit…and then she turns and starts walking so she’s heading out of town.
That’s the only place that road goes, except for a dive of a motel and a few more stores, but those aren’t for another three miles. And she’s wearing flip-flops.
There’s no way I can let her go.
I don’t know what the hell it is about her—the way her body is so lithe and sweet, or the way her hair is piled up on top of her head in that sexy as fuck bun that bounces a little with every step—but something warm, fierce and strong surges up in my chest and my heart starts beating funny and fast. Her feet would be all cut to shit if she walked anywhere down that road tonight, and I’m not going to let that happen.
I don’t have time to think about it. She’s moving faster than I would think, and by the time I throw down the rag, pull down the door of the garage, and force my key into the lock, she’s already a block and a half down.
It’s late enough that shouting at her is only going to scare the shit out of her, so I hurry down the sidewalk after her. Her legs are nowhere near as long as mine. When I’m half a block behind her, she turns her head in a quick motion like a scared animal, and starts picking up the pace.
“Hey,” I call out, my voice soft. “Hey, I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Screw off,” she shouts into the night, but I see her hesitate. There are only a couple blocks of town left, and after that, it’s just all dark highway.
“You’re walking into the middle of nowhere.”
“I know where I’m going.” It’s hard to make out her words, since she’s shouting them into the air ahead of her, her voice soft and sweet but her tone as hard as she can make it.
Which isn’t very hard.
“Just come talk to me for a second.”
She crosses the street, walking even faster, her shoes slapping against the ground and echoing off the storefronts. “I’m good.”
“You’re not good. There’s nothing down this way for at least three miles, and there’s no sidewalk. Do you have some kind of death wish?”
That gets to her. She whirls around, her mouth pressed into a thin line but her eyes are wide and nervous. I move toward her cautiously, my stride eating up that last half block in no time.
The closer I get to her, the more her lips quiver and part, the expression on her face going pink and soft as my cock grows painfully hard underneath my coveralls.
Because this close, I can see how jaw-droppingly gorgeous she is with her hair tumbling from the messy bun, her big blue eyes catching the dim light from the streetlamp behind us. When she opens her lips to speak, I’m just about bowled over by an image of her kneeling in front of me, those moist lips wrapped around my cock, her sweet body naked for me to run my hands all over in ways that she’ll never forget.
“Who are you?” she says, like the question could save her if I really wished her harm. “What do
you want from me?”
I shove my filthy thoughts out of my mind. “I just want to help you.”
3
Grace
The guy who’s been following me, making my heart beat so fast in my chest I think I might pass out, is ripped and he’s absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous.
The streetlight isn’t very bright in this section of the block, but up close and personal, I don’t need full daylight to tell that he’s got chiseled biceps and thick, muscular legs to go with his tall frame.
He’s also got a bulge at full salute in the front of his mechanic’s uniform that looks absolutely massive.
But he keeps his eyes centered on mine. “I swear, I’m not lying to you. If you keep walking that way, you might run into some creeps out on a late night joyride, but I’m not one of them. The next place after this is a shitty motel three miles down the road, and it’s pitch black all the way.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his dark eyes blazing into mine with a mixture of alarm and concern. “It’s a terrible idea for a girl like you.”
“What does that mean, a girl like me?” A defensive spike of anger shoots through my veins.
He cracks a smile that’s so sexy that I’m instantly wet. I won’t be surprised if the slickness between my legs has gone straight through my panties to the fabric of my jean shorts. But I try my best to keep my guard up. “Petite. Alone,” he says, emphasis on the last word.
The adrenaline from the drive here is seeping out of my veins, and in its place a brutal tiredness is setting in, a heaviness weighing on my shoulders…but not heavy enough to silence the buzz of pure want zinging through my core. Whoever this man is, he’s right. I’m not in a good situation, and I could use a little help.
“What did you say your name was?”
He sticks out his hand. “Hunter Jackson.” I put my hand in his and shake it as confidently as I can, though touching his huge work-calloused hand with my small one makes me feel slight and vulnerable. Like I wouldn’t exactly mind if he scooped me up in his arms right now and carried me to…well, just about anywhere but here.