The Sailor's Secret Baby

by Frankie Love

  He kneels before me, pulling my thighs to the edge of the bed, making me release a gasp of surprise at the fluid movement. "Look at you, sweetheart. Didn't your Mama teach you that nice girls wear panties?"

  I shake my head. "Never knew my mama. And I like to go to bed without any on."

  He inhales, his hands massaging my inner thighs, near my entrance. "And why is that?"

  "I like to touch myself when I go to bed."

  "Is that right?" he asks. "And how do you touch yourself?"

  "I do this," I tell him, taking his hand and pressing it to my warm pussy. "I move my hand up and down until I'm nice and wet."

  I'm moaning as he touches me, my pussy so slick with need as he moves his fingers over my slit, the feel of his hands so forbidden, that it sends a wave of longing through me. I need more.

  "Then I press a finger inside me," I tell him, resting my hand over his, and urging his finger to fill me up. "And I move slowly, until..."

  "Until what?" he asks, a smile spreading across his face. He presses a second finger inside of me, making my body heat up so quick my breath grows shallow.

  "Until I..." I moan, my hands gripping my blankets. "Until I..."

  "Oh fuck, girl," he groans as I begin to squirt for him. I knew I could... that I would. I know my body, even if I've never shared it with a man. "Don't stop, please, don’t stop," he tells me, flicking my clit so nice and good as my knees shake and my breath shallows.

  "You like it?" I ask, even though I know he does because he lowers his head and begins to lick my cunt up and down, his tongue lapping my release like it's the best thing he's ever had his mouth against.

  "Fucking hot," he groans as I close my eyes, allowing the orgasm to wash over me.

  "Please, I want you in me," I whimper, so needy.

  "Not yet, your pretty pussy needs a little rest."

  I prop myself up on my elbows and grin down at him, awake and alive, and he's right. My cunt is pulsing with heat. "Can I see you?" I ask tentatively.

  "You want to see my cock, baby?"

  I nod. "So badly."

  He stands, pulling off his T-shirt and then unbuckling his jeans. I sit up, my blankets damp and body humming with need. I lift the nightie up over my head, wanting him to see my naked body as I take in his thick cock.

  "God, girl," he says looking at me perched on the edge of the bed for him. "Your tits are fucking perfect." He drops his boxers and I press my lips together, my pussy dripping already as I take him in.

  He strokes his cock, coming closer to me, the tip so close to my mouth and I breathe him in, this man who is giving me the awakening of a lifetime. "It's so big," I whisper. His cock is long and thick, throbbing with pent-up need.

  "Are you nervous? Because we can take our time," he says, lifting my chin and his eyes meeting mine. I see a sincerity there; a depth I can't begin to understand.

  "No. I'm not nervous."

  "Good, because I don't want my cock to scare you away."

  I smile. "It doesn't scare me. It makes me excited." Then I take hold of him and begin running my hand up and down him, my fingers unable to meet around him as I pump him. My pussy begs for more, but I try to silence that voice and focus on what is in front of me. "Okay. Actually, I'm a little nervous. I've never done this before. Is there a wrong way?"

  "No wrong way. Not when everything about this is so fucking right."

  I dip my head, open my mouth, and begin to suck his cock like a good little sweetheart.

  Chapter Four

  Sampson

  She begins to suck me off like a champ, her pink little mouth wraps around my cock and I know I won't last long. Not after she fucking squirted all over me like a goddamn porn star.

  I run my hands over her gorgeous, full tits. They are ripe and big, and her nipples are like fucking buttons to her sweet spot. I swear every time I pluck at them with my fingers she comes a little bit more. She moans against me as she sucks me off, and my cock throbs in her sweet mouth.

  I rake my hands through her hair, her tits bouncing as she bobs her head up and down, and I push her head against me, wanting her to gag on me like I know she wants.

  "Oh, oh, ohhhhh," she moans as my cock hits the back of her throat. I'm so close to finishing and when my come begins to erupt from my solid steel shaft she begins to suck me all the more enthusiastically.

  "I want to come on your tits," I tell her, pulling her head back. She takes her breasts in her hands as I take hold of my cock, spraying her tits with my ribbons of come.

  "Oh, that's so good," she moans. "You taste so good." She licks her lips as I finish coming against her pretty little tits, and I fucking feel like I've died and gone to heaven, showing up here like this today.

  I sit on the bed, and pull her into my lap, needing her pretty bare ass in my hands, my cock demanding more attention. Demanding her cunt.

  God, I want her.

  Running my hands over her spine, I kiss her shoulder. "I don't even know your name."

  Her pink tongue darts from between her lips. "Everyone calls me Sweetie."

  I smile, the nickname so damn perfect for this little thing in my arms. "Then I'll call you Sweetheart."

  She closes her eyes. "What is your name?"

  Smirking, I shrug. "You can call me your Sailor."

  "You're a sailor?" she asks, tensing.

  I nod. "Something wrong with that?"

  She crawls out of my lap, the mood shifting. "I don't do sailors."

  Not believing I could lose something so fucking fast, I try again. "I thought you didn't do anyone?"

  "I don't," she says flustered, reaching for her nightie. "I mean, I don't in theory. And in practice, I won't do them either."

  Offended, I snort. "And is there a reason for this?"

  "My father was a sailor. And I swore I'd never be with a man like him."

  Running a hand over my jaw, I try to get a fucking handle on things. "You don't know what I'm like."

  "Do you go out to sea for months at a time?"

  "Yeah, I leave real soon, in fact."

  She shakes her head. "Then I know enough."

  "Seriously?" I ask. "You want me to go?"

  She closes her eyes, breathing slowly through her nose as if it's taking all her concentration to nod her answer.

  "Goddammit," I say, reaching for my clothes. I pull them on, looking at her as she folds in on herself as if she can't bear to look at me. "You don't know shit about me, Sweetheart."

  She doesn't answer, just buries her face in her hands and begins to cry softly.

  I want to stay, to console her--to make sure she's all right--but she told me to go.

  And I won't stay where I'm not welcome. It's why I left for the Navy in the first fucking place.

  I leave through the back door, so her brothers won't see me--the last thing Sweetie needs is to be hassled by them right now. And I'm glad to see the house is empty, but I can hear some people out in the front yard. Crossing through the backyard, I walk back to base, hating that the man I am isn't enough for her.

  If she only knew.

  I understand her fears to some extent-- lots of men join the military and walk away from their families--but fuck, lots of men do that every damn day no matter their profession.

  I joined the Navy to stop that cycle. To fucking give myself a chance. To do better and be better.

  The life my family wanted for me wasn’t one I wanted.

  I wanted to be my own man.

  When I get to my bunk, I fall into bed, trying to remember every last detail about that Sweetheart tonight. She has no fucking clue how special she is. There are a thousand things I wish I had asked her about herself. Her hopes and dreams and how I can be the man she needs.

  Finally, I fall asleep, wishing like hell I was in her bed, with my arms wrapped around her. Sure, I'd like to fuck her all night, but more than that, I want to protect her. Her brothers are sketchy, the shit going down in that house isn't acceptable. She deserves
a safe harbor to rest her head each night.

  I want to be that man for her.

  I don't know much, but I know this: I will see her again. And when I do, I'll make sure she knows I'm not like her daddy.

  Just like I'm sure as fuck nothing like mine.

  Chapter Five

  Sweetie

  Days go by and I try to forget. But every time I look at myself in the mirror, all I can do is remember.

  When that sailor's eyes locked on mine--he saw me.

  But I didn't see him.

  I looked at him and saw only strength and power, but I didn't see his heart. His soul. I judged him without giving him a fair shot; a chance to show me who he was.

  Then I kicked him out, told him to leave.

  Didn't even say goodbye.

  "Sweetie, what's your deal?" Smith asks. "You're staring at the wall like some cuckoo bird."

  "Hey, don't give her a hard time," Porter says. "She's still pissed at us for the party."

  They're right, of course-- I am pissed about the party. A gun being shot in my house is not acceptable--ever.

  Nixon steps into the Grim Reapers Tattoo Shop after taking a smoke break. "My next appointment here yet?" he asks.

  "They canceled," I tell him, my eyes flitting to the appointment book in front of me. "No more appointments until tonight--that goes for all of you. Looks like a three-hour dead zone here at the shop." I push my glasses up my nose and stand. "I'm gonna get my lunch from the backroom."

  "We're gonna head out then," Porter says. "Call us if there's a walk in."

  "Where are you going?" I ask. It's out of the ordinary for them to leave during the day.

  Nixon grunts. "We have some business to take care of."

  I look at my brothers, not trusting them. "You're going to do something stupid, aren't you?"

  "No, we're just gonna let some people know you can't mess with us."

  A sinking feeling fills my gut. "Don't go after the guys who came to our house."

  Smith shakes his head, fists already clenched. "What, and let people think they can come to our home and fuck around?"

  Porter chimes in: "Dad would be proud of us for taking care of business."

  Trying to keep my cool I walk away from them muttering under my breath. "Dad was a drunk. Not exactly a hero."

  "Hey, Sweetie," Smith says, gripping my wrist as I walk past them. "He was your father; he deserves your respect."

  Pressing my lips together tightly, I blink, refusing to cry in front of them. Not about this.

  "Let her go, she knows what's good for her," Nixon says and just like that, they all walk away from me, leaving me here, reeling.

  I press my hands to my face, trying to steady myself. Why, after all this time, is my father still able to hold so much control over my emotions? I hate it.

  "Sweetie?" A voice startles me, and I spin around.

  It's him.

  "Sailor," I say. Both relieved by his presence and confused. "What are you doing here?"

  "I finally got time off work and needed to find you. Sorry I took so long."

  I press my fingertips to my lips, remembering his kisses, the way it felt to be held in his arms. Like I belonged.

  "Do you want me to leave?" he asks.

  I shake my head, stepping toward him. "I haven't stopped thinking about you."

  He gives me a wry smile, and even that is probably more than I deserve after I kicked him out of my room. "What have you been thinking?"

  I swallow my fear. "That I wasn't a very nice host."

  "It wasn't your party," he says, stepping closer.

  "But it was my bedroom."

  He gives me a wider smile now and I feel that fluttering in my heart again. With that promise... that hope.

  "You hungry?" I ask, moving to the shop door and turning the lock.

  He nods.

  "I was just getting lunch, in the back room," I tell him. "If you wanna..." I motion for him to follow and he does.

  I pull food from the fridge, aware of his eyes on me. This time I don't pull down the hem of my sweater or roll my eyes. This time I want him to watch. To notice me.

  "You like peanut butter and jelly?" I ask, pulling out a loaf of bread.

  "Who doesn't?"

  "I don't know, I mean, I know nothing about you. You could be deathly allergic to nuts."

  "I'm not."

  He's quieter today, and I notice the stern look in his eyes as if he is holding so much back.

  I spread the peanut butter and strawberry jam on the slices of white bread and grab a bag of potato chips from a cupboard. Setting the food on a paper plate I hand him one, then reach in the fridge for cans of cola.

  "Sorry it's nothing fancy," I tell him opening my can and taking a sip of the sugary carbonated drink.

  "I don't need fancy." He picks up his sandwich and takes a bite.

  "What do you need?" I ask as I eat my lunch.

  He shrugs. "I didn't grow up with much. My family? They were sketchy at best. Dad was a dealer, Mom was a user, and my siblings and I had to fend for ourselves."

  "How did you end up in the Navy?"

  He lifts his eyebrows. "You really wanna know? I thought you had me all figured out?"

  I twist my lips, feeling embarrassed. "I owe you an apology. It was a crappy thing for me to do, to send you away. I guess you could say I have daddy issues. He wasn't a dealer, but he was an alcoholic. He'd go out to sea for months at a time and since my mom was MIA most of the time before they both died in a car accident, my childhood was spent with my brothers watching over me."

  "And did they do a good job?"

  I exhale. "In some ways, sure. They opened this shop, so we have a roof over our heads. But it doesn't feel secure. I don't feel like I'm anchored to anything."

  "And that's what you want? To be tied down?"

  I pick up my cola. "Is it bad to answer that with a yes?"

  "It's your life, Sweetheart. As for me, I joined the Navy two years ago to get away from a rough situation. I can't imagine settling down now."

  I listen to him, understanding him in a lot of ways. Our backgrounds are similar, and that isn't something I expected.

  "Why are you looking at me like that?" I ask softly.

  "Like what?"

  I swallow. "Like you get me."

  "Maybe I do."

  "But we want different things."

  "You want to stay put, I want to sail away," he says as if the idea is a disappointment.

  I rest my elbows on the table. "I guess I don't want to be tied down so much as I want to be tethered to something. I don't want to live with my brothers forever, that's for sure. But I don't want to leave them unless I have something to hold onto."

  "You're scared of being alone? Fending for yourself?"

  I nod. "Does that make me weak in your eyes?"

  He gives me a half smile, then reaches for the bottom of my chair, pulling it toward him. "No, it makes you honest."

  "I don't know what it would be like to be one of those women who have a support system. I've always had my brothers to look out for me, but they never really see me as a person. More like a child."

  "You look all grown up to me," he says. His legs are spread wide, and my knees tuck in between them. He looks so strong sitting here, me before him.

  "I feel like a woman when you look at me," I tell him.

  "You're killing me," he groans.

  "Then let me save you."

  Chapter Six

  Sampson

  She looks so beautiful sitting here, her pretty pink mouth parted and her eyes so wide and open. I say I don't want to be tied down to anything or anyone, but then I look at her and it's like everything changes.

  She makes me believe in the impossible and reconsider all the things I said I'd never do. For Sweetie, I'd be willing to do anything.

  I don't know her. There are so many things about her that I haven't learned, but then she speaks and it's like the truth is plain to see
. She's not complicated, she's not holding back. When she looks at me, when she speaks to me, she is all in. She puts it out there; her heart is on the line.

  She makes me want to get off the ship and stay on shore.

  "If I kiss you again," I tell her, "I'm not going to be able to stop."

  "Then you'd better start," she says. She reaches up and pulls the hairband from her hair, letting the long waves fall over her shoulders. The act is rebellious and filled with desire. I understand it all too well. Pulling her to me, I breathe in her sweet vanilla shampoo, needing her to straddle my body, needing her ass in my hands, needing her arms around me.

  I kiss her, hard. Our mouths collide in a crash of want, and the heat between us is electric.

  "Oh, God," she moans as I deepen the kiss, my hands squeezing her nice round ass, my cock aching for her. "Thank you," she moans against my mouth. Her tongue finds mine and twirls around as the heat rises between us.

  "You have nothing to thank me for, not yet."

  "But soon enough I will," she says.

  And she's damn right about that.

  I move my hand under her sweater and her hands reach to the sky as I pull it off of her, rolling my hands over her big round tits. Pushing down the cup of her bra, I pull her pretty little nipple to my mouth. I moan, loving the way she squirms in my lap.

  "I want to get you nice and wet," I tell her.

  The glimmer in her eyes tells me she already is. My cock rages as I remember her squirting against me, her pretty little cunt dripping against my mouth.

  I kiss her again, my hand at the base of her neck drawing her mouth closer, and she grinds against me, those pretty little hips rolling around as she dry humps my cock.

  "I need more," she whimpers.

  And I know she's right.

  I can feel it--the heat has grown to a fucking inferno, and I pick her up and set her feet on the ground. In seconds, the both of us have stripped to practically nothing. Her pretty body is bare before me, not a single damn thing covering either of us. I run my hand up and down my growing length, memorizing the curve of her hips.