BBW ROMANCE: BWWM Romance: A Cowboy’s Southern Comfort (Military Cowboy Pregnancy Romance) (Interracial Army Contemporary Fantasy Romance Short Stories) (59 page)
Authors: Samantha Forest
Miraculously, she got home in one piece, and with not so much as a scratch on her car. She stumbled into the house, finding Kate boiling a kettle of water on the stove. As she turned to look at Emma, her eyes widened in horror.
“Did you drive home like that? You fucking idiot, you could have killed yourself!”
“What fucking business is it of yours?” Emma shouted back, her voice coming out louder and harsher than she had expected.
“Hey, look, there’s no need for that. These roads are dangerous sober.”
“You’re the reason Tom thinks I’m a dyke,” she yelled, her voice cracking and her eyes welling up again. “I’m nothing like you!”
Kate sighed, and Emma was uncomfortable with the wave of sadness that flashed through her expression, like someone twisting an old injury.
“I’m sorry about earlier. You’re right. You’re nothing like me. I’m an asshole for thinking we had something.”
“That’s not what I meant,” said Emma, wiping her eyes.
“Isn’t it?” she replied, turning and heading for the stairs. “I can find you somewhere else to work.”
Emma ran across the kitchen to her, still a little unsteady on her boots. She caught Kate’s arm and pulled her around, reaching up to her neck to pull her head towards hers, kissing her passionately through the tears.
“I didn’t mean that,” she whispered, cupping the other woman’s cheek with her hand. Kate’s dark eyes looked tired, overdrawn, and hurt. Emma couldn’t bear that she was the cause of that. Kate leant her forehead against Emma’s and sighed deeply.
“Come to bed with me. I’m exhausted.”
They climbed the narrow stairs together. Kate’s room was much bigger than Emma’s. The far wall was exposed brick, and those on either side were covered in posters, drawings, and photos. There was no furniture besides a small chest of drawers and a big bed with silvery grey satin sheets. Emma pulled off her boots and clothes, exposing her sheer triangle bra and panties underneath. As she finished running her fingers through her hair to take out the tangles, she pulled a makeup wipe out of her purse and started rubbing at her face. The cool, damp cloth was scratchy, (some sort of exfoliating feature she hadn’t known she buying), but she felt soothed as she erased this false face. She lay down in the half-dark beside Kate and placed her hand on her shoulder, feeling the muscles tense and relax under her skin.
“Do you know how many times Tom has come around here, trying to get with me? That guy is such a fucking hassle.”
“Seriously? I had no idea. We used to date years and years ago.” Emma trailed off.
“He’s not annoyed you might be a bit gay, he’s just annoyed I won’t let him sleep with me or any girl I’m with,” Kate explained. Then she stuttered, “Not that we’re together or anything, unless that’s ok with you.”
Emma smiled. “As of this moment, I’m happy being with you.”
Kate kissed her softly, and Emma could smell the gentle hint of flowers on her, part of a very subtle perfume. They interlaced their legs together, and Kate pulled her closer. Their bodies rocked together, cleverly manipulating the pressure, making both of them wet and their breathing heavier. Kate gave Emma one short kiss and broke away.
“I have something you might like,” she smirked. She went over to the drawer and pulled on what initially just looked like a pair of underwear, but they had a ring in the front, which Kate slipped an iridescent purple dildo into.
“I’m not into any of that weird, veiny, realistic shit. I hope that’s ok.”
“Fine by me,” Emma giggled. She wrapped her fingers around the dildo to get an idea of how thick it was, but her tiny fingers barely made it around. Her body was filled with anticipation, and she could feel her pussy becoming wet and swollen, waiting for the fullness and the stretch. Kate kissed her again, this time slipping a hand under the sheer bra and massaging her small breasts. She grabbed the bra in her fist and lifted Emma up towards her, each strap making a delicious, pressured line across her back. Kate’s breathing quickened and she twisted her hand, ripping the bra away. She hauled Emma’s legs up towards her shoulders and pushed the dildo inside her. Emma moaned with satisfaction, feeling it curve into her g-spot. Kate loved seeing women like this, completely vulnerable and begging her to fuck them deep and hard. She started slow, with an ebbing, rocking motion, and then once she felt that Emma was ready, started to draw the dildo all the way out and then back in again. Emma could feel all the curved indentations like little ripples inside her.
“Fuck me harder.
I want to you to make me your bitch,” Emma said breathily, an urgency to her voice that excited Kate even further. She moved quicker and sucked at Emma’s nipples, making her spine arch even further. Emma’s whole body was wrapped up in Kate’s expert manipulations. She knew exactly what to touch, how hard, and how fast. Her body felt like it was about to overflow, and then she came harder than she ever had, pulling Kate close to her by her hair. As the orgasm dissipated, pulled out longer and longer by Kate making tiny thrusts, the two women relaxed into each other, hot and tired and happy.
“It’s exciting being with a woman who’s so sure of what she wants the first time around, you know?” said Kate, running her hand across Emma’s hipbones.
“Its exciting being with someone as good at what she does as you are,” she laughed in response. The whole situation seemed bizarre. In a matter of only a few days, it felt as if Emma’s entire life had changed irreversibly, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel anything other than relief and happiness. It had been an immeasurable amount of time since Emma had felt as contented and fulfilled as she did now, lying sleepily beside Kate. Her career, the city, none of that mattered anymore. She had stumbled upon something wonderful and strange here and she had been waiting for it all along.
*****
THE END
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Th
rashed
by Patricia Vanzant
Chapter One
Scarlett’s skin smarted at the cold as she plunged her face into the basin of water. She felt as if her scalp was too tight for her skull and her heart shuddered against her breastbone. She was paying heavily for the previous night and the light of day seemed as if it was trying to pry its way in through her pores. The dingy motel bathroom was lit by one small frosted window high up on the wall. Clasping her fingers round the edge of the basin she tried to steady herself, she tried to run through what had happened last night.
Flashes of men laughing with faces she couldn’t quite identify blurred with snippets of loud music, maybe a fight. Her almond eyes had deep shadows underneath them, but they were still blue as the Texas sky outside. Her lips were pink and full, cracked a little at the centre.
When she looked at herself in the right light she saw hints of her beauty queen past, and her balanced, all American features bizarrely contrasted against her peroxide blonde hair and the smudged remainder of slept on mascara. She quite enjoyed the juxtaposition, really. Wiping away the black, she stood up straight and struck her best pose in the mirror, trying to ignore the sharp nausea that swept through her body.
Candy was sprawled out on the floor and Nick was on the bed. The room smelled like tequila and bodies. Scarlett tiptoed across the room and made her way towards the door of room, taking care not to knock over any bottles or ashtrays. It was messy, like it was always messy. Moving from place to place made Scarlett feel constantly reckless and on edge, the massive space of the world feeling at once overwhelming and underwhelming.
The more she and Nick’s gang (because in all truth, it was his gang, she was an outsider) travelled, the more enclosed she felt. The more her skin felt like it was too small for her body and that everywhere she went she met people she’d already met. The movement of the earth seemed to crawl to a halt in each of the small towns they arrived in.
Women looked at her with disgust as their husbands leered from the corner of their eyes. These men retained an air of moral panic, reiterating their fervent belief in family values and so on, but Scarlett knew that they would do anything for a piece of her and the life she lived. Her whole life these days felt like spitting in someone’s face. Scarlett’s very existence made their skin crawl and she liked it.
These thoughts came to a head as she sat in a local diner drinking watery coffee and eating scrambled eggs on toast. Families sat in booths eating breakfast together, half talking while shooting her glances. Scarlett looked through her phone, absentmindedly wondering if Carrie would be awake yet. It was always on mornings like this that she got the urge to ring her older sister.
It was half to see how she was doing and half to ask her advice, but what possible advice could she offer her? Last time they spoke Carrie had been engaged to a wealthy young doctor and picking dresses. Her wedding was surely very soon, in another life Scarlett should have been a bridesmaid.
Scarlett had always worshipped Carrie growing up, trailing around after her and her friends while trying to keep up with their conversations. Carrie, all pink lip gloss and carefully manicured nails, 5 year plan running ahead of schedule; she and Scarlett’s lives had drifted apart like tangents. There was no use calling her to ask what she should do in her current situation because she would only beg her to come home or at least to leave gang life.
Leaving Death Riders felt like starting all over. It was all she had known since she left home at 17. A lot of people looked at her life and told it her it seemed like chaos, particularly for a woman, but for Scarlett it didn’t feel like that at all.
The strict ranks and order, the level of respect she got as Nick’s girlfriend, the secret world that she shared with all the other wives, girlfriends and various hangers on. There was a very rigid system in which she held power and control in the only way she knew. It was more power than she had ever held in her home town.
Her tyrannical father, the vapid and backstabbing beauty queen circuit she held onto for so long in the vain hope of getting a college scholarship, she felt she had no more options in this life than Carrie had in hers. Scarlett’s life had exposed her to more places, more people and situations neither Carrie nor any of her friends would ever see in their entire lives.
Bank robberies, carefully orchestrated drug wars, Scarlett revelled in her role as the ole’ lady of the head of the Death Riders. She was a queen, feared and admired by the other women and even some of the men. Even the bikers themselves knew that Scarlett was a force to be reckoned with.
So why had she gone to that other bar? Why had she felt so drawn to Spike? What had started as an impulse decision had spiralled out of control and now Scarlett took each breath conscious of the tightrope she was walking on. If Nick ever found out, he would kill Spike and no doubt start a war with his gang, The Tornadoes.
She didn’t even want to think what Nick would do to her, but she’d certainly be out of the Death Riders for one thing. Cheating might be a slap on the wrist offence, but with the leader of a rival gang? Scarlett would be run out of Texas.
Chapter 2
It had all started some weeks earlier when they had arrived in the small town on their way to San Antonio. It was initially supposed to be a brief stopover, they were meeting with another chapter of the Death Riders to review their business plans for the coming year.
It wasn’t an unusual thing for the Death Riders to move around a lot, their territory spanned most of the area and only at this juncture did they start encroaching in The Tornado’s land. The Death Riders in this town had been consistently butting heads with the other gang, it had started out as scuffles outside bars but was quickly turning into something bigger.
They had asked Nick and his fellow bikers to hang around a bit in the interests of stabilizing things. Initially Scarlett hadn’t been crazy about the idea. The town itself was remote and there was never much going on. She didn’t like being in a town that had so few people, where everyone constantly knew where she was and what she was doing.
Equally, this town’s chapter of the Death Riders had its own version of Scarlett who was older and more experienced. It pissed her off feeling outranked in such a dead end place. Scarlett might be young and she hadn’t grown up in biker culture but she knew she could run with the best of them regardless of her background. Constantly having to prove herself got tiring.
One unseasonably cool July evening, she found herself in the bar the local Death Rider chapter called their own with a majority of the other bikers. With so many of them together, the noise was almost deafening even though they were sitting outside around a fire.