by JA Huss
Contents
Bossy Brothers: Alonzo
DESCRIPTION
CHAPTER ONE - ALONZO
CHAPTER TWO - TARA
CHAPTER THREE - ALONZO
CHAPTER FOUR - TARA
CHAPTER FIVE - ALONZO
CHAPTER SIX - TARA
CHAPTER SEVEN - ALONZO
CHAPTER EIGHT - TARA
CHAPTER NINE - ALONZO
CHAPTER TEN - TARA
CHAPTER ELEVEN - ALONZO
CHAPTER TWLEVE - TARA
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - ALONZO
CHAPTER FOURTEEN - TARA
CHAPTER FIFTEEN - ALONZO
CHAPTER SIXTEEN - TARA
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - ALONZO
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - TARA
CHAPTER NINETEEN - ALONZO
CHAPTER TWENTY - TARA
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - ALONZO
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - TARA
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - ALONZO
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - TARA
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - ALONZO
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - TARA
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - ALONZO
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - TARA
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - ALONZO
CHAPTER THIRTY - TARA
EPILOGUE - ALONZO
BONUS SCENE
END OF BOOK SHIT
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BOSSY BROTHERS BOOK FIVE
Edited by RJ Locksley
Cover Design: JA Huss
Cover Photo Sara Eirew
Copyright © 2020 by JA Huss
All rights reserved.
ISBN-978-1-950232-18-5
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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DESCRIPTION
Read as book five in the Bossy Brothers series or as a standalone book.
TARA
Lonnie Derringer is a filthy-mouthed, dirty-talking, long-distance fling.
(That’s been going on for two years.)
I know, I know. That’s not a fling. This might be getting serious.
I think about him all the time. I look forward to our quickie lunch dates and the way he whispers in my ear every night from two-thousand miles away.
He’s the best boyfriend I never had.
Until I find out his name isn’t Lonnie, it’s Alonzo.
Until I find out he’s not some boring accountant with a dead-end job, he’s a six-foot-four, yoked-out, tatted-up fisherman who never wears a shirt!
That’s right, girls. He’s been catfishing me online for two… freaking… years!
And then he becomes more than just the best boyfriend I’ve never had.
He becomes my target.
ALONZO
Tara Tanner is the perfect long-distance girlfriend who lives in the Land of Far, Far Away.
She’s a blonde, bookish bundle of sexy-overachiever. A wicked little siren with a filthy mind and an eye for pencil skirts. And every time I ask her to ‘send-me-a-pic-or-it-never-happened’ she goes above and beyond.
She is, quite simply, the most perfect woman I’ve ever had the pleasure to never meet.
I didn’t set out to lie to her and I didn’t expect to meet her.
But one day she shows up at my house, and guess what?
She wasn’t the only one being catfished for two years.
Because she’s not who she said she was either.
Bossy Brothers: Alonzo can be read as book five in the Bossy Brothers series or as a standalone story and features a sexy game of guess-who between a librarian obsessed with pencil skirts and a fisherman tatted up with mermaids. It’s long-distance fling filled with dirty-talking, sexy selfies, and safely-hidden secrets… until it isn’t.
Until the day they meet and realize… Love in the Land of fake Far, Far Away can’t ever compare to the real thing.
CHAPTER ONE - ALONZO
“Fort Collins Public Library, how can I help you?”
“Yes. Hello. I have a question about a book.”
“Yes, sir. That’s wonderful. I can’t wait to hear it.”
“Well, it’s not a question about a book, per se. I’m looking for something specific. To read.”
“Well, you’re talking to the right girl. I’m a book expert. I even have the pencil skirt, tight white blouse, severe ponytail, and dark-framed glasses to prove it.”
“Hmmm. What’s your name? It’s just… I like to use a woman’s name when I talk books with them.”
“Ohhh… Tara. I’m Tara. Do you… like women who talk books back to use your name as well?”
“Hmmm. Intriguing question, Tara. I’ve never thought about it before. But yes. Yes. I’d like that. I’m Lonnie. A too-smart, button-down-shirt-wearing accountant who loves numbers and making things… balance.”
“Balancing. I like that.”
“You do?”
“Mmm-hmmm.”
“What kind of balancing are you picturing? Like… financial statements and checkbooks?”
“Nnn-nooooo. More like… the kind of balance you need when a hot, sexy accountant is fucking you up against a wall.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry. My imagination is… well, wild. And I’m a bit bored at the moment. There’s absolutely no one else here in the library with me. I guess I’m just looking for a little fun while no one’s watching.”
“Are you sure you’re a librarian?”
“Positive. But I’d like to clarify one thing before we continue. I don’t mind people watching.”
“Oh.”
“Now tell me. What kind of specific book are you looking for? I’m excited at the prospect of pleasing you.”
“This might sound a little weird, Tara.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ve heard it all, Lonnie.”
“It’s a very… odd trope I’m looking for.”
“Trust me, Lonnie. I’m here to help. What trope are you looking for today?”
“OK, so… it’s the one about the… well, let’s call him under-socialized—”
“Got it. Our protagonist is a man who is maybe… an accountant?”
“Exactly.”
“Great. Keep going.”
“And he meets this… other under-socialized person. Female. Maybe a…”
“A librarian?”
“Yes! Exactly. This accountant meets a librarian and they…”
“Fuck?”
“No.”
“Have cam sex?”
“Mmmm… not quite. But close.”
“OK. I think I understand. But I need a little clarification, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all, Tara. How can I clarify?”
“Well, this accountant. Can you give me a better description? Just so, you know, I can clearly envision this… book… in my head.”
“Sure. He’s about six foot four.”
“Oh, my.”
“Yeah. He’s big.”
“Big as in…?”
“Tall. Yup.”
“Oh.”
“But he’s big in other ways too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Like… you know. Biiiig.”
“Big as in… I
can’t fit my hand around it?”
“How big are your hands?”
“Small to average.”
“Then definitely not.”
“I see. OK. Got it. He’s girthy.”
“Exactly.”
“What else?”
“Well, his hair is light brown.”
“Hmm. Eyes?”
“Let’s go with hazel.”
“Hazel green? Hazel blue? Or hazel brown?”
“Hazel green-brown.”
“Delicious.”
“What?”
“Oh. I’m eating pudding. And I just licked my spoon. It’s delicious.”
“Pudding, huh?”
“Mmmm. Pudding. OK. I have a better picture of our hero. But what of our heroine? This… librarian.”
“Well… she’s a typical librarian. And you’re a librarian.”
“That I am, Lonnie.”
“Well, this librarian is on the small side.”
“Small as in petite? Or small as in… not more than a mouthful?”
“Petite.”
“Oh. So she’s ample in all the right places. Like me.”
“Like you, huh?”
“Mmmm-hmm.”
“And she wears… well, pencil skirts.”
“Also like me.”
“And a tight, white, button-down blouse that shows off her ample…”
“Breasts?”
“I was going to say ‘pocket protector.’”
“Lonnie?”
“Tara?”
“You’re making this difficult.”
“How so?”
“I’m on my lunch break here.”
“Oh, am I disturbing you?”
“Not at all. I’m just waiting for you to get to the good parts.”
“The part where they bond over books and numbers?”
“No, the part where he talks dirty to her on the phone while she’s on her lunch break so she can come on her fingers and make him pretend to lick them.”
I laugh.
“It’s not funny. Come on!”
“It’s roleplaying.”
“I know. I’m done with it. I gave you the perfect in and all you had to do was say, ‘Yeah, the kind of balance when he fucks her against a wall’ and we’d be halfway home right now!”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“You’re doing this on purpose! You know I only get thirty minutes for lunch today! It’s book club Monday and I’ve got every damn housewife in Fort Collins in here with her wine-stained book-of-the-month-club edition paperback acting like she’s all literate and shit.”
I laugh again.
“Lonnie. Phone-fuck me right now. Or I’m hanging up and never answering your pervy calls again.”
“Fine.” I pause. Because Tara Tanner and I have phone-fucked ninety-seven times now. That’s not a made-up number. That is the exact number of times we’ve done this. Over the phone, at least. Sexting brings that number up to a hundred and twenty-four. And we’ve had twenty-nine cam dates.
That’s the long way of saying we’ve done this a lot. And it’s never boring. Ever. I won’t give in to her time constraints and ruin our perfect record just because some Fort Collins housewife gets needy during Tara’s lunch break.
“OK, forget the present scenario. I’ve got a better one.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’ll call you right back. But this time, don’t pretend you’re answering the library phone. Just say a normal hello.”
“Lonnie!”
But I hang up without commenting. Because if we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right.
I’m at home today because it’s January and things are pretty slow at Dumas Deep Sea Fishing in the winter. And I’ve been saving this little scenario up for a while. So I think it’s time.
I take a moment to gather my thoughts. I want to say all of this just right.
One hand pops the button on my shorts and slips inside them, while the other one tabs Tara’s contact on my phone.
She answers on the fourth ring, trying to play hard to get. “Hello.” Her voice is soft and sultry now, completely different than the way she sounded earlier.
“Hello.” My voice is different too. Not Lonnie the accountant. Nothing like Lonnie the accountant. Much more like Alonzo, the fisherman. “I’m looking for Tara Tanner.”
“I’m Tara Tanner. Who is this? I don’t recognize the number.”
“This is Alonzo.”
“Well, Alonzo, how can I help you?”
“You can start by taking your clothes off.”
She laughs softly. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I’m going to fuck you over the phone right now. And I want you to be naked when I do it.”
“Promises, promises.”
“Hey! You’re not allowed to break character!”
“I’m naked!”
“You’re not naked! You were just bitching about work. Now I have to start all over again. Hang up and—”
“Fuck you, Lonnie! Just… start talking. I swear to God, I’m butt-ass naked. I’m ready.”
“Pic or it never happened. I want you to close your eyes and stick out your tongue in the pic so I know it’s real. You have ten seconds or no phone fuck.”
“Oh, my God!”
“Ten. I know you’re not naked. Nine.”
“Fine!”
There’s the tell-tale soft sound of a person repositioning themselves.
“This is cheating,” she whines.
It is. Pics or it never happened. I make her do this all the time.
But it’s really her fault. She always sends me something so damn sexy. Tara Tanner has the overachiever gene. She’s competitive, and focused, and always feels the need to go above and beyond.
She’s a pleaser too.
If I tell her to hold up four fingers, her thumb is pulling her panties aside.
If I ask her to take a pic of her ass, she’s always bending over so I get a pussy shot from behind.
If I ask for her lips, she’ll suck her fingers and send me a video.
And you would think there’s no way you can make an eyeball sexy, but she sent me the most provocative wink I’ve ever seen when I asked for that.
She’s a naughty little bookworm who gets off on dirty-posing for me in pics, and roleplaying over the phone, and moaning as she comes while I jerk off two thousand miles away.
Tara Tanner is, quite simply, the dirtiest fucking woman I’ve ever had the pleasure to never meet.
A phone camera click drifts across the two thousand miles between us and my phone dings a new message.
I hold my breath and close my eyes when that happens. Every single time. I always ask her to do something to prove that she’s real. Make a peace sign. Hold up four fingers. Take a pic of your ass. Your lips. One eyeball. It’s never the same twice and she has never disappointed me. Tara Tanner really is a buxom-blonde, hot-assed fucking librarian in the Fort Collins Library. She really does wear pencil skirts, and tight, white blouses, and glasses, and she always has her long, wavy hair in a severe updo.
She always does what I ask, but never the way I ask her to.
And here’s the best part. Aside from the first pic I sent her the day we met—which wasn’t me, by the way—I have never, ever sent her a pic of me back. She has never even asked for one. She’s seen me twenty-nine times on cam dates. And for each one of those dates I wore my disguise. In Tara’s mind I am that accountant. I wear a white shirt, a tie, glasses, and ball cap to make her think I have an embarrassing receding hairline.
She has never seen my dick, she has never seen my tats, she has never seen anything but a neck-up view of the made-up man I’m pretending to be with her.
But that’s about to change.
I want to jerk off to her face on my phone. And I want her to see me do it.
I open my eyes and look down at the pic.
It doesn’t disappoint.
She is s
itting in her car, pencil skirt hiked all the way up to her waist, her legs open, four fingers pressed against a wet spot in the middle of her panties, her eyes closed, and the tip of her tongue curled up against her upper front teeth.
“Holy fuck, woman. You’re so damn hot. But that is not a naked pic. You’re a dirty little liar.”
“I’m just going to proceed without you.”
“No! Stop. Right now. We’re gonna do things a little different today.”
“Lonnie! I have to get back to work!”
“Work is gonna have to wait, sunshine. I have plans. I’m gonna hang up—”
“Oh. My. God. I’m done.”
“Listen! I’m gonna hang up and call you back to FaceTime.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“But… you hate cam dates.”
I don’t hate cam dates. I fucking love cam dates. But up until now I didn’t want her to see too much of me, so it was my least preferred option. I am nothing like the man she sees on her phone screen. I’m not some boring accountant. I’m a hot fucking fisherman.
Which is kind of ironic, since I’ve been catfishing her for two years now.
“Answer on the first ring this time.”
“Maybe I won’t answer at all. Ever think of that?”
“If you don’t answer, Tara, I will get on a plane, fly up to Fort Collins, walk into that library, push you against the nearest stack of books, and fuck your brains out in front of all those housewives. I’ll fuck you so hard and so thoroughly you’ll be screaming my name for the entire town to hear. And then I’ll turn you around, bend you over, push you face first into those books, and come all over your ass.”
She lets out a breath. “One of these days I’m going to hang up, never answer your calls again, and wait for you to hunt me down and fuck me thoroughly.”
The call drops.
And I can’t help it. I smile.
I don’t really know Tara Tanner. Hell, she could be pretending to be a librarian the way I’m pretending to be an accountant. But if she is, she’s certifiably insane. If this version of Tara is a lie, she lives it like the truth. If I find out one day that this girl is really someone else, I will run so far, so fast. Because I am the most suspicious person on this fucking planet. I did three background checks on her. I sent a private investigator up to Colorado to take pics of her in the wild. I stalked all her social media for months. Not much action on there. But it’s her face on the profile pic that says Tara Tanner.
