CHEAP SMUT: Four Erotic Romance Novels (Boxed Set)

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CHEAP SMUT: Four Erotic Romance Novels (Boxed Set) Page 70

by Scott Hildreth


  “Karter,” I paused and stood from the couch.

  Positioned almost twenty feet from her, I was comfortable telling her how I felt. Any opposition from this distance would be easy for me to overcome. If she rejected me while I was holding her in my arms, I’d feel the pain for a lifetime.

  “If you called me tomorrow and told me you couldn’t see me for some reason, whatever that might be, I have no idea how I’d make it through the day. I’m fascinated by you. I think you’re gorgeous. I want to kiss you, smell your hair, hold you in my arms, and touch every inch of your skin with my hands,” I shook my head in sexual frustration as I studied her standing before me with her hands still pressed into the rear pockets of her jeans.

  She twisted her hips back and forth and grinned. Overwhelmed by her simple beauty and my unwillingness to act upon my sexual desires, I shifted my gaze to my boots, “I want to see you naked. Hell, I want fuck you senseless, fall asleep with you in my arms and wake up and do it all over again. But that’s not why I’m here Karter. It’s not why I’m in your life or allowing you to be in mine. I’m here because you provide me with something I’ve never felt, and I don’t know how I can live without it or without you for that matter. I really don’t give an absolute fuck if I’ve known you a week or a year; you make me feel the way you make me feel. You and I click, Karter.”

  I realized I was fumbling with the change in my pockets and still staring at my boots. I felt like a little boy again. I had allowed myself to become human and went on a five minute rant about my feelings. She had said nothing in response. In hindsight, I really didn’t give her an opportunity. Although I had so much more I felt I needed to say, I decided it was as good of a place as any to stop. I pulled my hands from my pockets and looked upward in hope of a verbal confirmation of feelings or rebuttal of some sort.

  Karter stood before me, shirtless. Her small but perky breasts were uncovered. On the floor beside her the tee shirt, shoes and bra she was wearing formed a small pile. She was barefoot, and making every effort to push the waist of her unbuttoned jeans down her thighs. She looked up as I studied her face. Her expression was one of playful wonder. It was as if she wanted confirmation what she was doing was acceptable. I smiled, reached down, and pulled my tee shirt over my head. I remained where I stood and bent down to unlace my boots while I continued to focus on her. As I unbuckled my belt and pressed my thumbs into the waist of my boxers, I paused. As she kicked her jeans from her feet, she reached for the waist of her panties. Quietly pulling her panties down her thighs, she smiled and winked one eye.

  I hesitated and admired her tattoos as she fought to remove her underwear. Her entire shoulder and a portion of her upper chest were covered in a colorful floral display. As she lifted her foot from the floor and released them beside the pile of clothes, I pushed my boxers and jeans to the floor and kicked them aside.

  “What the fuck!” she gasped.

  KARTER. I suppose falling head over heels for someone and having them strip naked long after you’re emotionally attached - only to reveal a cock the size of a peanut would be nothing short of horrific.

  I stared at Jak’s cock as I walked his direction.

  I widened my eyes and shook my head, “Holy shit!”

  “Do you slay dragons with that sword, Jak?”

  “Say again?” he chimed.

  “Nevermind,” I said as I slowly walked his direction.

  The closer I got, the larger it became. As I took the last step which separated us, I stared in awe of the size of his manhood. After a few repeated blinks, my eyes shifted upward and admired his torso. His body was not at all what I expected it to be. I knew all along he was in good physical shape, but his clothes hid all the good stuff. His stomach was flat and rippled with muscle. He had not a single ounce of fat on him anywhere. Although I had seen his thighs when he wore shorts, I had no idea his body was as chiseled and sculpted as it was. His upper arms bulged with muscles. From what I could see, he had only one tattoo on his left bicep - an eagle, anchor, pistol and pitchfork of some sort. His chest was wide and thick, and his waist small. Little fuck me valleys started at his lower abdomen and formed the shape of a ‘V’ as they stretched down toward his cock.

  I stared down at his half-stiff cock.

  Houston, we have a problem.

  The thought of him attempting to stuff it into my inexperienced pussy was equal parts scary and exciting. Although I told Jak I’d been with a handful of men, nothing could be further from the truth. My noncompliant pussy had prevented me from really ever being with anyone – sexually speaking. It wasn’t that I hadn’t tried, but frustration eventually set in with whoever I had attempted to have sex with and it always ended in a manner short of any form of satisfactory sexual romp. I was far from a virgin, but I was a comparable distance from being sexually experienced. One thing which separated Jak from any previous sexual attempts was the fact I was absolutely soaked.

  “Is there a problem?” he asked softly as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

  “No sir,” I responded.

  He reached down and slid his right hand behind my thighs and plucked me from the floor. As he nodded his head toward the two doors on the east wall, I smiled, “The left.”

  Something about being in Jak’s arms made me feel like nothing mattered. It was as if I could spend the rest of my life needing nothing or no one else, as long as he’d pick me up from time to time. As I tried to come to some form of mental understanding of what had happened to my life in six short days, Jak lowered me to the bed. As his hands pressed into the comforter on either side of me, I pressed my elbows into the bed and raised my shoulders. As I made every effort to absorb what was happening, I stared at him admiringly. He carefully slid his hands to my stomach and began softly kissing my inner thighs. I closed my eyes. Watching his naked body was far more than I was prepared for.

  He kissed along my thighs, up to my hips, and rested his mouth on my stomach. As he kissed along my torso, his hands slid to my chest. His fingers gently touched my nipples as his mouth worked its way to my neck. I moaned as his teeth nibbled against my collar bone. As his lips encompassed the bottom of my ear, a chill ran from my neck to my toes.

  Waiting for Jak to move from foreplay to sex was so much more than difficult. I enjoyed his mouth against my skin and his lips softly kissing my neck, but I yearned for him to take the next step. In my mind, I longed for the commitment that came along with sex. It wasn’t that I necessarily wanted the act of sex, but I deeply desired everything I expected to come with it. Right or wrong, I felt I understood enough about Jak to know if he mentally committed to have sex with me, he would remain invested – at least until I fucked something up – and I had no intention of fucking anything up. I believed if he had sex with me, this thing between us could - and should - last forever.

  I desperately wanted forever with Jak.

  I felt his hand between my legs. The tip of his finger began to massage my clit softly. I licked my lips and attempted to focus on the feeling building in the pit of my stomach. As his finger slid down from my clit against my wet pussy, I moaned.

  He paused.

  No, keep going.

  “I like it,” I sighed.

  His finger worked in and out of my wetness as his lips kissed and sucked my nipples. I felt tremendous pressure building inside of me. I felt guilty, strange, weird, and wonderful all at the same time. I bit my lip. Slowly and predictably, his finger slid in and out of me. I opened my eyes as I felt a huge mental and physical release.

  Holy fuck.

  That’s what I’m talking about. That shit right there.

  I pressed my arms into the mattress and raised my upper back from the comforter. I opened my eyes and caught my breath, “I want you inside of me, Jak.”

  He looked up and into my eyes. Without speaking, his mouth kissed up my neck and to my lips. I closed my eyes. After several long passionate kisses, I was emotionally on fire. Kissing had never been anything which int
erested me, but now? Holy fuck I liked being kissed by Jak. He bit my lower lip lightly and licked the tip of my tongue as our mouths parted. Our mouths met again and he pressed his lips hard against mine. I flicked my tongue against his, knowing nothing of what I should do; only attempting to repeat what he had been doing. I liked this, and I liked it a lot. As our lips parted, I opened my eyes. He touched my face with his hand, and sparks shot throughout my entire body. The touch of his hands alone was enough. Without a doubt, to me, Jak was magical. I stared past his gorgeous looks and into his eyes.

  Please don’t dick me over. I think I’ve already fallen in love with you.

  “If we do this, you have to keep me. Okay?” I breathed.

  “I’m keeping you either way,” he whispered.

  I bit my lower lip and nodded my head slightly.

  I spread my legs as wide as I was able. Jak nestled between my thighs and softly pressed himself against me. As the tip of his cock pressed against my wet pussy, I bit my lip harder and opened my eyes slightly. Softly, he began to kiss my chin. As I felt him begin to slide inside of me, I opened my mouth. As he continued to slide inside, I arched my back slightly and gasped. His eyes widened.

  I batted my eyes and attempted to smile. I felt like weeping. Not bad tears, but a form of crying I was not aware even existed. My mind ached to scream, and my eyes yearned to water. I felt as if the tips of thousand knives were poking me gently. Slowly and softly, he worked himself in and out of my swollen wetness. I pressed my hands into his chest and gripped his skin with my fingertips. I felt connected to Jak, and not through sex, it was much more than that.

  As he slowly worked himself in and out, his hands caressed every inch of my body. Without any concept of time or an idea of when we started or how long it had lasted, my feelings of euphoria began to mount. As he pressed his mouth to mine, our tongues fought for ownership of the space we shared. Pressure built within me.

  I screamed into his mouth.

  My everything exploded.

  And in my mind, Jak and I became fused together.

  I had never been one to believe in love, fairy tales, or happily ever after horseshit like every other girl in school. I believed it was possible for a man and a woman to meet, end up having sex, and stay together until they grew apart. Infrequently a couple might stay together until they died, but for me to try and believe they were faithful for that timeframe was impossible. When people told me they were in love, mentally I rolled my eyes and said give it time.

  I truly believed and totally accepted I would live my life alone, painting abstract art no one would ever understand but me. I could never paint fast enough to eliminate all of the thoughts which collected in my head. My mind a jumbled mess of colors, shapes, and phrases, I raced from canvas to canvas to attempt to rid myself of the fog between my ears for even a moment; but the moment never came.

  My mind was a perpetual whirlwind of everything and nothing. My only fleeting moments of sanity came infrequently from either riding my bike or slinging paint onto a canvas.

  Until now.

  We had laid silently for an immeasurable amount of time. I opened my eyes and moaned. His hands pressed into the comforter beside me, and his chest lifted from mine, he slowly smiled his dimple smile and began to speak.

  “I…uhhm,” his voice faultered.

  He paused, closed his eyes, and shook his head.

  My mind, for the first time I had ever known, was empty short of one thought and one feeling. Jak opened his eyes. I extended my index finger and moved my hand between our faces.

  I love this man. I know it.

  “I think I love you,” I blurted.

  “I’m one step ahead of ya, Karter,” he breathed as he pushed my hand to the side and kissed me.

  “How so?” I asked as he softly released my lips from his.

  “I know I love you,” he sighed.

  My eyes welled with tears.

  Awwwe. Fuck.

  I squirmed and attempted to sit up slightly. I swallowed heavily, “No matter what happens, no matter what dumb shit I do - and just know I’ll do something - please tell me we can work through it. Don’t ever just leave me, okay? Give me a chance to fix it.”

  “Don’t cheat on me Karter. Ever. And we’ll be fine,” he smiled.

  “It’ll never happen,” I promised.

  “Never is a long time, Karter,” he said softly.

  I pushed my hands against his chest and attempted to shove him away, “Seriously, Jak? I don’t have a choice, because as far as I’m concerned, there’s only one man on this earth, and that man is you.”

  “Fair enough,” he laughed.

  “You dork,” I responded.

  I rolled my eyes and sighed. Jak was gorgeous, handsome, sincere, tough and cute. What more would any woman want?

  As we relaxed on the top of the comforter naked, the air conditioning system cycled on. We both turned and looked at each other. The cold air blowing against my naked body felt freezing. I pulled the pillows from the head of the bed and yanked back the comforter. Simultaneously, we both crawled into the bed. Mentally and physically exhausted, I rolled onto my side and clutched my pillow as Jak pressed his naked body against mine. As I filled myself with thoughts of Jak and me making love, I fell asleep in his arms.

  I woke up and looked around the dimly lit room. Jak lay beside me asleep. I desperately needed to pee. Quietly, I slipped my feet from under the comforter and onto the floor. I walked to the bathroom and peed. As I meandered to the kitchen and got a drink of water, I attempted to recall all of the events from the last twenty-four hours.

  Still naked, I walked to the window and looked outside. The parking lot was empty. I looked at the screen of my computer. It was 3:20 a.m. I stood quietly and listened. I could hear Jak’s faint snoring from the bedroom. Quietly, I logged onto the computer and opened Google. I typed four words into the text box.

  Eagle, anchor, pitchfork, and pistol.

  I pressed enter.

  The first site to pop up was Wikipedia. I didn’t need to go to any others. Jak’s exact tattoo was on their website.

  Special Warfare?

  Navy SEAL?

  The tattoo was called a SEAL Trident.

  Jak wasn’t a badass.

  Jak was the baddest of all bad asses.

  Holy shit.

  For over an hour I read everything I could about Navy SEALS. It explained a lot. Jak would never fuck me over. Jak was in it for the long haul. Jak would protect me from harm. I went to a military records website and typed in Jak’s name and branch of service.

  Jak Anderson Kennedy. U.S.N., retired.

  D.O.B. 8 Jan 1976.

  Jak was thirty-eight years old. I could care less how old he was. As long as he didn’t find out my age right away, we should be just fine. Eventually I knew I’d have to tell him, but for now? If he didn’t ask me, I would keep it my little secret. The thought of losing Jak over a little difference in age seemed quite stupid the more I thought of it. I cleared my history from the internet, logged off the computer and walked back to the bedroom.

  Quietly, I crawled into bed with a man I obviously knew very little about.

  But loved with all my heart.

  JAK. She closed one eye as she blew a cloud of smoke from her lungs. In what had become a more health conscious world with far less people smoking, my mother continued to chain smoke cigarettes in her home as if she had no knowledge of them being detrimental to her health. As the last of the smoke cleared her lips, she looked down at her hand as if confused, “What’s her name again?”

  “Karter, mom. Her name is Karter, spelled with a ‘K’,” I said as I raised my coffee cup to my lips.

  “I thought you said Martha. It’s a good thing I asked, Jak,” she said as she pressed her cigarette into the overstuffed ashtray.

  I chuckled and shook my head lightly, “Shhh. She’s going to hear you.”

  She widened her eyes and stared across the table, “It sounded like yo
u said Martha. I can’t help it you mumble. I hear just fine.”

  “Mom, you need a hearing aid. I’ll pay for it. And you’re going to burn the house down if you keep smoking in here. No one smokes anymore. We should get you an e-cigarette, they’re healthy,” I smiled.

  She scrunched her brow and tapped the cigarette case lying on the table beside her coffee cup, “I like real cigarettes. I don’t want to smoke battery powered smoke sticks, Jak.”

  She picked up her coffee cup and raised it half the distance to her mouth, “She’s beautiful, Jak. How tall is she? And she has more tattoos than you do,” she sighed.

  She lowered her coffee cup and leaned into the edge of the table. Her eyes shifted side-to-side and she attempted her best to whisper, “She has them on her hands, Jak.”

  “Mom, stop. I know she does. On one hand, and I like them. She’s an artist, a painter. She’s good for me, she really is.”

  “I know she is Jak. I can see it, I’m your mother, remember. I raised you. I know what’s good for you. I like her. She’s pretty and I like her hair,” she said as she leaned into the back of her chair.

  My mother was a saint. She was the type of person to potentially question a person’s preferences to herself, but not outwardly. She was never critical of even the worst people. In her eyes, God created everyone equal, and they remained so regardless of the choices they made in life. Even the worst criminals weren’t necessarily bad people in my mother’s eyes, they only made poor decisions.

  I didn’t offer Karter’s age, and my mother didn’t ask. It wouldn’t matter to her one way or another, but I felt no real need to mention it; at least not at this point in time. I wasn’t certain if Karter realized she revealed her age when we were in the Mediterranean restaurant, but I certainly noticed whether she knew it or not. To me, it didn’t matter. Karter provided me with an inner comfort unlike anything I had ever imagined was even possible. We are incapable of forcing ourselves to fall in love with someone we are not attracted to, and certainly less able of preventing a love which is predestined to be.

 

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