Come Back to Me_A Brother's Best Friend Romance

by Vivien Vale

  Margot looks me in the eye seriously. “Will you take them with us?”

  Fuck. What have I gotten myself into?

  “I guess if it’s that important to you.” I respond hesitantly.

  I’m relieved when Margot succumbs to a fit of giggles.

  “You should’ve seen your face!” She’s still giggling, and I can barely understand her words.

  Moving my hands from being wrapped behind her back, I gently stroke the sides of her body, where I’ve discovered it doesn’t take much to tickle her.

  “No!” Her giggling is abruptly cut off, as her hands slide down my arms to stop me from tickling her.

  “I won’t,” I soothe her quickly, as I pull her tightly against me. “You just deserved it for that little tease.”

  Moving her hands back up to circle my neck, she tugs me forward until our lips meet. Sliding my tongue to taste hers, I’m consumed by all that is Margot.

  My life.

  My inspiration.

  She’s everything to me. She and Amelia have filled the void I didn’t even realize I had. Imagining a life without them is impossible.

  Breaking our kiss, I rest my forehead against hers as we gently continue to sway to the Hawaiian beat.

  “I love you, Margot Masters. I love everything about you, now and forever.”

  Margot

  So, it turns out that dreams do come true.

  After five years, I’m married to the man I love—to my soul mate—and we have a beautiful daughter.

  Hawaii was the perfect place for our honeymoon. The island is miles and miles away from the mountains where Boone and I found each other again. It has gorgeous golden sands to lay on, warm sun to lay under, and a crystal-clear sea perfect for Amelia to practice her swimming.

  Everywhere you look, there is an aura of light, love, and laughter—I can spend the rest of my life in our beach house, staring over the water.

  But, really, I could spend the rest of my life wherever Boone is.

  As long as we’re all together, I’ll be happy.

  Now that Robert Masters has been exposed for the dangerous, scheming, and murderous man that he is, nothing else will take my happiness from me.

  I’m sitting out on the porch, staring over the sea and the star-encrusted sky. The sound of waves lapping at the sandy shore just in front of the house is soothing. I rest my head on the side of the chair, legs up on the table in front of me, and I can feel myself being lulled into sleep when Boone comes in the bedroom door behind me.

  He’s just returned from putting Amelia and Crockett to bed, not that the poor raccoon needs to be under any covers in this heat.

  “Hello, Mrs. Masters.”

  The words caress my ear as Boone approaches the back of the chair, wrapping his arms around me while I sit.

  He says the words like he doesn’t realize just how much hearing them turns me on.

  I lean my head back, resting my head against his skin.

  He’s even more golden after spending his days lounging in the sun, going for runs, and swimming in the sea. The salt tangles his hair and his beard make him look even more handsomely rugged. It’s almost unbearable, how sexy he is.

  “Hey there, Mr. Masters.” I smile wider. “How’s Amelia?”

  “Out like a light. But she’s had a long day.”

  “She really has.”

  “You know,” Boone says as he walks around the chair to perch on the table in front of me. “I’m really enjoying being a father.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I stand up and walk over to him, standing between his legs. “How would you like to give Amelia a little sibling? It’ll be double the fun.”

  Boone’s lazy smile widens into a wicked grin, and he stands. He takes me in his arms and kisses me hard, dipping slightly as his tongue brushes against my lip.

  Without a word, he effortlessly scoops me into his arms and carries me to the crisp white linen bed. He climbs over me, lifting off the ivory beach cover-up that I’ve been wearing all day.

  My fingers work on the buttons of his shorts and then quickly dispose of his boxers, where he’s already half-hard. I’m always eager to get Boone naked, while he likes to savor me.

  It’s as though he thinks I’m a delicacy—as though he doesn’t realize that he can take me and taste me any time he wants to.

  As I’m lying before him in my bikini, Boone kisses my shoulders and my collar bone, his deft fingers untying the knot behind my neck as his kisses dip lower.

  He unties the strings behind my back and throws the bikini top onto the floor.

  His kisses move over the mound of my breasts, and his lips capture my nipples. Licking at the sensitive buds, I writhe beneath him at the sudden contact. I’m already getting wet.

  One hand cups my other breast, and the other gently traces over my stomach until it reaches the panties of my bikini. Boone rubs at me through the cloth, his fingers stroking my clit and causing my hips to buck slightly into his hand.

  Still playing with my nipples, Boone pushes the fabric of my bikini bottoms to the side, his fingers stroking my pussy.

  “Oh, Boone, please.”

  In an instant, Boone lifts his fingers from my pussy and unties the strings that hold my bikini in place. He throws the flimsy white fabric away from the bed—not caring where it lands—and pulls me closer to him.

  He lifts his mouth from my nipples, which are hard and begging for attention. He kisses down my stomach and kisses my clit gently before pausing to look up at me. Silently asking if this is what I want.

  I nod and buck my hips towards him once more.

  “Please fuck me, Boone.”

  He needs no other encouragement; his mouth instantly begins to eat at my pussy, his tongue lapping at my folds as his thighs hold me still. Jolts of pleasure course through me as he uses his tongue to play with my clit.

  I’m already trembling, on the brink of my first orgasm.

  That’s when Boone moves his hands—one of them grabs at my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers, playing with the mound. Then two fingers stroke at my entrance, teasing me for a moment before slipping inside.

  Even his fingers fill me up as I begin to come undone.

  “Oh my god, Boone! Fuck!”

  He brushes against my G-spot, and that’s all it takes before I come. I feel light-headed for a moment, but Boone isn’t finished there. He lifts his head from my pussy and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.

  Then he reaches back up to my breasts and plays with them again, using both hands to tease and play with me.

  He’s making me wetter and wetter. I’m desperate for him to fuck me, but Boone’s only interested in teasing me.

  I can see that he’s rock hard, too, and throbbing, and I bet he wants to be inside me.

  He rubs his erection against my wetness, spreading my juices along the shaft of his thick cock. The feeling of the tip of his dick brushing against my clit sends jolts through my whole body.

  I just want him to fuck me.

  I roll my hips against his cock, trying to grind myself down on it and trying to get him to plunge into me without using his hands. I feel it push at my entrance, the tip just pressing into me, but it’s not enough.

  I’m panting, and I sit up slightly to kiss Boone, our lips connecting.

  As he leans forward to kiss me back, his cock slips into me, and I moan loudly, unable to stop myself.

  Boone starts off teasingly slow at first, thrusting into me gently. His cock fills me up, and each stroke brushes against my G-spot.

  I know it won’t be long before I come again.

  Boone makes me come undone in ways I could never have imagined.

  Legs spread as wide as they can, Boone begins to thrust harder into me, laying over my body as he takes a nipple in his mouth again.

  He licks at it, and the overwhelming sensations of his dick and his mouth have me writhing and moaning, calling out his name and begging for more.

  “Oh, Boone, you
feel so good. Oh, fuck me! Fuck me!”

  I hold his arms, scratching at the skin slightly. I can’t help myself.

  Boone lowers one hand to my clit, rubbing and playing with the bundle of nerves. I buck my hips uncontrollably, trying to meet his thrusts with desperation.

  I’m not sure how much more pleasure my body can take, but I’m certain to try and test my limits.

  He bottoms out in me quickly, filling me up and stretching out my pussy with his cock.

  For a moment, I’m worried that my uncontrollable moaning will wake Amelia, but she sleeps heavily. I can be as loud as I want.

  “Fuck…oh, yes! Yes!”

  We roll on the mattress so that I’m on top now. Boone still thrusts up into me, but I also roll my hips and ride him.

  I press my hands down on his chest and tilt my head back. My tits bounce with the constant movement, but Boone is quick to take them both in his hands and squeeze them.

  “Boone! Oh, fuck, Boone I’m gonna—I’m gonna—”

  He leans up and kisses me, and as our mouths and tongues collide, I feel my second release. I go slightly limp in his arms, and Boone holds me against his chest as I feel him begin to come, too.

  He twitches and throbs as I feel him explode inside me. The feeling of his cock sends a last few shocks of pleasure through me as I roll off him, and we lay beside each other.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful, Margot,” Boone murmurs into my neck as he pulls out of me. He kisses my skin again until he reaches my stomach. Boone rests a hand over where my womb would be and smiles hazily.

  After how little effort went into conceiving Amelia, I can tell that this will be the start of another little baby.

  It’ll be a boy this time. Somehow, I just know it.

  And I can’t wait for Boone to meet him.

  His To Protect

  A Second Chance Billionaire & Virgin Romance

  By Vivien Vale

  Copyright 2018 by Crimson Vixens

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work intended for adults only.

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  Ford

  Let’s get one thing straight right here, right now: I would take a fucking bullet to the brain for Adelaide Johansen.

  Before this day’s through, I won’t be surprised if I do exactly that.

  “Fuck,” I swear as the puddle jumper’s left engine sputters to death. We’re coasting on fumes and dreams now—and my pilot knows it.

  I swear again as I check for parachutes—the jackass only stocked one, and judging by the fear in his eyes as his gaze meets mine, he knows that, too.

  I shake my head and toss it to him. At least he’s got the good sense to look grateful as I pull him out of the pilot’s seat.

  “There’s a town about three clicks east of here,” I grunt, taking the wheel for myself. I ease the nose up a little, catching the air stream we’re currently riding so I can maintain enough altitude for the pilot to parachute to safety. “Stay low, stay quiet—and no matter what happens, if anyone stops you, don’t let them know you’re an American.”

  Funny thing about these war torn countries, really. You’re better off being from fucking Mars as far as these bastards are concerned. Doesn’t matter if you’re in the middle of the Middle East or out here in Africa where we’re now.

  As the pilot takes his jump—damn near pissing himself in the process, from the looks of him—all I can hope is that he’s got a good fucking Steve Irwin impression up his sleeve. Because when the fuckers who shot out our left engine see a chute fly…

  Well, I suppose the least I can do is buy him some time.

  Maybe it’s my CIA training, or maybe I just never put a whole hell of a lot of importance on my own life—but playing the hero is the only thing that’s ever made sense to me. It’s not complex, and it doesn’t keep me up at night—because frankly, I never fucking fail.

  As I veer the plane west, risking some of my precious altitude in the process, it hits me that this is just how I fucking operate.

  You keep kids safe. You respect women. You put your brother before yourself, and you don’t fucking bitch about it.

  Their lives before mine. Always. Forever.

  I mean, ideally, you pack more than one fucking parachute while you’re at it, but that’s neither here nor there at this point. I may not be the man who stocked this plane, but I’m the man who’s going to land it safely.

  Until, that is, the fuckers who shot out our left engine make a point of shooting out the right as well.

  At that point, a crash landing isn’t so much an option as it’s an inevitability. And a Podunk little plane like this…

  It’ll crumple on impact like a piece of tin foil balled up in a fucking fist.

  This isn’t the first time I’ve faced near-certain death. If I make it out of this, I’m sure it will be far from the last.

  But just like always, knowing that these very well may be my final moments…

  I turn my thoughts to her.

  Adelaide fucking Johansen. She sashayed her way into my life when I was just a half-wit, hormone-riddled teenager with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove…and even though we parted ways ten years ago now, there’s not a day that’s gone by that she hasn’t been on my mind.

  We went to school together, Addie and me. I got into that stuck-up fucking private school on some kind of bizarre combination of sympathy and book smarts. Foster care kid from the wrong side of the tracks, never knew his parents but had The Count of Monte Cristo memorized from cover to cover…yeah, taking me in probably looked good on St. Anthony’s recruitment brochures.

  Adelaide, though?

  If I was the back page sob story of St. Anthony’s brochures, Adelaide was the wholesome blonde bombshell in a plaid skirt on the front cover.

  The Johansens have money. Even back then, everyone fucking knew it. When I first met Addie’s brother, Sten, I knew it just by looking at his shoes—you can always tell. His were brand new and shined so bright I could see my own reflection when I looked down at them.

  My shoes? Scuffed to all hell and two sizes too small. I think the nurse fished them out of an ancient lost and found box—and they were so ugly, you could understand why some poor bastard made such a point of losing them in the first place.

  But Sten never judged me for being such white fucking trash—and neither did Addie.

  Maybe that’s why, when Sten offered me this gig, I said yes so fucking quickly.

  Or maybe I might have had a somewhat ulterior motive.

  Hell, I’d gladly take a bullet to the brain if it meant seeing Addie one last time.

  Probably shouldn’t have taken this job, all things considered. These days, I doubt Addie ever wants to see my sorry ass ever again.

  But when I found out that not only did pretty little Addie get it in her head to join Doctors Without Borders after med school, but that she also felt it necessary to take the most dangerous fucking assignment she could get those slender, elegant fingers on…

  Well, what can I say?

  I didn’t make millions starting a private security firm by resting on my fucking laurels and sending some other jackass to do a job that’s mine by right.

  In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I felt it must be true.

  Protecting Adelaide Johansen while she tries to singlehandedly to save the world must be what I was put on this earth to do.

  My only regret is that I’m not going to live to fulfill that task—because this plane is going down. Fast.

  There’s a nasty, dull explosion to my left, accompanied by a cloud of noxious black smoke that billows from the left engine like oil made air.

&
nbsp; The heat that follows tells me that the plane I’m in is now on fire—which means that now, it doesn’t matter how long I keep it flying. It’ll explode before it hits the ground.

  There’s only one option left.

  I wrench the hand break out of its socket. It comes free with a groan of metal separating from metal. I use it to jam the controls of the plane, so our course is set for a steady decline…

  Then, I take a big fucking breath.

  Do or die.

  When the plane is near enough to the ground, I jump.

  Whatever the movies tell you, they’re lies.

  You don’t hit the ground running—you tuck and roll.

  And even then…the body doesn’t like it much.

  But as the interior of the plane catches fire and explodes overhead, I’m reminded once again that my body is a little tougher than most. A few more scuffs, scrapes, and scars won’t kill me.

  I’m Ford fucking Armstrong, after all.

  If Liberian warlords, hostile uncontacted tribes, and rogue Nazis hiding from Interpol in Argentina couldn’t kill me, rolling out of an exploding aircraft sure as hell won’t.

  I straighten, shake the savanna dirt out of my beard, and check for injuries.

  Not too shabby. Nothing that I can’t walk off, at any rate.

  I feel my breast pocket and locate the compass I keep there to check my bearings. It’s a reminder from a long lost friend, I guess you could say.

  As indestructible as I think I am sometimes, no man is immortal.

  My thumb runs across the dull golden surface while I let my mind linger on buddies of mine whose tours of duty have already ended.

  Someday, I’m sure I’ll end mine, too.

  But today, I’m alive.

  I’m alive, and Adelaide Johansen needs me.

  Even if she doesn’t know it yet.

  I flick the compass open and orient myself. The needle trembles, and true north points my way…

  Right back to her.

  I pocket the compass, grab my pack, and get marching.

  It’ll be a long, hard trek…