by Mia Ford
I moaned when he pulled me down onto him, filling my pussy completely, with no room to spare.
He reached around to cup my breasts. I loved my hips up and down to milk his cock. He squeezed my nipples hard. I moaned in pain and moved my hips faster and faster.
“Oh… god…” he moaned. He dug his fingers into on my hips and slammed me into him. His cock impaled me over and over, pushing against my innermost walls. My ass slapped against him. My big tits bounced on my chest.
“Now…” he said. “Cum with me now…”
Sean pulled my ass into him and his cock filled me with streams of hot milky cum. My pussy responded by sending a flood of juice over him. He put his arms around me and pulled me close as a last shudder swept through our bodies.
When it was over I leaned my head back on this shoulder and sighed.
“It was so nice meeting you, Mr. Donovan,” I said with a smile.
He sank his teeth into my shoulder and said, “The pleasure was all mine, Miss Asher.”
“Not entirely.” I wiggled my ass against him. “Please come again soon.”
“You know I will.”
EPILOGUE : Kate
“Are you nervous?” I glanced over at Monique, who was bouncing Leon Junior on her shoulder. I tried to put on a brave face.
We were in the VIP box at Kings Stadium waiting for the first play of the last game of the regular season. The Kings had received the kickoff and had the ball on the Panther’s thirty-five-yard line. If the Kings won this game, they would be a wildcard in the playoffs.
Leon and Sean were down on the field with the rest of the starters, huddled around Matt Murphy who was calling the plays. This would be the first game Sean had played in since being injured three months before. And yes, I was a nervous wreck.
“He said he was ready and the doctors cleared him,” I said. I laced my hands together and held them between my breasts. It looked like I was praying. Maybe I was.
“That’s not what I asked,” Monique said, bouncing. “Are you nervous?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” she said. She nodded at the field. “Here we go.”
Sean lined up wide-right. The second the ball was hiked to Murphy, Sean shot off the line and ran the same route that had gotten him injured before. I held my breath as I imagined it happening again.
Murphy scrambled back and Leon and the other linemen did their best to protect him, giving Sean time to make it down the field.
Murphy launched the ball like a cannon ball. I watched the ball spiral through the air. It arced high above the field before making its descent and dropping perfectly into Sean’s hands.
This time there was no freight train waiting to run over him.
Sean tucked the ball under his arm and sprinted the remaining twenty yards down the field and across the goal line.
Touchdown!
No one even came close to stopping him.
The stadium erupted as fans jumped to their feet to herald the return of their beloved gladiator. The stadium announcer led the chant, “Sean! Sean! Sean!”
I released the breath that I’d been holding and put my hands on my cheeks. He’d done it. He’d really come back stronger than before. I couldn’t have been happier for him.
The entire team mobbed the field to congratulate Sean. The refs, who normally wouldn’t allow such a celebration, just backed away and let it happen.
Leon and another lineman lifted Sean onto their shoulders like he was a rag doll. He held the football in his right hand and lifted it high above his head.
As they carried him toward the sidelines, Sean took off his helmet with his free hand and looked my way.
Even though we were far apart, I could tell that he was looking into my eyes. He tossed the helmet down to a teammate, then smacked his hand to his lips and blew me a kiss. I pretended to catch it and brought my hand to my lips.
“You gonna make an honest man out of him?” Monique asked with a smile.
I wiped away the tears of joy in my eyes and smiled. “I’m certainly going to try.”
THE END
Torn
Blurb
The day my fiancé was brutally gunned down before my eyes, my entire life changed forever. Gone was the sweet and innocent bride-to-be who wanted nothing more than to get married and have babies. She was replaced by a tattooed biker bitch hell bent on revenge. I’m going to make The Wright Brothers pay for what they’ve done. I’ll see them all dead if it’s the last thing I do…
I strolled into that dive bar with the intention of killing Rick Wright, the gang leader responsible for the death of my fiancé. He might not have pulled the trigger, but he was the man in charge, so I was holding him personally responsible. I had it all planned. I would seduce him, get him alone, then put a bullet in his head.
The one thing I hadn’t counted on was him being so charming, not to mention smoking hot. He had a smile that he used like a weapon. All he had to do was point it my way and I melted in my panties.
Once I got him naked and in my bed, would I be able to put a bullet in his head, or would the site of his naked body and the surge of my own desires wash away my need for revenge forever?
PROLOG: SANDY DUVAL
I met the love of my life on Tuesday, January 26th.
He asked me to marry him on Saturday, May 3rd.
The wedding was scheduled for Saturday, October 15th.
He died in my arms on Sunday, July 24th.
I decided to kill the man responsible for his death at the exact moment the last breath slipped from my lover’s body.
Now, it’s all I think about.
Killing Rick Wright.
A man I’ve never even met, but can’t wait to kill.
SANDY
I missed those long nights when I’d lie awake thinking about my wedding day. I thought about how best to wear my hair, how I’d do my makeup, who would help me get ready, what song we’d dance to for our first dance and a thousand other things.
I already had my dress, which, as wedding dresses go, was a pretty simple design.
On a hairdresser’s pay, I couldn’t afford anything fancy with a long train and a veil, not that I wanted anything like that. I was a simple girl with simple tastes, and I was marrying a simple man.
Brent worked in the service department at the local Ford dealership. I cut hair at Cost Clippers. Together, we’d make enough to have a nice, simple life, like our parents.
Funny, how I keep using that word: simple.
Sad, because nothing is simple anymore.
I bought my wedding dress off Craig’s List for two hundred dollars from a bride whose marriage had lasted less than a year. It was a lacy white dress that was bought off the discount rack at David’s Bridal; floor length, with a high neckline and long sleeves. The girl kept calling it “antique looking”, which I think meant that is was purposefully made to look old.
I remembered trying it on in the girl’s bedroom, staring at myself in the full-length mirror she had mounted to the back of the closet door. It fit like it was made especially for me. I’m tall for a girl, like 5’8 in bare feet, but I’m also curvy. My sister, April, always said that I got my big boobs and wide hips from my mom and my short temper from my dad.
I bought the dress and rushed home to show it to April and my mom. I was so proud of that dress. I couldn’t wait to try it on and show it off to them. I couldn’t wait for Brent to see me in it as I walked down the aisle. I thought he was just gonna die when he saw me.
Fuck.
What did I say that…?
I rolled over and balled up the covers in my hands and tucked them under my chin.
I tried to sob quietly, so April didn’t hear me.
I’d moved back home, out of the apartment Brent and I had rented less than a month before he was killed. I couldn’t afford to live there on my own.
I was back in the same room April and I shared growing up. April
was just eighteen, six years younger than me, and just starting junior college. She needed her space and her sleep, but she welcomed me home with open arms. They all did; April, mom, dad. They tried to make me feel like it was all going to be all right, that one day I’d wake up to find that I hadn’t cried myself to sleep the night before.
“Time heals all wounds,” my mom kept saying as if it was a mantra for driving away the spirit and memory of my dead lover.
That was bullshit.
For me, time makes all wounds grow deeper.
Time makes them fester and grow, like cancer that eats at your heart and soul, until it consumes you, leaving nothing but an empty shell and the desire to simply lay down and die.
April rolled over and sighed. I buried my face in the pillow to stifle my tears. After a moment, I could hear her snoring softly. I found some comfort in the sound of my sister’s breathing. It was so calm, so peaceful. It was the breathing of a girl whose greatest worry in the world was which pair of cute jeans she should wear to the mall on Friday night to make the boys notice her.
I remembered those days.
For me, they were gone for good.
I wiped my eyes on the blanket and forced the tears away.
I used to lie awake nights thinking about my wedding.
Now I lie awake and wonder how many good people are killed every year just because they’re in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I knew of at least one.
And he died before he could see me in my wedding dress.
For some reason, that was the saddest thing of all.
RICK WRIGHT
I pulled the black Lincoln Navigator into a spot in the parking lot in front of Crown Jewelers and slid the gear into park. I parked far enough away so no one would notice us watching the place.
I left the motor running so the cool air would keep pumping out of the vents in the dash. It was the middle of September and hot as fuck in the city.
The black t-shirt I wore clung to my sweaty back like a second skin. My next truck would have those built-in seat coolers like I saw advertised on TV. After this job, I’d go check out the new Navigators. If everything went as planned I’d be able to buy a fucking fleet of them in a couple of weeks.
I was a Lincoln man way before that fuck Matthew McConoughey started doing their commercials. I was still a Lincoln man despite him. Fuck their commercials and Matthew McConoughey. I just loved Lincolns; always had, always will.
Eddie, my little brother, best friend, and second in command, was slumped in the passenger seat with a black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. I shook my head at him. He didn’t seem to comprehend that the heavily-tinted windows prevented anyone from seeing inside the truck. Even the upper part of the windshield had a heavy tent, obstructing our faces from traffic cams.
Funny, during a job, Eddie was the one I always worried about not being careful enough or flying off the handle and doing something stupid, but when we were casing our next job, like the hit on Crown Jewelers, he was a paranoid bundle of nerves.
“That’s it,” I said, nodding at the strip of stores in front of us. “Crown Jewelers, next to the Men’s Warehouse.”
“Don’t look like much,” Eddie said, pushing the cap back from his forehead with his thumb. He leaned in toward the windshield and took off the dark sunglasses he was wearing.
“Looks can be deceiving,” I said.
He slid the sunglasses back on his nose and pulled the cap low again. Sitting back, he asked, “So, what’s the setup? What do they have in the way of security?”
“The setup is one small showroom lined with jewelry cases,” I said, describing the place from memory. I’d gone into Crown’s two weeks earlier to buy the vintage Rolex Mariner that was strapped to my left wrist. I loved old Rolex’s about as much as I loved Lincolns. I’d paid cash for the watch, nearly nine-thousand dollars, part of my cut from selling a semi-truck load of stolen cigarettes to a gang of goons from upstate somewhere.
Buying the watch was just part of the reason I was there. The main reason was to case the place to determine if it should be the target of my gang’s next hit.
I rested a hand on the steering wheel and aimed a finger at the storefront. “There is a fat fuck of a security guard who sits right inside the door. He has a pistol in a holster that he’s probably never even fired. He can be taken out before he knows what hit him. When I was there, he had his nose stuck in a newspaper and wasn’t paying too much attention to what was going on around him. There is one door at the back of the showroom that leads to an office, and a room where they do jewelry repair.”
Eddie nodded as he listened. “So, you’re thinking smash and grab?”
Eddie and I had been doing smash and grabs since we were kids. Basically, you run into a place, smash the fuck out of the glass display cases with a hammer or the butt of a gun, and grab whatever the fuck you can and get the fuck out. Smash and grabs worked fine if you didn’t care what you got away with. The Crown hit would not be a smash and grab because I didn’t care about the shit in the display cases. I wanted what was kept in the safe in the office.
“Not a smash and grab,” I said.
Eddie dug a cigarette pack from his shirt pocket and held it out to me. I shook my head and said I was trying to quit. I rolled his window down a couple of inches. He lit a cigarette and blew smoke toward the window, then gave me a sideways frown. “Not a smash and grab. Okay, what then?”
“There is a safe in the office,” I said. “A source I have on the inside tells me that Mr. Crown stores a couple of million dollars’ worth of loose diamonds there at any given time. That’s our target.”
Eddie grinned and poked me with his elbow. “Who’s your inside source? Let me guess, that fat girl you’ve been banging? What’s her name? Doris, Doreen…”
“Dottie,” I said. “And she’s not fat. She’s pleasantly plump.”
“What you call pleasantly plump I call fat, my brother,” Eddie said. “I knew there had to be a reason you were dipping your stick into that one. Not exactly your usual type. So, what’s her connection to the jewelry store?”
“She’s the one who sold me the watch,” I said, wiggling my wrist at him. “Turns out, Dottie is a very lonely, very horny lady. After a couple of hours of banging the shit out of her at the No Tell Motel, she was more than happy to answer all my questions about her place of employment.”
Eddie scratched his chin, which was covered with a scraggly beard he’d been trying to grow since high school. “What’s gonna happen when the cops question Dottie after we hit the store?”
“Won’t be a problem,” I said, shaking my head.
He gave me a sideways glance, then a smirk. “You gonna kill her?”
“I don’t kill people, Eddie,” I said, giving him a hard look that made him turn away. I was a criminal, but I wasn’t a killer. Eddie had killed people. Sometimes, people who didn’t deserve to die, like that poor schmuck at the convenience store a couple of months back. Eddie’s temper got away from him sometimes and people got hurt. Sometimes, I thought he might even like it; hurting people. But he’s my little brother. I love him. I try not to think about it too much.
“So, what’s your plan for her then?”
“I wore a disguise whenever I was with her,” I said. “Dottie knows me as a traveling salesman from Reno named Carl Douglass who wears glasses and a bad toupee. Carl is going to take Dottie on a little trip a couple of days before the job. She’ll be heavily sedated in a motel while we do the job. I have a guy who is going to babysit her for me. When I give him the all-clear, he’ll let her wake up the next day to find a note from dear old Carl telling her he’s gone back to his wife and she should take the bus home.”
“I hope you at least have the decency to give her one more good fucking before you give her a good fucking over,” Eddie said, chuckling at himself. That was another flaw Eddie had: he wasn’t nearly as funny as he thought he was, but I didn’t need Eddie to be funny. I
needed him to watch my back, which he’d been doing his entire life.
SANDY
I met Brent Griffin on a chilly January day when I came into the Ford dealership to have my car serviced. My fifteen-year-old Taurus was a total piece of shit, but it was all I could afford, so I had to keep it running.
I’d gotten a coupon in the mail a few days before letting me know that Tuesday was Ladies’ Day at the dealership. I could have my oil changed, fluids topped off, tires pumped up, and filters checked for just $29. I scraped together my spare change and used the tips I’d made from cutting hair all weekend to have the work done.
I pulled up to the large bay door around the side of the dealership. I was number three in line at the service center. I sat in my car with the heater going and watched as a cute service advisor with shaggy brown hair and clipboard in hand leaned in to chat with the drivers seated inside their nice warm cars. When he got to me, he asked my name and did a double take when he glanced into my eyes. It was so cute.
“My name?” I stuttered because he was staring at me, smiling.
His eyes narrowed when he smiled. He had these adorable little dimples in his cheeks. “Yes, ma’am, I need your name,” he said, tapping the pen to the clipboard.
“Oh, um, Sandy Duval,” I said.
“Hi, Sandy,” he said, writing. “I’m Brent. What can we do for your today?”
“Hi, Brent. Um, I want that Tuesday Ladies Special thingy.” God, I must have sounded like an idiot because he grinned at me. He had such a nice smile.
He asked, “You mean the oil change service?”
“Yes, that’s it,” I said, nodding like a bobble-head. I forced my head to stop bobbing when he gazed into my eyes again.
“Can I get your phone number, Sandy?” he asked.
I gave him my cell number. I bit my lip as I watched him jot it down on the form.
Without looking up, he asked, “Would it be okay if I called you some time, Sandy?”