Big Girls & Bad Boys: 8 Scorching Hot BBW Alpha Male Romance Novellas Box Set

by D. H. Cameron

  “I promise,” I told him accepting his compromise and then reached down and squeezed Marco through his trousers. “In times like these, we should not pass up an opportunity to live and laugh,” I told him. Marco raised an eyebrow and smiled.

  “You are correct, of course, mi amor,” he told me and his hands found my round behind. It seemed strange to feel such passion in the face of such terrible events but my feelings were undeniable. I needed Marco and a respite from the fear and uncertainty. Maybe such times were the perfect opportunity to indulge our passions. “Let us go home,” he said.

  “No. Do you have a radio here?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Marco replied curiously.

  “Then let’s stay. Dance with me and then make love to me here in this place you love so much,” I said and bit my lip seductively. Marco laughed heartily at my boldness.

  “I love you, Nancy,” he said.

  “I know,” I replied as I pushed Marco away from me and began to undress to his obvious delight.

  ~~~

  ~11~

  I relieved myself of my dress as Marco turned on the radio and found a station playing salsa music. He turned to find me in only my bra and panties and his eyes widened as they swept up and down my full figure. He walked to me, shedding his seersucker jacket and swept me into his arms. I gasped and giggled as he dipped me and planted a kiss on my full lips. “You are lovely, Nancy,” he said as he pulled me to my feet and led me through the salsa steps.

  I felt a little bit naughty dancing half naked above the factory floor despite the fact it was empty. For Marco, however, I was sure I would do anything he asked even if it seemed daring. We danced through one song and then as the next began, I slipped Marco’s suspenders from his shoulders and began to unbutton his shirt. I managed to slip his shirt down his arms and then ran my hands over his undershirt and broad chest. Marco looked so handsome, his muscular arms exposed, his A-shirt hugging his athletic body.

  We danced through several songs, a kind of foreplay. Marco removed his undershirt at one point exposing his chiseled body. I ran my hands through his soft chest hair as we danced but soon, Marco was ready for more. As it turns out, so was I. He lifted me from my feet and set me on the edge of his desk. Then he cleared it with one sweep of his arm and kissed me as he pushed me onto my back. Lying on his desk, Marco kneaded my soft breasts through my bra as I wrapped my legs around his waist.

  Marco, however, pulled from me, releasing himself from my legs, and tugged my panties from my waist and down my legs as I removed by bra and my breasts spilled forth. Save my heels, I was nude and Marco gazed at my full form as he worked at his belt and trousers. Moments later he stood before me naked, his manhood erect and throbbing. I reached for Marco but he would not allow me to touch him. Instead he knelt, pushed my thighs wide with is strong hands and gave me a mischievous look.

  “I must taste you,” was all he said and then he went about devouring me. I gasped as his warm lips hit my soft folds and his tongue teased my swollen nub. I felt the now familiar urges build within me as Marco pleasured me there in his office above the factory floor. I thought dancing in my underthings felt naughty but this was almost too much. The affront to my modesty, however, enhanced the physical sensations as Marco made oral love to me.

  Soon, Marco had me riding the edge of bliss but he refused to let me tumble over the precipice. I raised myself onto my elbows and looked down at him, the frustration evident on my face. He smiled at me with his eyes and I knew he was playing a game with me. “Marco?” I begged but he lifted a hand and waved his finger at me like a father might admonish a child. I flopped onto his desk and let him tease and torment me knowing he would make up for this later. Marco wasn’t finished with me yet, however.

  He took that finger the he playfully scolded me with and found my slippery chasm. In it went and he found that special place, which he rubbed as his lips, teeth and tongue played with my hot little button and swept through my succulent folds. I writhed and moaned for Marco, desperate for release but he refused to indulge me. Even as I beat my fist on his desk in frustration, biting my lip, he only laughed. “You’re so mean!” I complained playfully but that seemed to be enough for Marco.

  “Am I now?” Marco inquired as he got to his feet between my creamy thighs. Marco took my ankles in his hands as he worked his hips to rub his crown up and down through my slick folds, his manhood rigid like steel.

  “Please?” I pleaded but Marco frowned.

  “Say it, Nancy,” he urged and for a moment I didn’t know what he meant. Marco raised an eyebrow and glared at me. Then I understood.

  “Fuck me, Marco! Fuck me good,” I demanded using the course words and Marco sank his thick erection into me suddenly. I nearly climaxed as he filled me completely and as Marco began to thrust I was finally relieved. My body arched as the delicious fire consumed me. I screamed out, my fingers digging into my fluffy breasts as Marco’s hands grasped my wide hips. He thrust into me harder and faster as I climaxed all over Marco’s erection. My screams grew louder as Marco sent ripples through my succulent flesh and caused my generous breasts to jiggle seductively.

  “Yes, yes! Fuck me, my love,” I urged him. Marco did just that, his throbbing member driving me mad.

  “You are so beautiful, Nancy. I could spend a lifetime exploring your curves,” he told me. I managed to raise my head as another shuddering orgasm faded.

  “I hope so. Now shut up and fuck me,” I told him. Marco laughed even as his eyes flared with lust and he pushed our love up another level. The legs of his desk barked as they skid across the wooden floor while Marco hammered into me. My body shuddered from both his intense thrusting and the torrid orgasms. I screamed and grabbed the edges of the desk, ravaged by waves of unbelievable ecstasy. However, as Marco groaned and his teeth clenched I focused on him. I wrapped my legs around his waist again, pulling him in deep and tight to me. Marco’s momentum built as we moved as one. With one hand, Marco held my shoulder and with the other he grasped my jaw and caressed my succulent red lips with his thumb.

  I let his thumb slip into my mouth and sucked it as Marco growled and then erupted within me. Yes! Yes!” I cried as Marco climaxed again as we shared a moment of deep intimacy, both of us lost in the throes of passion and delight. Marco’s warmth flooded throughout me until he was spent. Once we had both been fully satisfied, Marco lowered himself onto me and I wrapped him in my arms as we kissed. For a time, the world and its problems were held at bay as Marco and I shared a fragile moment of peace.

  “Can’t this last forever?” I wondered as Marco held me.

  “If only it could. I would make it so if I had the power,” Marco assured me. I knew he would if it was possible but even he couldn’t change the course of history. The future bore down and nothing could stop it from changing everything in its wake.

  “I love you. Together we can face anything,” I replied and Marco smiled at me as he stroked my hair. I felt his heartbeat against my breast and inside of me, a sensation I could never tire of.

  “I love you too, mi amor,” Marco said and laid his head on my breasts. There we remained in our embrace, enjoying the afterglow of our love and holding the world and it’s evils at bay for a time but it was all too short. We couldn’t deny reality forever but for a precious instant, we could imagine all was well.

  ~~~

  Marco and I lay low as our worst fears came to pass. Che Guevara, Camilo Cienfuegos and their armies marched from Santa Clara with little resistance and entered the capitol of Cuba, Havana, just days after the coward Batista had fled. In the south, Castro negotiated with the general in command of Cuba’s army and secured a truce that effectively ended the revolution. Cuba was Castro’s and after a victory march across the countryside, he too entered the capitol on January 8th, 1959. In many ways things did not change but in many others Cuba was forever transformed.

  Castro set up a puppet government to suggest to the world his reign was legal and just but the oppressio
n of the Cuban people began almost immediately. At first agents of Batista’s toppled government, policemen and soldiers were rounded up, put on trial and jailed. Then dissenters and political opponents of the communist regime disappeared or were arrested. I didn’t want to believe what Marco had predicted but it was happening, or so the reports we received told us.

  Marco’s factory had reopened and it was business as usual in many ways. His workers cultivated tobacco, harvested, sorted and aged it, rolled cigars and shipped them all over the world. But customers like the mob bosses that ran the casinos and clubs no longer ordered. They were pulling up stakes and moving on. The salad days had passed for men like that in Cuba. The revolutionaries had immediately taken to looting and burning the larger casinos Castro identified as representing the American and criminal influences.

  Meyer Lansky fled the country the day before Castro arrived, his successful ventures in Cuba now destroyed. Castro’s puppet, President Manuel Urrutia Lleó, began closing casinos and clubs soon after. The lavish parts of Havana burned and though it had been spared a protracted battle, the victors burned her anyway. I cried as I saw the smoke rising. I, like Marco, was no fan of the corruption under Batista but was this any better?

  Marco and I found ourselves wondering when the other shoe would drop. When would capitalists and business ventures not associated with America or the mob be targeted? When would Castro turn on men such as Marco, call them out and demand they surrender their wealth? As each day dragged by, Marco and I attempting to ignore the outside world and live as normal a life as was possible but then the day finally came when we both knew I had to go.

  “Government agents?” I asked after Marco told me of the men that came to visit the factory that day.

  “Yes. They asked questions and made accusations. They claim my family has stolen from the people of Cuba and told me I will be required to show them evidence we have not,” he answered.

  “Stolen from them?” I asked confused.

  “Political speak. The lands on which we grow tobacco, the factory, it is all legitimate. My family has owned them for generations. They speak metaphorically. To men of this kind, a man may not have more than another and there is no evidence that will ever satisfy them. They ask so their theft has the appearance of legality. They will take everything and claim it is their right. Castro will say that my family’s property belongs to the people but that will be a lie. It will belong to the state, to Castro. He will grow rich as he enslaves my workers and I can do nothing to stop it,” Marco told me with an angry edge to his words.

  “Can’t you fight?” I asked.

  “Should I turn to the butcher, Guevara, who executes men by the hundreds for being nothing more than a government bureaucrat or policeman? They set up courts to legitimize what they do but they are for show. Even a tyrant needs the illusion of law so he might appear legitimate,” Marco told me but he was not harsh with me.

  “No, I suppose not. So you and your family will lose everything?” I asked. At that question, a sly smile crossed Marco’s face.

  “No. I am a businessman. I have taken measures. Our wealth resides in America with my parents,” he told me.

  “So you knew all along?” I stated as much as asked.

  “No and yes. I planned for the worst even as I hoped for the best. Nancy, it is time for you to flee,” Marco told me. I know I had promised to go when it was time but I couldn’t.

  “Marco, I can’t. Not without you. You’re in danger now too. You must come with me,” I argued but Marco was already shaking his head.

  “I cannot go until I know the people that served me and my family so loyally over the years are safe too. Some will not follow me but I cannot help that. However, I must assist those that will come. Cuba is through with me and I will leave for America to join you and my parents but before I leave my homeland, I must save those I can,” he told me.

  “Then I will stay and we will leave together,” I told him. Marco’s eyes narrowed and then he laughed.

  “I expected no less if am I being honest. Despite your promise, I knew you would never leave me. I am glad for it even as I fear for you,” he told me.

  “We will save your workers, those that will come, and we will do it together,” I assured Marco.

  “Tomorrow, I will close the factory for good. I will dispose of the tobacco and cigars. I will have my fields burned so Castro may not profit from that which is not his. I will tell the people that I offer them passage to America as well. There, they can seek asylum and live free,” Marco explained but with a hint of regret in his words.

  “We can rebuild in America. You’ll see,” I said hoping to raise his spirits. Marco smiled at me but that regret lingered in his eyes. Everything his family had worked for, everything they had built was crumbling. Marco’s homeland was in turmoil. Soon, Castro would claim his family’s property rightfully belonged to the people but in reality it would become state property to be controlled by Castro and his communists. That was a wound that I could not help to heal. Nothing would make that scar go away.

  The next morning, Marco and I walked to his factory. Workers greeted him as a friend as they did every day. The communists said men like Marco robbed from the people to make themselves wealthy. Some Cubans undoubtedly believed those lies but not these people. They loved Marco and his family. They understood the opportunity he had provided them and many others who had once worked at the factory or in the fields owed their current achievements, at least in part, to Marco. They understood that through their hard work they could share in the success of Marco and the Fernandez family.

  Marco walked the floor of his factory for probably the last time. His workers continued to produce the cigars knowing that their work was fairly rewarded. Soon, many of them would work for the state, however. The change would be lost on many of the people but to some, to the ambitious, the motivated, they could never hope to rise above this. There was honor in working but for those that wanted more for themselves, there was a special pride that could no longer be had.

  Marco took his time, talking with many of his workers as he walked the factory floor. Finally, he called work to a halt and asked some of his workers to gather the others working in the aging and storerooms. Once the employees had gathered, Marco began to speak. He spoke to his workers in their native tongue but I was becoming better with each passing day at understanding the nuances of the Spanish language.

  “My friends. Despite the events of the past weeks, you remain loyal to me and the Fernandez family. I thank you for that. Soon, Castro will come to take this factory. I am sure of it. Under his government, men like me will not be allowed to engage in commerce. Only the state will own factories, farms and the means of production,” Marco told his people. They showed their disapproval with whistles and whispers. Marco held up his hands to quiet them.

  “I wish this were not so. I must leave for America soon. I have no choice. Castro will likely declare that I am an enemy of the state...for several reasons. However, I offer to assist those of you that wish to leave Cuba as well. I will buy many boats if needed. I know many of you will choose to stay and I wish I could remain with you. The choice is yours,” Marco said. Now the workers erupted in anxious discussion. Marco let them speak amongst themselves for a moment.

  Then a woman, the same one I had met the day Marco showed me his factory for the first time, Isabel, worked her way through the crowd to Marco. She hugged him and pat him on the back before telling him that she would not leave. Marco nodded and replied in Spanish.

  “I understand. You love Cuba as do I,” he told her. Then others came to him, women hugging him, men shaking his hand, all of them grateful. Most seemed to understand what was happening but most declined to leave. They didn’t blame Marco but most seemed to share an optimism that Castro was not as bad as some claimed. Some, however, did wish to follow Marco to America, but not many. Two men stood up as Marco spoke with his workers and left the factory floor. They looked like the other workers
but their demeanor was different. I thought nothing of it at the time but I did find it odd.

  ~~~

  ~12~

  Marco had spoken with several men and women that wanted to follow us to America. Most were young and without families. They had nothing binding them to Cuba and wanted to seek their fortunes where they could be free. Marco discussed with the dozen or so willing to leave when and where we would meet. Marco would secure a boat and it would be docked outside of Havana. The boat would depart at midnight. I knew leaving was necessary but departing so soon was a bit of a surprise. I suppose we had little choice.

  Once that was settled, Marco announced to the workers that whatever sat in the storerooms aging or awaiting shipping was theirs. It was a last gift to his workers but more importantly, Marco could not prevent Castro from seizing his factory and fields but he could deny them the product of his work that currently sat in the factory. His workers cheered at that and Marco bid them to offer some to the workers in the fields as well. He also asked some of his most trusted workers to burn the fields under cover of darkness.

  At that point, Marco and I took our leave and walked back to his home as the workers happily began to empty the factory of the product they themselves had worked so hard to produce. It was more theirs than Castro’s. “I will miss her,” Marco told me as we walked with my arm in his.

  “I know. I’m so sorry,” I offered.

  “Thank you,” he replied and rubbed my hand with his. He refused to look back at his factory, however. Whether it was because he couldn’t bear the thought of losing his factory or he was moving forward and looking to the future, I wasn’t sure. Maybe it was both. At home Marco poured us each a glass of rum and he lit a cigar. He took a seat in his chair and I joined him, taking my usual place on the sofa.