by West, Tara
Andrés’s deep, hearty chuckle warms my soul, melting away all of today’s pent up frustration and guilt. We’re both laughing hard when he rolls me over. I’m still laughing when he runs his hands up my ribcage and skims my breasts with the tips of his fingers.
But when he captures my lips with his kiss, all laughter is forgotten and I give into the fire coursing through my veins, burying my hands in his hair and groaning into his mouth.
“You still ovulating?” he asks in-between heaving breaths.
“I’m not sure.” I say, helping him slip out of his shirt. “But we can pretend I am.”
* * *
Andrés
“It could have been worse.”
I don’t need to look into my wife’s concerned eyes to know she’s talking about our son. “It could have. He’s a kid, mija. He’ll end up with a lot more cuts and bruises, maybe even some broken bones.”
I thought if I wore her out with mind-blowing sex, she’d forget about the accident. My bad for thinking a woman could let go of a guilt trip, whether it be her own or someone else’s.
I nuzzle the back of her neck, squeezing her tighter to my chest. I’m so drained right now, all I want to do is fall into a deep sleep, but I know it’s not going to happen until I get my wife to calm down. Damn. I realize too late I was supposed to make her a chocolate sangria when we got home. She might have been asleep by now.
She turns into my embrace, looking up at me with soulful emerald eyes. I’ve always thought my wife was beautiful, but she took my breath away today the way she rocked our son in her arms. Her love for our child is more fierce than a mother bear protecting her cubs, and I know without a doubt she’d die protecting him.
“What?” she asks as I smile down at her.
I caress her cheek. “I’ve never seen a woman love her child as much as you do ours. Thank you. I hope you know how much I love you both, too.”
Now I understand what so many of my Army buddies meant when they’d said they joined for their families, and I feel honored I was able to serve my country. I helped make the world a safer place for my wife and son. That alone made four years of hell worth it.
I continue to stroke the side of her face, and as she melts into my touch, I hope I’ll be able to coax her to fall asleep.
“I do love James, and I love you, too, Andrés.” She grabs my wrist, nuzzling my hand. “I enjoyed our weekend together so much,” she says as she kisses my palm.
Damn. If she keeps this up, my dick will be hard enough to bend steel, and I know I don’t have the energy for round two.
“Me, too.” I say as I shift and stretch my legs.
“I’m going to be a better wife.” Her voice wobbles, like fine China shaking during an earthquake. “I promise.”
I brush a strand of hair out of her face. “You already are a wonderful wife.”
“You know what I mean.” She shakes her head. “I’m going to make more time for you.”
I arch a brow as I twirl a strand of her hair between my fingers. “Even if that means leaving James with your parents?”
“They handled his accident pretty well.” She says it in an unwavering tone that sounds like she’s trying to convince herself more than me. “Maybe we can do a Friday night date night.”
“Maybe we can go to the coast once a month together.” I hold my breath as I wait for her reaction.
Please say yes. Please.
“I’d like that.” The corners of her full mouth turn up as she chews on her lower lip. “We’re going to need plenty of alone time to make baby number two.”
When she smooths a hand across my chest, pressing her lithe body into me, my dick is wide awake now, even if the rest of me isn’t.
Damn. I’m so tired, but I don’t know if I can sleep now. Then my wife does something amazing. She trails kisses down my chest and across my abdomen. When she pulls down my underwear and takes me in her mouth, I close my eyes and groan, thinking I’ve died and gone to heaven.
Yeah, I could definitely get used to all this attention.
Chapter Eight
Christina
I lean my shoulder against the wall and watch the happy couple dance to their wedding song. Tucked away in a dark alcove, nobody can see me here, so I get to enjoy some quiet time before we need to clean up.
I love it when Andrés and I get to work weddings together, and today’s nuptials are extra special. Since Andrés has been volunteering a few times a month at the local VA hospital, he’s made friends with a soldier who lost his legs in Afghanistan and had fallen in love with his physical therapist. Their courtship was so sweet and romantic, when we found out they were planning a wedding, we offered our services for free.
Their romance reminds me of a fairy-tale, which is why it was so fitting when the groom and bride chose that as their theme. I went all out on this one with a castle in the sky dreamscape. I even managed to carve a castle ice sculpture all by myself, and I hate sculpting. It actually came out rather beautiful.
I think all of that work Andrés and I have been doing on our beach home is what inspired me. After four months of repairs, it’s starting to look less like a dump and more like an elegant Victorian home.
We finally had to break down and hire carpenters and a plumber. That cost a pretty penny, but with the recent sale of one of my paintings to a large distributer, we could afford to splurge. So far, all the bedrooms are complete. James’s room is absolutely amazing. I painted the walls with old fashioned sailboats and Andrés found a few antique toy boats to decorate the shelves. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but I even painted a girl’s bedroom yellow with purple flowers and included that dollhouse my mom made for me years ago. Andrés has picked up a few carpentry skills, and he’s taken charge of remodeling his den. It doesn’t look half bad, but I may go through and add some finishes when he’s done. I love that fixing up the old house isn’t just my passion, but has become Andrés’s passion, too.
Speaking of passion.
These weekend getaways have done wonders for our love life. If I thought my orgasms were intense before, those were nothing compared to the quakes of pleasure that ripple through me when Andrés pounds into me on our springy four-poster bed. Whoever thought that squeaky old trampoline would make the ultimate love machine? We’d actually thought about replacing the ancient mattress, but after a few explosive fuck sessions, we decided not to screw with a good thing when we could screw on one instead.
“Hey, mija.”
I recognize my husband’s deep, throaty voice as he comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.
He sways against me as we move in time to the music. The bride and groom and several other couples appear lost in the moment as they slow-dance beneath the soft glow of the white and silver strobe light. Everything is running smoothly tonight. I swear it’s the most fun wedding I’ve ever worked. Not one of the guests complained about the food, and nobody’s abused the open bar. Shocking, I know. I think the guests might be as caught up in the bride and groom’s happiness as we are.
I sigh as I lean back against my husband’s chest. “Isn’t this the most romantic wedding you’ve ever seen?”
“I can think of one that was better,” he says with a smile in his voice.
My knees go weak when he nuzzles my neck and nibbles behind my ear. I moan as his hands slide up my waist and cup my breasts, his thumbs teasing my nipples into firmness through the sheer fabric of my dress.
“Andrés, stop.” In vain, I try to push his hands down. “We’re going to get caught.” I giggle. Damn. Even though I’m enjoying the wedding, I sure wish we could sneak away somewhere. After four months of trying, I’m still not pregnant, and according to my calendar, I’m ovulating today. We’ve been so busy working this wedding, we haven’t had a chance for sex. I could sure use a release right about now.
“Come here. I need your help with something.” Andrés tugs on my hand and leads me down the hall. His face is obscured in shadow, but I c
atch the devilish gleam behind his dark gaze.
“Andrés, what are you doing?” I ask through a hiss as he deftly opens a door and pushes me inside. Though I can’t see inside the room very well, light spills from beneath the doorway, revealing shelves of cleaning supplies.
“Making love to you.” He pushes me against the wall and starts lifting the hem of my dress.
“In a utility closet? Are you crazy?”
He’s already slipping my panties over my hips, and before I can stop him, they’ve slid to the floor. My insides swell with need when he cups a breast and pinches my nipple. I hear the audible unzipping of his pants, and I know we’re about to pass the point of no return. I’m so turned on right now, I feel like I could melt into the wall.
“Andrés, no.” I push against him, but when he starts nibbling on my ear while driving a finger into my slick channel, I toss my head back and moan. “This is insane!”
“Not as crazy as sex at a rest stop,” he breathes into my ear. “At least nobody can see us.”
“But they can hear us,” I weakly protest.
“Not if we’re quiet.”
As if. Once Andrés starts pounding into me, we’re going to need muzzles to keep from rattling the walls with our screams.
“Andrés, please,” I beg, but I don’t know if I’m begging him to stop or begging him to go on.
“You’re ovulating today, right?” He says as he grabs my ass and hoists me up the wall. Then he slides me back down until I’m seated on his very large, very erect dick.
“Yes, but….Oh God.” I cling to his shoulders as he slides deep inside me. I’m already so wet and horny, I may orgasm at any moment. “Please don’t stop.”
“I won’t, mija,” he rasps as he pumps into me. “I won’t.”
He thrusts against my swollen center a few more times and I fall apart, my tight entrance squeezing him like a fist, the intense pulses sending tingling spirals of euphoria all the way down to my toes. He slides in and out a few more times and then stills, biting down on my neck as his seed soaks my slick channel.
* * *
Christina
I snuggle our baby girl against my breast. She’s just finished feeding, a drop of my milk dangling from her tiny lower lip. I struggle to get comfortable in my hospital bed, but it isn’t easy, not after eight hours of squeezing out our seven pound princess.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” I ask my husband for at least the hundredth time.
He leans over and plants a kiss on my temple. “Just like her mother,” he murmurs against my skin.
The nurse, a middle-aged woman with a hard jawline, comes inside to check on us, scowling at the untouched paperwork lying by my bed. “You’ll need to fill that out before we can send you home. Don’t you have a name picked out?”
“Yes,” Andrés says with a smile in his eyes. “We’re naming her after our house.”
The woman jerks back, looking offended. “A house?”
“And my mother,” I add.
“And my grandmother,” Andrés says with a laugh.
The nurse mumbles something and then storms to the door. Clearly she got the hint we’re in no mood to do paperwork. All we care about right now is bonding with our little angel.
The door swings open, this time much harder, as my mom pushes past the nurse, carrying our crying toddler on her hip. “He’s been calling for you all day,” she says with an exasperated tone. My mom’s had James ever since my water broke yesterday morning, and he was just getting over a cold, so I know he’s been especially fussy.
“Hi, sweetie,” I say as she settles him by my side and then swipes my baby girl out of my arms.
James jabs my stomach as he tries to crawl up my body.
“Ugh,” I cry, and then Andrés is lifting him off me.
“Be careful, mijo,” he scolds. “Mommy is still sore. Say hello to your little sister.” He lets James peek inside the bundle in my mom’s arms.
“Sissy?” James asks with wide eyes.
“Yes, your sissy,” I say as I try to find a more comfortable position, and then finally give up and lay my head against the hard pillow.
“Victoria Jennifer Alexandra Cruz,” Mom answers with a lilt to her voice as she kisses her granddaughter on the forehead.
“Hi, Sissy.” James waves at the baby and then looks at her as if he’s waiting for her to respond.
“Welcome to our happy family, little angel,” Mom says as she nuzzles Victoria’s cheek.
“I can’t believe how much I love her already.” I hold my arms open as she hands Victoria back to me.
“I can.” Andrés sits beside us, adjusting James in his lap as he bends down and kisses our daughter, then me. “That’s why I love you, mija.”
Dear readers. I sure hope you loved Say Please. If you’ve enjoyed my Something More series, I’d be grateful if you could leave reviews wherever you purchased them. Reviews help other readers find my books, and I make sure to read them all. Thanks!
Read on for a sneak peak at Divine and Dateless, the first in my new sexy paranormal series, Eternally Yours. Look for Divine and Dateless in June of 2014. Visit www.tarawest.com for more updates.
Divine and Dateless by Tara West
Good girls go to heaven. Bad girls go all the way...
What can be worse than electrocuting yourself while getting ready for your internet date? Realizing the hot stud you’ve been fondling is the grim reaper? Being chased by a sex-crazed bloated, naked corpse?
How about an eternity of more bad hair days and horrific dates? Or lusting after the one guy in all of the afterlife whose hydrophobia rivals his fear of commitment?
Yeah, that’s a whole lot worse.
Chapter One
Damn that hurt.
I grabbed onto the bathroom counter and slowly pulled myself up, stumbling around a bit before I steadied myself against the wall. That's when I got a good look at my reflection in the mirror.
Omigod!
Despite the fact that my reflection was a bit blurry, probably due to the fact I’d hit my head pretty hard on that fall, my hair looked like an electrified mop. I couldn't go on a date like that. Roger would take one look at me, accuse me of faking my profile picture, and make a dash for the elevator. As if I wouldn't have a hard enough time explaining why I was five years older and five (okay ten) pounds heavier than that Bahama bikini photo.
I sighed when I thought back to the girl getaways I used to take with Jodi and Sheri. Those were amazing times: margarita binges, detox shakes, size five bikinis, one-night stands and ribbed condoms. I took that photo after an amazing night with the Swede, Rolf or Ven, or something like that. His name didn't matter. What did matter was his size thirteen shoe and big hands, very big hands. Speaking of that beach fling, we could have made a long distance relationship work, if only he'd spoken English, or at least hadn't pretended he couldn't understand me.
I wondered the size of Roger's hands. Did he have a strong grip like my surly Swede? Or were they perfectly manicured like my last date, Craig the hair stylist, who was one wax and peel away from escaping the closet of denial and giving his very religious grandma a heart attack. If only Craig had listened to me when I suggested he come out to his granny and then smooth things over by offering her a free pluck and color.
I tried to slick my hair back in place, but the strands felt as unmanageable as a wire brush. What the hell? I hoped that shock hadn't done any permanent damage to my follicles. I had just spent a small fortune at the salon for auburn highlights and a deep conditioning treatment. No more putting it off. Next paycheck I would go to the drugstore and get another blow dryer. This wasn't the first time it had zapped me, but it was definitely the worst.
I whirled at the sound of a knock on the door. Was Roger here early? I stumbled out of the bathroom and checked the microwave clock in my cramped studio kitchen. Six thirty-six. He was twenty-four minutes early! What was I going to do about my hair?
I rushed to the kitchen s
ink and splashed some water on it and tried again to push it down, but it must have been spring-loaded because it popped right back up.
More knocking. This time it was louder and more persistent.
What the heck, Roger?
The guy wasn't exactly making a good first impression.
"Okay, okay," I groaned as I grabbed a hair band from the gym bag I kept by the front door.
I read somewhere if you kept a packed gym bag in a convenient location, it was good motivation to keep on a steady workout schedule. So far, it was working, because I'd been steadily going to the gym once every two or three months.
I did my best to tie my hair back while trying to tamp down my aggravation as the incessant knocking grew ever louder. I grabbed the door handle and let out a slow exhale. I was so tempted to tell Roger the date was off, but I was haunted by the echo of my mom's familiar nagging voice.
“You're too picky, Ash. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Perfect is a fairytale. Settle down before all the decent ones are taken.”
I laughed as I recalled being in my early twenties and my mom had encouraged me to be pickier about whom I brought home. But that was ten (okay fifteen) pounds ago, and that was way before Travis dumped me for his forty-two-year-old law school professor. Lately, as long as the guy had all his teeth and a functioning penis, Mom was trying to rush me to the altar.
The incessant knocking turned into all-out banging.
Damn, Roger! As if I don't have enough problems with my neighbors.
I was so aggravated I didn't even bother to check the peephole when I jerked open the door.
"Is that really necessary?" I growled, before I got a good look at Roger. But then I did get a good look at my date, and my jaw practically hit the floor. Wow, he looked nothing like his profile picture.
Tall. Check.
Wavy, dark hair and a strong jawline. Check.
Impossibly blue eyes. Check.
