by JA Lafrance
I fantasized about her first in her paramedic uniform with no makeup on her face and those pretty blue eyes that are filled with care.
Then I fantasized about her in her thick eyeglasses and paint-stained hoodie with the scowl on her face. I even fantasized about her in that hairnet.
And now, seeing her with red lipstick on those full bee-stung lips, that cleavage, those mile-long legs with lust in her eyes?
The three fantasies amount to a trifecta of perfection, and in case she hates me again tomorrow, I’m gonna take her home and give her the night of her life.
We’re in a cab ten minutes later and she’s on my lap, straddling me, giving me a view of silky blue panties while our lips are locked. Her hands are shoved up the back of my shirt and she’s scoring my back with her nails.
I’ve gotten the thumbs up from her roommate who I know delivered Christina a double after seeing me to make sure that this went the way it’s gonna go.
Three minutes later, she’s whimpering into my throat after grinding on my cock so hard she’s made herself come. And I’m ready to fuck her in the back seat of this taxi.
This is not where you first fuck the girl who’ll be mother to your children, even if she’s currently almost begging for it with lust in those sexy eyes.
Luckily, the driver stops at the curb while I’ve got a sliver of self-control left and I see his eyes in the rearview. He’s turned on, too. I slip him the fare with a twenty-dollar tip and he gruffly says, “I’d say have a good night, but it’s pretty obvious that’s what you’re havin’.”
“You too, man. Thanks.” I pull the handle and get her out the door carefully.
She’s giggling.
“Ope! My shoe.” She’s standing on one foot.
I reach into the cab and fetch her right shoe for her and slip it on her foot. She pulls a lock of hair from her mouth and smiles.
“Thanks, handsome. Now take me to your lair and fuck me.”
I grab her hand, kiss it, and then lead her to my building.
By the time we get across the threshold of my penthouse, she’s all over me and has my pants half undone and my shirt completely unbuttoned, and the minute my door is shut, I’ve lifted her up in my arms.
It’s on.
I move through the space, mouth attached to hers, until her back is on my mattress. Her dress is then pulled over her head and the cups of her bra are yanked down so I can feast on the most perfect set of natural tits my eyes have ever seen.
“Lemme get mah shoes off,” she slurs.
“No fucking way,” I deny, back up on my knees, taking those silky panties down as I go, and then they’re off and my face is buried between those creamy thighs.
“Ah!” she cries out as I bury my tongue in her, then apply suction over her clit. She’s wet, hot, and delicious. She shudders. I take her sweet ass into my palms and do it again.
“Fuck,” she calls out.
“Say my name, Tina.”
“Christina,” she corrects with a whimper.
I lift my head and meet her eyes.
“Call me Christina like you did before.” There’s vulnerability in her eyes and fuck, but I like it.
I smile, then swirl my tongue around her clit as I reach under the mattress for my condom stash. “Open your legs wider, Christina, and say my name when you come.”
I keep at her and she rocks into my face. I get the condom on while I lick, nip, and suck and then thrust two fingers into her tight heat.
“Hunter!” she cries out.
“Christina,” I growl and then I move up her sweet little body and slam my rock-hard cock in deep.
“Oh my. I knew you’d have a big dick,” she says, glassy-eyed with a big smile on her face.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” she groans, threading her fingers into my hair and pulling my face close. She kisses me. She kisses me while crying out into my mouth as I slam into her over and over.
She feels like heaven. And I knew she’d have a sweet, tight pussy, but I don’t tell her that. Instead, I fuck that tight pussy repeatedly for the next two hours, worshipping every inch of her body before we both pass out.
Christina
It’s morning and I’m in bed with Hunter Collins. Naked Hunter Collins. He’s on his belly, his leg thrown over mine, one hand on my boob. I carefully roll away and get up wearing nothing but stilettos. I sneak toward what looks like the washroom, grabbing my dress, strapless bra, and panties from the carpet. I get to the bathroom mirror and see I’m wearing more than stilettos. I’m also wearing a giant hickey on my neck. Oh my God. The hickey is shaped almost totally like a maple leaf. Crazy.
Shit. I stare in the mirror. My hair is everywhere. I have raccoon eyes. My lips are swollen.
I don’t do stuff like this.
Ever.
Letting a guy take me home from the bar? Letting Hunter Collins, the rich and arrogant stalker guy take me home?
To say he has a playboy reputation is a gross understatement. To say he’s a pompous and arrogant rich guy is even grosser.
I’m not even gonna think about the fact that it was the best sex of my life. Much. Okay, I will. Probably for the rest of my life since this was a one-off and I won’t likely ever have a night like that again.
I get dressed, but take off my shoes so I can silently tiptoe out of his apartment. I have no idea where I am, but I’m sure I can find a way home. Find a payphone and maybe call April collect. Or a doorman who can call me a cab.
Shit. I hope April took my purse home from the bar.
I resist the urge to snoop in his medicine cabinet or his vanity drawers for some face wash. Hand soap will have to do for cleaning last night’s makeup off.
I swish with a glug of mouthwash that’s on the counter, get dressed and finger comb my just-fucked hairdo into something not much better. Not that it matters as I’m about to do the walk of shame dressed like a skank with a big ole patriotic-looking hickey on my neck.
I step out of the bathroom and see his sleepy, sexy eyes aimed at me. He opens his arms.
God, that bare, muscled, tanned chest is magnificent.
I moisten my lips.
“Come here, you,” he orders gruffly.
I just stand there.
“Are you blushing?” he asks. “That makes you even sexier.”
“Hunter,” I say. “Last night…”
“Was the best sex of my life. Get over here.”
God, it’s tempting. It’s tempting to go for another round before I go back to reality.
But it’d be wrong.
“You’re totally full of shit, but thank you for saying that.”
His eyes flash with confusion.
I keep talking. “Last night was great. I was in a major funk.”
“But?”
“But you’re not my type. I’m sure I’m not yours. And—”
He throws the sheets back and erases the space between us. “You’re not the type of girl I’d have dated in the past and I told you, you’re the type of girl I want a future with. And let’s start that off right. By letting me fuck you again before I make you the best Spanish omelet you’ve ever tasted. I’ll even cook it with love.”
He ducks and I go over his shoulder with a squeal.
Holy crap.
What’s another hour in fantasyland? Guess I’ll deal with reality later.
Three bites into my Spanish omelet, yes, the best Spanish omelet I’ve ever eaten, his phone rings. He gives me apologetic eyes. “Work,” he mouths before going out to the balcony to answer it.
I fork up another bite of eggs, tomatoes, peppers, and cheese and that’s when reality decides to come crashing in. Literally.
His apartment door swings open. A gorgeous redhead dressed head-to-toe in designer clothes swans in, keys in hand, and drops three shopping bags and her handbag on the floor, then levels me with a dark gaze.
“Who the fuck are you?” she asks.
I glance over my shoulder.
Hunter hasn’t noticed her.
“I…”
“Don’t belong here.” She flashes her finger at me. Her finger that’s covered by a giant diamond ring.
“Get out,” she snaps, staring at him out on the balcony, looking at the back of him like she wants him dead.
I drop my fork, wipe my mouth, and reach for my purse. It was here after all, dropped by the door last night.
Without looking back, I leave.
I shakily order an Uber in the elevator, phone at 3% power, and mercifully have less than a minute to wait for it.
As I shut the car door, I see Hunter running out of the lobby of the building in nothing but the grey sweatpants he had on when he cooked me breakfast. He looks around frantically, not seeing me behind the tinted glass as my Uber pulls away from the curb.
“Is that him again?” April asks, watching me stare at my ringing phone which sits a cushion away from me on the couch.
I ignore her.
“Answer it.”
I shake my head.
“I’ll answer it.” She tries to nab it.
I throw my body on it so she can’t get it. We get into a mini wrestling match and I win.
“Damn, it, Tina!”
“It was a night. That’s all it was. I don’t need his explanation why he cheated on his fiancée with me. I don’t need anything. I got just what I bargained for. A night of fun.” I pout.
Inside, though, I’m shredded.
The way he fucked me that morning, both of us sober, with all sorts of eye contact and softness? Totally different than the hot sex of the night before but just as good.
And then watching him move around his kitchen making breakfast for me? He was playful and cute. And he talked about going to the zoo on my next day off. I suggested volunteering there to help instead of paying to look at animals in cages. He kissed me hard and sweet at that.
I was stupid. I was stupid and giddy and then reality came crashing in, five foot nine and dressed to kill. She killed a fantasy I didn’t even know I had with one look at me.
I didn’t belong there.
And he was just what I originally thought he was. A player.
I get a text alert.
April reaches under me and grabs my phone.
“Hey!” I snap.
“It’s from him.”
“I’m not interested.”
“Too bad. I’m reading it to you.”
I cover my ears.
She reads anyway. And my hand earmuffs don’t work.
“Christina, that was my ex. We’ve been done for months. She has a friend at the bar who told her I took someone home. She caused that scene on purpose. Please answer my calls. If you don’t call back soon, I’ll have to pull out the big guns.”
I roll my eyes.
“See, Teeny?” April says. “He’s not engaged. That girl was just trying to sabotage so she could get him back.”
“It doesn’t matter. It was a sign. A sign that it’s not meant to be. I should’ve listened to my gut instinct. Should never have—”
“Had fun? Given yourself something good? You’re really starting to piss me off, Tina.” She stomps off saying, “I hope he does pull out the big guns. If you don’t let him shoot you with them, I’ll go out with him. That guy is a catch and a half. And you’re in position to catch him after he’s gotten all that wild out. You’re nuts if you don’t jump on that.”
I shrug. “Guess I’m nuts, then.”
It’s Saturday and I’m at the rec centre. I’m at the craft table with half a dozen kids, making Popsicle stick birdhouses. There’s music playing and the mood is jovial. This is a workshop that I’ve done the last two years, and it’s always fun to hang with the kids and watch them create.
Hunter walks in with a little girl, about six years old. He’s pushing her wheelchair.
What the fuck? It’s been a week; I thought he’d given up.
He pulls up to the table and parks her at the empty space.
Is she the missing kid on my list registered for this?
I look at my clipboard.
Skye Collins.
What?
I stand there frozen.
“Are you Christina?” she asks.
She’s adorable. She has the same hair and eyes as Hunter.
“I am,” I say. “And you’re…”
His daughter? Does he have a kid?
“Skye. Uncle Hunter told me that he likes you, but you don’t like him back. How come? He’s really nice!”
I blink twice and laugh nervously. Then my eyes lock with his.
“Big guns?” I ask.
He smiles smugly. “Big enough?”
Maybe.
“She needs her kit to get started. And her directions. You’re late,” a little girl Colleen, also in a wheelchair says. “I’ll help her, Miss Tina.”
“Thank you,” Hunter says to her.
“I’m Colleen. You’re cute.”
Hunter chuckles. “Can you tell Miss Tina I’m cute?”
Colleen looks at him like he’s got a screw loose.
“Or help Skye while I talk to Miss Tina for a sec?”
Colleen nods big and happily.
Frannie steps up. “Go. Staff room.”
I give her a quizzical look.
“Go,” she orders, smiling.
I rear back.
Hunter grabs my hand and tugs it, so I have no choice but to follow him to the staff room.
He shuts the door and leans against it, effectively trapping me.
“That was…” I rub my forehead, lost for words.
“The big guns.”
“Your niece…”
“Has spina bifida and autism. Yeah. So, I may have been born with a silver spoon in my mouth, yeah, and I may have had a wild youth and been wasteful, but I’ve also got direct experience with pain, heartache, and challenges. I see who you are and what you strive to do, and I respect it, Christina Rose. I also wanna give you plenty of reasons to smile. Will you go out for dinner with me tonight? I’ve got Skye until seven and then we can talk.”
I shake my head. “Hunter…”
“Christina, come on. Take a chance on me. Take a chance on a stupid guy who drives too fast, who spends too much, and who does stupid shit sometimes. I’m not perfect, but you’re lookin’ to make the world a better place, aren’t you? You could make the world a better place for us both by givin’ me a chance.”
I’m biting my lip.
“You wouldn’t wanna disappoint my little niece…”
“That’s fighting dirty.”
“It sure is.” He smiles. “But sometimes you gotta fight dirty.”
“What if you break my heart?”
“You take a chance every day that something good’ll happen when you go to a call for your job, don’t you? Do you head out with the lights flashin’ and sirens blazin’ expecting it to go wrong? Or do you go out there and do your best to make sure that it goes right?”
I roll my eyes.
“I’ll do my best to make sure this goes right, Christina.”
Hunter’s lips touch mine and a feeling comes over me that I’ve never felt before. He pulls back and I look into his deep brown eyes and see things. Beautiful things.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Because sometimes something happens out of the blue that’s meant to be.
Maybe I was meant to save Hunter’s life. And maybe that was so he could save me from being afraid to live mine to the fullest.
“Bistro Bleu?” he asks. “Tonight?”
I shake my head. “I’d prefer Spanish omelets cooked with love.”
About DD Prince
DD Prince is a Canadian multi-genre romance author who writes dark, dangerous, and addictive romances with alpha males, usually antiheroes. What’s your poison? Biker? Dark mafia? Vampire? Alphahole businessman? Hot alpha alien? Sexy wolf shifter? Keep up with DD and join her reader group at http://facebook.com/groups/ddprincefangro
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Save Me!
Maria Vickers, Edited by Becky Swafford Baldridge
A story of finding yourself, love, and the things we do to get there. — Save Me!
Save Me!
Chapter One
Benji
“I triple dog dare you,” Chuck pressed with a smirk. Sometimes, I hated my best friend. Rarely, I loved him, but he had been there for me since junior high when I tripped over my own feet during football tryouts.
“Are we ten?” I rolled my eyes, and a wave of dizziness had me stumbling backward a couple of steps. “Besides, you skipped dare and double dare.” If my words sounded slightly slurred, I didn’t notice.
“I figured I’d pull out the big guns,” he chortled, and everyone around us joined him.
We’d all drunk a little too much of everything, making my head spin, and were talking about stupid shit like could a vacuum cleaner suck a guy off. I said no, but others disagreed. Personally, I enjoyed the wet heat of a mouth and the way a tongue licked me, swirling around my crown. A vacuum couldn’t do that for me.
Rolling my eyes, I finally gave in, deciding to blame the alcohol for my bad decisions. Since I was only wearing my jeans, although I didn’t remember taking off my T-shirt, I stripped down to nothing, not embarrassed even a little. Not only did I have a high IQ, but I had a nine-inch, thick, cut dick that I’d had no complaints about from any of my previous boyfriends and lovers. Plus, I was stacked and had muscles for days, plus, deep blue eyes and blond waves. I was literally the stereotypical All-American boy next door. Many thought I played football or some other sport, but not me, I chose to play with Petri dishes and chemicals.
Chuck handed me the vacuum hose, and I stared at it dubiously. I didn’t think my cock would fit. “Are you sure about this? Maybe we should measure?” I suggested a little hesitantly. Just thinking about my cock possibly getting stuck was sobering me up faster than a cold shower and coffee. And yes, I understood only time could get alcohol out of your system, but we all had those small moments of sobriety.