Military Romance Collection: Contemporary Soldier Alpha Male Romance (124 page)

The boy needs sex.
Well…who didn’t? “Ho, ho, ho…” Santa reached for his wife.

*****

Callie O’Brien smoothed the tangle of curls from Gracie’s cheek.

The girl curled up under her Disney Princess blankets was pale and wan, exhausted from enduring more than a child of her age should be asked to bear.

Her twin sister was dying.

No matter how much the adults tried to hide it, the girls knew. With their unique twin bond, how could they not? And though Gracie had pitched a major brat-fit at the Christmas party today, Callie knew it was the only way the little girl could cope with all that was happening to her and to the people she loved. How could she discipline her, make her stop acting out in such inappropriate ways, when the child’s life was falling apart one death and one loss at a time?

Callie bent and gave her a kiss on her soft cheek, then stood, wincing as her bruised shinbone zinged pain up and down her leg. She limped out of the room, closing the door behind her. What a day. How had her sister done it, stayed strong and patient with Gracie despite Katie’s condition?

Maybe she’d managed because she’d had her husband to lean on; together they’d been able to give each girl the attention they’d needed by working as a team.

It was hard to be a single mom—harder to be an instant, unplanned single mom. But this...this was beyond hard. She was being consumed whole, and there was nothing she could do about it. Not that she wanted to complain.

No...What she wanted was sex. Raw, dirty sex. Something so removed from motherhood and death that she’d forget it all.

It seemed so wrong that the hospital Santa had inspired such filthy feelings, but when he’d let her sag into him while she cried, it had felt so good; the pain in her heart had lessened and been replaced with life-affirming desires she’d hadn’t enjoyed since before the death of her sister. But now…Aunts of little girls did
not
have naughty fantasies. It was just not done.

Still…when he’d stood up, she couldn’t help but notice Santa’s stiffy. No doubt that had probably triggered the fantasies now flowing through her thoughts, even as she bent to pick up the toys scattered on the floor. She wished she were bent for another reason—so that the handsome young Santa could grip her hips with those long-fingered hands, and ram his cock into her, pounding deep again and again and—

Callie coughed as she realized she was holding naked Barbie and Ken in a sexy position.
Damn.
She was growing perverted in her celibacy; it had been so long since she’d had a man. Too long. The last time was six months before the car accident, before she and Brad had called it quits. They’d been the original Barbie and Ken couple. Callie and Brad, blond and beautiful.

And boring.

Callie dropped onto the couch and put her feet up on the sofa.

She wondered if Santa was boring. With his tall physique, polar ice-blue eyes and hot, chocolate-rich voice, she doubted it. She could fill hours just looking at him, even with his fake white wig. She wondered what color his hair really was. His brows had been dark blond, and the scruff of his real beard had been reddish once he pulled off the fake one to try and hide his impressive erection.

Then he’d limped away from her and rounded the corner. She’d gotten up to chase after him—why, she had no idea—but he’d disappeared and no one had seen him after that. He’d probably ducked into a nearby men’s room to change into street clothes.

She leaned her head against the back of the couch and closed her eyes, sliding one hand past the collar of her robe to touch her breast, knead it and tweak at the nipple pebbling under her fingers. She slipped her other hand down her stomach, under the waistband of her satiny pajama bottoms and panties, to finger her blossoming flesh. It felt so good to stroke herself there, to pretend it was Santa pressing his hand to her slick clit. As she slid a finger inside her body, she wished it was him, sliding his dick deep inside her, deeper than she could reach. She wished she’d asked his real name; wished she could call him and that he’d be able to visit wearing nothing but his hat and his black boots, and scratch the itch he’d given her.
That
would’ve been nice. A real Christmas wish, for sure.

Suddenly, there was a clatter and a loud thud.

From the fireplace.

Chapter Two

One minute, Nick was standing at the foot of his father’s bed, trying to explain why he hadn’t listened to the Christmas wishes of the children at the hospital party—because how could he describe the incident without talking about his embarrassing hard-on—and the next minute, he found himself inexplicably scrunched inside a chimney, sucking in soot and splaying like a Slinky.

Worse, he was bare-assed naked, except for his hat. And his boots.

“What the fu—” He managed to cough before slipping down the sides of the chimney wall. Nick landed with a clang and a crash on the floor of the thankfully fire-and-wood-free grate. He leapt to his feet, swiping his hat from his head to brush at his be-ashed behind.

He was in someone’s living room.

He was in
Callie’s
living room.

She lay on the couch, her fingers grasping one pink-tipped tit while her other hand hid under the waistband of her pajama bottoms; he could see the outline of her knuckles at the juncture of her legs.

She stared at him with round eyes, her mouth rounded in a perfect “o,” as if she were just about to slide her glistening red lips over the head of his cock. Quickly, he put his hat over his nudity. But that only made things worse, since the bells sewn to the brim rang with silvery peals with each pulse, bob and wiggle of his swelling erection.

Callie’s gaze slid slowly from his face, down his chest and stomach. The intensity of her scrutiny was as tangible as her fingers would be. When she dropped her attention to his chapeau-clad stiffy, it leapt in the hat as if seeking her out. She smiled, stood and moved to him. “I wished you were here,” she murmured, dropping to her knees, “and here you are. Merry Christmas to me.” She pulled his hand and the red-velvet-and-ermined hat away.

Her breath brushed over his pulsing skin as she considered his cock with appraising eyes. “Oh…that’s
so
nice.” Callie purred deep in her throat before licking him with the tip of her tongue.

Nick’s knees buckled; he thudded to the floor, still slightly boneless after his journey through space, time zones and a chimney. Callie took it in stride, shifting her position only to reach between his legs and cup his balls in one hand while wrapping the other around his shaft. “Beautiful. Absolutely perfect. All it needs is a big, silver bow.”

He felt a tingle and a strange tickle; his cock was suddenly tied in a shiny ribbon. She giggled and tugged the bow away so she could slide his swollen head into her mouth again and suck at him like he was a candy cane. Nick dropped his head back to the floor and lifted his hips; she took him deeper into her hot mouth until his tip pressed against the back of her throat. Her tongue swirled, her lips tightened, her hand stroked and squeezed. Nick groaned and pushed his fingers through her hair, gripping tightly. He wasn’t sure how, and he didn’t really care
why
he was here with this delectable woman. All he knew was his balls were tingling and clenching, and that he was about to come.

But no, it was too soon and not what he wanted. He rolled away from her, lifted her up to spread the lapels of her robe wide so that her round, voluminous breasts hung over his chest. He reached up to pinch her nipples, delighting in her grunting moan of pleasure. She wriggled out of her pajama bottoms and, with one fluid movement, impaled herself on his shaft. Her tits, when she landed, jiggled like globes full of jelly. “Kiss me,” she murmured, just as he’d seen when he’d peeked into her subconscious at the hospital.

He rose up, contorting himself in a V-shape so he could press his mouth to hers, and her orgasm was immediate—the walls of her pussy clenched at him, hard and velvety, and her juices gushed.  Nick came, falling back onto the floor and arching his hips up so that he pressed into her tight, wet cunt until their combined secretions splattered over his thighs.

Callie sighed and slumped onto his chest, her head nestled under his chin. Her heart pounded against his own; he closed his eyes and stroked her back. He’d never been so sated, so peaceful and…
happy…
in his life.

He’d never been with a woman like her.

“That was awesome. Too bad you’re only a dream.” She sighed.

Nick snapped his eyes open. “What?”

“That was the best orgasm of my life. Of course, it was only a dream. Sexy naked men don’t suddenly appear in your house— through the chimney.” She rolled her shoulders and giggled. “You smell so good. Like cookies and gingerbread. I’m glad I wished for you.”

Nick sat up; Callie’s head slid down to his lap. “You
wished
for me?”

She blinked up at him. “Well…yeah. It was hard not to notice your big stiffy there, earlier today. I mean, a girl has needs, and I
needed
that.”

“But…I’m real.” Why was he having to insist this fact every time he turned around? What was it with the women in this family? Didn’t they believe in anything?

“Sure, you are.” She gave a luxurious cat stretch and sat up. “I hate sleeping on the floor. Or the couch—that’s probably where I am. Let’s move to the bedroom.” She took him by the hand and stood, tugging until he got to his feet. She peered up at him, her eyes large and luminous. “You’re big all over, aren’t you? So…have you ever worn handcuffs, Dream Boy?”

Chapter 3

“I—um…no.” Dream Boy followed her obediently. Good. That’s what she needed right now. A nice, obedient, sexy boy toy to make all her bad dreams go away. She reached behind her to brush the back of her hand over his nearly limp dick. Even in its almost flaccid state, it was large and made her mouth—and pussy—water with desire.

She brought him into her bedroom and closed the door. Thoughts of Gracie, sleeping upstairs, came to her; it was a rare night that her niece didn’t climb into bed with her.
Please, sleep
, she pleaded. She pressed her palm and her forehead to the wooden panel. One night.

That’s all I ask.

With that, she took a deep breath and turned to look at the man— wearing only calf-high black boots—standing beside her bed. He watched her through his tangled mane of blond hair, with those beautiful ice-blue eyes. “Callie?” His voice flowed over her, warm and rich, making butterflies flutter in her stomach and her heart race. “You said something about…handcuffs?”

She took a deep breath and moved to kneel before him. His cock twitched as she gazed at it, only inches from her mouth, and she watched it unfurl before her eyes, turning dark red under her gaze where his blood pulsed beneath its satiny-smooth skin. It rose again until the tip bopped her in the nose; she giggled and leaned away.

Callie turned her attention to his boots—they were tall, black and laced, like paratrooper boots. She tugged at the laces, pulling them loose so that she could easily slide the footgear off his feet. He let her take them and his socks off; she placed them side by side next to her night table and peered up at him.

He tangled his fingers in her hair, stroking her scalp. When he smiled, it was as if a ray of pure, white light shot to her heart--it filled her with a sparkly kind of joy. The kind she remembered from being a child at Christmas, sure in her knowledge that dreams could—and would--come true.

She tilted her head and, with the tip of her tongue, drew a line from the base of his cock to its head; his grip on her hair tightened. Callie swirled the tip, flicking the opening at its end. He groaned and shifted on his feet. A little bead of clear liquid seeped from the hole; she swiped it away. Instead of the acrid taste of cum, however, she tasted…sugar cookies.

Callie pulled back, surprised. “Are you diabetic or something?”

He shook his head, his hair tumbling around his shoulders. “I don’t think so.”

She stood up and pushed him gently back on her mattress, enjoying the corded feel of his muscles under her hands. “Well, you’re sweet. And I intend to taste every inch of you to be sure I’m not imagining it.” She reached into her night table drawer and found her handcuffs by touch; they were cold and fuzzy. “Just to be sure you don’t try to escape…”

He peered at her from under heavy eyelids as he lay back upon her pillows. His mane spread, a gold-and-red frame for his masculine beauty; he reminded her, somehow, of a Viking. Only cleaner. The corner of his mouth quirked. He lifted his arms toward the headboard and purred, “You wished for me, and now you’ve captured me. I’m all yours.”

“Good.” Callie slid the first cuff over his wrist and snapped it shut, then slipped the chain past one of the bars of the headboard before clasping the other bracelet around his other wrist. “I hope I can find the key.” She stood up to survey the prime male specimen sprawled on her hunter green coverlet.

He was long and lean with the prerequisite washboard abs, strong-looking pecs and winged collarbones, leading to a corded neck. His chin was perfectly chiseled with a cleft in its center, and his lips were sculpted for she knew would be the perfect kiss.

That kiss on the floor of the living room had barely counted. He’d been too contorted to do it right, and she’d been distracted by the sensation of him inside her most private passage.

“You look amazing. You want to see me?”

He nodded; his cock, curved long and thick over his belly, bobbed with the motion. Callie couldn’t wait to feel it inside her again, but first, she wanted to tease her boy toy and get him so worked up for her he could barely stand it.

She needed to feel powerful and in control. Her life was such a mess lately. This would make her better.

Callie undid the belt of her robe, slowly letting it fall open, but only enough that the globes of her breasts were visible. She turned away then, facing the opposite wall, to slip off her pajama bottoms and panties. She could feel his hot gaze scorching through the silken material of her robe; with a little shimmy, she let it join the other clothes on the floor.

She heard his swift, indrawn breath and smiled. Slowly, she turned, so he could see her nakedness. She reached up to cup her breasts and lift them toward him, working her nipples between her fingers and thumbs. He shifted on the bed again; Callie couldn’t help but notice how his turgid cock stretched past his navel and she was glad she’d wished for a well-endowed boy toy.

She couldn’t wait to put her mouth on him again.

But she’d take it slow and make it count. Make it last, and be memorable.

She started by brushing her hair over his ankles. Methodically, an inch at a time, she pressed feather-light kisses up one of his calves, over one of his knees, on one of his muscled thighs. Though her hair tickled his balls, she stayed away from his dick. Instead, she continued her upward journey, sliding her tongue over his rippled stomach, up to his chest, where she paused to nibble each of his nipples in turn. He squirmed; the links between the cuffs clanked against the headboard bar.

She moved upwards, nipping at his neck where his pulse raced and his breath huffed.

Callie lifted her head, then moved her body so the tips of her breasts just touched his smooth, warm skin; she trailed them upward until she had one hard and aching nipple poised at his lips. As soon as he opened his mouth, she moved away—close enough for him to touch her with his tongue, but not enough for him to suck at her.

She knew it was driving him crazy. Problem was, it was making her nuts too. Her pussy felt so heavy, so wet, and so empty. Callie reached down to finger herself, then realized her captive dream man might want to watch. She shifted on the bed so that she was positioned on the pillow beside him, one of her legs under his head and the other draped over his chest. She opened them wide.

“Like what you see?” She spread herself to his gaze with her fingers. He inhaled; his nostrils flared and his pupils dilated. When he licked his lips, her clit tingled. “It feels so good to touch myself here. It feels so good to slide in and out and…” Callie closed her eyes and tilted her head back, wishing his fingers were inside her, wishing it was his mouth that teased her flesh.

She heard a clinking noise, like the handcuffs falling loose, and felt him move; suddenly he
was
touching her, sucking her clit, rolling it between his tongue and teeth. She opened her eyes and gasped when his fingers joined hers inside her.

Callie came in a rush of heat and tingling, arching her hips upwards against his mouth; she felt her own orgasm gushing as he laved her with fast flicks of his tongue. In moments, he’d removed his fingers and pulled her down to lie fully on the bed. Then he thrust his full length inside of her, plowing into her body like a runaway train. She came again. And again, pounding her heels on his thighs and scratching what she was sure were deep gouges in his back.

Callie was amazed to feel him growing even longer and harder before he threw his head back and roared; he pulsed inside her. Then he collapsed, sweaty and sweet-smelling, on top of her, and he gulped in deep draughts of air.

“I never got to taste you,” she realized aloud.

“You will. I promise, you will.” He murmured into her neck. “Just—just let me catch my breath.”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot. You’re my dream man. You can do it as many times as I want.” She stretched and rubbed her face against his forearm. “So
that’s
how you got out of the handcuffs. I wished you were touching me, and you were.” She sighed. “Dreams are wonderful.”

“So are wishes.” He nuzzled her ear. “And your wish, beautiful Callie, is my command.”