AFRICAN AMERICAN ROMANCE: A Thug to Remember (Hood Alpha Male Pregnancy Romance) (African American Urban Contemporary Short Stories) (46 page)

He felt his cock stiffening and starting to spasm.  Seeing his crush quaking with passion and her jiggling tits, was wearing out his stamina.  He grabbed her by the hair and pushed himself in at a slower stroke. 

But she was demanding, always was, and before long told him to fuck her harder and faster—even if that meant cumming like a water spout.

“Aaahhh!” he bellowed so thick and buried inside of her, he couldn’t even withdraw all the way if he tried.  He obeyed her panting orders and drove his cock deep and hard inside, fucking her as fast as his balls could slap her. 

“We should stop,” she finally said with a little hesitance.

“Why?”

“I’m not on anything…”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” she moaned, still clutching his butt and pulling him tighter and closer.

“Nothing?”

“No.”

“I better pull out huh?”

“Uh huh…” she said half-heartedly. Desiring nothing but to feel him finish.

“Or else I’ll give you a half-White baby, huh?  Is that what you want?”

“Aaahh…” she said giving away her secret fetish.  A White man fucking her and getting her pregnant—that was the taboo she needed to get off.

“Is that what you want?” he said dominantly.  “Filling you with my seed?  Going to cum all that white sperm inside you?”

“Oh, yes!” she said, tremoring in the bed.  “Yes!  Make me pregnant…make me pregnant.  Gimme a belly…gimme your White cummm…”

“Ohhh here it comes…” he moaned, but not before Tonya reached under and put her fingers straight into his asshole.

“Ohhh damn!  What the fu—?”

Before he could even finish, he was already spurting out a stream of cum, unloading a whole goddamn cup’s worth of sperm deep into her fertile pussy lips.

“Ohhh I’m cumming…” he said, keeping his eyes open and staring into hers, his body shaking with each new cumshot he delivered.

“Ohh yeah make me cum!” she yelled, creaming his cock with an orgasm of her own and biting his hairy chest with all that she had left.

“Holy shit,” he said, still dripping sperm everywhere inside and out, as he withdrew and collapsed on the bed.

She huffed and puffed too, literally feeling his semen soak her insides, as getting pregnant had a sound or a distinct buzzing sound.  She knew at that moment she was going to have his baby.  A beautiful mixed race baby.  His baby. 

Yeah it was partly about his wealth, his protective hand.  But it was also more than that.  Gillispy really was somebody different. A good man and an honest man.  And a helluva good fuck.

They sat in the afterglow for long lazy moments, soaking in each other’s skin.  And during those intimate moments of mine, Tonya just had to know.

“Be honest now.  Why do you like the sisters, G?”

He laughed, taking another peek at her wonderful naked chest and smiling expression.

“Do I need a reason?”

“I said be honest.  It all starts somewhere.”

“Maybe.  I do remember one time…” he said, nodding and holding his head.  “A long time ago, at one my dad’s business meetings.  I was just a preteen, had no good idea what anything was, certainly no idea what was happening in the world.  All I really knew was that Karla was the prettiest woman I had ever seen.  She was Black.  She always wore pretty dresses.  She always had the softest cutest and most enthusiastic voice.  I used to see her in church every Sunday and would love it when she came over to talk to me.”

“Karla, huh?”

“Yeah.  Then one day, my asshole of an uncle told me that Karla was gone.  Told me to forget that I ever saw her.  I dared to ask why.  The man looked me in the eye and told me she was a no good whore.  They found out she was an escort.  They arrested her for some shit, some ludicrous reason.  Just because they could.  No…”

He shook his head in disdain.  “Just because she was caught with a White man.  That’s probably what it was,” he said with a nod.  “My family tried to tell me something was wrong with Karla.  For years they tried to scare me, telling her what a whore and slut she was.  They preached righteously about how segregation was wrong, but they felt no need to protect Karla, just because she was an escort.  Fucking hypocrites.  But even back then…even as a kid I knew.  I knew what she was, despite what they tried to tell me.  She was just a real nice lady.  A beautiful lady.  And she was always nice to me.  She was nice to everybody that had the decency to speak to her like a human being and not judge her.”

“I see.”

“To me it didn’t matter if she did it because she had to or just wanted to.  It was just Karla and that was her choice.  Little did my Uncle know that he did teach me a very important lesson.  That everybody matters.  Nobody deserves to be treated like a second class citizen.  I learned a long time ago it’s what you’ve done in the past that counts.  What matters is the good person you are now.  How you treat people.  We all struggle.  We all need each other to help us when we fall down.”

“I know you need help, Mister Gillispy,” she said with a tease.  “Your kind always does.  You have a big heart…but don’t have anyone that understands you.”

He smiled.  “All I know is, that for the first time since that day when I last saw Karla, I have truly beheld someone beautiful.  You’re beautiful, Tonya.  You’re tough as nails.  You don’t let people talk down to you.  And you work hard for all you get, even if you got to do the jobs you don’t like.  Maybe like a lot of people, you just need a second chance.  Someone who believes in you.”

She stared at him in wonder and with a nervous smile.

“Will you become my mail order bride?”

She smiled, teethy and beautiful, her heart on her sleeve and basking in the glow of love.  “Yes, Carl.  I will.”

They kissed one last time; it was a grand feeling of true intimacy, empathy and redemption for the man who had everything but needed a soul.  In Tonya, he found his greatest opportunity.

THE END

Stolen by a Highlander

Chapter One

“Fetch me my ale!” Angus hollered, slamming his thick fist on the solid wooden table. Freya scurried into the kitchen to fetch her husband’s tankard, her long red hair flowing behind her. “Idiot woman!” Angus’s voice followed her.

“I’m sorry, husband, I did not expect you to return quite so soon.” She looked down at the ground as she answered him timidly. Angus lifted his eyes up to her and a scarlet rage spread in to his cheeks.

“Whoring yerself to the village, eh?” As he spoke spittle collected in his beard. Freya looked down to the hard stone ground, not daring to look up, and shook her head.

“No, husband.”

“Dare you argue with the man of this house?!” Freya shook her head again, silently. “Fetch me my meal before I flog you, woman!” Freya nodded quickly and hurried back to the kitchen.

Life in the small stone hut was little to write home about for Freya. At fourteen, the beautiful porcelain skinned redhead had been married off to Angus for a minimal dowry, something that Angus would forever resent. In the end however, the choice to marry Freya had been his own. He found her long red hair and her soft complexion irresistible. He had been more than happy at the time to accept her parent’s minimal pittance to secure the child bride.

Then, six years into their marriage, when Freya’s face had begun to show the signs of being a browbeaten blacksmith’s wife, Angus had become increasingly dissatisfied. He longed for the pearlescent skin of her earlier years and he loudly protested her parents’ frugal dowry whenever he got the chance.

Over the years Angus had made sure that his own dissatisfaction with his young bride became that of his village as well. As a well-respected blacksmith there was little that Freya could do to fight the rumors that Angus frequently began in his drunken ramblings. Freya could not walk through the street without hearing whispers of her own infidelity.

The truth was, however, that it was Angus who was the infidel. Freya could hardly understand how anyone would think that she would dare dishonor a man like Angus. If only they could see the sheer power of his anger, she thought, perhaps they would understand. Instead the village chose to turn a blind eye to the drunken blacksmith. Nothing was said when he ripped the corsets of young serving wenches at the tavern. Rather, laughter would ensue.

For Freya though, there was nothing as devastating as watching her husband publicly humiliate her with his drunken debauchery. Many a night she would weep in their bed as she heard Angus return from the tavern with another young woman in tow. She would listen as he took her over their kitchen table and the very next morning she would be forced to serve breakfast to them both on that very same table.

“Here you are, husband.” Freya lay the plate of mutton and bread on the table in front of him and waited with bated breath as he examined the plate.

“Ernn,” Angus grunted in satisfaction and picking up his spoon and a chunk of bread, he began shoveling food sloppily into his mouth. Freya smiled, happy to see her husband contented and relieved to be out of the spotlight.

Fetching her own smaller plate, Freya sat across from Angus at the table and delicately spooned a piece of mutton into her mouth.

“You eat too much!” Angus grunted, small chunks of food flying from his mouth. Freya nodded and pushed her plate away from her despite the hollowness in her belly. “Give me that!” Angus grabbed for her plate and pulled it towards him, scraping its contents onto his own. “You think I work so that you can waste food?”

Freya shook her head. “Forgive me husband.”

Her eyes cast down to the cold stone floor as she listened to Angus greedily eating her supper as well.

Freya’s life before Angus had been simple. Her diet had consisted of vegetables and bread. Meat was rarely affordable for her overburdened family. As one of nine daughters, Freya was always destined to be married off to anyone who would take her, in order to lighten the load at home. She had always imagined that it would be a handsome man who chose her though, a man with love in his heart and a gentleness about him. Every day as she tended her family’s small tract of land, she would fantasize about her husband-to-be whisking her off to a romantic castle in the hills. She would titter with her sisters as they shared stories of the qualities that they hoped their husbands would share.

Then had come Angus. He was a well-paid man, the only blacksmith in the village, and Freya’s parents were happy to marry her to him. Freya had been hesitant. He certainly didn’t resemble the husband she had imagined. Angus was six feet tall. His red beard was bushy and matched the color of his long, curled hair. Freya’s father was eager that they should marry however, and one week after their meeting it was done. Freya had secured herself a future with a well-paid man and her family was happy to let her go.

“You will come with me to the tavern!” Angus pushed his plate across the table, the oily juice of the mutton sloshing over its sides.

Freya didn’t much want to go to the tavern; at least at home the ridicule from her husband was concealed from the public eye. She knew that if she declined Angus’s order the repercussions would be far worse than public humiliation, so she meekly nodded and stood to do as her husband commanded.

The tavern was dark and filled with a stench of ale and sweat. The walls echoed with drunken laughter. Freya didn’t much feel like laughing as Angus pulled her through the front door and pushed her in the direction of a table. She perched on the wooden bench as Angus pushed his way towards the barkeep.

“Oy!” A gruff voice next to Freya grunted. She didn’t look up. “I said oy!”

She dared lift her eyes. A bedraggled looking man with greasy black hair was staring at her closely. He licked his dry cracked lips loudly. “I bet I can guess what your pussy tastes like.”

Freya felt her cheeks reddening as she looked quickly away. Never had she longed for Angus to return so much as she did at that moment. “Did you hear me?”

The man leaned closer, his boil-covered nose almost touching her now. She flinched. “I said, I bet I can guess what your pussy tastes like.” He laughed lecherously. “I got this as says you’ll let me stick into you out there…” He slid a coin across the table and jerked his head to the side entry of the tavern.

Freya gulped and turned away, her eyes desperately searching for Angus. “Oy!” The man’s voice was getting louder and Freya was beginning to fear for her own safety. He leaned in, his mouth pressing close to her ear. She could smell the sweat on his body and it made her stomach lurch. “Your husband says you’re a whore, so take the money whore, and let me stick it in ye.” 

Freya closed her eyes tightly and pressed her lips together, wishing the man would just go away.

“Donald! Is the lady keeping you entertained?” Angus slammed a tankard of ale on the table, its contents spilling over. The greasy haired man looked up at Angus with a smile as he reached over and grabbed a strand of Freya’s hair between his fingers. He smiled, revealing just a few rotten teeth.

“I was just trying my luck with your whore!” He laughed and then sniffed loudly. “Thinks she’s too good for me.”

Angus laughed this time as he sat on the bench opposite Freya and Donald. “She’s too good for no one. Tell me, what was your offer?”