Pistol: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 10)
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PISTOL
AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE
_______________________
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 10
FLORA FERRARI
CONTENTS
Copyright
A Man Who Knows What He Wants Series
Pistol
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
Sneak Peek: Policed
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 2016 by Flora Ferrari.
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS
Book 1: Baby Lust
Book 2: Veteran
Book 3: Built
Book 4: Bambino
Book 5: Rescued
Book 6: Leader
Book 7: Professor
Book 8: Burned
Book 9: Worldly
Book 10: Pistol
Book 11: Policed
PISTOL
My Marine Corps Special Ops (MARSOC) brothers call me “Pistol” because I'm so damn good with it. Just me and my 9mm semi-automatic Glock 19 and I'm good-to-go.
Girls call me “Pistol” for another reason.
It's been five years since I've been home. Five adrenaline filled years of battling bad guys from Indonesia to Iraq and everywhere in between. Places that aren't even on civilian maps. Now I have to go home and face my toughest challenge ever.
Her.
My best friend's daughter.
I'm heading home to recover from an injury sustained in Mosul, Iraq. An injury that should keep me on my back, but all I can think about is putting her on hers.
And making her mine. Forever.
*Pistol is an insta-everything standalone romance with an HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.
Get your FREE extended epilogue of Pistol by signing up to my mailing list. You’ll receive an email as soon as it’s available.
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CHAPTER 1
Pete
I wanted to fuck her the first second as I saw her. That curvy little body was built for speed. More dangerous curves than a mountain pass on my Yamaha YZF-R1 superbike. Those epic tits were spilling out of her snug pink tank top. Her dark hair well down her back. She was sipping on a freshly squeezed lemonade. Those pouty lips were made for sucking my dick.
She was sitting with some guy. I could see he had a tight grip around her wrist. He was talking to her angrily.
The light turned green. I u-turned my bike in the intersection and rolled up right in the parking spot next to her sidewalk table.
I got off my bike and walked right up to them. Removed my helmet as I approached.
“Leave her alone.”
She looked up from her book. It looked like some sort of math textbook.
The guy sitting next to her said, “Fuck off. Mind your own business, old man.”
“This is my business, son.”
He pushed his chair back.
“Don't do it.”
“Don't do what?”
“Stand up.”
Too late.
He took a swing. A haymaker. A wild haymaker. Of course. They always do that. It must have missed me by a full four inches. His momentum carried him through. I grabbed him by the back of the neck with my right hand and the back of his reddish skinny designer jeans with my left. Throwing a man is much easier when you have a little momentum. I rocked him back on his heels about an inch then brought him back forward my way. Carried through like the roll at a bowling alley.
It's a sure fire move. They land face down in a totally venerable position. The humiliation is enough. The Superman position they naturally assume during the short flight just adds insult to injury.
“What the hell was that for?”
I stared right into his eyes as he lifted himself up off the concrete. When he got to his feet he slowly backed away and walked in the other direction.
“You okay?”
Up close she was somehow even sexier.
“I'm fine.”
“I have time to take you for a ride.”
Her head was tilted slightly to one side. Her neck exposed to me. She looked me in the eye. She was calm. It was like she was either trying to read me, break my confidence, or decide.
Girls can read me easily. I don't give a fuck. One hundred percent of the time. I do what I want. On my terms. They eat it up.
Break my confidence? A guy in reddish hipster pants, sure she can break his. Me? Please. Next question.
Decide? She was deciding.
“What makes you think I want to go for a ride?”
“You're doing math. It's 1:17 in the afternoon on the first warm day of May.”
Two Barbie doll blondes were sitting at the table next to her. They had seen the whole thing.
“We want to go for a ride!” the more platinum of the two said.
I didn't break eye contact with the brunette.
“You only have one helmet.”
“You can borrow mine.”
“What about you?”
“You don't need a helmet in Colorado if you're over seventeen.”
“I’m over seventeen.”
“I don’t care if you’re eighteen or eighty. You’re a woman. It’s my job to keep you safe. You get the helmet.”
“I want you to have one. It doesn't look safe.”
“Sitting in a coffee shop on a warm spring day isn't always safe. Just depends on who you're with.”
She paused.
I lived for adrenaline rushes. Motorcycle racing. Base jumping. Black diamond snowboarding. Pure speed. If it went fast, I wanted in.
The Marine Corps was a natural choice. Travel to new and exciting countries and blow up stuff. Cause havoc. In and out. Stealth speed and destruction. At least that's what a seventeen year old testosterone filled boy thought.
My mom was thrilled to sign the parental consent form for the Delayed Entry Program. Finally I'd get some discipline. A year in the DEP, as they called it, and then I’d belong to Uncle Sam. I’d finally be surrounded by positive male role models. My dad had left my mom high and dry when he found out she was pregnant. Screw him. My mom was more of a man than he’d ever be. I never tried to contact him once, and never would. I value loyalty, and my mom had it in spades.
But that was sixteen long years ago. Now I was the positive role model for the next generation. The generation of this beautiful young woman who stood in front of me.
I remember that time in my life. Exactly one month after my eightee
nth birthday and I was gone. Out of here. On to the yellow footprints of Marine Corps Recruit Depot San Diego. I wanted to be special ops, and I had succeeded. All or nothing.
My all or nothing right now was her. Math homework girl. I had less than twenty-four hours until my leave was over and I had to report back to Camp Pendleton.
“Okay. But you have to drive safely. Only a quick ride. And I hold your driver's license. Just in case you try something.”
“Deal. Hop on.”
She put her books into her backpack. Double tied her shoelaces. Put on my helmet.
I handed her my license. She didn’t even try and sneak a peek at my birth year. We were off.
I knew a beautiful mountain pass just outside of town. I had taken a lot of other girls there before, both when I was younger and when I was back in town on quick visits. This spot always blew them away. About as close to a guaranteed lay as you can get.
For some reason I didn't want to go there. This girl was different. I could tell. She was making demands of me. Standing up for herself. Cautiously optimistic, but realistic.
I wanted to do something unique. Out of the ordinary. There could only be one place. Deer Creek.
We picked up W. Deer Creek Canyon road less than a mile south of C-470 on Denver's southwest side. We headed west about six miles onto Deer Creek Road, which quickly became Pleasant Park Road.
Math homework girl didn't say anything. I could see in my mirrors that she was taking in the view. Steep rocky valleys below and huge rock walls above.
I went slow through the tight turns. I had to. I promised to be safe. Plus it allowed her to take in the fresh mountain air and the engulfing views with the helmet visor up.
These curvy roads were smooth and perfectly paved. We came out of one turn and I felt her lean slightly to my right side. The front of her body sliding against my back. She hugged me tighter. Damn, I could get used to this real quick. She fit perfectly behind me. Right there on my bike. And I could already tell as much as I liked her back there it wasn’t where she truly belonged. She belonged beside me, walking hand in hand as my equal.
“It's really curvy. The view is beautiful. It smells so good.”
“Just like you.”
She leaned back to her original position. I looked in my mirrors. I could see her holding a smile.
Higher up on Pleasant Park Road we stopped to take in a distant view of the Rockies.
We sat down on a big rock. I took the granola bar out of my riding jacket and offered it to her.
“Thank you. Do you want some?”
“No thanks.”
She broke off a piece and placed it in her palm. A family of squirrels hurried over, stopping just short of a possible meal. They looked at her and didn't hesitate. The mother squirrel reached into her hand and took the piece of granola bar. She scurried back about six inches to her baby squirrels and distributed the meal. She quickly came back for seconds. Then thirds. Eventually the entire bar was gone. The squirrels made some sort of thank you noise and took off back into the hills. We broke the peaceful silence with a laugh.
“Have you been here before?”
“No,” she said. “My dad just bought some land here. I’m new to town.”
“What do you think so far?”
“Well. Today is definitely off to an interesting start. Do you normally spend your Tuesdays rescuing girls and then whisking them away on your white horse?”
“No. I usually save that for Thursdays. On Tuesdays I rescue kittens from trees and help grandmas safely cross the street. But you should really see me on Mondays.”
She smirked. “What happens on Mondays?”
“I rescue families from burning buildings, fight government corruption, restock the streams with trout, and ride my white horse through the nightlife district collecting all the trash from the weekend that's recyclable and taking it to the recycle center. Of course I donate the money from the recyclables to my real passion. Big Brothers and Big Sisters of Colorado.”
“Something tells me that might not all be entirely true.”
“Why do you say so?”
“I volunteer at Big Brothers and Big Sisters.”
“Wow. Really?”
“Yeah, I just started working with them. My father was an orphan. He told me how one of the guys in his town taught him how to do things when he was growing up. How to become a strong man, but also caring and compassionate.”
“That's really cool.”
“Thanks. Yeah, it really made an enormous difference in his life. Especially as a young man in that position. Sometimes boys under those circumstances can lash out in frustration, anger, or other emotions which can be unhealthy. I want to carry on that tradition of helping. Give back for what my father received. Plus of course I love kids.”
They say a man knows when he meets the one. I never believed it, but I could feel it. It was unseasonably warm. Nearly 80 degrees. I looked down and saw goose bumps on my arms where my riding jacket had been. I felt something in my stomach that I’d never felt before. Everything about me is about speed, but here I was with her sitting still, being calm. I wasn’t in a hurry to get anywhere. I only wanted to be exactly where I was. Right here with her. First the first time in my life it made sense. It felt right. There was no denying it.
She was the one.
I looked off into the distance at the Rockies. Tomorrow morning and I'm gone, back to Southern California for a day or two only to find out where they’re going to send me off to next. And of course now I meet the most beautiful and interesting girl ever.
We were about a foot apart on the rock. She was on my right. I slid over until the sides or our thighs were touching. I looked her directly in the eyes. I could see calmness, but her pupils were dilating. We held our glances for what seemed like an eternity. Probably about thirty seconds.
I brought up my right hand and placed it on the side of her right cheek. Her skin was soft. Flawless. I rubbed her cheek with my thumb. I moved my fingers behind her ear and onto her neck. Still stroking her cheek with my thumb. Our eyes still locked on one another.
Then those damn squirrels came back. They were everywhere. I guess that one family ran off to tell all their friends. I reached across her with my left hand to shoo them away.
The rock was generally flat but had some angles. When I reached to shoo the squirrels, I fell towards my right. My left hand breaking the fall. I had kind of landed on top of her with my hand still under her neck and my fingers bracing her head. We laughed.
As I lay on top of her looking into her eyes, I could feel my cock becoming so hard I could have pounded through that centuries old rock like my hardness was a sledgehammer.
I could see her chest rise and fall, her breasts heaving. Her eyes were filled with anticipation. Being on top of her out her like this summoned my feral side. I wanted to take her savagely, show her what she’s been missing her entire life. Show her what it feels like when someone with so much passion and adrenaline for life takes exactly what he wants. Show her just how much I want her.
I brought up my left hand and ran it through her hair, still supporting her head with my right.
My left hand drifted down onto her shoulder. Her skin still milky white from the effects of winter.
I brought my left hand back up and cupped the other side of her head. I rolled about eight inches and my torso was now directly on top of hers. Surely she could feel the hardness in my jeans. I couldn't take it anymore.
My mouth crashed down on hers. Her lips intoxicating. I live for speed and my heart was racing.
My cock hurt. The jeans struggling to contain its length.
I dropped my left hand to her breast, taking in a full hard grab. She let out a gasp.
I opened my mouth wider as we kissed and our tongues twisted into one. Exploring. She tasted like watermelon bubble gum. Not in a childish way. In a refreshing, summer is here kind of way.
I was breathing hard through my nose. Short. Heavy bre
aths. I had never been so aroused before in my entire life.
I reached inside and across the top of her tank top with my right hand. Pulled out her left breast. I traced a circle around her areola with my tongue. Then a quick flip of my tongue on her nipple. Her back arched. She exhaled hard. Her right hand grabbed my back. Fingernails buried inside my skin. My blood was racing. I felt alive. Fucking was a bigger rush than base jumping. Better than snowboarding down an enormous, nearly vertical mountain face. Even better than riding my sportbike. Fuck yeah. Nothing was better than fucking.