Pikeman: A Billionaire Romance

by Kristen Kelly

  “Huh?”

  “The size of the beds, dear,” the older woman said, speaking to me for the very first time.

  The quilts were absolutely breathtaking. I scanned the area, taking in the bright and muted colors, geometric shapes, and tiny squares. Everywhere I looked had been touched by an Amish family. Big happy congenial families that worked together for the common good consisting of mother, grandmothers and aunts, a people who shared in everything and anything. I remembered a movie once where the little ones sat on the floor beneath the quilt frame, passing the needle up through the fabric. I fingered one of the quilts thinking how much my mother would have loved one. She’s always sewed when I was a little girl but told me she had no patience for quilt making, though she admired women who did.

  “Now I can’t boast that they were all made from the Amish because some of these have gone on to get awards but as you know the Amish would think of that as boasting. Against their religion and all that.”

  I had no idea what she was talking about but it didn’t matter. The quilts were still beautiful. No matter who made them. There were so many designs, so many colors, my head was swirling with desire for one. The twin sized quilts were folded neatly in boxes against the wall but the larger ones strung from wall to wall. They created partitions, like rooms inside themselves. I felt like I was in a cocoon.

  “Gonna take awhile to pick one out,” Brock said over his shoulder.

  “Sure, sure. I’ll just leave you and your daughter to get lost in here for a bit.”

  Daughter? No wonder she was so quiet.

  Brock stiffened at her words. He ducked his head beneath a quilt, chuckling to himself. “They’re pretty spectacular aren’t they? Pick out your favorite, baby girl.” I was glad he had relaxed but I wished he hadn’t called me that when he could possibly be overheard.

  “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” I gushed. I slid my fingers along a stunning geometric one, the fabric of red, blue, and yellow hexagons on a background of white with olive leaves.“They’re all so beautiful. I simply can’t choose.” My fingers brushed along the tiny threads noting how perfectly spaced they were.

  Brock came up behind me smelling of pine and musk. “Mmmm.” I leaned in as strong arms curled around my waist. “Try,” he said in that gruff no nonsense voice of his that was barely above a whisper. “I want to see you wrapped in one of these and then I want to spread you out on it. Naked.”

  My heart did a little flip. Warm craving throbbed between my legs.

  “Would you like that?” he asked. Thick fingers slipped inside the front of my pants. They grazing the silky hairs there. “What? Not here, surely?”

  “Why not?” His other hand snaked around and slipped beneath my blouse. Gripping my bra and shirt, he pushed it up. All the way to my chin!

  “What are you doing?” I squeaked.

  “A little appetizer before the main course. He breathed into my neck murmuring other things he wanted to do to me as I sucked in a lungful of air, my nipples sharpening to hard points. “Oh god.” When he took one of my breasts in his mouth I knew it was all over.

  I feigned to stop him but my heart wasn’t in it. I was weak. So weak the word ‘slut’ came to mind. Desperate to regain some sort of control I made to push his head away and pull down my shirt, but his hands were already inside my panties groping. When the hell had he unzipped my pants? “Brock, we can’t…oh god.”

  “So wet for me. Always so fucking wet,” he growled.

  I spread my legs wide, giving him more access. “What if…What if she comes back?”

  “Who?” he growled finding the bundle of nerves inside my core and circling it. I thrashed against his fingers, thinking how brazen I’d become and how I loved it. Fucking loved it.

  “You strike me as a woman who likes a little danger,” he whispered. Turning my head, he tried to kiss me, but he could only reach my neck. I shivered when his tongue nipped my ear feeling the endorphins skimming across my skin. “We’re alone. Do you want to? Do you want to play, baby girl? Do you want me to fuck you on one of these quilts? Make you scream my name while you come for me? Drive my cock inside that tight little pussy?”

  I moaned, unable to speak. When he talked that way, all dirty and possessive, I couldn’t even talk coherently. All I could do was…feel.

  I did. Just being near him, smelling his male skin, feeling his hands on me, had me so fucking horny I had been wondering how I was going to keep it together long enough to get home and into a proper bed.

  Eventually, he turned around and let me kiss him. I focused on his face, the liquid heat inside his eyes, the beat of his heart, the confident smirk upon his lips and I knew. I couldn’t resist him and never would but… “Here?” He pulled me into a rich delicious kiss that had me reeling so hard and so fast it took my breath right away.

  “Here...”

  Breathless, I swallowed, making up my mind. “We just have to be…oh god.”

  Still palming his erection, I writhed against his finger—first one and then two as they twiddled around my core and the world started to spin. God, his hands were amazing. I wanted them everywhere on my body and never on anyone else. Feeling heady with excitement, I reached down. When I felt the bulge inside his pants growing harder between us, it only made me want him more.

  Falling against the wall, a set of boxes toppled over. “Whoops.” We both paused, not breathing as we waited for rushing feet. If that didn’t send the old lady running up the stairs, nothing would. Brock could have cared less though. The heat in his eyes as he glanced from me to the pillows left no doubt in my mind, he was serious about what he wanted to do to me. “It’s a sign,” he said gruffly. “We’ll need this too.” Yanking one of the quilts off a rack and laying it on the floor, he gently laid me down on it.

  “Perfect,” he said, laying down next to me. “I think we need to try one of these out. You know? To see if we fit right on it.”

  No longer in charge of my own body, my mind, or even my common sense I went with the feeling. The urges. His hot tongue inside my mouth. The way his fingers grazed my sex. It was naughty. Oh so naughty but that made it more exciting. The thought of getting caught fucking each other in a bunch of quilts sent electric shocks skipping along my skin. I knew we should stop, try and control ourselves. After all, we weren’t a couple of teenagers. But I couldn’t. I was too excited. Like sneaking into the circus in the middle of the day. “We shouldn’t.”

  “We should.” I heard the faint pop of the snap of a waistband and the zipper of his trousers, the jingling of his belt buckle clunked along the floor, replaced moments later by a cock against my leg. I was beyond giddy. Beyond stopping this. I’d never dreamed of anything so scandalous but here I was. About to screw in a little country gift shop frequented by tourists. What the hell was I doing? man doing to me? It was wild and I loved it.

  I lost all judgment and I didn’t care if we got caught. In fact, I would have smiled and told Mrs. Whatever her name was that she should go away until we finished. I wasn’t the one in charge. Brock was and I loved what he was doing to me. Now.

  He covered me with his body. “This one pretty enough for you, baby girl?” He swept a strand of hair away from the side of my face. I gazed up into those dangerous brown eyes, the rugged shape of his head, his strong full lips, realizing I was trusting him. Trusting him when I probably shouldn’t have. “Mmmm, yes,” I breathed.

  “Good. Because we might get it a little dirty.”

  No shit!

  He ran a finger down the side of my face lingering on my lips and then down across my breasts. I hadn’t bothered to pull my blouse down. “You’re so fucking hot, baby. Ever since I laid eyes on you, I’ve thought of nothing else. You’re driving me insane.”

  I’m driving him insane?

  In a flash, he ripped down my yoga pants as far as they would go. “Lift your bum, baby,” he whispered into my hair, his wet breath sending tingles along my scalp. “I’ll be quick so do
n’t worry.” I lifted and he pulled my pants down to my ankles. I felt exhilarated and frightened all at once but all I could think was having his cock inside me.

  It was rather dim on the second floor but my eyes had adjusted. A deep primal emotion stirred in Brock’s amber eyes as his gaze traveled the length of my half-naked body. He grinned and then took out his rock hard cock. Like a wild animal, he speared me making me gasp. No kissing. No taking his time. Part of me loved it and the other…well I still hoped we’d not get caught. I tilted my hips, giving him more depth and he growled in my ear, gratified. He began to move at a frantic pace, a man possessed, buried tip to route, the old floorboards of the floor thumping lightly.

  Caged inside his biceps, I felt like he was laying claim to my body. Again. Marking me somehow and I wondered if the old lady would be able to tell just by looking at me when we finally limped out of here.

  He reached beneath, ran a finger along my slick clit and kissed me as his body slowed shivering above me as his body started to pulse As my own body climbed into orgasm, a frigid blast of cool air from one of the quilts stirred overhead. I wasn’t even sure if I’d heard them at first. They were just a blip in my far-off hearing muddled by my passion. Then I did and my breath hitched. “Brock,” I whispered but it came out like squeal as I writhed against his finger.

  Completely covering my body, as if in protection, he put a finger to my lips. “Quiet, baby girl.” He didn’t slow but thank god kept that finger going in circles, the bundle of nerves that made my head spin, taking control of my emotions. I knew I should make him stop. Pull my pants up at least. But I couldn’t. When I started to cry out in ecstasy, he covered my mouth with his own, driving his tongue deep inside it. Tasting my desire.

  Almost there. Almost fucking there!

  Voices. “I told you, we can’t spend that kind of money right now. Oh!”

  Shit!

  I gasped and then held my breath as my body started to convulse with my orgasm. Retreating steps and then giggles but none of it deterred Brock’s pace. His breathing erratic, it wasn’t long before he sounded like he was coming too. Honestly, I thought he had but what did I know? My experience was limited. A few more hot thrusts and he filled me to the brim. Hot cum leaked out as he pulled his spent cock out of me. I looked up at him, grinning and surprised. “Oh my god. That was fucking incredible.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” he said smiling like a proud peacock.

  “You are insatiable. You know that don’t you?”

  “You made me this way, baby.”

  I laughed. “Did I?” I fluttered my eyes at him. “Let’s get out here. I think we used up our brownie points. “

  “Are you sure,” he asked tickling me between the legs.

  “ Yes.”

  “You got it, sweetness.” He leaned down, moved a stand of hair behind my ear before planting a slow warm kiss upon my lips. He helped me to my feet and I pulled up my pants. “This the right one?” he asked, dragging the quilt into a bunch with his massive hands.

  “Oh yeah,” I said. “I’m going to name it our memory quilt. Our children will never believe we had sex in a public place. We can embarrass them when they’re teenagers.” Brock frowned, although it could be I imagined it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Brock

  After lowering the two hundred-and-fifty-pound bar bell back into the bars, I picked up a towel and wiped the sweat off my brow remembering the last time I got this hot and bothered. Blowing out a long heated breath, I thought of Amy, that hot little body and how my cock stood at attention any time she said my name. Our weekend over, all I could think about was how wonderful I had felt. Her body was like heaven and we fit together beautifully. Was that just because she was molded to my body now? After all, her innocence was mine.

  What the hell did I do to deserve such a woman? She was smart, funny, and sexy as all get out. My cock jumped happily every time she came near. Oh, and she came. A lot! And I did too. She didn’t even have to touch me. A brush of her hair along my arm. A soft spoken word and sexy grin. And that voice. It was sweet, melodic even, laced with a confidence of a much older woman. I could listen to her all day. When she launched into her love of the latest classic she’d just read, enthusiastic and full of life, the sound of her voice completely unraveled me. Add those notes in the heat of passion, and I was all over that little sexpot in a heartbeat.

  Amy had breathed new life into my soul and part of me was grateful. Of course part of me was already putting up barriers too. I wasn’t really sure why as of yet. Perhaps it was her age or maybe I just hadn’t been with anyone that mattered in far too long . Likely it was self preservation. She needed to have more experiences didn’t she? Before she settled for one man?

  I suddenly realized, I’d walked through life with the pain of my parents’ deaths plastered all over my face. My heart broken, with no one to pick up the pieces. No one to tell me I could survive what I was sure at the age of fourteen, was surely my fault. I must have taken it out on hundreds of men throughout my life and at least a few woman that didn’t deserve it. I went around barking orders, demanding attention and then finally got my shit together my last year of college when a kindly professor took me under his wing . He told me, with my gruff attitude, I was perfect for management training or the marines. I didn’t do any of that. I looked for a profession that would put me in danger on a daily basis. If I couldn’t save my parents, I could at least save someone else. If I died in the process well—that was just payback. Or so I thought.

  Before I realized what I was doing, I’d started joining every organization I could think of that had any kind of risk attached to it—finding my niche when I worked on an ambulance service, which lead me to apply to Intercourse Fire Company at the age of twenty one. I couldn’t save them all though and each time I failed another arrow pierced my heart until I was so full of holes I could barely function as a human being.

  At the age of thirty-five, I was a broken man. They made me the chief just to get me out of the field. And here I was. Whistling! How was it Amy made me feel whole again? Rising from my workbench I strode downstairs to the open bay. I looked out the window and checked my watch. Five o’clock. Dinner time. It wasn’t my turn to cook, but lately I’d been doing a lot of it. In fact I’d just baked a cake. A goddammed cake! Who the hell was I, Betty Fucking Crocker? I whistled some more, thinking how maybe I’d missed my calling. I was fucking good at this cooking thing.

  My mistake was going downstairs to the bay. I’d spent an hour-and-a-half making sure all the backup equipment was in order, but now I second guessed myself. Had I filled all the tanks? Made sure there was gas in the trucks? Were the oxygen masks in order? What about the AED pads? They needing replacing after every use. I opened up the case, sighing with relief when I saw the pads were brand new. I closed the hardback AED case, and placed it in the truck, locking down the compartment. I didn’t want another incident like I had in training. I was surprised I didn’t feel as guilty as I should have. Maybe sex had a way of easing a man’s pain. Then again, maybe it was finally time to be happy and forgive myself. For all of it. You were just a boy. It wasn’t your fault.

  Placing the last of the oxygen tanks right side up in the bay, I resumed whistling.

  I hadn’t whistled since I was ten! In fact, I was a bear most of the time and it wasn’t a secret that most of the guys called me Brock the Rock because I never showed any emotion. Not a tear. Not a smile. Not even a goddammed scowl around the men. And now here I was freaking whistling like fucking Mary Poppins. Apparently my emotions, which had been dead for more years than I can count—had come screaming back to life. Screaming. I chuckled to myself.

  Yeah, she was a screamer all right. For such a tiny woman she had a voice like an Irish banshee. Not that I minded. It certainly stroked my ego, just knowing I could please the shit out of her like that. Damn! I pleased her so much we fucked four—no six times our last night together in the cottage. Once more on t
he deck, in my mother’s macramé swing, and four times in the bed. The sheets were soaked by the morning, her beautiful dark hair tied in knots and I swear my dick actually collapsed from being inflated so many times. It was beyond exciting. Beyond amazing and beyond anything I’d ever experienced with any other woman.

  I tried to put Amy out of my mind and back on what I was trained for—taking care of people. It was five-thirty in the afternoon and I’d heard on the scanner, the fire on Main Street was under control. In fact, the men would be arriving to the station soon. I knew everyone was all right but I still wanted to see them with my own eyes. These were my men. I trained these guys. I took it personal when anything went bad. Deep down I knew they were on their own out there, but often— I beat myself up thinking there was something I’d not prepared them for if they got hurt. I wouldn’t sleep until I saw everyone of them hang up their hats and place their boots by their beds.

  In truth, I loved my job. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I thought about the stories the men would tell, the young guys especially. I chuckled to myself and wondered if Garcia pissed his pants at his first fire. He was pretty good under pressure when we trained— calm, level-headed, everything by the book but it was a whole other ball of wax to be in a real live fire. Especially a structure fire which was totally unpredictable.

  When I became a fireman, I’d found my calling and with enough time, it was my job to lead the training events. Not everyone was born to fight fires and unfortunately, most men learned that the hard way. No way in hell could I simulate every foreseeable circumstance in training. Reaction times and how to handle specific situations could only be learned one way. On the job. With it came experience. The younger guys didn’t have that luxury and they never would until they fought their share of fires. I was different though. It wasn’t a job—it was a way of life.

  Obsessed with being prepared, I added extra pads to the AED device, zipped it closed, and locked it back up in the compartment of the ladder truck. Then, taking two steps at a time, I raced upstairs to the second floor.