Vengeful Saviors (Otis Driftwood x OFC)

Chapter 3

"These God damn roads," I hissed. "My fuckin' ribcage is screamin' right now. My pussy feels like..." Blowing out a puff of air, I rested my head on the back of the seat.

Grimacing, Otis grabbed a blue and white flannel shirt out of the back window and bunched it up in his lap.

"The best thing fer ya ta do is ta lay on yer injured side," he recommended. "Doing that'll restrict movement and give yer ribs support. You'll also be able ta breathe easier on yer uninjured side. Deep breathin' is necessary or ya could develop pneumonia. You don't want that shit; especially with fucked up ribs."

"No, that would fuckin' suck," I agreed.

"Yes, it would. You can put yer head in my lap. Might be able ta get some good rest that way, too, which is imperative fer the healin' process."

"But if I do that, I'll be layin' on the fucked up side o' my head."

"That's why I got the flannel. It's soft, like gauze or a pillow," Otis explained.

I scanned his lap, which was super inviting. "That shirt yers?"

"Yes." There was that sexy little lisp of his again. Something suddenly seemed to occur to him, as his whole face morphed from calm to concerned. "Cutter, who the fuck is runnin' the God damn museum?? You didn't just leave town without-"

"Yer just now thinkin' 'bout that?" Cutter chuckled. "Chill the fuck out, son. Revelli's got the keys. Stucky's hangin' 'round, too. He'll keep Revelli's ass in check."

"I fuckin' hope so! I got some projects in the back. If they get fucked up-"

"They ain't gonna get fucked up. It's my business. I got everythin' under control. Gloria's got the register. We might not be t'gether no more, but she's the only one I trust ta run it."

"You run a museum? Who's Gloria?" I blurted.

"His baby's mama. My adoptive mama," Otis replied, smirking. "It's a roadside attraction and gas station called Captain Spaulding's Museum of Monsters and Mayhem. There's even a murder ride."

I raised an eyebrow. "Huh, sounds interesting."

"Folks just love my fried chicken," Cutter bragged.

I remembered Cutter telling me he had a daughter when Otis was checking between my legs. "Oh, so when Cutter mentioned he had a kid...that's yer sister?"

"Yeah," they said together.

"Her name's Angel Baby. I got two brothers, too," Otis added. "RJ and Tiny."

"I have a family, but they hate me," I said forlornly. "It's why I b'came a whore in the first place. I wanted ta get away from 'em. Prostitution was a quick way ta make money and leave 'em b'hind." Another bump in the road made my yelp and grit my teeth.

"Sorry, darlin'," Cutter mumbled. "They're unavoidable."

Otis rubbed his thigh. "C'mon, mama. Lay down."

Forgetting our conversation, I did so carefully and bent my knees. I was slightly nauseous from the pain in my ribs. We had brought along the small trash can from my bathroom, so I moved it from my side of the vehicle to between Otis's feet.

"Ya alright?" he asked.

"Yeah. Just in case."

Otis grunted and repositioned his hips. Opening his thighs further made it so my head wasn't so elevated, which was nice. However, his natural bulge pressed against the back of my head. He wasn't hard by any means, but I could tell he was well endowed. I wasn't surprised. Tall, lanky men like him usually had big cocks.