"Oh God, Jake… Jaaake," she moaned and squirmed against his hand, making his balls fill to capacity and his dick swell almost painfully.
"Feel that baby?" he pressed into her. "You move, I get harder. You want me to fuck you with this?" He curled his fingers around hers, reveling in the feel of his ring on her finger. He used his other hand to stroke at her nub, his thumb to press up into her g-spot.
She flooded around his dick. "That’s it," he cooed as her pussy quivered and contracted around him. "Say yes and I'll fuck you, stroke you, bring you to such a good fucking end you'll never—"
"That's… un… fair—Jake!" she panted then squealed when he pressed her nub between two of his fingers.
He stroked her with his thumb and leaned into her ear. "Don't fucking care what's fair. You are mine. I want you to stay mine. I'll do whatever I have to do to see it done." He circled his hips and ground into her as he spoke.
"Ahh… Jake…" She wriggled beneath him and moved in the way he guided. She curled her fingers around his every time she pressed down into his hand then up into his hard dick, straining in her attempts to steal her release.
"Say yes, baby. Say you'll marry me." He bucked his hips into her now in a demanding rhythm, circles that pressed her clit between his fingers until she shivered and pulsed, quivered and built until—
"Oh God Jake—yes. YES!"
He smiled as she quaked out of control.
"I'll marry you. I will. I'm already yours." Her clit pulsed between his fingers, and he kept the pressure on her g-spot until she whined and screamed his name.
"Fuck. I love the way you shake in my hands." He gripped her shaking fingers around his before he rose to his knees. Taking her with him, he never broke the intimacy of their connection. She still pulsed around him when he pulled her hips back then slammed into her as he'd been waiting to do. She was so hot and wet as she came down from her climax, he started hammering into her like an animal in rut, unable to stop until his balls rose up and unleashed his seed inside her in long thick ropes.
It had been too long, and the wait too hard, and she had finally said yes. He fell against her, totally replete, his eyes locked on his ring on her finger as he pulsed and jerked inside her body.
He stayed there for long moments, inhaled huge breaths, as they both panted and came down. He pressed against her to lie down, but kept his length inside, reluctant to withdraw from her heat.
"Fucking love it here. Don't want to leave here," he whispered the admission against her ear as he massaged the abrasions his pubic hair had made on her skin when he rode her. "You're going to wear more of my marks here."
She wriggled herself from around him and turned over. "I love your marks." She stretched out beneath him and reached up to his face. He readily went down to her waiting body. He lay half over her with his head on her shoulder, his dick still twitching against her thigh.
"Oh no you don't," she stroked his back with her soft hand. "We need rest."
"Gimme five minutes and I'm ready to be inside you again."
"You're a wild man." She lifted her hand and stared at his ring. "This is… way too beautiful, Jake. My God…" she blinked at it.
"I wanted it big enough for every man to see and know to back the hell off."
"Well," she continued to admire it, mesmerized, "mission accomplished." She looked back at him then pressed her soft mouth to his hard lips. "You know you didn't have to torture me to get me to say yes. I've had a lot of time to think since you've been gone, and wouldn't have turned you down again."
"Fuck that," he deepened the kiss she'd started. "I wasn't going to take the chance." He kissed her hard, again and again.
"You and me," she sighed, and played with his hair. "We belong together I guess."
"You bet your sweet ass we do." He reached down and squeezed her butt cheeks.
"And all this time… apart and wasted. I should have told you, before you left."
He moved over her and slid his ready length inside her again. "You don't have to tell me anything anymore. Just show me. Show me how much you want to be my wife."
And she did. Over and over. All night long.
*****
Jake buttoned his jeans and pulled open the door to Henry, standing there with paper travel cups of coffee in an Eco Green holder.
"Thanks." He grabbed one as his brother crossed the threshold. "Any word?" He tasted the steaming liquid. Exactly how he liked it. Super-hot and black. Maybe the little shit wasn't so bad after all.
"Yeah. About ten minutes ago." Henry dropped the cardboard tray onto the night table and pulled out his own cup. "They'll be here sooner than later. Their president, Jingle, was on his bike, and by the sounds of it had a friggin’ cavalry with him."
Jake frowned and looked pointedly at Marianne's sleeping form.
"Sorry." Henry chuckled and slurped his coffee. "Guess you wore her out."
"Shut the fuck up."
Henry shrugged. "Sheesh. Here I thought after the marathon I heard you two having last night you'd be all mellow this morning."
Jake pointed to the door. "I'll be out in five." He set down his coffee and pulled on his t-shirt.
Henry shuffled back to the door and pulled it open. The roar of motorcycle engines filled the air. He looked back at Jake. "Guess it's sooner."
Jake grabbed his boots and picked up the back pack. He nudged Henry out the door and closed it quietly. Not that these bikers hadn't just woke up the whole motel with their entrance. It was doubtful Marianne was sleeping through this exchange.
The bikers cut the engines on their Harleys’ and sat back on their bikes. Clearly the one out front was their president, Jingle. He as all tattoos, both arms and up his neck until they covered most of his bald head. Sunglasses sat on his pock-marked face, and his black goatee was braided. Nice. He was also carrying. At least two weapons. Knife at his hip. Gun in his boot.
Jake gave the forty-something year old man a chin lift, which was returned.
"You the one that took out my boys?"
"Yeah."
"Prince Charming needed patching up pretty bad."
Marianne snorted from behind him. "Charming, my ass," she muttered.
Jake kept his eyes on Jingle. "He had it coming."
"Uh huh." He took off his sunglasses and narrowed his eyes on Jake. "Military."
"Navy."
"Had a feelin'" The president pulled up his shirt to show a large tattoo on his remarkably maintained abs. "So you're my brother."
Jake pulled up his shirt sleeve to show his own tattoo on his upper right arm. "Looks like."
Jingle nodded behind Jake. "Sweet pea's your woman?"
"Off limits."
He nodded and switched his gaze to Henry. "And you're the little brother."
Henry just blinked like an owl.
The president shook his head. "I got a little brother. Biggest pain in my ass." He nodded at the knapsack. "That my money?"
"Where's my mother?" Henry spoke up.
Jingle nodded to one of the other bikers, who whistled. A bike started up somewhere in the back of the mob before the sound of hysterical shrieking grew with the roar of the approaching bike.
A woman got off from behind the biker and strode to the president. "I cannot say this has been pleasant. I am so not sorry to part your company."
The president lifted the side of his mouth and looked at Henry. "She's a real piece of work."
Jake tossed the money at Henry before his brother ran over to his mother.
"Are you okay?" Henry shoved the knapsack at the biker and took his mother's hand.
"No, I am not okay. Look at me! I just spent the better part of a day on the back of that thing and…"
"Mom—it's okay—it's okay—" Henry kept repeating as he led her into his room and closed the door.
The biker unzipped the bag then nodded at his president.
Jingle nodded at Jake then lifted a hand and made a circle in the air with his finger. The
y started up their bikes and circled out of the lot. In a roar of engines, they were gone.
Jake turned to Marianne, who watched the bikers round the corner and pull onto the highway. She pursed her lips and looked at him. "I could have done that you know." She turned and went back inside the room.
Jake just shook his head and followed.
THE END
Bonus Story 12/40
Rising from the Flames
Smoke Screen
Melanie Ironstone was nothing if not focused. When she got an idea in her head she went full steam ahead, and could get so engrossed she would not know what was going on around her. That is what happened when she realized there was a discrepancy with the financial disclosures she had been going over for her employer. She was the firm’s accountant, and the suits upstairs had decided an in-house audit would be necessary, so she was doing it.
It had begun fairly routine, but about halfway through the day she had found problems with the receipt records. Nothing big at first, regular discrepancies that could be found going over any books. But then she had found that the income and overhead weren’t matching up the way they should. So she dug deeper, and found that the problems could only be deliberate. Mel then began copying the information to a thumb drive that she could present to the boss in one neat package, explaining what she had found.
She was so engrossed that she did not notice the smell of smoke. She actually rubbed her eyes under her thick reading glasses, wondering why her eyes were stinging. It did not get her attention fully though as she was almost done. She finished the last of her file transfer and removed the thumb drive, putting it in the breast pocket of her flannel shirt. It was then that she noticed the smoke. Then she heard the sirens. The building was on fire!
Panicking, Mel jumped up and removed her reading glasses. Smoke was coming through the door that she had left cracked open. When she went to it she could see reflection of flames in the hallway. The heat was becoming intense. She knew there was no way she could get out via the hallway, so she turned back to the little window near the desk. It was a tiny little utility room she had been assigned so her options were not great. She threw open the window, inhaled the cool winter air with a gasp and began coughing. She could see the fire trucks five floors below and began waving. She tried to shout but the smoke caused her to start coughing. A few more deep breaths of clear air and she was able to scream for help.
“Up here! Help, please, up here!” she shouted waving frantically. More and more smoke was billowing into the little room, and out of the window. A man on a megaphone called out to her. She started to cry, feeling that it was the first step to being rescued.
“Stay where you are, we are coming to get you. Do not leave the window until help comes!” Mel waved acknowledgement of the message received. She waited for a few minutes but nothing happened. Men went into the building with hoses. More trucks pulled up and more hoses were hooked up. Water was being sprayed on the building but the smoke behind her kept getting thicker and it was harder and harder to find clear air and she was coughing again. Her eyes were watering from the acrid fumes when she saw a ladder being raised and extending toward her. She cried out again with fear, waving frantically, as if they could not see her. The ladder got closer and closer. In her mind it seemed to move so slowly and the heat was getting worse.
Black smoke kept billowing past her where she hung halfway out the window, trying to avoid the smoke, to no avail. She kept wiping her stinging eyes and then to her surprise she saw the end of the ladder and a fireman in the basket at the end. He was in full gear with ventilator and oxygen tank. Due to the angle of the ladder she had to stretch out for him to get close to her. She overreached and felt herself slipping forward and screamed. She heard the man shout something and lunge for her, grabbing her arms before she fell. She swung forward, hitting the side of the basket. Everything got hazy as she felt herself being hauled up. Mel could only see the man’s eyes through his faceplate; determined, compassionate eyes. She heard herself sobbing as she made it into the basket. The man was shouting something to the ground, she thought dizzily, it couldn’t be to her because she could not make out what he was saying. Time seemed to speed up and before she knew it she was on the ground, then on a stretcher that was soon in the back of an ambulance. When the sirens started and the medics put an oxygen mask on her, she relaxed into unconsciousness.
*****
The Accused
Mel lay in her hospital bed frustrated and angry. When she had woken she had been interviewed by a police officer about what happened, and then again by a good-looking fire investigator. It seemed her place of work had been deliberately set on fire. For a time, she was the main suspect! She, Melanie Ironstone! She had never even had a parking ticket and they thought she was an arsonist! What the hell, she wondered, taking a sip of her juice through the cheap little straws the hospital used. She thought about it more and out of anger she got up and went looking for her clothes. She was feeling fine other than a little dizziness. The doctors had given her lungs the all-clear, and she was ready to go home. Let them accuse her there, she told herself.
She went into the bathroom and the clothes she had been wearing were folded on a shelf, clean and laundered. She changed out of the embarrassing hospital gowns into her jeans, tank top and warm flannel shirt.
The nurse arrived. “Hello, Miss Ironstone? Are you in there?” she said. Mel’s nurse was a pretty little woman with the voice of a wood chipper, she thought.
“Yeah, I am in here. What do you need?” Mel said, not bothering to be too polite.
“You have visitors ma’am,” the nurse growled at her.
“Out in a minute,” she told her and finished dressing.
She had been allowed a shower earlier in the day so she was clean at least. She put her long red hair into a pony tail and tucked her shirts into her pants, trying to look as presentable as she could.
Mel walked out of the bathroom and saw the good-looking fire investigator and another man. The second man was bigger, very strong-looking with black hair and a goatee. The investigator was a few inches shorter than the big guy’s six two. He had red hair and was clean shaven.
“Hello Mr. Morgan, are you here to interrogate me further?” she asked sarcastically. It really annoyed her that she was a suspect. The big guy’s lips twitched as if he were suppressing a smile. There was something familiar about him but she could not put her finger on it. He was watching her interaction with the investigator.
“Actually I am here to tell you that you have been cleared, for now. You are free to go but if we need more information we would be grateful for anything you can give us. It was definitely arson, but it is a peculiar case. That being said I also wanted to introduce you to Lieutenant Max Cronkite of District Fourteen’s fire house. You met briefly the other night,” he said.
Mel looked closer at the man, frowning slightly. She thought she should remember a man like that, and then she saw it. His eyes, his eyes! She smiled big for him.
“You were on the ladder. I remember! Thank you very much for saving me. You risked yourself to haul my butt to safety. Thank you Mr. Cronkite,” she said, feeling like she was blabbering. She had dreamed of the horrific night several times and he was her savior every time. He came forward and took her hand. His eyes were beautiful, she thought as she gazed into them.
“You are very welcome Miss Ironstone. It is my pleasure; I hope I am not intruding. I like to meet survivors of fires. It is a reminder of the importance of the job we do,” he said.
Mel nodded somberly. She knew that the building’s janitor and his son had died in the fire. They had been in the basement and that was one of the places that the fire had been the fiercest. Mel understood why meeting survivors would be such a good reminder for the fire fighters. When every call could result in human lives being lost, it would be a good re-enforcement of how vital the job was to see the successes.
“Well I hope you know the work you do is very much
appreciated,” she told him and could not stop herself from hugging him with a sudden lump in her throat. When she backed away she looked at the investigator.
“Thank you for letting him visit. It’s good to meet somewhere other than a fire truck basket,” she told him and he smiled.
“It is my pleasure as well. I have known Max for years and he is one of the best officers we have. Now, there are some inconsistencies with the fire we were both hoping you could help us with. We do not believe you had anything to do with it, but we are searching for other information. If you are ready to leave, can we buy you lunch and have you taken home,” he said.
Mel could see concern in Mr. Morgan’s eyes as much as in Max’s and thought she may have to change her mind about him. Well she thought, wait and see.
“I was about to leave on my own so your timing is excellent. Know any good delis?” she asked, lightheartedly.
In New York everyone has a favorite deli. They laughed and suggested whatever Mel’s favorite was since they would be taking her home too. She chose Darrel’s Deli; it was a block from her apartment and had great soup. After she checked out of the hospital, they took her to Darrel’s in an official fire department vehicle. It was a little pickup truck with the district number on the side, 14. Mel sat in the extra cab seat because she could not feel good about making the big man cram himself into such a little seat. They arrived at the deli, got a booth and ordered fairly quickly.
“I am glad to hear I am off the suspect list. What can I do to help?” she asked them. They exchanged glances.
“You are off of my list, definitely. Others still think you are a good suspect. I want to reassure you that we…do not,” he told her. Mel’s eyes narrowed.
“Who thinks I am a good suspect? I have never broken a law in my life for goodness’ sake,” she told them firmly with some irritation. Mr. Morgan looked at her with sympathy.
“Well, we can find no evidence that would work in court or even a motive that makes sense. Your employers have been speaking to a few commissioners in the city and they are listening. Considering there is nothing that makes sense about it we are at a loss as to why they are focused on you. They are going to get nothing back from insurance claims, since it is obviously arson. As I told you before, the fire started in two places at the same time and you were busy working from that room upstairs. The computer internet connection and your phone use prove that. Do you have any idea why you are the focus for your company?”
In the Arms of the Dragon Princes Page 40