“Now.” I shake, excited and nervous. Opening my legs for him to enter me. I’ve never had anything big up inside of me before. Not there.
Suddenly something warm and rough presses against my folds and I shudder.
“I’m just going to wash you sweetie. I can’t just make love to you,” he says, his hand grabbing my hip and the other washing the wet creases of my pussy.
When did he have time to gather a warm washcloth?
“Oh… Papa.” I screech through clinched teeth as he bumps my clit and I nearly jump out of my skin.
A warm towel covered hand encases my sensitive button and I can hardly breathe. Oh my god! This is the best kind of torture. I can’t even think straight.
I can feel shifting on the bed. For the love of god and all that is holy! A tongue jolts into my tight pucker and I instinctively buck into the orgasmic penetration. Fuckkkkk he’s tonguing me… He’s really touching Anna. And it feels so good.
“Do you like this?” he asks, his hot moist tongue swirling around my back hole.
“Yes.” I press back again, wanting more.
Slowly he squeezes my clit with the cloth as his tongue lavishes my rosette.
Yes, oh hell yes… I am…
“I’m going to come!” I bite my lip as my knees shake, pressed into the hospital mattress.
“Come for me.” He laps my ass and I grasp the bed and bite my lips harder. Breaking into a million little perfect orgasmic pieces. My body shuttering over and over. As he keeps up the onslaught of monumental perfection.
What the?
A finger slips into me and I inadvertently quake harder. My head hanging and pressing into the bed. I can’t scream. I want to so damn bad. But I hold it in. My chest rising in falling in quick short breaths. My heart about to beat its way out of my chest. I never knew anything could feel so good. So right. With James everything is right.
Curving his thick digit into my softness he caresses my insides in a caring but urgent way. Coaxing me, tantalizing me, forcing me to another plateau of euphoric possibly.
More shifting behind me and I can’t move. I don’t want to move. I want to savor this pleasure for the rest of my life.
His hand resting inside of me, he encircles my small body with his. His warm sultry chest planted against my back. His cock sliding its way up and down, between my cheeks. Retracing his finger, he presses his dick to my ready hole and swirls the pre-come all over it.
“Are you ready, lover?” he asks, wrapping one arm under me, holding me to him.
“I’ve always been ready for you James,” I whimper, anxiously awaiting the onslaught of connection.
Pressing forward, his cock head gently enters me. Inch by inch, he fills me and I hold my breath as I push out. Accepting him. All of him. Body and soul.
“Arg!” I cry out as he fills my entrance completely.
Kissing my shoulders, and my neck he pulls out slightly and I can’t hold it in. My lips pour out a deep and long unadulterated animalistic moan. Vibrating in my chest as it bellows out of me. Plunging back into me, I come, hard. My eyes rolling into the back of my head. As his lips suck onto my shoulder, his body anchoring me to the bed. My brain floats out of my body as all the weight is lifting from me. My entire body tingling in small bits of rhapsody gorged aftermath.
Regaining full consciousness, James picks up the pace. In even strokes he massages my insides. Teasing and invoking pleasure deep within my fiery aching core.
“You feel so…” He grunts. “Perfect, my lady.”
His nut begins to slap my pussy as he jackhammers my hole into submission.
I’m going to come again. Yes!!! His cock feels so good buried deep inside Anna.
“Shit!” I squeal as his teeth sink into my shoulder and laving my wound into a deeper all-consuming necessity.
I beg, “Bite me again.”
He complies by sink his teeth into my other shoulder. Marking me. Making me his.
“Make it last,” I order, egging him on.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he pants, relentlessly pounding my ass.
Oh fuck, pound me harder! Give it to me, Papa Bear.
“Just. Do. It. Now. Mark me,” I bark.
And he listens. Sinking his teeth deep into my shoulder next to my neck. Grating further into my flesh, growling like a beast. I cry out in ecstasy and come, again. My body bucking into him. My teeth grinding. Holding back the need to scream. For my life. For my love. For the pleasure. For my losses and for everything else.
His cock swells inside of me. I know he’s close.
“Come for me Papa Bear. Fill me.”
“I love you. I love you so much,” he stammers, his moist chest dripping sweat down my back. Then he grunts and pumps into me filling my hole with his deliciousness.
Wringing his cock dry of come into my ass, he licks my wounds as his chest heaves for oxygen. “You—,” He kisses my mark. “Are—,” Kiss. “My—,” Kiss. “Everything—,” Kiss.
Withdrawing his member from inside my sore hole, a void engulfs me. The truth of my future coming to light and baring its weight callously on my heart.
Juices, his perfect juices begin to seep out of me and I don’t care. Slowly I turn around and he grabs my hand, helping me to sit down. Placing the white cotton blanket up around my waist. Glancing up at the clock I realize my eight o-clock deadline is but ten minutes away.
I should be ecstatic to have just had my first orgasm in months with the only man I ever want to be with, but that happiness is gone. Replaced by defeat filling the room with its thick fog of sadness and loss. He’s leaving me. And for a little while, we were connected again. Physically and emotionally. He fed my soul with pleasure. Pleasure only he can provide. The kind that consumes the soul and makes you sublimely happy. Like he’s done for me the past nearly nine months that I’ve had him in my life. Even before we fell in love.
Dressing back into his cargo pants and tee, he sits down beside me, pulling me into his arms. I can’t speak. I don’t want to. I’m afraid if I open the dam, it will break and I won’t be able to stop the impending blubbering mess.
“Thank you for loving me.” He cracks the seal of deafening silence.
“But you can’t wait for me. You can’t hold onto the hope that I might return. I can’t do that to you. I can’t ask that of you. You are all that matters. Your happiness and the babies. That’s all that matters in this entire world to me.” He caresses my back, my head tucked into the only place in the world that centers me. That fills me with comfort and love. His chest. Closest to the organ that for even a little while I have owned as mine. His heart. That will forever beat in my brain.
How can this be happening to us?
Tears well in my eyes and I swallow deep and hard, holding my cheek to his chest, my arms grabbing his shirt around his back. I can’t let him go. I can’t let him go! Not my Papa Bear. Not my love!
Minutes pass and all I can do is suck back the need to break down. But I won’t. Not in front of him. He didn’t ask for this. He didn’t do this to me. I can’t make him feel any worse than I know he does.
Slowing my heaving breaths into low soft inhales and exhales, I center myself. Focusing only on his cedar warmth. His calming nature. His sexy perfection. My Bear. Engulfing me in his thick arms. Enveloping me in his love. We breathe together. Synchronized like we are in so many ways.
“I have to go.” He breaks the quiet and erupts the pain. My heart begins to crack, right down the center.
I hold him tighter as he kisses my head and I tilt to look into his beautiful eyes once more. They’re red and brimming with watery tears, as are mine.
Pressing my lips to his, we hold the connection. Both of us closing our eyes and swallowing up one another. For one last time. Another crack splinters my heart as he pulls away. I put a death grip on his shirt. But he’s too strong and stands. My fingers slipping from the cottony fabric.
Sucking in a deep audible breath, he walks to the door
, opens it. Turning around he looks at me. His reddened eyes pouring in hot tears, swimming his gaze into mine. His lip quivers.
Floating in the watery depths of his hazel eyes my dam breaks, tears free flowing down my cheeks. The anguish of loss crackling in the air.
“You will always be with me,” he mutters and leaves. Shutting the door in his wake.
NO!!!!!!!
My heart suddenly explodes into a million fragmented agony laden pieces and I jump out of bed. The sheet wrapped around my naked body. I sprint to the door and heave it open.
“JAMES!!!” I scream, through tear soaked cries. “JAMES!”
I pound my way out of the doorway and into the hall, frantically seeking him. I have to find him. He can’t leave us! He’s our Papa Bear.
“Emily.” Nurse Shelly comes after me. And I run away from her, the opposite direction. Down the white encased sterile hallway in only my bed sheet. My bare feet slapping hard on the ground.
This can’t be happening. Not to me! I just found him!
“James!” I screech. Stopping at the end, looking down the four ways. Where did he go? He just left!
“Emily!” Shelly and Diane come sprinting after me, in their white hospital scrubs. Blue stethoscopes draped around their necks.
“I need to find my James… Have you seen him?!” I turn to them, snot running out of my nose, over my lips. My hysterical sobs echoing in the halls. A never ending stream of salty tears running rapid down my face and neck.
I need to find him. Where’s my James?
“Emily?” They slow, as they get close me. Taking small steps.
“Where is he?!” I growl at them, like a…like a Mama Bear. My eyes fierce with determination.
“They took him. He’s gone.” They both speak simultaneously in soft but firm tones.
“They who? The government?”
“Let’s just get you back to bed Mama, you shouldn’t be up and moving around this quickly after having surgery.”
Shelly moves marginally closer. Her chocolate eyes matted with notable affliction.
“Please Emily, you need to get some clothes on.” Diane adds, side stepping around me. Taking place behind me like a wild animal stalks its next meal.
What is she doing?
“I don’t want to go to bed! And you can’t make me!” I announce firmly standing my ground. The ground that feels as if it’s disintegrating right from under me. As my new life’s realizations take root and sprout truths into my mind’s eye.
He. Is. Gone.
I was his and he mine. But now he’s no more. There is no more James and Emily. Or Papa and Mama Bear. No more midnight kisses, or wee hours of the morning pillow talks. No more spoon-fed peanut butter nights in bed. No more I love you’s and soul seeping chest warmth.
As the awareness blooms blackened petals, my tear blurred vision hazes into blood smeared existence.
Sucking in a deep breath I cry out in a full body throbbing misery immersed release of my soul. With it, the pieces of my shattered heart and broken dreams drift away into the oblivion of my once picturesque life.
A dark and dank inky blackness takes its place. The only shining light and glimmer of hope life is the love for my blessed new born children.
“Why is this happening to me?” I blubber out in a shallow whisper, and collapse onto a heap on the white linoleum.
Nurse’s hands find me. Pulling at me. Speaking to me. But I can’t hear them.
I stare at nothing as the tears keep coming.
“James…James…,” I babble incoherently.
I don’t know what’s happening to me. Why does it hurt so bad?
They lift me into a wheelchair and wheel me back to my room.
“James… James.” I mumble and lick my dry lips. My mouth feels like cotton. A drink would be nice. But I don’t really care. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.
Elevating me from my chair, two nurses attempt to maneuver me to the bed. I know I’m standing as I look down. Although the feeling in my legs is gone.
***
“Emily.” Some lady I’ve never seen before with short tawny pixie hair snaps her pink adorned fingers in front of my face.
“Emily!” she yells.
I move my mouth to respond but nothing comes out. Only sounds with no meaning or context gurgle up out of my dry raspy throat.
“She’s in shock,” I hear the pixie haired woman state, as I glance down.
When did I get dressed? Or covered? Reaching up I touch my hair to find it pulled back into a…
Is that a bun?
Blinking my eyes rapidly, apparently the tears have dried up. For now. Leaving me with puffy tender sockets.
Four nurses and the pixie woman in normal street clothes are in my room talking.
About what? You got me.
I peer around. My room looks the same. White walls, flowers in a plethora of colorful arrangements, my hospital table, a TV on the wall. Just no Papa Bear.
My heart clenches and tightens into pain at the slightest thought and I force myself to swallow down my suffering.
The pain is unbearable.
Focusing on the wall clock my eyes blend in and out with blurriness. Closing my eyes tightly and popping them open, I dart my vision at the clock to see how long it’s been since I’ve last experienced his warm supple kiss upon my lips, or his hands softly caressing my body.
That time can’t be right. I blink again.
How did I lose eight hours of my damn day?
It’s four fifteen. Was I really out of it that long?
Chapter Seven
~James ~
“Master Sergeant James— this way please.”
An officer in full dress blues escorts me down to the bottom floor of the hospital by way of the service elevator, to avoid dealing with the substantial amount of paparazzi staking out the main exits for Stricken’s divine twins to emerge.
“You are sure Davis is already stationed with her?”
Pressing a little ear piece, the man radios in. “Davis stationed at point?”
The man’s face furrows at his brow, leaving thick wrinkles in his forehead and nose. Either deep in thought or something isn’t going as instructed. He better pray with all of his might that it’s the former. Because if she’s not under properly trained protection, I will by all means necessary do something to ensure her safety and that of the babies. Even if I can’t be the one to administer the retribution if someone messes with her, I sure as hell will have somebody with equal skillset to rain all the forces of hell upon them. And Davis will do that.
“Yes sir, she is and so are the other men.”
Damn straight, they’d better be. I hired more security for her. Each of them discrete with vast amounts of federal training. After placing hours upon hours of calls to DC and attempting to call in a favor, I spoke with two generals, six sergeants and five others at the Pentagon and turn up with diddly-squat. No way to deter the enviable. Me leaving.
By some act of god, after I’d slept maybe twenty minutes, Emily’s water broke and the twins were hastily delivered. I was there. I’ll never forget watching my children being birthed into this world. I thought meeting and falling in love with Mama Bear was my life’s happiness. Never in a million years did I ever think my heart could expand anymore. However, now Jenna and Eric have taken up their rightful spaces right next to Emily’s piece of my heart. Which is nearly its entirety.
“Sir, we’re over here,” the man says, breaking me from my thoughts and gesturing toward a shiny black armored unmarked car. Two men in all black gear are stationed right outside of it. Obvious security detail. Interesting….
Since when do they send the entire cavalry to bring in a safe link?
My something’s-fishy radar starts flashing its big red florescent lights and, cautiously, I approach the vehicle. Scanning my peripheral at all angles, my hand resting comfortably against the butt of my gun, holstered to my chest.
Both men nod to us, u
naffected by my hand resting on my gun, as Officer Brodden opens the back passenger door.
“Master Sergeant James, it’s about damn time I see you again,” I hear a very familiar heavily southern accented voice drawl, from the depths of the dark interior.
Leaning down, resting my bend arms on the door frame I peek in.
“We’ll isn’t it Sergeant Brewer, you crazy S.O.B,” I tease with a half-smile.
“It’s Sergeant Major Brewer, now.” He smirks like the same lunatic who used to hang women by their ankles from our racks in the barracks and eat them out for the entire squadron to see. He was always one horny, sadistic madman. “Now get in, we’ve got a private flight out of Camp Pendleton in.” He peers down at his no doubt expensive watch.
“Two hours and thirty-eight minutes,” he states, looking back up to me with a friendly smile.
I slide in aside him and close us into the darkened backseat. Glancing across from us, there sits a rather attractive female with silky straight jet black hair. A thinner but curvy frame, from what I can see. And that’s enough. Her skins a caramel tanned brown like mine. But the angles of her face suggests she’s Spanish in origin. I’m Native American, with traces of Spanish and Pilipino ancestry locked into my DNA. Her lips are full, nose average with a blunt end and her eyes are large and watching me. The irises are a deep indigo. I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes quite like hers before. They’re captivatingly beautiful. But the rest of her I could care less about. Nobody could ever hold a candle to my Mama Bear. Not even stirrings of sexual charge spark when I view this female. Attractive or not, it’s a mere understanding of appearance. Nothing more.
“Master Sergeant James, please say hello to Specialist, Sergeant Penelope Gonzales, your fake wife for the next six to nine months,” Brewer introduces and my stomach drops.
Damn me and my duty to this country. This better be some extremely important data I’m withholding.
“Hello sir,” her soft feminine voice floods the air and I suddenly find it hard to breathe in such an enclosed space.
Stricken Rock Series: Complete Box Set Page 71
