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

by D. H. Cameron

  “I’ve kept my promise to Alberto and Carmen. They won’t lose you, Marco,” Enrico said, blood running from his lips. I reached out and took his hand.

  “Don’t go, Enrico,” I begged him.

  “I go to my love. I go to be with Eva,” he replied.

  “I love you, brother,” Marco told him. Enrico smiled weakly.

  “Take care of Nancy and your child,” Enrico said, though it was barely a whisper, and then he died. I began to cry and Marco held Enrico cradled in his arms long after he had gone. Finally, Marco took my hand and looked into my eyes.

  “Child?” he wondered with tears in his eyes.

  “I carry your baby, Marco,” I admitted. A bittersweet smile crossed his face. “We will call him Enrico if it is a boy, Eva if it is a girl,” I told him. Marco turned to Enrico, closed his lifeless eyes and then Marco removed his jacket and laid it over Enrico.

  “I’m sorry,” Sam told us from his seat. Marco stood and went to Sam.

  “I am Marco Fernandez,” Marco said as he offered his hand. Sam shook Marco’s hand as he swiveled in his captain’s chair. “Thank you for aiding me,” Marco told him. Sam nodded and turned back to the wheel. Marco helped me to my feet and took me to sit near the stern. Marco hugged me close. “I wish I could take his place,” Marco said. I understood what he meant but I couldn’t accept that.

  “He is with Eva, now. You are with me and we’re going to have a baby. Enrico wanted to save you, to bring you back to your parents and to me,” I told him. Marco looked at his friend and then to me.

  “I suppose you are right. I still feel responsible somehow,” Marco said. I took his hand in mine.

  “You didn’t do this. Castro did. It is his greed and thirst for power that has caused all of this pain. We must look ahead. I made a promise to the men that helped save you. I told them you would fund their efforts to overthrow the communists. If you keep that promise, maybe soon we can go home. Maybe we can go back to Cuba,” I told Marco. He smiled at me.

  “I will keep your promise. I will do what I can from America. I will never abandon my country,” Marco declared. I expected no less from the man I had come to love. He was a man of passion and honor. He loved Cuba and her people and he would do what he could to save them. I would do the same.

  “I love you, Marco,” I said.

  “I love you, mi amor,” he replied and then after a moment as I looked into his eyes Marco asked, “Will you be my wife?”

  “You shouldn’t even have to ask. Of course, I will,” I told him and Marco kissed me deeply and then bundled me in his arms. We sat in silence as the boat sped towards Miami, Marco holding me in his arms the entire time. I couldn’t help but stare at Enrico’s body but I was consoled by Marco’s touch and my faith that he was reunited with Marco’s sister now. When we reached Miami, it was mid-morning. It was midafternoon by the time the port authorities let Marco and I go once they had taken statements and taken Enrico’s body to the morgue. I got the feeling this sort of tragedy wasn’t uncommon as the exodus from Cuba continued.

  ~~~

  “Oh no! Enrico!” Carmen exclaimed as Marco hugged his mother after telling her about what had happened.

  “I know, mama, but he is with Eva again,” Marco assured his mother and then helped her onto the sofa in the sitting room. Then Marco turned and held out his hand to shake his father’s but Alberto took Marco into his arms and hugged him tight. I sat with Carmen consoling her as I cried with her. Despite Marco being safe no one felt much joy. The Fernandez family had lost so much, a daughter and now a son, even if he was a son by marriage. They had lost their factory and their homeland as well.

  “Enrico was brave. Marco is here because of him,” I told the family. My family I suppose.

  “He was a good man and a good husband,” Alberto told us.

  “Mama, papa, I mourn Enrico but we have reason to celebrate too. Nancy carries my child,” Marco told them. Carmen smiled.

  “We know, Marco,” she told her son and he looked at me and raised an eyebrow. It seemed he was the last to know but he didn’t mind.

  “I have asked Nancy to marry me,” he told his parents as he looked in to my eyes. I smiled at him.

  “You have chosen well, my son. A more loyal or beautiful bride you will never find,” Carmen told her son and took my hand. There was hope that grew from the tragedy we all had suffered. We were safe and the worst was over but before Marco and I could move forward, we had to bury Enrico.

  Later that week, we stood by his grave in the rain while the priest eulogized Enrico, Carmen and Alberto’s son-in-law and Marco’s adopted brother. I listened as he spoke of Enrico’s bravery in the face of the evils that Castro perpetrated on Cuba and her people and of Enrico and Eve now reunited in heaven. His words offered some measure of comfort. I didn’t know Enrico long or all that well but I knew Enrico well enough to call him a friend.

  The service was private but the wake was well attended. Many Cubans, both those that had come to America prior and those newly arrived since the revolution, attended. Many never knew Enrico but they had heard of his death and the circumstances surrounding it. They came to celebrate his life and mourn his passing. Enrico’s sacrifice, his murder, symbolized what had been taken from them. Their homeland had been stolen from them and they mourned that passing as well.

  ~~~

  In the weeks that followed, my pregnancy was confirmed though I was already sure of it. Marco and I celebrated alone in the guest house that we occupied behind his parents’ home. The pain and horror of January, 1959, was fading for us and we were trying to move on. It was easy to look ahead with a baby on the way and a wedding to plan. I joined Marco in our bedroom wearing a white negligee. He lay on our bed naked, his head propped on his hand as he watched me approach.

  “You look radiant,” he told me as I joined him.

  “And you look excited,” I said and ran a finger up his thigh but ignored Marco’s erection.

  “I am. I want to show you how happy you have made me,” he said as he sat up and he ran his hand over my shoulder, under my negligee and cupped my breast. I turned my head to kiss him. We let our tongues play for a moment and then I pushed Marco to the bed, slipped from my lingerie and climbed onto him. Our naked bodies pressed together, my soft form giving way to his firm muscles as I straddled Marco.

  “Can’t I show you how happy you’ve made me?” I asked. Marco smiled.

  “Be my guest, mi amor,” he replied and I slipped down his chiseled body, letting my hands linger in his soft chest hair. I let his firmness snuggle between my soft breasts and then I bent and kissed his crown.

  “Soon these will be full of milk,” I said suggestively. Marco growled at that. I laughed and took him into my mouth as I caressed his shaft with my breasts. Marco inhaled sharply as he enjoyed the various sensations I afforded him. I loved pleasing Marco. My lips and tongue softly teased his head as I let him thrust slowly between my breasts. Soon, Marco was like a shining sword in a velvet sheath. I couldn’t take it any longer and climbed onto him letting his manhood settle between the ample globes of my backside.

  “Say it, Nancy,” he demanded. Marco liked it when I used the coarse language of sex and I had to admit that I enjoyed saying those naughty words as well.

  “Should I beg you to fuck me, Marco? Should I plead for you to fill me with your seed?” I asked. Marco’s eyes flared and he inhaled sharply.

  “No, I shall beg you. Fuck me, Nancy. Ride me and let me gaze at you as you do. Let me savor your succulent curves and let me play in your perfection,” he said and as he did I let him enter me and I slid down his shaft. I worked my hips seductively as Marco’s hands explored the fluffy hills and deep vales of my body and his fingers kneaded my forgiving flesh. I supported myself on his chest, my fingers tangled in his soft hair as I used my entire body to pleasure my man, the father of my child and my future husband.

  “You feel so good,” I told him. Marco’s thick erection drove me mad and
soon I cried out as a shuddering climax ravaged me. Marco’s fingers dug into my hips and he began thrusting into me from below. Our bodies worked as one as we each sought to please the other. I climaxed once again and collapsed onto Marco, hugging him and burying my face into his neck. I screamed as the bliss coursed through me and let Marco take control. He rolled me onto my back, without missing a beat and hammered into me like I needed.

  “You are so beautiful,” he told me. I loved that Latin accent but right then it sent me into the stratosphere. I tensed and then erupted with sheer, glorious ecstasy. I was sure Marco must be close to his own release but I was wrong. He muffled my cries as he kissed me and I enjoyed many more frenzied waves of pleasure. Finally, when I was sure I could take no more, Marco sucked on my ear as he erupted within me. I luxuriated in the warmth that filled me as Marco helped me discover a new delight.

  I burst out in laughter and then shuddered one last time before Marco clenched and forced the last of his orgasm into me. For the first time in many months, I felt normal. Things had happened that I would never forget but wished I could. I had faced death and loss. But now, as Marco and I lay there in the aftermath of our lovemaking, I finally felt like things might be turning around, that maybe everything would work out for the best. I was optimistic for the first time in a very long time and it felt good.

  “You need to do that more often,” I ordered.

  “You enjoy it when I do this?” Marco asked and then sucked my earlobe between his lips again. I laughed and writhed as he did.

  “Oh my goodness, yes! Fuck me again, Marco,” I begged. Marco lifted his head to regard me. He lifted an eyebrow, smiled a wicked little smile and began thrusting once more.

  “For you, mi amor, anything,” he told me and winked. I wrapped my legs around Marco and prepared for what I was sure would be a long night of blissful lovemaking.

  ~~~

  ~15~

  Marco and I wedded that spring, before the scandal of my pregnancy became too difficult to hide. I wasn’t concerned and neither was Marco or his parents but some would find it offensive that a young girl had become pregnant without marrying first. It happened, I suspect, far more often than people would admit but they needed to believe otherwise. In any case, I was eager to marry Marco and my pregnancy was only a secondary concern.

  Of course, I had to tell my parents about Marco, over the telephone unfortunately, and they took it well enough but their apprehension was apparent. Marco and I traveled to Riverside, Iowa soon after so they could meet Marco and we could tell them the details of the baby and our upcoming marriage in person. I wasn’t seeking their approval, though I hoped they would give it. They were skeptical at first but when they met Marco, their doubts melted away. Though I grew up in a small town, my parents were more open-minded than most and they accepted Marco and the circumstances of our marriage.

  In the meantime, Marco and I planned to open a cigar factory in Miami. Marco busied himself with the business of securing the land and drawing up plans, finding suppliers and tracking down former employees that had made their way to America in the wake of Castro’s victory. They were doing so in greater and greater numbers. Most hoped that Castro’s government would be short-lived and that they could return someday. Marco and I shared that dream but he was more pragmatic and made plans as if we were going to remain in America.

  I busied myself finding a home for us to raise our family in. We settled on a modest home in a middle class neighborhood, mainly because it was near the factory site. I would be happy in any home as long as I shared it with Marco. Marco and his family were wealthy and we could have lived a comfortable life without him opening a new factory, but Marco would have gone stir crazy. Besides, Marco was intent on keeping my promise to the resistance. Despite his ambition, however, Marco was attentive and I was sure he would be a good father to our children.

  “So, tell me you have good news,” Marco said as he arrived home from work less than a week before our wedding.

  “My parents will be here on Wednesday,” I told him.

  “Perfect! I can’t wait to make you my wife, Nancy,” Marco exclaimed. My parents had been trying to get to Miami for the wedding and had finally finalized their plans. From Riverside, they had to take two trains and a bus in between those but they would make it. Marco offered to fly them to Miami from Chicago but my mother wanted nothing to do with airplanes.

  “Señora Nancy Fernandez,” I replied using the name I would soon go by and my title in Spanish.

  “I like the way that sounds,” Marco replied.

  “So do I,” I told him.

  We picked my parents up at the train station and brought them to Alberto and Carmen’s house to stay. In the following days, I visited with my parents, showed them around Miami and Marco took them to see the factory site and the progressing construction. My parents and Marco’s mother and father got along well, thankfully. Everything was coming together as I’d hoped. It was a major change from the life I led prior to Christmas 1958. Then everything seemed so dark but now the future was bright and full of promise.

  On Saturday, at Alberto and Carmen’s home, Marco and I were to be married. As I sat with my mother waiting to be taken to my father who would give me away to Marco, she opened up to me. “I’m so proud of you, sweetie. You look beautiful,” she told me.

  “Thank you, I suppose,” I replied. I was glad she was proud of me but I wasn’t sure exactly why.

  “You suppose?” she asked.

  “What have I done to make you proud? I left home and got myself in trouble. I...,” I started and almost didn’t finish. I decided, however, I needed to say it. “I almost sold myself, mom. If it wasn’t for Marco, I might have,” I told her.

  “But you didn’t,” she said without a hint of judgment. “Marco told your father what you did and your father told me. He told me how you went to Cuba to save Marco. He left out the details and I think I’m glad for that. Marco is very grateful to you for doing so. Your father and I are very proud, a little unnerved maybe but proud. You’re a special woman, Nancy,” my mom explained.

  “Stop it. I’ll ruin my makeup. I love you, mom,” I replied fighting the urge to cry at my mother’s words.

  “I love you too, sweetie,” she said and then a knock came at the door. My mother answered it. “Yes, we’re ready,” she assured whoever had come to fetch us. “It’s time, Nancy,” my mother told me.

  “I won’t make it to the altar without crying,” I said. My mother smiled.

  “You’re the bride. You can cry if you want. I’m the bride’s mother. It’s expected of me and I promise you, I’m going to cry and then some,” she said and we both laughed as we hugged. When we parted, my mother had tears in her eyes already. We left the bedroom and walked to the back of the house where my father waited. My mother hugged me again and went out to the backyard to take her seat.

  “Hi, dad,” I said.

  “You look beautiful,” he told me. I wore a white gown of lace and satin with a veil covering my face. The dress was cut so it would hide my growing belly but part of me wanted to show it off. I wasn’t ashamed.

  “Thank you,” I replied. He offered me his arm just like Marco always did.

  “Are you ready?” he asked and I nodded. We left the house and the small crowd of mostly Cuban nationals stood to regard me. The Wedding March was played by a Cuban band as my father walked me down the aisle. Marco waited for me in a white tuxedo and a white Cuban fedora with a black band. He looked as handsome as he did the first day I met him. To my surprise I didn’t cry. Neither Marco nor I chose anyone to stand with us as we married. Instead, my maid of honor was a black and white photo of Eva and Marco’s best man was a photo of Enrico, both photos from their wedding day years past.

  The ceremony was a pleasant blur. I remember only bits and pieces of the priest’s words but I’ll never forget the young boy with the lace pillow that bore our rings, the words I spoke to Marco and the words he said to me. The memory of M
arco lifting my veil and kissing me after we were pronounced man and wife will be indelibly burned into my mind forever. Neither will I forget the words of the priest when he announced Marco and I as Señor and Señora Marco Luis Fernandez. Unlike most brides, Marco and I had earned this day. We faced peril and death but God had seen fit to bring us through it all and now we were wed in His eyes.

  “Come, my friends. The pig is ready and there is enough rum and cigars to go around. Come celebrate with my new wife and I,” Marco announced as the guests stood in our honor. That brought a cheer from them. The band played traditional Cuban music as we ate, drank and danced through the afternoon and into the evening. Lights hung from the trees illuminating the yard as night approached. It was like a dream but one I found myself wanting to end. There was another dream awaiting Marco and I but for that we had to be alone.

  “We should go,” I prodded Marco as he found me. We had spent the reception receiving guests and talking with them as well as dancing and eating with them. It was time to go, however.

  “Are you ready?” he wondered.

  “Oh, I’m more than ready, husband,” I assured him. Marco drank the rest of his rum, puffed on his cigar and set them aside.

  “I’ve never made love to a married woman. I hear they can be quite adventurous,” Marco teased.

  “Let me show you,” I told him. Marco laughed, got to his feet and took my hand. As I stood, he addressed the crowd.

  “Nancy and I must go. Please, enjoy the party in our absence. We will enjoy ourselves in your absence,” he said and the guests all laughed. “Stay and party all night, or at least until mama kicks you out,” Marco said and the crowd laughed again. It took almost an hour to make our way out of Alberto and Carmen’s home and to our own. It seemed we said personal goodbyes to every guest before we were able to free ourselves. When we finally did, Marco told me he had a surprise for me.

  “What is it?” I wondered as we made our way to the front door of his parents’ home. I saw as we walked outside. “Marco, how did you get it?” I asked him as I gazed at the Cadillac, Marco’s red Cadillac I was sure, sitting in the drive.