by Joanna Blake
"We're family. You're just some dirty old man."
I rolled my eyes. This was getting to be ridiculous. They were practically the same age! Jackson was twenty-seven and Clint was thirty-two.
"If you don't get out of the way, I'm going to have to kick your ass."
Jackson sneered.
"I'd like to see you try!"
Clint stood there, not backing down. And not handing me over either. He squeezed me reassuringly and smiled.
"You can go to hell, Jackson Delancey. I'm keeping her."
Pheonyx Rising - Two Days Later
Pheonyx
I lay on the sofa, smiling as Clint walked in the room. He held a tray of food and herbal tea for me. I tried not to laugh as he placed it on the coffee table in front of me.
"What is so funny young lady?"
He frowned at me and I shook my head, giggling.
I wasn't laughing because he brought me food.
I was laughing because of what he was wearing. Or rather, what he wasn't wearing.
He'd found one of my frilly aprons and put in on. And nothing else. He turned around, and his bare ass prominently displayed. He had a fantastic ass.
I wanted to pinch it. Or bite it.
Or smack it.
He liked to smack mine often enough!
But he was too fast, walking back to the kitchen on those long, thick legs. If I tilted my head to the side, I could almost catch a glimpse of his package.
I lay back, sighing. Clint was not going to make love to me today, I could tell. He'd promised me all kinds of things each day to get me to stay in bed. But he wouldn't give me what I wanted.
Him.
He'd taken care of my womanly needs a couple times a day. Made me come with his fingers and lips. But he wouldn't let me touch him.
That's why this display of his manly assets was so frustrating. He had such nice legs. Arms too. Shoulders. But that butt… it was a work of art.
Round and high and strong and juicy.
He came back in and sat down with his own cup of coffee. He wouldn't let me have any caffeine or any sex. The doctor had said to lay off caffeine but the sex was just him being mean.
He sat in an easy chair, way out of reach.
"You're still wearing your apron I see."
He fluffed his hair, preening.
"Of course I am, silly. How else am I supposed to stay neat and tidy?"
I giggled at his girly impersonation. But it wasn't long until I started to pout.
"You're an awful tease, Clint McRae. You know that?"
He smiled.
"Eat your oatmeal and maybe you'll get a reward."
Hmmm… that sounded nice. A reward might mean fooling around a little. At this point I would take what I could get. I ate my food and took the vitamin he had insisted I take. I shook my head, amazed at what a mother hen he'd become.
My man.
Or my… boyfriend. I still wasn't sure what to call him. Oh, we were getting married, I had no doubt about that. But my cousins had told him he had to wait a whole year. And at least six months to propose.
They said I was too young to know my own mind.
Clint had agreed to their bargain, despite my protests. I wanted the white picket fence and I wanted it now.
But he had insisted that they were right. He'd promised me oodles of pre-engagement sex. He'd said he still had lots to teach me.
I'd agreed.
So we were 'promised' but not engaged. But he loved me and that's what mattered. He told me at least ten times a day.
I set down my tea and smiled at him.
"I'm ready for my reward now."
His eyes flashed and he stood up. I lay back and waited as he started peeling off my pajama bottoms. He trailed his fingers over my thighs and I shivered.
It felt very naughty to be lying here in with just my bottom half exposed. As he leaned down to kiss me through my panties, I decided I liked being naughty with Clint.
I liked it a lot.
I sighed as he busied himself between my legs, toying with me through the thin cotton fabric. These were my least sexy undies, but somehow I got the feeling he liked them best. He growled, nipping me as his hands slid up, unbuttoning my pajama top so he could get at my breasts.
"Oh…"
I was squirming around. Clint told me to hold still. I squirmed some more. His breath fanned my pussy and I moaned, trying to press his head against me. He just laughed.
"Be a good girl now and I'll take care of you. I won't be rushed, wildcat."
I was begging ten minutes later but he was still teasing me. Finally, he gripped the edge of my panties and tugged them down.
He licked me up and down, nice and slow. I wanted him to go faster. I wanted him to touch me harder. I wanted him to give me his cock and ride me home.
But he didn't.
"Clint! Dammit, I've rested enough!"
He chuckled and I cursed in frustration. His laughter tickled me, making me even more desperate for release.
I was close to coming. But I'd been close for twenty minutes! I was on the verge of tears.
"Please Clint… I want you."
He murmured against my pussy, licking it a little faster.
"I love you. Please… I want you inside me."
He cursed then. I was getting to him. I knew it.
"Just for a little while. I want to feel your bare skin on mine. Don't you want me?"
He looked like he was in pain when he looked up at me.
"Dammit it Phee, I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't."
"The condoms are in the other room."
"Don't use one."
"What?"
I smiled at him seductively. His eyes were wide. I had his attention now.
"You can pull out. I looked it up online."
He groaned and lowered his head.
"Phee… if I knock you up before the wedding, I'm a dead man."
"You won't. Anyway, if you do, we can always elope."
He broke in that moment. I saw it. He was on top of me in two shakes, lifting the apron to reveal his raging hard on. I licked my lips at the sight of it. His balls looked swollen and the tip was shiny and wet.
"Hmmm… yes. That's what I want."
He groaned helplessly and held the tip against my slick lips.
"You sure, Phee? This is real foolish."
I wrapped my legs around him and tugged him towards me slightly. He made a sound so sexy it made my toes curl. I didn't think he'd had a release since the accident, even though he'd taken care of me.
"I'm sure."
That was it. Clint slid inside of me, grunting like a wild beast. He cursed as he filled me the whole way up. The sensations were… unbelievable. The bare skin of his cock felt so good inside me, I thought I was going to faint.
He was breathing heavily as he pulled out again.
"Goddamn! Babygirl, you feel so good..."
He grunted as he pushed back inside me. He pulled out almost the whole way, cursing a blue streak while he did. Then he plunged back in.
"You're my woman, you hear me?"
"Yes Clint."
"Oh Christ- unnfff!"
He started to work his cock in and out of me at a steady pace. I tried to squeeze him with each thrust. He was moaning incoherently when I came the first time.
He was even more incoherent when I came the second time.
The third time, we came together.
Clint shouted as he pulled out, spraying my belly with his seed. I could have cried. There was something different this time. I realized wanted all of that come inside me.
He cleaned me off, both of us still shuddering. He told me to 'be still' as he pulled my pajamas back on and pulled me onto his lap.
"That was nice."
"Nice? Woman, you damn near killed me."
I smiled, snuggling deeper into his lap. I felt his cock stir beneath me and pinched his nipple. He hissed and pulled my hair back so he could kiss me.<
br />
It was a while later when he lifted his head, his blue eyes shining.
"I love you Pheonyx Delancey."
"And I love you Clint McRae."
He grinned.
"I'm going to marry you."
"I know."
Ride With Me
Joanna Blake
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Chapter One
Jake
I gripped the handlebars of my Harley, my calloused hands barely feeling the strain of riding all day. My heavily muscled forearms were tanned where they peeked out of my broken in black leather jacket. It was almost too warm for the jacket. I could have done with just a vest. But if I didn't wear it, I’d have to pack it.
And I liked to travel light.
Material possessions didn't mean anything to me. I had a handful of worn in clothes. A phone, my boots and my bike. That's it. I moved from place to place when the urge struck me.
And it struck often.
Nothing had any permanence in this life and that's the way I liked it. Easy come, easy go. I had a take it as it comes attitude when it came to clothes, personal belongings, friends and women.
Especially women.
In fact, I had just taken off from my last apartment when Suzy, one of the girls who hung around the bar I worked in, got a little too clingy. Hell, she got a lot too clingy. She'd started acting like she was my girlfriend.
I snorted. A girlfriend. That was a laugh. I didn't believe in relationships.
Hell, I didn't believe in much of anything.
A good beer, a good meal, a good lay. That and the feeling of my bike between my legs, hugging the road, riding like the wind. I liked to go fast.
I got a lot of traffic tickets. But that was okay. I could afford it.
The way I saw it, the family lawyer was on retainer whether I used him or not. As aggravating as my family was at times, that lawyer had come in handy after a bar fight or twelve. Especially the time I broke a guys jaw for hitting a woman in the parking lot.
That was one fight I never regretted, no matter how much it cost my old man.
I had been at the end of my shift and enjoying a cold beer and a smoke out back when I heard it. A guy had been smack talking his woman. It had quickly progressed to him laying hands to her, roughing her up and more than just a little.
I had come to the lady's defense. I didn't know her. Just doing the right thing. Hurting a woman was the lowest act a man could do. I didn't stand for it.
I'd beat him down until he was in no shape to hit anyone. Then I tipped my hat and left the lady in the parking lot with cab fare to get her home. Nothing more, nothing less. But by the next morning, the lady had been singing a different tune. She'd said my attack was unprovoked, even saying that her bruises came from getting in the way of the scuffle.
That was the part the pissed me off. Her saying I had actually caused some of the marks he'd put on her. Accidentally of course. Even a scam artist wouldn’t go so far as to say I hit a woman. Nobody on Earth would buy that.
I had a reputation, but not that kind of reputation.
From gratitude to gold digging in just a few hours.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. Hell, even if I knew in advance what would happen, I would have done it anyway. The feeling of pounding in the face of a no good woman beater was worth it, and then some.
But still, the lady could have told the truth instead of trying to take advantage.
That's what always happened. As soon as they'd found out who I was, who my family was, the gold diggers started swinging their pick axes. Nothing made me more disgusted than someone who was after my family's money.
Nobody robbed the Delancey's. It was a point of pride, even for me, the black sheep who'd turned my back on it. All seven billion of it.
Oh yeah, I’d walked away from all that dough without a backward glance.
I didn't want a cent of it for myself. I was a firm believer in living off what you made with your hands. Of course, I was also a firm believer in working as little as possible.
That's why Jake Delancey, youngest son of the richest family in the state of Tennessee, was a bartender.
I smiled to myself.
Sometimes I wasn't even that. I’d been bar back more than once. I didn't really care one way or the other.
But, oooeeee, it sure pissed off my folks. And that was what I was after really, wasn't it? Punishing them for what they'd done to me.
What they'd believed.
I took the winding road through the expensive suburbs of Brentwood out to where the houses started to thin out and farms and ranches took over. As I crested a hill I could see it; Delancey Stables.
Home sweet home.
I nearly snorted. As if I’d called it home for more than a weekend since I’d been shipped off to military school at the tender age of twelve. I’d barely been back in all that time. But now I’d been summoned by my eldest brother Jackson. Not that I wasn't tempted to ignore such a high handed demand.
Just like I’d ignored all the other missives I’d gotten over the years.
This time it was different though.
This time, our Dad was sick. I wanted to be there, even if was just to argue with the old man. It would probably perk him up to yell at me a couple times.
I was practically penicillin.
Not to mention I was tired.
It was starting to feel like I’d run out of places to go. I wanted to come home, if only to remind myself why the hell I ran in the first place. And it would make the servants and my brother Daniel happy to see me at Christmas. Maybe my sweet little cousin would stop by. Phee was like a sister to me, and the only Delancey I actually kept in touch with at all.
Home for the holidays.
What a joke.
Elle
"Damnit all to hell!"
I was bent over, picking up the shards of broken china. I was stacking clean plates between shifts. The plates were still scorching hot, which is why I’d dropped one in the first place.
“Tsk tsk.”
I glanced up to see Shirley staring at me.
"Best not let Mr. Peabody hear you talk that way, girl. He'll dock your pay.”
I stood up, brushing my hands off on the skirt of my uniform.
"Yeah well he didn't hear me now, did he? Sorry Shirl, I'm just having a day."
Shirley clucked her tongue sympathetically and bent down to help.
"Here, I'll hold the dust pan for you."
I nodded and grabbed the broom.
"Thanks Shirl. I don't know what I would do without you."
I meant it too. When I arrived in Nashville without a work visa, no one would hire me. It was a lucky break and a band that was looking for a singer on Craigslist that started all of this. Not only had I gotten a gig with a killer band, but everything else had fallen into place.
More or less.
Mark the bassist’s sister had been looking for a roommate. That’s how I met Shirley. Now we shared a sweet little apartment outside of Nashville. That led to befriending my roommate and eventually to landing this job.
They didn't even bother to check my papers when I applied. Shirl said that's because the Country Club relied on illegals to do so much of the grunt work on the golf course. And thank God for it too.
Otherwise God only knew what would I would be doing to survive. After the first week in the youth hostel I’d been relying on extra crackers and a cup of soup to make it through most days. Things had been dire to say the least.
I’d known coming to America was a risk. But as a singer, I’d been irresistibly drawn to Nashville. The center of the music industry. There was a reason they called it 'Music City U.S.A.'.
Not that I sang country. Not exactly. My styl
e was a bit edgier, a bit more rock and roll. But my voice blended beautifully in the country style. And since I’d known my share of heartbreak, I could sing country with the best of them.
Life may have been hard but the music had always been there for me.
Born to a single mom in a poor as dirt part of the Irish countryside, I had grown up hard and fast. The former mining town had one restaurant, owned by my mother's brother, Uncle Dave. If it hadn't been for Uncle Dave, my mother and I wouldn't have been able to eat, let alone live. As it was, my mum was a waitress slash cook slash cleaning lady. I had worked alongside her since I could walk.
Good old fashioned childcare my mother had called it, with a wry wink. For no matter how hard life had gotten, my beautiful mother had never stopped smiling. Or singing while she worked. My mother's voice was one of the prettiest I’d ever heard.
I was still trying to live up to my mother's example. I did my best not to complain, work hard and to make the best of the cards I’d been dealt. And when I made it big, my mother would never have to work again. I would buy her a big house, with a maid and a cook. And she could live anywhere she wanted in the whole world.
Hopefully somewhere near me. The French Countryside… or Los Angeles… or even here in Nashville. In one of those big fancy houses that lined to roads around the country club.
Anything was possible as my mother liked to say. I believed it too. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here, risking my meager savings on a plane ticket and a dream.
I just had to get heard by the right people and it would happen. I knew it. With my voice and drive, I knew it was only a matter of time.
Looking like a blow up doll didn’t hurt either.
Huge green eyes and dark hair marked me as Irish for anyone who looked. And plenty did. My skin was pale as milk and unmarred, other than a tattoo high on my right hip. My long dark hair and plentiful curves meant that I was forever fighting off the unwanted advances of men.
As if I had time for the opposite sex.
They could bend over backwards for me for all I cared. It wouldn’t make a bit of difference. I’d never been tempted to take anyone up on their offers of a soft and cushy life as a rich man’s arm candy.
