So Good for Me: Bad Boy Forbidden Love Romance Collection

by Jamie Knight

  After saying our goodbyes to our guests, and the long and tearful hug I gave to an embarrassed yet happy Mark, Neil and I traveled as a married couple by limo to LaGuardia, where we took the red eye to Los Angeles, flying out the next morning to Lihue Airport in Kauai.

  Even as we were getting close to the island, looking out the window, I knew Kauai was the closest thing to paradise I’d ever seen. The blue-green water met golden beaches, and while flying over the island I saw at least one waterfall amidst the lush green forest. Even the airport in paradise was inviting.

  I had stood back and let Neil arrange our transportation, but it turned out Neil’s coach had arranged for a town car to take us to the resort. That was how happy Coach Kramer was about how everything had turned out, and how Neil had rehabilitated his image by becoming a family member. After we checked in, and took the elevator to our suite, Neil opened the door, lifted me up and carried me through the doorway.

  Red rose petals had been placed on the duvet in the shape of a heart, and there was a bottle of champagne, chilling on ice with a plate of fresh fruit on the table. Through the balcony doors, I could hear the waves rhythmically crashing against the shore.

  The weather was beginning to cool now that the sun was setting. I inhaled the fresh air, so unlike that which was in our New Jersey hometown and unfortunately full of pollution from nearby factories.

  We showered, to rinse all the travel germs from us. Then Neil explored my body, tracing my curves with his fingers. Each touch sent shivers through my spine. Still.

  “You are mine,” he whispered, as he pinned my arms up and found the wall of the shower. “Forever.”

  He kissed my open mouth, tasting my tongue, as he pressed me against the wall. Then he lifted me up, effortlessly, so he could be inside me. He slid in me easily, and I felt his hips move again and again, as he thrust his big cock deeper and deeper inside me.

  “Fuck yeah,” he said. “It still feels so good when my big cock is filling up your tight little pussy.”

  “I love it too,” I told him. “It feels amazing.”

  He reached around and played with my clit, rubbing it as he fucked me.

  “I’m gonna cum in your pussy,” he said.

  “Good, because I’m cumming too.”

  I moaned in ecstasy, feeling the orgasm overtake me as he poured his load into my pussy. I felt him throbbing inside me as he released every last drop into me.

  Later, I put on the bridal lingerie Angela had surprised me with last week. It was a long white satin piece that flattered my clavicle and breasts. Neil was in his white robe, out on the balcony. When I was beside him, he picked up the champagne and popped the cork, spilling champagne into the two flutes on the table.

  “Here’s to our family,” Neil said.

  “To us,” I said, lifting my glass to his.

  Neil was sitting on the chair, as I came to him. He smiled at me. I smiled as well, getting on my knees to taste him.

  “Becca, we’re outside.”

  “What, suddenly you're shy?” I asked, with his cock halfway in my mouth.

  He let me continue, obviously enjoying looking down at me as I stared up at him with my mouth full of him. Next, I pressed his cock between my breasts, and it slid down and up into my waiting mouth, over and over, until suddenly he was getting too close.

  “You are so damn good at that.”

  He lifted me up and carried me to the bed.

  “This is our wedding night and I want to last all night. It’s your turn now,” he whispered, as he slid my gown down from my shoulders and kissed me.

  On the mouth.

  On the neck.

  Then he pulled the gown down past my breasts, and he kissed each breast. He sucked on my nipple, getting me so wet that I was dripping for him.

  “I want you so bad, husband,” I told him. “Please. Get inside me.”

  “You don’t have to ask me twice,” he said, once he’d released my nipple from his mouth.

  He got down at the end of the bed and pulled the gown off, then he resumed where he had left off, kissing my stomach, then my hip bones, one after the other, running his finger along them. Then he got off the bed and got on his knees at the foot of the bed, pulling my legs toward him until his lips could touch my pussy lips, and his tongue found its way in between them, exploring.

  Once he started sucking on my clit, I realized that I had never felt such ecstasy. This was even better than normal, on our wedding night.

  I came that first time quickly, but he didn’t stop. Then suddenly a second orgasm came, stronger and deeper than the first. Neil looked amazed.

  “Look at you. Should I go for three?”

  I couldn’t seem to speak, so he continued once more, causing me to pull his hair as I writhed underneath him, moaning and calling out his name while I came again and again.

  Our lovemaking would continue into daybreak. It was the best Christmas ever. We would fall asleep, exhausted, and one of us would wake the other, demanding more. Plus, Neil said he was determined to give Mark a little brother or sister.

  I had gotten off the Pill a few months ago, which wouldn’t be great for my condition, but I was ready to give Neil a baby. In a few months, the adoption papers should be final, and Mark would officially be his son as well.

  “I promise you, we will always find time for this. For us.”

  He had said this last night, I remembered. It was now late morning, and I was famished. I got up and quietly ordered several different things from the room service menu, not wanting to wake Neil and ask what he wanted.

  I feared I knew what he would answer—that all he wanted was more sex, not food—and I really did need to eat. I returned to bed, and Neil rolled towards me half asleep, but he didn’t wake up all the way.

  He was almost smiling, like he was in the middle of a good dream. His right arm found me and slid across my skin, resting gently, low on my waist. I wondered if we would ever leave this bed, to enjoy the island paradise outside our room.

  Then I snuggled up against him, content to stay there with him where I belonged. We could always return another time to actually see the sights. With our joint son, and our baby.

  THE END

  In with the New Baby

  A New Year’s Secret Baby Romance

  Copyright © 2019 Jamie Knight Romance.

  Jamie Knight –

  Your Dirty Little Secret Romance Author

  All rights reserved.

  Prologue - Lincoln

  I’m not supposed to be lusting after my physical therapist. Especially not after how I acted when I was last in her office.

  I know she thinks I’m a cocky jerk, but I have my side of the story, and I’ll tell it to anyone who wants to listen, because I really want to save whatever it was that Amanda and I had before I flipped out.

  I know I shouldn’t have. But I couldn’t help but get mad at what they were suggesting for my medical treatment. I don’t let anyone tell me what to do.

  But her? I might let Amanda tell me what to do with my hurt knee, if she’ll let me do whatever I want to the rest of her body. I want to grab that juicy ass in my hands and squeeze. I want to spank her while I bend her over and put my hard cock in her.

  I haven’t felt like this about anyone for a long time. I know I shouldn’t be thinking this way about her, when I’m her patient. But I can’t seem to help it.

  I want her. Not just stretching my leg while doing exercises, but also letting me stretch out her tight little pussy with my cock. Not just trying to help fix my knee so I can get back to fighting, but also on her knees for me, with my cock down her throat and her legs spread wide for me while I rub that hard little clit of hers until she cums, begging me to fuck her.

  I might want her for more than that, too. I might just want her for good.

  What the fuck am I even thinking?

  I’m usually not the relationship type. I have too much bagg
age, and dark secrets in my past. Too much pent-up anger wanting to make me explode. But with her, the only way I can see myself exploding is inside her, shooting my cum out into her, even though I know that could make a baby, and I never even thought I’d want a baby.

  But I can see those wide child-bearing hips carrying my baby. I love every inch of her hourglass shape and I wouldn’t mind putting a baby in her belly.

  I want to own her, claim her, make her mine.

  And I always get what I want.

  Chapter 1 - Lincoln

  This sucks.

  All of New York City has probably heard about the drama that went down at Big Apple Physical Therapy today and I know I rightfully sound like some monster, so I feel the need to tell my side of the story – not that I’m proud of it, mind you. I’ll rewind to just before it all got really heated and set the mood for the big horrific event.

  Like I said, this sucks. That’s what I was thinking then and what I’m still thinking now when I mull over the occurrences in my mind, after the fact.

  Here I am, a former Navy SEAL taught not to drown by being nearly drowned, and an MMA fighter who has taken the most hits possible. But I guess it’s my own fault. I’m a 34-year-old dude in an 80-year-old man’s body.

  The last fight, last night, really fucked up my knee. I think it’s blown out and it doesn’t help that it’s been operated on to repair the tendon that then developed scar tissue to make it even worse. But I’m a man, have always been so, and nothing like that is going to fucking stop me.

  Go hard or go home, I always say.

  The next big bout with Cesar Ramirez could be coming up soon. He’s been trying to get me to go up against him. He’s good, though I hate his guts, but it’s the real deal. A hundred thousand dollars ain’t nothing to sneeze at. I just need the doctor to give me a pass and I’ll be straight.

  Don’t I always get what I want?

  Still, my body is fucked up. After having been deployed in Afghanistan, then Iraq, I have to admit I’m tired. I’m a tough motherfucker, but I just need to settle down for a while. Find a nice girl who can take care of me and who I can take care of in return.

  God knows I wouldn’t have a hard time finding one. Women throw themselves at me like candy, saying I’m hot and good in bed, but really they’re probably just after my money. I was somewhat of a celebrity who built a name for myself in the MMA world, first in New York City and then in Vegas. My friend Damien, with whom I served in the military but who later became a financial advisor, helped me invest my earnings from fights, sponsorships and from acting in commercials wisely, and now I’m super rich.

  Damien’s a smart guy now only in the financial arena but also with life in general, and he always says I need to find like a kindergarten teacher or someone like that. A nice girl with compassion and love and, most important of all, as Damien says, it has to be someone who is willing to put up with my bullshit.

  He makes it sound like it might be tough for someone to love me, though. For me to find the right woman. I just don’t get it. I’m a nice guy but no one else sees that. I suppose I’m a big rough around the edges, as this little incident at Big Apple Physical Therapy shows.

  I was taught to be tough, the caretaker everyone can depend on. I’m the one who takes care of everyone else.

  I don’t want anyone to pity me or feel sorry for me.

  I need to take care of myself.

  So today, with the holidays not too far off even though I’m not feeling as if I’m in very good holiday spirits – but when am I ever in any kind of good spirit?, let’s be honest – I’m driving in some lightly falling snow over to Big Apple Physical Therapy, where I’ve been referred for my knee. Damien assures me it’s a great place – he went there himself after being injured in war, and he says his physical therapist Anne was the best.

  Still, I’m not thrilled about having to go, and that’s putting it fucking mildly. My Ford F150 that I just bought rides like a charm. I love the new smell of a truck. She’s my baby. The only one I can depend on.

  I might be a billionaire but I still like to drive a humble truck. Plus, not many people in New York even have the luxury of owning a car so I know I’m lucky.

  When I arrive, I walk in and see that the waiting room is a mess of magazines I know I won’t even read. I hate that I have to come here. I don’t want to wait. I’ve got shit to do.

  I walk up to the counter and ring the bell. Who has a bell anymore, anyway? It’s the twenty-first century, for God’s sake. It isn’t the Dark Ages.

  No one is there, and no one answers. I just want to turn around and leave.

  Fucked-up knee or not, I don’t have time for this, and I’ll look for any excuse to get the fuck out of here.

  I wait a few minutes and start to leave.

  “Can I help you?” someone finally walks out and asks.

  Great. Just when I thought I was about to get out of here.

  She’s dressed in scrubs but I guess she works the desk, too. She looks respectable enough, so I give her a chance.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Name is Lincoln Drake. I’m here for some rehab.”

  The woman clicks away at the computer.

  “Yes,” she says. “We have you scheduled. A referral from Dr. Hung.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “He’s a good dude but he thought I needed a specialist.”

  “Yes,” she agrees. “My name is Anne, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  So, this is Anne, the physical therapist that Damien had mentioned was so great and helped him so much. At least I’m glad I got a good one and not some quack.

  We shake hands and I follow her into an examining room. I jump onto the crinkly white paper on the table and Anne looks at my chart.

  “So, tell me, Mr. Drake, are you feeling any pain right now?”

  “Fuck yeah I am.”

  When am I not?

  But it’s particularly bad lately, hence why I have to be here.

  “On a scale of one to ten, one being the least severe and ten being the most severe, how would you rate it?”

  I take a minute to think about this. It fuckin’ hurts but I don’t want to be a pussy, either.

  “I would have to say a seven.”

  “Seven?” she asks and starts to write on her clipboard.

  “No,” I say, deciding to be more honest. Fuck it, if I’m already here, I might as well let them try to help me. “I have to say it’s an eight.”

  She looks at me.

  “An eight?

  I nod my head.

  “Yeah but I don’t want you to think I’m a wimp.”

  Anne laughs.

  “It’s not about that, Mr. Drake.”

  “Lincoln,” I say.

  “Lincoln,” she says. “If you’re in pain, you’re in pain. And given your background, I can’t say that I am not surprised.”

  I lean back against the wall as the white paper crinkles under me and sigh.

  “Whew,” I say.

  Anne laughs.

  “Why do you seem so relieved?”

  “Because when it comes to pain, I’m supposed to be a man.”

  Anne shakes her head.

  “Like I said, you certainly have an impressive background and I don’t think anyone would argue that you’re not a man.”

  “Glad to hear it,” I say. “You know, nowadays at the VA hospitals, things ain’t too good. But I’ve heard good things about you and am glad you can be my therapist.”

  Anne lifts her arm and scratches the back of her head.

  “About that, Lincoln,” she says.

  “What?”

  I knew there had to be a fucking catch.

  There always is.

  “I’m really overbooked and so I’m going to have Amanda Nelson be your physical therapist. I’m assigning her for you because she’s really good.”

  “No way,” I say. “I want you. No one else
.”

  Anne comes over and places her hands on my shoulders.

  “Don’t worry. You’ll be in the best hands.”

  I watch her leave and I’m sitting here disappointed.

  Whatever you think you want in this life that can help you never works out.

  Amanda? I think to myself.

  Sounds like a young name.

  Probably some recent college kid who thinks she knows everything when she doesn’t even know anything beyond her own backyard.

  I wait and seethe.

  I am pissed off.

  I vow not to like her.

  No matter what.

  But that’s hard to do once she walks in.

  “Hi,” she says.

  Wow, I think. Wow, wow, wow, wow, wow.

  Chapter 2 - Lincoln

  “How are you doing?” Amanda asks, and it’s only now that I realize I forgot to say hi back to her because I was thinking “wow” so many times in a row.

  “Good,” I say.

  In fact, I’m doing more than good, now that she’s here. Because she is just my type. Dark hair, olive complexion, juicy green eyes and just those curvy hips and breasts. She was made to carry my children.

  She takes the blood pressure cuff off the stand near me.

  “I’m taking your blood pressure.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I’m not only a physical therapist, but I’m also a trained nurse. I switched professions fairly recently, and I like this one a lot better. I particularly like working in sports therapy.”

  Now I think, yeah, I was right. Miss Know-It-All.

  “But I already had that done.”

  “Perhaps,” she says and pushes up the sleeve of my t-shirt. “But I like to start from scratch.”

  I sigh and say, “OK.”

  She inflates the cuff, I feel the pressure, and she puts the stethoscope in the crook of my arm and under the cuff.