by Blue, Gia
Tempting Mr. Parker: Book Two
Cat & Mouse Games
Gia Blue
Published: April 2012
Published by Summerhouse Publishing. Copyright, Gia Blue. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Editor: Will Belegon | Cover Artist: Gia Blue
THURSDAY
Mr. Joseph Parker is my daddy’s best friend, a special commando army man and manly as a man can be. Tall. Muscular. Tan. And he’s been trained to kill in a hundred different ways. Hell, for all I know, he could kill a man with a toothpick. He’s a real live GI Joe. He is also gentle as a kitty at heart. We’ve been secretly seeing each other for a couple of months, and I have firsthand knowledge of his tender ways.
By Hollywood standards, he wouldn’t be classified as handsome or hot, but he’s got these enormous, brown, soul-melting eyes fanned by lush, long lashes that get me every time I see him… or when I drool over his pictures like a horn dog. Masculinity oozes from his pores. If he was a wolf, Mr. Parker would be the Alpha in the pack, though with a quiet and reserved demeanor. He’s a study in contrasts, an enigma.
He’s also got a massive cock and knows damn well how to use his monster piece of flesh.
And he does use it. Often. Each time he comes to Rhode Island (I’m a sophomore at Brown), we get together and destroy the sheets.
Every time I think back on our sweaty, primal, brutal fucking my body quivers with lust. Damn.
Mr. Parker is my parents’ neighbor and lives three doors down from our house. Half the time, he’s overseas on some super-secret mission. The rest of his time, before we began seeing each other, had been spent doing projects around the house or hanging out with my dad.
But now that we’re doing the whole boyfriend-girlfriend “fuck me harder” thing, he comes to Rhode Island the second his feet reach U.S. soil.
Oh, he doesn’t show up at my dorm or anything. He sends me a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses without a note, so my roommate isn’t tipped off. I get a dozen flowers to tell me he’s waiting at the Holiday Inn.
That’s what I have found today. I’ve just finished English Lit and tromp into my room, only to have a bouquet shoved into my hands while my roommate chirps like a bird about my secret admirer. The roses are the crème de la crème of any florist shop; red, large and intensely fragrant. Mr. Parker has never sent me the cheap stuff. Always the best for his Jess.
“Who is this guy?” Jolene leans forward and sniffs at the flowers. “He’s so romantic. I bet he’s loaded. He’s loaded, right? Trust fund kid. Or a fat guy looking for a sugar baby. Those are the kind of guys who do this stuff. You actually don’t know who’s sending these?” She’s like a chipmunk on speed.
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. After my first round of fucking with Mr. Parker, but before he returned for more, Jolene and I had been fuck buddies… experimenting on each other and getting off whenever we had time.
But since Mr. Parker and I made the commitment thing, I only sleep with him. Jolene thinks I’m seeing someone and that I know who the roses are from. But I’m tight-lipped. Mr. Parker is my secret.
Besides, he isn’t anything like Jolene describes. He parachutes from choppers with an ammo filled bag and an automatic rifle, just dives right into the heart of enemy territory, scouting and killing the big baddies.
But with me, he’s romantic. He knows I love roses, and never fails to surprise me with them, or other thoughtful gifts, when they’re least expected. He’s a keeper.
Jolene is still going on and on, but I ignore her, slip out of my frumpy clothes and hunt up something simple and sexy for my man.
A half hour later I’m out the door, heading to see Mr. Parker. Jolene gives me the third degree. Her suspicions grate on me, but I utter an easy lie, tell her I’m doing research in the library. I giggle to myself as I head down the stairs. Oh yeah, I’m going to do some research all right. It’s going to revolve around a fat cock, and how best to fuck.
In moments, I’m in my car, squirming on the seat, anticipation building as I leave campus and head toward the hotel. My panties are damp; just thinking about Mr. Parker makes me wet and hot.
It’s been almost two months since I last saw him and I’ve missed him more than I want to admit. Miss touching him. Fucking him. Hearing his deep, baritone voice. He sends shivers down my spine with each syllable he utters.
Out of everything, I miss his smell. Male musk, sweat, spicy cinnamon and Davidoff’s Cool Water cologne. All of it together creates his distinctive scent.
When I pull into the Holiday Inn parking lot, I hardly give the car a moment to stop before I spring from my vehicle and head toward the lobby. I tell the lovely lady behind the counter that I’m visiting Mr. Parker and he’s expecting me.
Of course, she shoots me the “I-know-what-you’re-doing-naughty-girl” look and rings Joseph’s room. She must think I’m a pro. My dress is cut low on top and short at the bottom, showing off everything I’ve got to offer. I’ve topped off my dress with a black pair of “fuck me” boots. He loves these boots.
I’m dressed to be fucked. Hard and often. Hell yeah.
The woman bobs her head a few times while she converses with Mr. Parker, a fake smile stretched across her face. Her painted lips are fire engine red and slathered with generous dollops of lip gloss. She looks like she just drank a container of oil. I itch to snag a tissue and wipe her mouth. Ick.
“Mr. Parker is in room one-thirty-four. If you take the elevator to your left and get off on the second floor, it will be to your right next to the vending station.”
“Thank you.” I smile sweetly and lean closer to read her nametag. “Margaret. You’re a doll.”
I saunter to the elevator and do as directed, heels sinking into the thick carpet as I move toward Mr. Parker’s room.
I knock gently on the door. I’ve just struck the surface when he wrenches the door open, hauls me inside and then shoves it closed behind me. For a moment, all I can do is stare, frozen like a deer in headlights.
It’s obvious Mr. Parker just got out of the shower. Droplets of water cling to his chest, and he’s clad in a white towel. He’s darker now, tanned by Iraq’s sun. Leaner, too. New sinewy muscles have been revealed to me, and I can’t wait to discover them with my tongue. Mr. Parker is one hundred percent fuckably delicious. Mm-mm.
I lick my lips and jump on him, rip his towel from his hips and devour his mouth, our tongues twining while I search out the taste that’s come to mean more to me than breathing.
I wrap my legs around his waist, grasp his shoulders, and I distantly hear the hotel door thump close. We maul each other, tongues and teeth, hungry and greedy for each other.
God, I’ve missed him so much it hurts. In a few smooth moves, he undresses me, and then throws me naked into the middle of the mattress, body bouncing. My back hits the hotel sheets, cool surface contrasting with my heated body.
I spread my legs wide, pussy already wet and ready for his thick cock. Which he seems more than willing to give me. He strokes his stiff shaft, root to tip with a light squeeze just below the head. I kno
w he likes that, loves it when I suck the soft underside, give him a gentle twist while I blow him.
I slip a finger between my sopping folds, tempt and tease him. Silently beg him to give me what I want.
In a blink, he’s on me, crawls between my thighs and shoves his dick into my pussy.
I mewl.
He groans.
We don’t need foreplay… the mental masturbation I went through on the way over, the anticipation thrumming through my veins, has made me more than ready for him.
I wrap my legs around his lean waist, wrap my arms around his neck, hold him close. He plunges deep, hard and fast, then stills inside me. His cock throbs in my channel, pulses. He’s humongous and stretches me beyond belief, to the point of pain, but I love it. God, I fucking love it. While he was gone, I’d purchased an expensive cyberskin dildo I’d named Mr. Parker Two. And used it… a lot. When I was horny, and my roommate was at class. But nothing beats the real thing, the real dick, the real Mr. Parker breathing in my ear while he thrusts in and out of my needy cunt.
He braces his weight on an arm near my head and uses his other hand to stroke my cheek. Fire blazes in his eyes, a need I’m sure my own eyes reflect. “I missed you, Jess.”
I lean up, kiss him deeply in response. I pour my emotions into our connection, show him without words that I’ve missed him, too.
He’s a quiet man, generally introverted. For him to reveal what’s in his heart means more than words can say.
Mr. Parker returns my kiss with enthusiasm; his tongue plunges into my mouth, fucking me with the same eagerness as his cock fucking my cunt.
I gasp and writhe. Everything feels too fucking good, too much… yet not enough.
He pounds my pussy in short strokes, his shaft grinding against the inner walls of my cunt. Shock waves of exquisite pleasure burst and flow through me like an exploding volcano.
I exhale through my clenched teeth, frantic with the need to come all over him. “Fuck me, fuck me, please…”
“Damn, Jess.” He quickens his pace, gives me what I need and crave.
“Joe,” I sob. I sink my fingers into his hair, claw his scalp and heave as I surrender my body to his insatiable thrusts.
It’s there, my orgasm, hovering just out of reach. I lift my hips, raise them to meet each of his rapid thrusts. The slap, slap, slap of our bodies fills the quiet room. He keeps going, a machine… my machine.
His pubic bone grinds against my needy clit with every push of his cock into my wet hole, stimulating me even more, sending me higher.
My nipples are hard, hard enough to cut glass and aching with my need.
The arousal is thrumming through my veins, pounding in my heart. I’m so close. I'm just waiting for him to force me over the edge, make me scream his name and draw blood. I want him to remember this, me, even after he gets sent off on his next assignment.
“Do it. Come on my dick, baby. Gonna fill you up if you come for me.”
Fuck… the thought is accompanied by a full-body shudder of pleasure, shifting and soaring through me, yanking a scream from my throat.
My pussy is contracting, tightening and milking his dick as it moves in and out of me, touching my cunt in ways no other man can.
Each entrance strokes my G-spot. Another thrust, another shiver, drawing me closer and closer to coming all over his dick.
“Come, Jess.” His voice is a low growl, demanding.
He changes position, sits up, holds my thighs insanely wide and then the only parts of us touching are his hands on my thighs and his dick in my pussy.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck…”
One hand leaves my thigh. His fingers zero in on my clit and squeeze the nub then rub the abused bit of nerves in tiny circles.
Fuck. Oh yes.
His touch brings my back right off the bed, chest out and hands clawing the cold fabric. I try to ground myself, try not to drift away on the pleasure.
But I can’t.
Mr. Parker is a man that doesn’t give up, demands everything I’ve got to offer and I hand it over on a silver platter.
Because I’m coming. No, I’m not coming, I’m exploding and imploding, and my whole body vibrates with the force as it roars through me. Like a tsunami. I can’t stop its progression. The pleasure embraces me and carries me along, wave after wave of pure bliss.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Come on my fat cock, take my dick, cream all over me.”
God, he’s so dirty, nasty and rough… and I love it. God help me, I love him. I think.
One orgasm isn’t enough for him. No, Joe keeps fucking me. I come twice more before he finally surrenders, finally lets his own release take over.
He swears and calls my name as he jerks. Rough spasmodic thrusts before he spurts his seed deep inside me, coats my inner walls with his cum. I tighten my legs around him, my pussy spasms, milks him, and I smile with every tiny shudder I feel going through his body.
He slumps over me, and we tangle intimately until the last shudder and tide of pleasure ebbs away, our breaths intermingling.
Mr. Parker leans to the side, pulls me with him and strokes my hair. His fingers trace my nose, cheek, lips. I wrap around him, lay my head on his chest and feel more relaxed than I have in months.
I’m giddy, thinking about the fact that we still have the entire weekend, plus Monday since it’s a national holiday, together. Three whole fuck and love filled days.
Four days before he has to report to the base.
But Mr. Parker shatters my heavenly illusion. He takes a deep breath and then blurts out his news. “Your parents invited me to the cabin for this weekend. I couldn’t refuse, baby.”
My head shoots up, and I stare at him open-mouthed. “What?”
Okay, that is kinda shrewish, but what the heck? I scowl at him, growly and angry now. “You mean, you’d rather go hunting with my dad than spend time with me? Really?” My family owns a log cabin in Midland, near hunting preserves.
He strokes my back, hand tracing my spine with a gentle touch. “Jess, sweetheart, you know I’d rather spend my time with you. The problem is, I’ve been with you any time I can and I think your dad is getting suspicious.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re some super, bad ass spec op man. You’re overseas doing super-secret things all the time!”
“But after each mission, I’ve always come home. I haven’t been doing that, and your dad is asking questions.”
I blink. Well, damn. “Like what?”
“He wants to know if I’m seeing someone.”
“And what did you say?”
“That I’ve been taking care of family matters. I have an elderly aunt in Westbrook, and I’ve got Power of Attorney over her assets and medical needs. As far as he’s concerned, I’ve been busy with Aunt Camille’s errands.”
“Oh, okay.”
“The problem is, one time Aunt Camille called your parent’s house looking for me and wondering why I hadn’t visited in so long.”
I wince. “Ouch.”
Mr. Parker smiles grimly. “Aunt Camille has Alzheimer’s. Sometimes she even forgets who I am.”
“But, have you visited her recently?”
He shakes his head, a sheepish look on his face. “My mistake. I’ve been too occupied by you.”
“Ah.” My heart swells when I hear he’s putting me above everything else. Selfish, but hey, he’s mine. He means the world to me, and I should mean it to him, as well.
Mr. Parker sighs. “When your dad asked me to come, I had no reason to refuse. At least, not one I could admit.”
Bummer. I haven’t seen him in two months, and I really, really miss him. Not just his body, but “him”, too. I’ve already planned a weekend filled with incredible sex. And now he has to go? Am I destined to spend the weekend with Mr. Parker Two?
Ugh.
Joe skims his fingers over my face. “Don’t worry, Jess. I’ll ask to take some of my vacation time after this. I’ve got plenty of rollover from last
year.”
I plaster a smile on my face, but frown on the inside. I want him now, not weeks later. Yeah, I’m selfish. “When are you leaving?”
“After lunch.”
My mind goes into full-blown scheming mode. Today’s Thursday and if I drive home tonight, I’d be there by Friday morning. I know from experience my parents never leave the house for a weekend at the cabin before noon. Which means, with a bit of luck, I can alter this weekend to fit my own needs. Yeah, it may be a bit dangerous with my parents around, but the risk is what makes it even more fun.
I give him a light kiss on my lover’s nose. “Can we, at least, have one more round?”
“Baby.” His voice is a choked moan. “We can have two more if you’re up to it. We have several hours before my flight.”
Goody.
FRIDAY
When I glide through the front door, bag in hand, I realize I actually have managed to surprise them. They hadn’t heard me turn into the driveway. They’re eating breakfast at the bar, and my mother’s eyes widen, mouth dropping open.
“Jessica!” She drops her bagel and opens her arms on automatic. “What on earth are you doing here?”
I lean into her arms for a brief hug. “Hello? Monday is Columbus Day. No classes, so I thought I’d come home for the long weekend.”
That helps Mom get over her initial shock. “But you didn’t tell us. You could have at least called to tell us you were coming.”
My dad flicks the paper and peers at me over the newsprint, a blank look on his face as if he couldn’t care less about my appearance. But that’s just him. He’s rugged and stoic and never lets his emotions shine. When he’s happily tipsy, he says he loves me, but two star generals don’t turn into pussies or their soldiers wouldn’t listen to ‘em on the field.
“Surprise!” I plop onto a stool and then snag a piece of bagel from my mother’s plate.
Unfortunately, Mom knows me too well. “Okay,” she narrows her eyes. “What’s going on?”
So, I utter a fib to launch a thousand ships. One as confusing as that weird Dicaprio movie with the folding city and the “is it real or a dream” thread that wouldn’t die.
