Cockpit: A Second Chance Romance (20 page)
Read Cockpit: A Second Chance Romance Online
Authors: Joanna Blake
He smiled at me before sliding his way down my body to nestle between my thighs. He nipped the sensitive skin on my inner thigh before getting to work. He started by slowly sliding his tongue up and down my pussy lips. I sighed in pleasure, wiggling a bit. I was impatient to have him inside me.
But I wanted to taste him first.
He licked my pussy clean, then honed in on my clit. He pulled it into his mouth and flicked his tongue against it rapidly. I shot off the bed, my hips shaking as I came instantaneously.
"Oh oh oh OH!"
He was grinning by the time he sat up, wiping the sticky sweetness off his face.
I reached for the can of whipped cream but he snatched it away.
"Yours is going to have to be a midnight snack, love. I'm not going to make it five seconds."
I pouted as he tossed the whipped cream across the room.
"But I'm happy to let you have dessert for breakfast. After all..."
I smiled at him as he pushed his pants down.
"Tomorrow
is
Sunday."
Nine Months Later
Jagger
✈
I stared at Jenny's slender fingers where they intertwined with mine. Her skin was so soft and fair, next to my swarthy tanned hands. She looked so delicate, but she wasn't.
She was unbelievably strong.
I knew, because I had just watched her give birth.
Yep. I was a daddy. Again.
This time, though, I got to see the birth. I got to be there, holding my woman's hand, cheering her on. And I would never forget it as long as I lived.
The miracle of birth was messy. Scary. Agonizing at times.
And the most amazing, miraculous thing that I'd seen in my entire life. My woman had made this perfect human being with her body. I'd just added one little ingredient.
She'd done all the hard work.
That was my Jenny, the hardest worker in the whole damn world.
The nurse came over and handed the baby to Jenny. I scooted my chair even closer, watching as she pulled the blanket back to look at our sweet girl's face.
That's right. The irony was not lost on me. Sergeant Panty Dropper was now the proud daddy of two little girls.
Two beauties, just like their mama.
Now there were three under one roof. Basically, my house was the center of whole damn universe. Where pretty ladies were concerned anyway.
Pretty, smart, strong, amazing, brilliant, wonderful women.
And I had three of them.
I'd spend the rest of my life protecting them and loving all three of them. Even if that meant I had to chase hundreds of boys away. I was happy to do the job.
I was
privileged
to do it.
I didn't know how the hell I got to be so damn lucky.
"Can I hold her?"
Jenny smiled softly and I opened my arms, cradling my little girl against my chest. Hallie was back home. The General and his new girlfriend were watching her. He'd actually started dating one of the women I'd brought to the wedding.
My plan had backfired. The old bastard was happier than a pig in shit. And he was over the moon about his new granddaughter, chomping at the bit to get over here and meet her.
I'd just have to think of something new to get to him.
Maybe something to do with diaper duty...
I grinned and smiled down at my wife.
"Catherine?"
She nodded. We'd talked about naming the little girl after her mother. And now we had. Jenny cleared her throat.
"Catherine Susan Jagger."
I stared at her, love shining in my eyes. After everything, after she'd thought Suze was someone who I'd turned to when we broke up, she'd embraced my wild little foster sister. In fact, she was on her way here to stay with us for a couple of weeks. She couldn't wait to help with the baby.
And now my beautiful wife had named her after the one bit of family I had. It could not have been more perfect. She was the light of my life, and that was the damn truth.
"You're amazing, wife."
"You're not bad yourself, husband."
I threw back my head and laughed, accidentally waking the baby. Catherine Susan Jagger started to cry. She had a set of lungs on her like you wouldn't believe.
I grinned and winked at my wife.
"Especially not my hair."
She rolled her eyes.
"And definitely not my taste in women."
She leaned back and I nestled the baby into her arms. They were both getting sleepy and Cathy needed to feed. I sat back and watched as Jenny breastfed our little girl for the first time.
She looked so peaceful. So lovely and relaxed and complete. It was a good thing she had no idea what was running through my mind.
I couldn't stop thinking about getting to work on number three.
A Bad Boy For Summer
Joanna Blake
Copyright © 2015 Joanna Blake
All rights reserved.
Chapters
A Bad Boy For Summer
- bonus book
Chapter Thirteen - Titillation
Chapter Fourteen - Altercation
Chapter Seventeen - Alienation
Chapter Twenty-One - Temptation
Chapter Twenty-Two - Initiation
Chapter Twenty-Three - Reflection
Chapter Twenty-Four - Perfection
Bound To Me (Delancy Brothers Trilogy)
- excerpt
So many people are involved in making an indie novel a success. Mostly by holding my hand and reminding me to get offline and get back to work. Sabrina, Cora, Kaylee,
Jordan, and Vanessa are just a few of the fantastic authors who keep me going on a daily basis. To the supportive and vibrant indie scene, this is for you.
I am so lucky to have met Shauna Kruse of Kruse Images: Models and Boudoire. Margreet Asselberg of Rebel Edit & Design and the very handsome and kind Lance Jones, tattoo model.
Jess Peterson of Breathless Book Promotions, Krystal Fahl of Not Another Damn Blog-Blog and Jen Wilder of Just Another Page: you ladies are the best. Thank you for everything. I could not do this without your help. You pretty much rock my world.
To my street team, ARC readers and my publisher Sara Bartlett of Pincushion Press: I love you guys. Thanks for encouraging me through the crazy process of writing two books at the same time. And thank you for demanding that Frannie get her own book! This one is a little different from my other books. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Chapter One
Jace
The sun baked into my back, the hot metal tools stinging my hand where I gripped them. I wiped my forearm across my brow. My thick arm was dark with grease and tattoo ink.
My Gran always used to say that tattoos made a body look dirty.
That always made me laugh.
I hadn't been clean since I was 14 years old. That was the first time I got inked. Now I was 24 and it was a regular occurrence.
A ritual you might call it.
So was getting drunk and racing souped up cars. Not at the same time though. I might be wild but I had no desire to end up mangled in a flaming hunk of metal.
I'd seen far too many people end up dead, or worse.
I was no dummy.
No matter what I looked like.
I worked hard at the shop and with the chores Dad gave me around the house. But when it came to school, I never lifted a book. Didn't have to. The answers just sort of came to me.
Now I might have skipped a few papers here and there but as far as test taking, I was the ambivalent owner of a 4.o GPA back in high school.
Not that anyone would guess it from looking at me.
Grease monkey.
Criminal.
Dirt bag.
All of that was true and more.
If you asked me, I would tell you without even blinking.
And I'd say it with a shit eating grin.
My dad, me, all the guys at the shop, we took pride in being different. Breaking the rules.
Being
real.
Not that it made my life any easier. But hell, what the fuck did that? We weren't rich. And we didn't want to be. We were free.
That was worth more than anything in my book.
The ride I was working on was a labor of love. It was a special project I'd been working on during my lunch break and after hours for months now. She was a hot little muscle car with all kinds of crazy custom add-ons.
I fucking loved this car.
Probably why I called her 'Miriah' after my mom.
My beautiful, crazy mom who died too young.
I barely remembered her but from pictures I could tell she'd been hot and more than a little wild. Just like my souped up little ride. Miriah was going to win me a lot of cash.
If I ever fucking finished her.
I sat up and grabbed a rag to wipe the sweat and grease drippings off my face. A glistening cold beer was held in front of me. I looked up to see my best friend Clyde leaning against the unfinished side panel of the car.
"How about we get the fuck out of here Jace? Maybe get us some real women? You know, the kind that like beer instead of motor oil."
I grinned at him and swallowed deeply, downing the beer. It was half gone in two shakes.
"No man, you go. I have to finish her up before the season starts."
He shook his head at me, and tipped his beer, spilling some on the blazing hot asphalt.
"Your loss man."
I laughed and finished my beer. Then I rolled back under Miriah.
Like I said, I had shit to do.
Frannie
I sat up and rubbed the back of my neck. I was sore from bending over my laptop for what felt like twenty hours straight. I knew it wasn't really that long. But it was my final paper of the year and it had to be perfect.
Scratch that- it was the final paper of my entire collegiate career.
I wanted to end it on a high note.
Not to mention it was for my favorite class.
Professor Candel was insightful, eloquent and if I was honest with myself, more than a little dashing. In an 'older man who knows everything' sort of way. I had the tiniest bit of a school girl crush on him. All the girls did.
I sighed and leaned back. I had proofed the damn thing at least four times. I already had his recommendations in hand, as well as the teaching job in Japan he'd practically handed to me.
I already had the good grade.
But it wasn't good enough for me. It had to be perfect.
I had to be perfect.
Ever since I was a little kid I'd worked hard for my grades. At first it was to please my parents. By the time I'd realized they could care less about me, it was already a habit.
So why was I killing myself over this last paper?
I guess it was just a hard habit to break.
Either way, I did still have to hand it in. Professor Candel was old school. He insisted on papers being actual, well, paper. So I had to get over to campus before they locked the building his office was in, and slip my paper through the slot in his door.
I glanced at the clock. It was almost 6:15. I had about an hour and forty-five minutes to go before the absolute final deadline. I shook my head. It had to be good enough as it was. I hit print and went to my bedroom to throw on a bra and swipe lip gloss across my lips.
I stared in the mirror, knowing I was making an effort in case I saw the handsome Professor. It was a stupid impulse I knew. But it was there all the same.
Not that I would know what to do with a man if I ever had one.
In fact, I'd never even been kissed.
Very sad but very, very true.
Pathetic even.
No one knew my deep dark secret of course. Except my best friend forever, Nevada Jones. Thankfully she had educated me after her own late, but very extensive, start in the sex game. So I was prepared with knowledge, but not experience.
Still, lip gloss did not a sex kitten make. Especially in my case. I made a face at myself in the mirror. Big puffy lips, big blue gray eyes, round cheeks and the craziest tumble of auburn curls ever.
I had long since given up on it, instead letting it grow as long as possible. Wet, it reached below my hips but dry, it was only to my mid back. At least the weight of it kept the curl a little less frizzy.
I rolled my eyes at myself, not impressed.