Military Romance Collection: Contemporary Soldier Alpha Male Romance (29 page)

She met him at her apartment and when she invited him up, he turned the engine off on his bike. His hands were far touchier on the way to her apartment, cupping her bottom from behind. She giggled and tried to get away from his mind-shattering touch. “I’ve thought about touching you all day. I almost went and got you earlier, but I knew you were probably in school.”

“Yeah well I woke up at noon, so I missed my test and my shift at Smashed.”

“You have another job other than the bar and school?”

She nodded and scratched an itchy spot on her upper arm as she poured herself a glass. Castor noticed that her hands were shaking and asked her what was wrong.

Carrie wouldn’t say anything, not wanting to relive it or see his reaction to her what Mr. Stone had done. Carrie still wasn’t sure what was going on with them and the last thing she wanted to do was scare him away with drama. “It’s nothing. I tried to talk to my Professor about retaking a test…”

She noticed him eying her and she looked down at the beginnings of a dark bruise coming up on her arm where the man had grabbed her. Her fair skin held no secrets, every touch documented.  Carrie covered it back up real quick with her hand, not wanting to have the conversation they were about to have. “What is this Carrie? I didn’t do this, did I? I know I was really excited, but I don’t remember being that rough. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not from you Castor. It was perfect with you.” She tried to assure him, her head moving towards him for a kiss to assuage his mind.

His dark eyes narrowed and she took a step back from the anger in his eyes. “Well than who put their hands on you like this. It is fresh, less than a day, so who?”

Carrie was struggling with what to say to him. Finally she just said it quickly and watched the anger turn into rage. Before she could say anything more, he told her he would be back. Castor had a look that made her think twice about everything she had thought about him. Then the man was gone and she was left wondering what she had just done.

***

“He will not mess with you or anyone else again. This I promise you.”

Carrie could see the specks of blood on his shirt and she almost asked what happened, but she realized then that she really didn’t want to know. Touching his bloodied knuckles, she pulled him into the kitchen and cleaned his small cuts in the sink. He had apparently punched the man enough to lose a large bit of the skin on his knuckles. What else he did, she was only going to guess.

Castor let her fuss after him for a few moments and then covered the hand before he grabbed her up and kissed her. “I don’t want you to have to deal with all of this. Why don’t you take some time off and come ride with me full time?”

It was said so offhandedly and if she had read between the lines as she was supposed to, he was asking for more than just a fling. Could he really want her as much as she wanted him? Was the feeling she had inside of her, so quickly after meeting him, reciprocated?

Carrie didn’t answer, but instead grabbed his hand and moved him to the living room. She removed his clothing slowly, taking in the new marks that had resulted from her conflict. Kissing them softly, she moved back to his pants and pulled them down slowly. She teased the tip with her tongue and almost engulfed the head, but stopped and looked up at him. There was a desperate need in his eyes and her panties flooded with the look.

Standing up, Carrie pushed him down onto the couch. “I have not properly ridden you yet Castor.”

His eyes looked black as she started to pull her clothes off slowly. She slapped away hands that tried to sidetrack her. She got her shirt off, before he was pulling her down onto his lap. The skirt pushed to her waist and Carrie heard her panties rip as he pulled them to the side roughly. “Naughty boy.”

She kissed him and moved his hands back with hers. She was making it clear that she did not want him to move. It was her turn to take control and when she finally positioned him with a roll of her hips, they both groaned with the penetration. Carrie could feel herself opening to him and her own readiness slide her down fully on top of him. Her inside clenched him and Castor’s hands went to her hips.

“Let me.” Carrie pushed her tits into his face, distracting him from thrusting forward. She lifted up slowly, clenching the length as it pulled out, before slamming back down onto him. It took her breath away, her eyes closing to the pleasure derived. “Oh fuck.”

She was losing her senses and all she could do was clamp down on him as more and more pushed inside. Castor’s hips rose slowly and she ground against his penetration. Every inch that could push in did and she wanted more. Her body moved slowly up and down on him, the friction and pull brought her to her brink in less than a minute. It was quick and took her breath away. Her movement became slower as each move brought her closer.

Castor attached to one of her nipples and started to suckle, his own hands pushing her down harder. The added stimulation was all she needed, too much to not explode into a thousand little pieces. He had taken over again, his length thrusting upwards as he held her just above him. Watching his cock disappear again and again, Carrie squirted her pleasure out with each thrust down.

“Are you mine Carrie?”

Her eyes opened, but were glazed and hooded. Another wave of pleasure went through her and she closed them again to the bliss. Her arms weaved to his neck, holding on as his hips pushed faster. “Castor please.”

“Stand up.”

Carrie whimpered and started to get off of the couch. “No right here.”

She did as he asked, standing above him on the couch. Carrie eyed the sticky hard cock underneath her, while Castor sat back and urged her forward. It wasn’t hard to see what he wanted and she moved towards his hungry mouth. Her pussy dripped with her essence and he needed a taste. His tongue came out to take his first taste and he growled with it. Carrie made a startled noise and moved her hips forward for more of the beckoning tongue. He was so hot and the tongue pushed her pussy lips open to touch the scalding button within.

Carrie felt vulnerable and off balance. She knew the only thing keeping her in place was the hard grip on her supple ass. The man feasted while she clung to his strong arms. Pulling his mouth away, he told her to sit back down. The raging cock jerked beneath her and he could deny it no longer.

She moved to slow and he pushed her down onto his length. His cock buried deep in seconds and her string of sanity was gone. The more she moved, the deeper he got and the more hysterical she became. It was too much and she pushed back against him. Her core was throbbing and every muscle in her body had contracted hard.

His name was like a mantra on her lips as her insides flooded his shaft. The feel was too much for his battered senses and he too, found his end in that moment. Each convulsion of her insides brought him higher and then he had to pull her off when her tightness became painful. Carrie slid off of him and leaned against his chest, her body curled into his larger one. For such a tough guy, his touch was so gentle, the kiss on the top of her head so meaningful.

Everything that she was so sure of did not seem so concrete and being with him seemed so much more important than classes that would teach her to be an artist. She already had the best muse she could ask for, his very touch like new strings in her soul. Carrie would go with him and live a life she knew would be exciting. As long as Castor was next to her, she could do anything. She didn’t have to answer his question because as he held her against his chest, they both knew.

***

THE END

“So where’s your partner in crime this morning, Ella?” Ahanti asked, pouring steaming coffee into the mug that rested on the counter in front of one of her favorite customers. It was unusual to see the older lady alone. She was generally with her best friend Sofia, a tiny great-grandmother who was barely five foot tall and maybe 90 pounds soaking wet. The two of them had made a tradition of enjoying their morning coffee and pastry at Sweet Nothings, Ahanti’s bakery.

              “You are never going to believe this,” Ella said. She leaned forward, as if she was about to share a secret, but didn’t lower her voice at all. Ella only had one volume setting, and it was loud. “You know those Antique Roadshow people are in town?”

              Ahanti nodded.

              “Well, her Felipe went down there. And they filmed him. He’s going to be on the television.”

              “Big Felipe?” Ahanti asked with a raised eyebrow. That wasn’t something she’d expect from Sofia’s banker son.

              Ella shook her head. “No, Little Felipe.”

              “Oh, boy.” Little Felipe was nothing like his father. Ahanti knew the family had pretty much given up hope that someday he’d have enough ambition to be a slacker. “So what happened?”

              “He had some baseball cards,” Ella explained. “And on one, an old one, the player was black. Like you.”

              Ahanti nodded. “People are really interested in those old Negro League baseball players. That might be worth some money.”

              “That’s what the Antique guy said!” Ella was excited. “He had one of those cards. And it could be worth $10,000!”

              “Wow!” Ahanti said. “Good for Felipe!”

              “Well, you’d think that. But do you know what that malparido said?”

              “What’s that?”

              Ella looked indignant. “He said, “Well, that is good news because my parents have decided they don’t love me anymore and are kicking me out of the house.” Right on camera, he said that.”

              “Oh boy.” Ahanti shook her head. She knew Sofita was not going to appreciate having her family’s business aired like that. “Not that it’s not well past time they made that boy stand on his own two feet, but oh boy.”

              Ella nodded. “He has no sense. He is an idiot. And now Sofita is refusing to come out of her house. She says she is too embarrassed.”

              “Why is she embarrassed?” Ahanti shrugged her shoulders. “Everyone she knows knows exactly how Little Felipe is. This is not news.”

              “But to have him say on television that his parents are putting him on the street…” Ella’s shrug was a masterpiece, communicating all of Sofita’s fears without a single word. “She doesn’t want people thinking they’re that kind of family.”

              “I don’t know a family that wouldn’t be fed up with Felipe at this point,” Ahanti said. “He’s what? Thirty-five?”

              “Thirty seven,” Ella said.

              “I’ll tell you what,” Ahanti said. “I want you to go see Sofita and tell her that I’m making lime tarts tonight.” She waved her finger at the older woman. “And there’s no delivery service for these tarts! If she wants one – and I know she does! – she’s going to have to get her little butt down here tomorrow morning.”

              Ella laughed. “I think that may just do the trick.”

              There was a loud rumble of exhaust outside of Sweet Nothing’s windows and Ella looked up, eyes wide. “Uh oh, Ahanti,” the older woman said. “He’s back again.”

              Ahanti stood up straight and smoothed down her apron. “Don’t you worry, darling. I’ve got this.”

              Sweet Nothing’s front door bells jingled as Laz Romero walked in. He was wearing dirty jeans, a black t-shirt, and a leather vest with a gang patch on the back. His long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. His mirrored sunglasses were pushed up on top of his head, and he was smiling.

              “Good morning, gorgeous!” he said to Ahanti. “How are you this morning?”

              “So far, so good,” she replied. “What can I get for you?”

              “I’m interested in something that’s not on the menu,” Laz said. His brown eyes lingered for a long, uncomfortable moment on Ahanti’s large chest, and then flickered up to meet the bakery owner’s not-amused gaze. “What?”

              “We’ve had this conversation before, Laz,” Ahanti said. “And I haven’t even begun to have enough coffee to deal with this kind of nonsense today.”

              “You’re jumping to conclusions…” the biker protested.

              “Am I?” she replied, one hand on her hip. “Am I really?”

              Laz laughed. “I don’t know why you won’t go out with me,” he said. “I could show you a really good time.” He let his eyes slide over the lush curves of Ahanti’s body. “Seriously.”

              The front door bells jingled again. A couple walked in, clearly tourists. They wore matching plaid shirts and khaki shorts with too many pockets. They took one glance at Laz and Ahanti, turned on their heel and walked right back out again.

              “You’re scaring off my business, Laz,” Ahanti snapped.

              “I am your business,” he countered. “I  need to order three dozen cupcakes. For my kid’s birthday at school.”

              Ahanti took a deep breath and pulled out her order pad. “Okay. What kind of cupcakes?”

              “Birthday cupcakes,” Laz said. “That’s all she said.  And they can’t have no peanuts in them.”

              “Any idea on color or flavor or any of that?” Ahanti asked.

              Laz shook his head. “Not really, no.”

              “How old is your kid?” Ahanti asked, trying to get some idea of what type of cupcakes would work best.

              Laz pulled out his phone.

              “Seriously?” Ahanti said. “You have to check to see how old your kid is?” She laughed. “You want to know why I won’t go out with you? There’s your reason, right there.”

              “Hey, if you had as many kids as I do, you’d have a hard time keeping track too,” Laz replied. His grin was very close to a leer. “When all the ladies want it, who am I to tell them no?”

              “That is bullshit,” Ella said, peering at them from over her coffee. “I have nine children, eleven grandchildren, and four great grandchildren.” She smiled at Ahanti. “And I can tell you each and every one of their birthdays without checking anything.”

              “I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Ahanti said quickly, cutting that recitation off at the pass. She looked at Laz. “When do you need the cupcakes?”

              “Snack time is eleven o’clock,” he replied.

              “Today?” Ahanti shook her head, mentally adding a rush charge to the order. “Nothing like waiting until the last minute, Laz.”

              “No, no, baby.” Laz was looking at his phone. “I need them for eleven o’clock on Wednesday.”

              “Don’t call me baby.” Ahanti turned and started walking toward the kitchen. “I’ll have your cupcakes ready for you Wednesday morning.”

              “But what about what I want now?” Laz said.

              “Is it on the menu?” Ahanti asked, without looking over her shoulder.

              Laz sighed. “Could I please get a banana nut muffin? And a coffee?”

              “To go!” Ella helpfully suggested.

              Laz laughed. “Of course.”

              Ahanti packaged up the banana muffin and poured a cup of to go coffee for Laz. “Milk, no sugar, right?” she asked him.

              “You do care!” he said.

              Ahanti laughed. “You are incorrigible.”

              “How do you think he got all those kids?” Ella quipped.

              The front door bells jingled again. Ahanti looked up to see Anders Egland standing there. She clapped her hands. “My honey man is here!”

              Laz looked at Anders, clearly hostile. The two men were a study in opposites. Where Laz was short and dark, Anders was tall and blond; instead of biker leathers, he had on blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a dusky tan Stetson.  “He’s your honey?”

              “Egland Honey Products,” Anders said, stepping toward the counter and extending a hand to Laz with a big smile. “We’ve got the best hives in the county. Maybe you’ve seen our stand at the farmer’s market?”

              Laz shook Ander’s hand cautiously, clearly trying to figure out what was going on. “You raise bees?”

              “Yup.” Anders grinned. “It’s just like raising cattle, but there’s one big difference.”

              Laz cocked his head. “What’s that?”

              “You ride a much smaller horse.” Anders stepped back as Ahanti handed over Laz’s coffee and muffin.

              “So I’ll see you Wednesday morning?” she said to the biker.

              “Of course,” Laz replied.

              “You’d better be here,” Ahanti said. She didn’t want to get saddled with three dozen birthday cupcakes.

              “Have I ever let you down before?” Laz asked.

              “I’m not going to give you the opportunity to start.” She waved Laz toward the door. “Now shoo. I’ve got work to do.”

              Laz raised the coffee cup to Anders and smiled. “Good meeting you, man.”  Then he left. His motorcycle was loud enough to be heard within the shop. Anders didn’t start talking until Laz’s bike roared away.

              “Somebody needs a new exhaust.”

              “I think he likes it like that,” Ahanti said with a smile. “It makes him even more obnoxious than he would normally be.”

              Anders laughed. “Whatever works.” He pulled a small bottle out of his shirt pocket. “Listen, you know how I’ve been talking about the blended honeys?”

              Ahanti nodded. “I liked that one you did that had the touch of lavender in it.”

              “I know. You’re going to love this.” Anders stepped behind the counter to grab a spoon. He poured a tiny bit of the amber colored honey into it for Ahanti to taste. “Try this.”

              She took the spoon from him and slid it into her mouth. Her brown eyes widened immediately. “What is that? I know the lavender. But what’s the rest of it?”

              Anders beamed. His smile went from ear to ear, and little crinkles of joy formed in the corners of his eyes. “You like it?”

              “Like it?” Ahanti smiled. “Let’s just say you’re not getting out of here with the rest of that bottle. That’s staying here with me.” She licked the spoon again. “That’s gorgeous, whatever it is.”

              “It’s fireweed,” Anders said. “It grows in the Pacific Northwest, in the woods. The bushes get about this tall,” he said, holding his hand out at shoulder height. “They’ve got big spikes of bright pink flowers that the bees just love. I found a guy out there north of Seattle who’s willing to supply me, at least enough to keep working on these blends.” He cocked his head. “Do you think this is something you could use in the shop?”

              “Absolutely,” Ahanti said. “I’d love to do just a basic butter cookie with it first, to see how the flavor shines on its own. And then it’s a matter of finding the complementary taste that really makes it pop.”

              “It’s going to be a little bit more expensive than my usual honey,” Anders said apologetically. “This guy knows what he’s got, and he’s charging accordingly.”

              “I don’t care,” Ahanti said. “I’ll take every drop you’ve got. My customers are going to love this flavor.”

              “I knew there was a reason I came to see you first,” Anders laughed.

              “Is that the only reason?” Ahanti smiled flirtatiously. She liked the big, blond cowboy, even though their conversations had always been strictly professional.

              “Well.” Anders blushed scarlet, a red flush that appeared inside his neckline and travelled all the way to his forehead.  “I wouldn’t say that.”

              Ahanti decided to be merciful and turned away from the moment before Anders got any more uncomfortable. “Can I hook you up with some coffee before you go?”

              “Sure,” Anders said. “Black and strong, please.”

              “Just like you like your women,” Ahanti said with a laugh. “No sugar?”

              Anders shook his head. His blush had faded, but not by much. “I’m sweet enough already.”

              Their fingertips didn’t quite touch when she handed him the cup of coffee, but a glance passed between them that let each of them know the other was thinking about it. There was an awkward moment, and then Ahanti said, “So. Um. Yeah. When will you be bringing me that honey?”

              “Would Wednesday morning work for you?” Anders asked.

              Ahanti pouted. “That long? I was looking forward to playing in the kitchen tonight.”

              “I’ll tell you what,” Anders said. “Why don’t I leave you with this?” He set the bottle he’d drawn the sample from on the counter. “It’ll be enough to get you started while I finish bottling up the rest.”