A Sweet, Sexy Collection 1: 5 Insta-love, New Adult, Steamy Romance Novellas (Sweet, Sexy Shorts)

by Kaylee Spring

  Starting with slow shallow thrusts, I try to relieve her from doing all the work. I have to admit that the horniness is propelling me forward as well, but I’m careful not to hurt her. She’s getting into it now, her eyes closed, hands clenching my pecs. When she finally lowers herself completely on me, and my cock reaches the inner depths of her pussy, Penny lets out a shriek.

  From here on out, all rational thought goes out the bathroom. Even though I hear the bursts of fireworks through the thin door, the sounds may as well be coming from another dimension. A world I couldn’t care less about. All of my existence is in this tiny bathroom, being ridden by the gorgeous Penny.

  My hands are on her ass, lifting her and squeezing. We’re both moaning. Soon I can feel my cock tingling with anticipation. I can’t hold back anymore. Which is perfect timing because Penny is losing herself in a fit of quivers, her eyes squeezed shut, muttering over and over, “Oh, god. I’m cumming.”

  Even when she loses her momentum, I lift her up, pounding her until she falls forward on my chest, her rough breaths tickling at my ear. Then it’s my turn to fall into the crashing wave of dopamine, until the tension falls away from both of us and we’re just sweaty puddles on the floor.

  Penny gives me a peck on the cheek. “That wasn’t in any of the guides I read about relieving PTSD.”

  “Well, it should be,” I say, running my fingernails lazily up and down her back. “Because I’m fairly certain a firecracker could go off just outside this door and I wouldn’t so much as cringe.”

  We lie like this until we catch our breaths. Finally Penny says, “Would you mind giving me a minute? I need to pee.”

  The moment I step out of the bathroom, find some dry clothes to wear, and fall on the couch, I wonder if any of that actually happened. If it wasn’t just some dream to help me cope with the stress of the fireworks outside. Thankfully, those have quieted down for now, but I’m already back on high alert, my ears searching the sound waves for possible signs of threat.

  Penny exits the bathroom with a fresh towel around her. When our eyes meet, she bites her lips. Then she’s behind the closed door of her bedroom. Thirty seconds later, she exits, wearing nothing but an oversized hoodie. It’s clear when she’s standing across the living room, hands clenched in front of her, that neither of us knows where to go from here.

  In an attempt to break the awkwardness, I pat the seat beside me. “Want to watch a movie? I still need something to take my mind off the sounds outside.”

  She nods silently and curls up next to me, her feet tucked underneath her. As I’m flipping through the channels, she says, “I thought you were going camping.”

  I place my arm around her. “Not now that I’ve got a reason to stick around.”

  After exchanging a tender kiss, Penny curls up against me, her head on my shoulder. Besides the fireworks sporadically going off outside, tonight is perfect. A beautiful beginning to what promises to be a relationship that might actually be what each of us needs. I’m briefly wondering if this was Brent’s plan all along.

  That night we fall asleep on the couch together, wrapped up around each other, the TV still droning on when I wake in the morning to knocks at the front door. I begin to stand, but Penny beats me to it.

  “I’ll get it,” she says. “I’ve been waiting for an excuse to get up and pee again anyway.”

  The moment she opens the door though, a shrill voice shatters our bubble of serenity.

  “Where is he?” a woman shrieks at Penny. The front door is just around the corner, so I can’t see what’s going on, but it’s not hard to guess. Because I know who that voice belongs to. I know all too well her ability to home in on and obliterate any positive emotion in my body.

  “I’m sorry,” Penny replies back in a polite voice. “I’m not sure who you’re talking about. Perhaps you have the wrong hou—”

  “Roy’s here, right?”

  “You know Roy?” Penny’s voice is shaking.

  “I certainly hope so,” Becca says. “I’m married to him.”

  Chapter 9

  Penny

  Roy has snuck up behind me during this exchange. When I look back at him, I wait for him to deny everything. To say that he’s never seen this woman before or at least that she’s some stalker he’s been dealing with for years. Instead he can’t look me in the eye. That’s when I know this woman standing at my door is telling the truth.

  Roy’s married. I’m the other woman.

  “Penny, wait!” Roy says when I brush past him. He doesn’t try to grab me, which is better for everyone involved because I would have screamed my head off if he so much as touched me right now.

  I head straight for my room, slamming the door and locking it behind me. Within seconds the anger wears away, leaving behind a bruised and bloodied heart. I fall onto my bed, and mutter to myself. About how stupid I was. About how I should have known this was all too good to be true. About how I’m going to be all alone. Again.

  Outside my door they’re arguing. I cover my ears with the pillow, not wanting to eavesdrop on the havoc in their relationship that I’ve inadvertently caused. I never thought I would be the ‘other woman’, but Roy has placed me square in that box. Camaro is rubbing against my covered head, bumping me with her nose, tickling my cheeks with her whiskers.

  After about five minutes, the front door slams with such force that it rattles the windowpanes. Then there’s knocking at my bedroom door. Roy’s voice asking me to come out. To talk. Saying that he can explain all of this.

  “Just get out,” I manage to scream through my tears. “Just go away.”

  And he does. His footsteps walk away from the door without a word. For a moment, I wonder if I’ll ever see him again. If he’s packing his things at this very moment, and I’m too stubborn to give him the chance to even explain himself.

  Then his footsteps return. My doorknob jitters slightly and then turns completely. Roy steps into my room, a screwdriver in one hand. He crosses the distance between us. Kneels on the floor beside my bed. Reaches for my hand with both of his.

  “All you have to do is listen. If you still don’t want to talk to me after this, I’ll leave and never come back. Does that sound good to you?”

  I give him no response at all. Which he takes as a sign to continue.

  “That was Becca. Technically she is still my wife, but that’s only because the divorce isn’t 100% final. They make you wait sixty days after filing to make it final. It’s supposed to give each person time to think before everything is set in stone.”

  I whimper, which causes Roy to rub his thumb over the back of my hand.

  “Despite what she may think, I’m never getting back with her. Not now. Not ever. In my mind she stopped existing the day she slept with my commanding officer while I was halfway across the world.”

  “Do you still love her?” I manage to get out, but I can’t look him in the eyes. I’m not strong enough to see the regret flash across his face.

  “No, not anymore. I did, but that was only because I regretted everything we were going to miss out on. Because I thought I would never meet another woman who would love me and who I would love back.”

  I’m waiting for him to continue, because it sounds like he’s leading up to something. Something big and life changing. But he’s hesitating, holding back. At the same time my heart is leaping forward, desperate to hear what he says next.

  He licks his lips and tucks a stray hair behind my ear. “Then I met you.”

  More than anything I want to believe him. His story makes sense, but there’s something that bothers me.

  “You only met me because she left you.” The words are out of my mouth before I can consider the effect they may have on him. Once they fall from my lips, the rest of what I’m thinking follows like water from a broken dam. “Which means that if everything had gone how you wanted, you would still be with her.”

  “But she’s not what I want. Not anymore.” His voice is strained. Roy mu
st sense that he’s losing his grip on this conversation.

  “Only because she left you. Not the other way around.”

  “What does that matter? The point is that we’re not together. I don’t love her. But I do love—”

  “Don’t say it!” I scream, cutting across him before he can finish his profession. “Don’t you dare. Not after your wife showed up here begging you to come back home.” A horrid question bubbles up from the molten injustice raging inside me. “You never told me you were married. What else have you left out? Do you have kids?”

  I’m expecting him to come back with a fast denial if he doesn’t. Or a heartfelt apology for not telling me if he does. Instead, Roy’s face loses all of its emotion. Gone is the adoration. The stress from this conversation. The frustration from thinking back to how good things were going before his wife barged in. Without a word he stands and leaves the room.

  He didn’t answer my question. And now I have to know. Whether we get together or never see each other again, I have to know this much. While I hate being the other woman, I’m disgusted at the thought that I’m also a home wrecker.

  When I find him, he’s in his room, back to packing the military canvas bag full of camping supplies. Like his PTSD attack never happened. Like we didn’t happen.

  “So you’re just going to run away? That’s it?” I can’t control my voice. I don’t care that I sound like one of those women on reality TV shows who are paid to create drama on the set. None of that matters. Because I thought I had a grasp on something good, but now it’s fallen between my fingers. And I don’t even know the full story.

  He finishes and turns around, aiming for the door. But I’m in his way. And I’m not about to move aside.

  “Tell me what you’re doing!”

  Roy doesn’t answer. His gaze is on the floor. He refuses to look up, to answer. To even acknowledge that he’s heard me. His feet remain firmly planted right in front of me. No emotions show through his stony face. Nothing to tell me what he’s thinking.

  “I’m not moving until you tell me what’s going on.”

  When he tries to go around me, I push against him. If he really wanted to, there’s no way I would be able to hold him back. He’s twice my size, all of it muscle. But the moment I put up any resistance, he pulls away, resuming his frozen stance.

  Waiting for him to start is getting nowhere. I might not be able to make him talk, but I can sure make him listen.

  “You’re married. Now, I can get that you were separated. That the divorce was in the works. If you’d just told me that from the beginning, I might have even been okay with it. I mean, I probably would have wanted to wait until everything was official, but who knows. The point is I should have known. You should have told me.”

  No reaction. Not even a change in his breathing.

  “Now you’re just leaving? Just up and gone at the first problem?”

  Still nothing.

  “Is that what happened with your wife? You just walked out? Left her behind without a second thought?”

  “There wasn’t any time.” These are his first words.

  “No time to tell your wife that you were—”

  “No,” he says. He still doesn’t look up. But he’s scrunching his eyes up as though the mere discussion of this is painful. “There was no time to tell you about her.”

  “What do you mean? Of course there was time. You’ve been here for a week.”

  “Was I supposed to just casually mention it over breakfast one day?” Here he finally looks up, but he’s not looking at me. He’s looking over my shoulder at the sofa where we’ve eaten cereal and French toast so many times in the past week. “Was I just supposed to say, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m in the middle of a divorce because my wife lied about the baby being mine. Didn’t know until the day he was born and the other guy was there. Oh, and funny enough, the other guy was my superior officer. Thought of him like a brother. So, yeah, that’s why I can’t go back to my hometown. Can you pass the milk?’ I was just supposed to bring that up like we were talking about the fucking weather or something?”

  I’m so stunned at his explanation that I don’t fight back when he pushes past me. Nor do I run after him, even as I hear him slam the front door behind him. It’s only when I hear his truck pull out of the driveway that I sink to the floor, face in my hands, crying. For him.

  For me.

  For us.

  Chapter 10

  Roy

  “You stupid fuck,” I say to myself again as I idle at an intersection waiting for the light to change. “Just had to go and dump all of that on her. Like it matters. Like it would make any difference.”

  I look in the bed of my truck at the single bag I brought with me. I’ll just have to do without everything I left back there, because there’s no way I’m going back. Not after that shit show.

  Of course, that leaves me without any clear destination. I can still camp out, far from the fireworks sure to blaze through the night, but then what? The only place left for me is my parents’ house but there’s no way I’m going back there with my tail between my legs. I wouldn’t be able to stand the pity they’d be showering me with each time they caught me dazing off in space.

  This was my plan. Fulfill my promise to Brent while also starting a new life as far away from that lying bitch as possible. Penny and I made it nearly a whole week before everything fell apart. Five glorious days where I was starting to think that it could actually work. That maybe I could leave the past behind and find something brighter in the future.

  “You stupid fuck,” I say again for believing that something so unbelievably good could just fall in my lap like that.

  I turn onto the country road I mapped out yesterday. Of course, I left the printout of the directions on my bedside table, but I remember them well enough. Three more miles and there’s the beginning of the state park. From there I’ll just drive until the roads end, throw my pack on, and hike until my legs give out. Maybe out there, away from everything, what the hell I’m supposed to do next will just come to me.

  It’s worth a try, at least. Not like there’s anywhere better for me to be tonight.

  The pavement gives way to gravel. Then dirt. Then it ends at a parking lot that’s nothing more than the last level bit of grass before the mountain begins. I park here and kill the engine, but before I pull the keys out, heft my pack over my shoulder, and set my sights on the trail peeking out through the trees, a song begins on the radio.

  The opening guitar riff instantly takes me back to a night when Brent and I were just goofing off back in Afghanistan.

  “And that’s the secret to beating Mario Bros in less than five minutes,” Brent says, tossing down the nostalgic rectangular controller. The guys have been taking turns with the old gaming system ever since someone brought it back to base from some salvage shop they came across.

  I give his shoulder a squeeze before shoving him out of the plastic chair in front of the television. “It’s also a great way to kill lady boners. Let me see that,” I say, grabbing the controller from him.

  This night is one of the few positive memories I have from the past few years. They’re scattered about like diamonds in a mountain of otherwise impenetrable rock. It was just me and Brent, the others having gone on patrol or off drinking, their interest in the Nintendo gone as quickly as it arose.

  “So what are you going to do when you get back?” Brent asks me, taking a sip of beer.

  I’m starting off on the first level, and it’s already obvious that I never played this even as a kid. “Move back with the wife and the kid.”

  “When’s he due again?”

  “Right after my tour.”

  Brent nods, his motion too solemn given that he was speed-running Mario not moments before. He’s so quiet, even after I manage to lose all my lives, that I finally turn back to ask what he’s thinking about. During this time, Every Breath You Take by The Police has started up on the radio. Brent is bobbing his hea
d to the tune, but then he stops and looks to me.

  “I know you’re going to be busy with your new kid and all,” he says, not looking right at me. “But you gotta promise me something.”

  “What’s up?”

  “If something happens to me—”

  “For fuck’s sake, dude.” I say, stopping him. “Why are you trying to bring this night down?”

  “I’m just saying that if something does, you need to do me a favor.”

  “Anything so long as we get off this topic. It’s tempting fate, that’s what I say.”

  “You gotta check up on my sister.”

  I stand and drop the controller in my now vacant seat. Grab a beer and pop the top. “Penny, right?”

  “Yeah,” he says, nodding, his focus clearly still on the lyrics. “She won’t have anyone else, so I would rest easier knowing there was someone watching out for her.”

  I clink my bottle against his. “It’s a deal. But you’re going home, man. You just gotta believe it.”

  Of course, I was wrong. It was on our next patrol that I had to watch him die. Later, I finished my tour and came home only to realize that I had no home. No faithful wife. No child. Everything was taken away from me. And as selfish as it sounds to say it, I was actually feeling jealous of the way Brent went out. At least he was a hero.

  When he made me promise to check up on his sister, he couldn’t have realized the burden he was placing on me. How much weight would soon be placed on my shoulders. Then when I met Penny, I made the horrid mistake of falling instantly in love with her. It was like I already knew her. I tried to stop myself, but I couldn’t even hold out a week before sleeping with her.

  That’s why I have to leave. Why I can’t go back. Why this is the way it’s got to be. She’s better off without me. Nothing I try to hold onto will last anyway. It’s better that she’s a little brokenhearted now rather than build it up for any longer.

  The song finally ends, and I pull the key out of the ignition. But before I can close the door behind me and grab my pack out of the back, another car rolls up beside my truck. The moment her car stops, Penny leaps out and into my arms.