ROMANCE: Badass Boss (Billionaire Alpha Bad Boy Romance) (Western Mail Order Bride Calendar Contemporary) (28 page)

Chapter 4

Date

Delia arrived first that Friday night. The Chez Rotisserie had class. The chefs worked in a kitchen set in the middle of the dining floor. The owners used soundproof glass to keep the noise and profanity from the patrons.

Diners tried to lip read the words of the head chef, who had a very bad grasp on polite behavior, as he yelled at his subordinates.

Delia and Stone agreed that Stone would wear a carnation in his lapel to identify himself.

Delia saw the very large man with the white carnation walk slowly into the room. Her eyes dilated. A slight sheen of perspiration sprang up on her skin, and she began to breath very deeply. She stood up, and Stone walked toward her.

She frowned when she saw his slight limp. She told herself, “It might be nothing; a high school football injury or something like that.”

Stone shook her hand. “I’m Luther Stonersland. Call me ‘Stone’ please. ‘Luther’ sounds like someone who runs a still in the backwoods.” He smiled. Delia felt a little weak in the knees. He held her chair as she sat down, and he moved to his own.

“I’m Delia Stackhouse. Not ‘Dee’. I like ‘Delia’. She smiled.

“I like it too.” He picked up the menu. “Let’s order.”

Stone divided his attention between the menu and Delia. She’d worn a dress with a low neckline. He liked the soft fullness he saw above the fabric.

Delia could feel his eyes on her décolletage. She sat up straighter and held her chest out. She bent over slightly as if studying the menu. She’d done the same thing in front of mirror and liked the view it presented. She stayed quiet until the waiter came for their order. She did it on purpose. She knew men were visually oriented. The longer he looked at her, the more interested he’d become. When the waiter left, she said, “Tell about yourself.”

Stone told her the words he’d been practicing all day. “I was born in Los Angeles and went to UCLA. I have a degree in criminology. I served time in the Army. I still work for the Army. I’m in an intelligence unit. What about you?”

Delia said the words, she’d been practicing all day. “I was born in Denver, got a degree in mathematics from Colorado State. I was married for eleven months to a very nice man. He died a year ago.” She paused. “I work for the Army too. I’m in intelligence as well. That’s a coincidence.”

“I agree. We can talk about it, but we’ll have to sift out the sensitive information.”

“I know.”

Stone told her about his work as a coordinator for the agents in the field. Delia told him about her work running the Special Decoding Department.

The food was good and the conversation comfortable for ten more minutes.

Then it all went to hell.

Delia said, “I noticed you had a bit of a limp when you walked in. High school injury?” She’d put off asking for as long as she could.

Stone didn’t say anything for a moment. He looked at her eyes, directly and hungrily. He sighed. “I really like you. You’re intelligent and beautiful.”

Delia said, “Are you going to tell me you’ve got cancer, and you’re going to die in six months?”

“No. It’s just that I’m in a special situation. Not a lot of women can handle a man with my baggage.”

Delia sat back in her chair. She frowned. “I should have known it. After all we found each other on a veterans dating site. Where did it happen? Fallujah? Anwar province?”

“Fallujah. IED by the side of the road. I have a metal hip and knee joint.”

Delia closed her eyes. Without opening them, she said, “I knew it. It was too good to be true.” She opened them quickly and leaned forward. “Tell me about your tattoos and scars. I know you have them.”

“Seven tattoos and six scars. Five of the scars are from an AK47. They run down my left side. One was made by a pistol. I don’t know what kind. It’s on the front of my chest. The last one is from a Al Queda knife. It runs down my ribs on my right side.”

What about the tattoos? Any naked women or knives stabbing skulls?”

“Three women. None naked. No knives or skulls or declarations of loyalty. The scars and tattoos must make a difference to you.”

She studied his face. “It does. If we were going to get to know each other better, I’d explain it to you.” She stopped talking. His face looked hard and controlled. She said, “I don’t understand. I can see you’re an honest man. You’re too big to bother lying. Why didn’t you tell me about your service?”

“I apologize for not mentioning it. A lie by omission is still a lie.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I just wanted a normal experience with a woman. A normal date like other men have. I didn’t want to have to tell war stories or discuss weapons or talk about death.” He looked down at his food. “I’m not hungry anymore. What about you?”

“No.”

They didn’t talk. Not as they left the restaurant or in the car or when he opened her car door and walked her to her apartment. They didn’t even say good night.

Chapter 5

Maternity Clothes

Fahad smiled. “It goes forward. They hate each other. My contacts in their offices will put them together for the delivery to Las Vegas. My opponents are a cripple and a woman, and they won’t work well together. How do these Americans say it? It will be a slam dunk.”

Sandra Reichart fretted. Racheem Sulleiman, the man she loved, would knock on her door in an hour, and she didn’t like her hair. She stood back from the mirror. Her blouse and skirt fit well. She looked good. She frowned. She muttered, “How can I keep a man when my boobs are so small.”

The knock came an hour early. She ran to open it. A swarthy, handsome man stood on the other side. He smiled at her. She smiled back.

“Sorry I’m early, a meeting was moved up.” He said.

She stepped back to let him come in. “For a carpet salesman, you have a lot of meetings.”

“That’s true. I don’t have a lot of time” He grabbed her hand, bent over at the waist and put his shoulder into her midsection. He pulled the hand, pushed into the midsection and hoisted Sandra over his shoulder. She whooped and bounced on his heavily muscled shoulder. “Where are we going?”

“Bed, my darling. I’m going to fuck you.”

Sandra frowned. “That’s a crude word.”

“I know. I’m going to be crude and direct. I don’t feel like the soft approach today.”

Sandra hummed “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” as they made their way through the living room, down the hall and into the bedroom. She stopped humming. “What if I do? What if I want a soft approach?”

“I’m afraid we’re doing it my way today, honey. We’ll do it slow and nice next time.”

He dropped her to her feet next to the bed. She frowned at him until he kissed her. It was a simple kiss until Racheem reached around her and grabbed her rear end with both hands. He lifted her up, tilting her hips into his body. She moaned when she felt something as big as a police baton rub against her belly.

Sandra had to wrap her arms around his neck because Racheem wasn’t carrying her weight any more. His hands tugged and lifted her skirt. She made protesting noises against his mouth. He ignored her.

When he had her skirt up around her waist, he slipped his hands inside her panties and held her butt. She wriggled against him.

He took his hands out of her panties and moved them down to her thighs. He lifted her knees. He brought her legs around him, and she hooked her ankles together.

He turned and pushed her hard against the wall. She grunted. The kiss continued.

Sandra moved her hips against the long, hard object in his pants. His cock pressed directly against her soft, pink panties and opened her lower lips. It ran along the little pearl nestled between her folds. She felt a wave of warm sensation flood her hips.

He leaned back and filled his hands with her breasts on top of her clothes. She felt a momentary quiver of fear. She’d always thought her breasts were inadequate and uninteresting to men. Racheem didn’t seem to mind.

He unbuttoned her blouse. She watched his fingers as he exposed her padded, push-up bra. It fastened in front. He had it open and both hands exploring in a few seconds.

She closed her eyes. His cock lit fires inside her body that overwhelmed her. She rocked her hips along his cock. She couldn’t fall. His body between her legs kept her against the wall. His hands on her breasts added to the flames. Oddly, chills grew along her spine and traveled up and down. He pinched her small tips. She groaned again.

After five minutes without change, a new smell floated up from between her legs. She was lubricating. He used his finger and thumb to twist and pull her nipples. They hardened until they looked like little, deep-red cones. Her breasts reddened as well and became swollen. He rubbed his hard, coarse hands over them, moving them around her chest. She felt his calluses catch and drag against her nipples. She swallowed again and again and beat her palms against the wall.

Her chest and neck reddened to an almost sunburn.

Racheem watched her arousal with the same detached attention a chef gives a pot of boiling bouillabaisse. When he felt her hips thrust spasmodically up into him, he carried her to the bed and put her down on her back. She dropped her legs down onto the bed. Her feet fell off and hit the floor.

She felt limp and boneless to Racheem. He pressed her knees together and drew her panties down her legs and off. He rubbed the area between her legs with firm fingers. She closed her eyes and moaned.

Sandra unzipped his pants and brought out his big, firm cock. She caressed it for a few seconds then put it inside the entrance to her hips. He pushed slowly. If he did it correctly, he knew that the first time the head of his cock opened her entrance, it would propel her, relentlessly, down the road to completion.

Sensations moved through her body, stroking her fires. She rubbed and pinched her own nipples and thrashed her hips up and down and from side to side, trying to get more of his cock inside her.

She whispered, “Please.”

He penetrated her with slow inevitability, an inch at a time. Sandra’s sheath expanded around his generous cock, making her arch her back. She looked up at him between swollen eyelids that struggled to stay open.

He filled her completely and stopped to give her a chance to get used to him. She dropped her legs behind his rump and pulled him deeper. She groaned in pain and pulled again. Racheem felt her take in more and more of his long cock until he was completely buried.

Her breath came in gasps. Her eyelids closed halfway. She lost all of the stiffening in her muscles. She dropped her arms to the bed and let her legs fall completely open.

Racheem grinned down at her and mumbled, “This is what I like; a relaxed and easy fuck.” Sandra didn’t hear him.

He pumped her with regularity. Other than lifting her hips into his thrusts, her body stayed boneless. She grunted whenever he penetrated her entire sheath. After five minutes, her grunts became groans then whimpers. Finally, she whined with a high pitched, breathy helplessness as each thrust touched the back of her sheath.

Racheem saw her eyes spring open and her upper body curl up towards him. She couldn’t control her arms and legs. They flailed around the bed without rhythm or direction as she shuddered. She looked around the room with eyes that failed to see anything.

He felt her tunnel clench around him. Her entire body tightened. She couldn’t talk. She could barely breathe. She forced her breath out and tried to draw some in. She had one more flurry of disjointed motion before she ran down and became fully aware of her surroundings. She wiped the sweat from her face with her hands and cupped her breasts. She realized that the hard, long object that had penetrated her so deliciously was still doing it. She moved with him, helping him to achieve completion.

She stopped moving very suddenly. “Darling, I can feel you inside me. You’re not wearing protection.”

His voice was strangled and sounded like it was being squeezed out of an unwilling body. “No. Not today.”

“Are you going to cum inside me?”

“Yes. I told you I was going to fuck you. That’s part of it.” He shoved his cock all the way inside her.

“You’re right by my cervix. This is the worst part of my cycle. You’re going to put your sperm right into my womb. I could get pregnant.”

She gasped as she felt his cock contract and expand. Racheem hadn’t said anything to make her feel better. She felt his warm, pulsing semen fill her up and began to panic. He kissed her until she relaxed. He pushed his cock further inside her and collapsed on top of her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his. She whispered in his ear. “What if, you know…I’m pregnant?”

His words came out weak and fluttery. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

Though, he thought.
“Or I’ll take care of the situation instead of taking care of you. Which is the same thing to me.”

They rested for ten more minutes before Racheem got up. Sandra felt herself. Her passage was wide open and as wet as a rainforest. She said, “Racheem, it’s all still inside me. Nothing’s coming out. We should have used protection, I know it.”

He came out of the bathroom and kissed her. “I told you I’d take care of you, and I will.” He combed his hair. His voice was casual. “How’s work?”

Sandra lay in bed, fretting. One hand covered her private garden. She wanted to know if his sperm and her egg had met yet. She answered with an absent mind. “It’s alright. Just one mission. Two of our agents are going to Las Vegas to deliver some papers nobody cares about. It’s going to be a slow day.”

Racheem always did the same thing before he walked out. He pulled the covers down and put one hand between her legs and kissed her nipples, one by one. She rested her head on her pillow and watched him do it. She asked, “Would we get married?”

“We’ll work that out if you’re pregnant.”

He walked out of the door. Sandra glanced at the clock. He’d been inside the apartment for thirty five minutes. She said, “Not much time for a seduction. Or even a fuck.”

In his car, Racheem made a call. He said, “Fahad, it’s today. Our little songbird has served her purpose. Eliminate her.” Racheem ended the call and muttered to himself, “I told you I’d take care of you.”

Sandra didn’t want to stay home. She drove to her sister’s house. Heidi had medium length blonde hair and blue eyes. Her legs were sturdy and her smile broad. Several men told her she had pretty legs; and, after a few minutes in front of a mirror studying herself, she agreed. She shortened the hem of her dresses and skirts. Since she was only five feet two inches tall, her mini-skirts looked no more than a foot long.

She waited for the latest emergency with a tolerant smile on her face. Sandra always had an emergency. She’d thought she had cholera, Rocky Mountain Spotted fever and rickets during the last twelve months. She also suspected her boss of coming on to her even though she also suspected he was gay.

Sandra bustled into Heidi’s apartment with a worried smile on her face. Her first words were “I’m pregnant.”

Heidi hadn’t prepared for this. Her eyebrows went up and her mouth opened. “Who’s the father?”

“Well, Racheem, of course.”

“How sure are you?”

Sandra took a deep breath. “I know you’d ask me that. The truth is that I’m not sure at all. I’m hoping.”

“How long ago did he… well… plant the seeds?”

“About an hour.”

Heidi growled and said, “Sandra.”

“Well, I’m not on birth control and Racheem did leave a lot of semen inside me so I must be pregnant.”

Heidi grinned. “How did it feel?”

“I felt a wetness and a little warmth. Mostly I felt apprehension and worry. I realized he wasn’t wearing a condom and tried to get him to stop and put one on. You’ve seen Racheem. He’s very big. He decided he wanted to finish inside of me, and I couldn’t stop him. He was nice to me afterwards, though. He cuddled and held me so I think it’s alright.”

“Okay, that settles it. Racheem is a nice man and you’re going to be a mommy. What do you want to do now?”

“Shop for maternity clothes of course. I want to look fashionable while I’m expecting.” Sandra had a good heart even if her mind tended to be a little flighty. “How’s Tom?”

“Tom’s fine.”

“How’s your em… you know.”

“Several times a week normally.”

“Have you ever worried that you might be expecting?”

“Once. Tom’s condom broke right at the wrong time in my monthly cycle. He was a champ, though. He wanted to marry me right then, just in case.”