Fuck
Leto Armitage
FUCK
Leto Armitage
All rights reserved
Copyright © 2022 Leto Armitage
Leto Armitage asserts the right to be identified as the author of this work. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission by the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Cover design & desktop publishing, Evalena Styf.
Cover art, Evalena Styf and Appelknekten.
www.evalenastyf.com
eBook edition, Copyright © 2022
Version: 2022-09-25
Praise For FUCK
You see them on the train, the departure lounge, the metro—your eyes meet for a second and you wonder “What if?” We get to watch that fantasy run its steamy course when crabby, good samaritan Ben meets bratty erotica writer Amy outside a car rental office, and what good, unclean fun it is! Believable characters, snappy dialogue and naughty nighttime antics with a sprinkling of sass set this smutty story apart. I loved the perfectly judged mix of fantasy and reality—grounded escapism for grown-ups at its bawdy best.
Fanny Banting, Author
Armitage creates a match made in hell with Ben and Amy. He builds tension throughout a short but all too relatable plot until everything comes to a head. A quirky, heartfelt, and spicy work that leaves the reader wanting for more.
Maria Caiazza, Author
Sometimes in life, deliverance comes not in the shape of a man on a horse, but a friendly face at a local airport. And a couple of brutal orgasms...
Erotica is a genre that, perhaps more than any other, caters to a wide range of, often conflicting, tastes and preferences. It dips into the realm of our deepest desires, and has the power to explore even the most forbidden of fantasies. In that light, you would reasonably expect to find its shelves stacked with cleverly written stories that tease, tempt and titillate their readers. Unfortunately, that’s not the case. The vast majority of written erotica is terribly bland and formulaic. That’s what makes Leto Armitage such an interesting writer. He delights in subverting expectations, and his short stories provide a slice of life told by flawed, funny and fuckable characters we can relate to and root for.
When Amy finds herself stranded at the airport, a total stranger shows up to save the day. Jaded smut consumers already know how this will play out. The damsel in distress is rescued by a knight in shining armour. She bites her lip, he gets horny and, as the title suggests, they fuck. That’s the done-to-death formula, but Armitage doesn’t play that game. He gives us a fiery brat and a bear dom you really shouldn’t poke if you’re not prepared to face the consequences. Meet Amy and Ben, two authors headed for an annual industry non-conference. They have both been fucked by circumstance. They both need rescuing. But who’s going to rescue whom? And is there a happily ever after waiting for this unlikely pair in St Louis?
Evalena Styf, Editor
Dedication
This story is dedicated to everyone who has ever gotten laid and made a friend, at the same time.
Contents
Title Page/Copyright
Praise for FUCK
Dedication
FUCK
Acknowledgements
About the Author
More by Leto Armitage
FUCK
As many times as I have rented cars, I have never understood why it takes so damn long. That is why, while standing in line at the counter, I was checking my Twitter feed to save my sanity. I only saw the tweet because I had subscribed to #authnoncon to see what people were saying about the Author’s Non-Conference I had flown in to St Louis for:
Rachel Regent @rachelregentwriting · 36m
THIS IS BULLSHIT!
My bank can eat my unwashed ass!
#authnoncon
I was curious, so I clicked on her name to see the profile. Rachel Regent #erotica writer was all it said, but there was a link to an Amazon page for buying her stories. It didn’t hurt that the profile pic showed a woman in green garters and panties. Her tweets scrolled down the page:
Rachel Regent @rachelregentwriting · 42m
Trying to get a car but bank has frozen my card, trying to get to #authnoncon
Rachel Regent @rachelregentwriting · 51m
Everything that can go wrong is today! #FML
More followed in that vein, but it was that one that made me pause. I knew the feeling that the universe itself is against you. My back itched at the thought, old scars remembering how they came to be. Before I knew what I was doing, my fingers were typing. “Don’t know if you’re at the local airport but if you need a ride I can help.” Hitting send, I found it was my turn, so I ignored my phone while taking care of the reservation. With the keys in my hand, and instructions on where to find the car, I stepped away from the counter.
Looking at Twitter again, she had replied. “Maybe. I’m at STL. Who are you?”
“Ben, like it says in my profile. At STL too, about to head out. If you want a ride I need to know.”
The reply was quick. “Love to share your cab if you don’t mind.”
About thirty feet away, I saw a woman with black and teal luggage. She was leaning against the wall, looking at her phone. Her hair was dirty blonde and shoulder length, and she had that same lean build as the woman in the Twitter bio. The way she was standing, I only saw a little of her face, but what was there seemed right. She was of average height with narrow hips, and she was dressed in tight jeans and a button-up shirt. She looked up, scanning the room, and I nodded when her eyes landed on me. She stared back down at her phone and seconds later a message popped up on mine.
“Is that you with the beard and long sleeve flannel?”
“Yep.” I was already walking toward her when I hit enter, and she was still looking at her phone when I put my hand out. “Ben.”
“Uh, Rachel.” She smiled and shook my hand hesitantly. She wasn’t short, but at 6’2” I was towering over her. She looked like she was in her early twenties, which would make me about twice her age. She also looked like she wanted to take a step back, but she had her back against a wall. I took a step aside to be polite and maybe not so intimidating.
“I don’t take cabs. I have a car rental though,” I said, and her smile disappeared. She was just looking at me. I figured the ball was in her court, but she didn’t seem to know what to say. “Look, it’s nearly five and I didn’t have lunch,” I added. “It’s a forty-minute drive to the hotel, and I want to eat something, so I gotta get moving. If you want a ride you’re welcome to come, but you’ll end up eating with me too. If not, that’s fine, but I want to move out.”
“Uh,” she finally said, looking at me. “I’m not ungrateful or anything, but I don’t know you…”
“Hey, I get it,” I shrugged and started to turn. “It’s cool, I’ll see you around the con.”
“NO! No, no, I could really use the lift. My bank is being a dick. Someone stole my card info and I’ve changed phone numbers, but forgot to update it so they can’t text me for verification and it’s all just a mess and I’m tired so I do, like really do, appreciate your offer, but I don’t know you and...” She was turning a little pink, as much from pride as frustration by the looks of it. I liked the set of her eyes.
“Ah, and you don’t want to get raped, murdered and body dumped on your way to the hotel?”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded.
“Look...” I pulled out my driver’s license and held it up to my face. “Snap a pic and send it to a friend. If I rape, murder, and rape you again, the police will at least know how to find me.”
“Rape again? After the murder?” She held up her phone and snapped a picture. “Wouldn’t that be necrophilia?” she said, already sending it to someone.