by Zoe Blake
“Seriously, Conner? Now! You choose now?” gasped Sage.
“I need to hear it, baby. Right here. Right now,” he insisted on a ragged breath. “Tell. Me. You. Love. Me.”
Each word was punctuated by a swivel of his hips. She could feel the tip of his cock, taunting her.
“You first,” Sage hedged as she squeezed her legs tight around his hips, forcing a groan from his lips.
“Surrender, Spitfire. No more fighting it. You’re mine,” demanded Conner.
“I love you, Conner.”
“That wasn’t so hard was it?” he teased.
“Oh, it’s hard!” she teased right back with a swivel of her own hips to punctuate her meaning.
Conner threw his head back on a full throated laugh. God, he loved this woman. He then proceeded to show her just how much.
“Ta-da!”
“Wow!”
“Well?”
“I’m impressed,” he admitted.
“Truly,” she asked hopefully.
Conner wrapped an arm around her back, giving her a kiss on the cheek, and smiled. “I think you have finally managed to make a proper meal for a Marine.”
“God I would hope so. You know this roast is supposed to feed a family of eight?”
“This calls for a reward.”
“Thought I already got my reward,” she responded cheekily.
“That was just a taste of what comes later, but I know I can’t keep you cooped up in this house all day. I did some research and you have your choice. There are a couple of museums nearby with evening hours.”
“That sounds great.” Sage was touched by his thoughtfulness.
“Or… there is a bowling alley just off base.”
A twinkle appeared in Sage’s eye. “So you say you want a rematch from the brutal beating you took last time, Major Conner?”
Conner leaned forward, his blue eyes bright with promise. “Game on, Sage”
Chapter 10
Six months. Six whole months without him. It had been strangely horrible and wonderful at the same time. It was horrible to be away from him. To not feel his arms around her. To worry about him. On the other hand, the time apart had given them the opportunity to truly get to know one another in ways few couples get a chance too. Long conversations about their childhoods. Funny stories from college and old friends. Cautious tales about crazy family members. That last one was mostly on Sage’s part.
She had long ago stopped fighting the idea of loving him. He was arrogant, domineering and drove her crazy with his possessiveness sometimes, but he was also sweet, caring, intelligent and amazingly unselfish in how he sacrificed his own safety for complete strangers.
She would support his decision no matter what… and in the meantime… there was phone sex… lots of phone sex.
“How’s my little Spitfire tonight?” asked Conner, his voice sounding slightly distant over the cellphone.
“Missing you,” she murmured into the phone.
“Oh yeah, how much?”
“Lots and lots,” she giggled.
“Did you get the toy I sent you?”
Sage blushed as she picked up the pink dildo with the sparkled trim across the top. “Yes. I’m having a lot of fun picturing you walking into a store buying this.”
“Let’s just say I’d rather run naked through the desert taking on enemy fire than do it again,” he chuckled.
“Hmmm. I like the image of you all sweaty, running naked,” she purred.
“And I like the image of you lying naked in our bed,” growled Conner. Sage liked how he said our bed. She knew it was moving things along a little fast, but moving in together seemed so natural, and besides, it was not like it was a big production. The man showed up with a duffel bag and his truck.
“Are you naked now?”
“Yes,” she answered breathlessly.
“Are you lying on you back?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl. Now open your knees up, nice and wide.”
Sage obeyed, getting aroused just from the dark, commanding sound of his voice.
“Take your fingers and stroke that pretty pussy for me.”
“Oh. Oh,” she moaned as her fingers swirled around her clit. Her fingers getting wet. Her eyes closed. Relishing the sensation.
“Now, take your other hand and pinch your cute little nipple for me. Imagine it’s my teeth biting down on you. Just like you like it,” he panted.
“Are you stroking your cock, Cowboy?” Sage teased.
Conner laughed. Cowboy was Sage’s nickname for him ever since she found out he grew up on a farm in Montana. She liked to tell her friends she was dating a jumbled up romance novel hero. Her Cowboy Marine.
“I want you to take that pink dildo and push it deep inside that tight pussy of yours for me,” he ordered, his voice hoarse with desire.
Sage blindly reached for the dildo. Positioning it at her entrance, she slowly worked it into her pussy, her back arching off the bed at the contact, her hips rising.
“I can just imagine you now,” whispered Conner. “Your hips rising off the bed. Your breathing coming in fast, shallow gasps. Your back arched.”
Lost in the sound of his voice, the erotic, naughty feel of her own hand on her breast, the smooth motion of the dildo as she pumped it in and out of her own pussy, if felt almost as if he was in the room with her.
Suddenly, the bed dipped with added weight.
Sage’s eyes shot open in shock as she dropped the dildo.
A naked Conner was leaning over her, pressing his weight against her hips.
“Oh my god, Conner!”
“Surprise, Spitfire!”
Before she could say another word, Sage could feel the press of his cock at her slick entrance. He slid in easily. Stretching her. Filling her.
“Now this is coming home,” growled Conner as he pressed in further.
Sage wrapped her legs around his hips to pull him closer. Conner leaned down to toy with her lips. Flicking her upper lip with his tongue. Nipping at her lower with his teeth.
“Please, Conner,” she begged. “I can’t wait.”
“With pleasure, Spitfire.”
Grabbing her thighs, he lifted her legs up higher and vigorously thrust into her welcoming heat. Loving how her body clenched and grasped at this shaft. The bed shifted and squeaked. Their harsh breaths mixed with the occasional moan.
Sage clenched fistfuls of the crumpled sheets as she felt the building, delicious pressure of her coming release.
“That’s it, baby. Cum for me,” commanded Conner as he suckled on her nipple.
The dominating, controlling tone of his voice, coupled with his lips on her breast, sent her over the edge. Sage screamed her release as her thighs clamped down around his hips. Conner was moments behind. Roaring his climax as he thrust deep one last time before collapsing on top of her already limp weight.
He immediately rolled to the right, cradling her with him in the crook of his shoulder.
Conner kissed her forehead. “Missed you, baby.”
Sage stroked his chest as she cuddled closer, “Missed you too.”
Giving her a playful pat on her ass, Conner rose from the bed, “I’m starving! How about I make us some food? I know it’s late at night, but how about some breakfast?”
Sage smiled as she tossed on his old Marine t-shirt, her new favorite thing to wear. Good thing she just bought a fresh dozen eggs she thought with a laugh.
“You can’t even give me a hint where we are going?”
“No.”
“Not even if I traded a sexual favor for one?” Sage teased suggestively.
“Stop trying to tempt me and hurry up. We can’t be late.”
Having earned fifteen days leave over the last six-month deployment, Conner had only been home three days, and already she was dreading his next assignment. It was just so wonderful having him around. Tonight, he had arranged a special surprise for her, but despite all her best effor
ts, she could not get the slightest hint from him as to what it was going to be.
Sage was all the more intrigued when he put on his dress blues. Marines only wore their dress uniform for formal or special occasions.
“Can you at least tell me if we are staying in DC or heading to Virginia or Maryland?”
After a moment to consider, Conner answered, “We are staying in DC. Now get in the truck.”
They drove for about twenty minutes till they reached the Naval Yards at 8th and I.
“The Marine Barracks?” asked Sage, her heart sinking just a little. It was silly really. For a moment there she thought Conner might have been taking her to nice dinner and perhaps… well, maybe… perhaps proposing. It was really silly. Stupid really. She was the one complaining early on they were moving too fast, and here she was dreaming of marriage proposals less than a year in.
“Have you ever seen the Evening Parade with the President’s Own Band?”
“No, sounds exciting.”
After entering through a red brick building, they walked out into a beautiful open courtyard filled with large oak trees. As an officer, Conner was escorted to priority seating in the center of the band stand. Sage was getting swept up in the energy and excitement of the crowd and the setting. The stands were filled with families, Marines in uniform and tourists. She felt extra pride being able to walk in on the arm of a handsome Marine officer, relishing in the covetous looks she caught from nearby females. Back off ladies, he’s all mine!
Promptly at 8:00 pm, an announcer hailed the beginning of the Evening Parade.
Conner leaned down and whispered to Sage, “First, will be the President’s Own Band. They wear special red uniforms.”
Sage nodded her head in acknowledgment. Too excited to speak. She heard the rat-a-tat-tat of the drums first. The sound got louder and louder as they marched out onto the field. They then launched into several rounds of recognizable John Phillips Sousa songs.
“This is so cool!” squealed Sage.
“Just wait and see,” smiled Conner, pleased she was enjoying it so much.
Next the Marine Corps Silent Drill Platoon marched in perfect precision onto the open parade ground.
“The Ruger n1 rifles they carry weigh just over ten pounds including the sharpened bayonets,” explained Conner. “They will go through the entire drill without any verbal commands.”
“Hence the name Silent Drill Platoon,” teased Sage.
Conner smiled.
It was like a well-orchestrated dance. Fifty men all moving in perfect unison. Shifting their rifles from shoulder to shoulder. Spinning and twirling them left and right. The sound of the rifle butts hitting the ground at the same time was thunderous. It was all very impressive… and then they took it to a whole new level.
They started throwing their heavy rifles with the bayonets several feet into the air and catching them by only the rifle butt!
Sage covered her mouth in shocked excitement and awe!
As if that was not crazy enough, she watched on the edge of her seat as they paired off and began to throw two rifles in the air simultaneously, watching as they twirled and exchanged places high above, each catching the other’s rifle. Unknowingly, Sage clenched onto Conner’s sleeve, in her anxiety and wonder at the spectacle.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he whispered against her ear, as always, inhaling her signature sugared orange scent. He needed to make sure she never ran out of the perfume!
“Are you kidding me?” she breathed. “This is without a doubt one of the most remarkable things I have ever experienced. I will never forget this night! Thank you for taking me!” Sage gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“It’s not over yet, Spitfire.”
Once more the bright red uniforms of the President’s Own Band marched onto the field. After a rousing Sousa’s classic Semper Fidelis, the announcer was heard over the loud speaker.
“Will Major Benjamin Conner please escort Sage MacGovern to the Parade ground?”
Sage turned shocked curious eyes to Conner who rose with crisp military straightforwardness and offered his hand. No hint of a smile or any indication he knew what was going on.
As they made their way to the parade ground, Sage furiously whispered to him, “Conner! Conner! What is happening?”
He ignored her.
When they reached the parade ground, Conner positioned Sage in front of him and then promptly dropped to one knee.
“Oh my god!” she tearfully said, a hand to her mouth.
“There isn’t a Marine alive who doesn’t enjoy a good fight.”
He was interrupted by a loud oo-rah from the crowd.
“You, Sage MacGovern, were definitely worth the fight,” said Conner with a teasing sparkle of remembrance in his eye. “I love you with all my heart and I am hoping you will do me the great honor of becoming my wife.”
Sage was so overwhelmed by the wonderfully, romantic gesture, it took her a moment to respond.
That’s when she heard her best friend Melissa, hidden somewhere in the crowd, shout out, “Say yes, you stupid bitch!”
Sage started to laugh. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” she yelled as she launched herself into Conner’s waiting arms.
The End
Author’s Note
The Evening Parade at the Marine Barracks otherwise referred to as 8th and I in Washington, DC, is a real thing. If you ever visit DC between the months of May and August, I highly recommend you check it out. It is one of the most incredible, most patriotic things you will ever experience. Plus, bonus, you get to see lots of men walking around in uniform! http://www.barracks.marines.mil/Parades/EveningParade.aspx
And yes… there is such a thing as Jane Wayne Day with the Marines. And yes… years ago, yours truly threw her hair into a ponytail and risked a chipped nail to participate. ;)
Please read on for a sample chapter of The Cowboy’s Revenge; book one of Zoe Blake’s exciting Ride Hard series.
The Cowboy’s Revenge
Ride Hard Series, Book One
By
Zoe Blake
Chapter 1
Vulture City, Arizona
His only warning was a muffled feminine screech followed by the high-pitched sound of shattering glass. A large shiny object fell at his feet. Reaching down, Mason picked up the brush. It was sterling silver with an ornate floral patterned silver back and polished ivory handle.
There was the sound of a window sash being raised, then an indignant voice called out, “That is my brush!”
Mason raised gunmetal gray eyes to clash with irate cornflower blue ones.
Large blue eyes framed by a heart-shaped face with a pert little chin stared back. Her lush pink lips were topped by a small, round-tip nose. Thick ringlets of honey-brown hair fell unbound over her shoulders.
Tilting his Stetson back, to catch a better look, Mason drawled, “Not to be contrary, miss, but I believe it is now my brush. I did just find it here in the dust.”
Her pretty eyes flashed with anger as she pounded on the wooden window ledge with the heel of her hand. “I’m the one that threw it! It’s mine!”
Giving a low whistle as he twirled the brush by its smooth handle, Mason responded, “There again, miss. A thinkin man would say when a pretty lady throws a brush through a window, she no longer wants to possess it.”
The woman was leaning out the carelessly broken window of a massive three-story home with brightly painted wood and quarry stone. Its sheer size and purely ornamental garden in stark contrast to the clapboard, ramshackle cabins with their small, withered vegetable gardens lining Main Street and beyond. Only the bank and saloon could rival it in splendor. The mayor’s house…and this must be the mayor’s daughter.
Her comely looks were going to make his revenge that much sweeter.
“Listen, you gray back cow punch! I want my brush!”
He would also enjoy putting that naughty mouth of hers to better use.
Mason Weiser rolled his sho
ulders, adjusting the weight of the heavy leather saddlebags. Dressed in a navy, spun-wool shirt with leather vest and red bandanna. Buckskin California pants, hugging his waist and falling loosely over a scuffed pair of Cavalry boots and a thick black leather belt secured with a tarnished brass buckle emblazoned with a capital “CS”. He wasn’t exactly hiding the fact he was a cowboy making his way in the world after bearing the brunt of being on the losing side of the War Between the States. The holstered Colt 1860 Army revolver and coiled cow whip hung low on his belt let everyone know he wasn’t keen to talk about it.
At over six feet, there were few men who could look Mason in the eye, which suited him just fine. He preferred to keep folks at arm’s length. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of women of marriageable age…and some well beyond. Sharp handsome features, piercing gray eyes, coffee brown hair the wrong side of church-proper length and a scruffy jaw that had only had a passing acquaintance with a razor was a dog whistle to any woman looking to tame and civilize a man. Mason wasn’t interested. Give him a willing painted lady, a few coins and a decent shot of rotgut without too much turpentine and he was content. After what he lived through in the war, his expectations from life and society as a whole were low.
Until he received the letter.
The letter telling him his brother had been murdered.
Life took on a different, singular, intense purpose. Revenge.
“Do you know who my father is?” snapped the bit-o-honey from the window.
Mason lowered his head, shielding his expression.
“Why yes, miss, I do. Soon, he’ll know me,” he cryptically intoned before stashing her brush in his saddlebag. Ignoring her shriek of fury, Mason strolled the rough-hewed boards down Main Street towards the bathhouse. He had a plan to put into action.
