My Hero Page 8

  Edward pouted. “I wanna see your pussy, baby, your pussy...” he moaned.

  “Oh, you will, Edward. If you’re a good boy.”

  Edward licked his lips. “C’mere. I’ll show you how good a boy I can be...” He reached for her.

  Diana let him pull her towards him, and he forced her closer, making her lean her hands on the back of the couch. He scrabbled for the zipper at the back of her skirt and let it drop, revealing her from the waist down.

  Impatiently she kicked it away. “Do it, Edward, do it. You know how I love it...” She shoved her pussy at him, kneeling astride him.

  Edward bent his head and “did it”.

  He buried his face in her mound, finding her pointy little clit right away and sucking on it for all he was worth.

  Her moans drove him on, and he tongued her pussy, spreading her juices around and pulling on her folds with his teeth.

  “Oh God, yeah, just like that,” she breathed, pushing her pussy into his face.

  Edward continued, enjoying the wild feel of her mound writhing against his mouth and her bare thighs next to his.

  His cock began to ache. “Fuck me, Diana, fuck me for chrissakes...”

  “Not yet,” she moaned.

  “Yes, now, bitch...”

  He wrenched his mouth away, wiped his lips with the back of his hand and roughly grabbed her hips, pulling her downwards towards his cock.

  “Oh all right. Spoil sport.” With a little moue of disappointment, Diana grabbed the hardness beneath her, positioned it exactly at the right spot and plunged downward, taking Edward’s breath away.

  “Fuck, yeah,” he breathed, forgetting to repeat himself.

  She moved, spreading her thighs wide and taking more of him deep inside her as she raised herself and lowered back down.

  He moaned.

  The back door to the little room opened and a cold draft disturbed the two on the couch.

  Edward froze. “Shit...Diana?”

  Diana turned her head and stared at the newcomer. “Oh it’s you,” she said casually.

  The man was solidly built, carrying two large boxes and had an apparent disdain for the weather since he wore a light t-shirt with his scruffy jeans and the short sleeves showed off several tattoos circling his muscular arms.

  His face showed no expression as he watched the couple fucking on the couch.

  “Well don’t just stand there. Put the boxes down, and close the damn door. It’s cold,” complained Diana.

  The man’s face eased into a slight smile as he followed her directions. His buzz cut hair gave him an air of almost military hardness, and he strode purposefully through the room to stand behind Diana.

  “Come on then, you know what I want.” Diana had never stopped moving on Edward’s cock.

  “Yeah, hurry up, man, hurry up,” grunted Edward.

  The man unzipped his pants, and tugged a condom from his back pocket.

  He sheathed his cock and stood close behind Diana, letting her back rub him and arouse him to his full length.

  “Oh God, I want some of that,” she moaned.

  “You’ll get it.”

  He slid his hands beneath her sweater and found her breasts, pulling and pinching them and making her cry out as she leaned into his palms urging him on.

  Her hands slipped behind her, and Edward felt her smearing her juices around and up between the crack of her buttocks. “Come on, come on...I need it. Christ, I need it.”

  “You ready?”

  She grunted.

  “She’s ready,” hissed Edward, gritting his teeth.

  The man knelt awkwardly and grasped Diana’s ass cheeks, pulling them wide.

  She sobbed with pleasure and stilled for a moment. “Oh yeah, oh yeah,” she cried. “More. Please...”

  Edward took his turn with her breasts. They were full, luscious, and probably silicone, but he didn’t care. He bit down hard on a rigid nipple.

  “Jesus Christ...” Diana yelled. “I’m gonna come...”

  The man’s cock found its target and he thrust fully into her ass, moving in and out and setting up a rhythm that exactly matched Edward’s.

  Edward didn’t have to guess at any of it because he could feel the damn thing moving against his cock inside Diana’s cunt. A thin membrane was separating them, and with her heat and the other man’s cock rubbing his, it was an exquisite torture he couldn’t withstand.

  “I’m gonna let go...” he choked.

  “Go ahead.” The voice was rough, and came from behind Diana.

  He did. With a huge groan, Edward came, firing spurt after spurt of come deep inside her. He felt her reaction.

  Her body quivered around his cock, and she sank her fingers into his shoulders. “Christ, yeah...” Her orgasm shook her, fierce and savage, and with a harsh sound the man behind her came too.

  Edward could sense the shudder in the man as he released himself up Diana’s ass.

  “Oh Jesus.” She moaned, coming again at the second assault. “Oh Jesus...”

  “God, that was...that was...” sputtered Edward. His mind reeled, and he barely registered the man pulling away from Diana and tossing the used condom into the trash.

  “Yeah, not bad,” he said.

  Both Diana and Edward turned weakly and stared at him. “Not bad?”

  Mike Dean shrugged and pulled up his jeans.

  *~*~*~*

  It was well past lunchtime when Max finally returned to the house on Acorn Street, and he was prepared for a lecture from Phoebe on his lateness. Shrewdly, he’d stopped in at the market and picked up an assortment of munchies with which to placate her.

  It had worked. She was smiling at him over a mouthful of potato salad, Peta was tucking in to a shrimp salad sandwich, and peace reigned.

  Max congratulated himself.

  “Mmm. Good.” Phoebe wiped her mouth. “Bless you, dear boy. I was getting hungry and I know Peta has to keep up her strength.”

  Peta, whose mouth was overflowing, simply nodded.

  “So what’s up in town? Anything new?” Phoebe reached for the container of potato salad, stared at it for a moment, and then put it back down with a sigh. “Better not. Struthers is taking me out for a quick bite and I can’t fill up the way I used to.”

  Max grinned. “Again? Seeing rather a lot of him, aren’t you?”

  “Not as much as I’d like,” grinned Phoebe back.

  “Phoebe.” Peta choked a little and grabbed for her soda. “You naughty thing.”

  “So what if he’s a bit younger? Still a fine figure of a man, if you ask me. And bright, too.” Phoebe pulled some grapes towards her and leaned back with a contented sigh. “It’s good to find a man whose brains probably match his...um...”

  Peta blushed.

  “I’ll take your word for it, Phoebe,” chuckled Max. “But to answer your previous question, Mayfield is recovering nicely from the storm. The roads are almost down to bare pavement, and Edward Sharp is already out trolling for donations.” He knew his mouth was turning down and couldn’t help it.

  Fortunately, his feelings were echoed by his fellow diners.

  “Oh damn. He’s after money, I suppose. He hit you up?” Phoebe’s eyebrows rose questioningly.

  “Yup.”

  “Give him any?”

  Max was insulted. “Good God, no. I’m not that stupid.”

  “Good. A lot of folks are, though. He’s been Senior Town Councilor for several years now. Does a reasonably good job of it too.”

  “So why does he need money? Seems like he’s pretty much guaranteed a win next month,” commented Peta.

  Phoebe leaned forward confidentially. “Well, rumor has it...” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “Rumor has it that his wife is about to divorce him. Sheila left for Florida before Christmas and told a few folks she wasn’t coming back. He’s been living off her money, you know. He may look and act and dress wealthy, but it’s all hers. Nothing of his. He’ll lose a bloody fortune
if she goes through with her threat.”

  Max considered this interesting piece of news. “I suppose the position doesn’t pay much?”

  “Nope. This is a small town. We’ve got our priorities straight. Most of the town budget goes to the services we need, not the politicians we don’t.”

  Max thought back to the police station. “That reminds me,” he said. With a quick smile, he grabbed a chip from beneath Peta’s straying hand.

  She frowned.

  He crunched happily, then continued. “There was a hell of a lot of something going on at the police station. Lot of vehicles, a couple of County mounties, big black van. Didn’t hear anything else, though...”

  Peta raised an eyebrow. “Something to do with the storm, do you think?”

  “Could be. I don’t know. And when Edward grabbed me, I wasn’t about to hang around long enough to find out.”

  “Can’t say I blame you,” said Phoebe approvingly. “You know that the word around town says Edward’s having a...thing...with Diana Stiles?”

  He nearly choked. “Really?”

  Phoebe nodded. “Yes, really. I got it from Doris down at the hairdresser’s. She says it’s why Sheila is threatening to divorce him.”

  Max sipped his soda. Edward was not unattractive, he supposed, and as such, a likely target for Diana’s sexual appetites. He grimaced.

  “Well, they’re welcome to each other,” said Peta. Her tone was quite sharp.

  “Indeed.” Phoebe grinned. “Now. What are you two going to get up to this afternoon?”

  Max coughed. “Phoebe, you’ve left enough work here to keep us both busy until bedtime, I should think.” He attempted a casual smile.

  “Right, right. Max is right. There’s a lot of work to do, and I need my laptop,” added Peta. She tried to push away from the table, but he was there before her, resting a hand on her shoulder.

  “Stay. I’ll get it for you.” He vanished through the door.

  Phoebe chuckled. “My, you’ve got him well-trained.”

  Peta snorted. “Certainly. If you don’t mind being addressed like a dog. Sit, stay, beg, roll over...” She trailed off, realizing what she was saying.

  Fortunately, she was spared Phoebe’s response as Max returned with her laptop and plugged it in for her.

  “Well, dears, I must be off. Got to see if Sandra’s shown up yet. Damn the girl. I’ll be in the office if you need me. And then home. Max, you need the car any more today?”

  He shook his head. “Nope, all set, Phoebe. You’re an angel. I talked with the guy over at the garage and he’s gonna run my car over here tomorrow morning. So I won’t have to bother you for yours. You’ve got your wheels back.”

  Phoebe grinned. “Excellent, young man. Like to see a little initiative there, don’t you, Peta?”

  “Yes. Quite.”

  Max suppressed a snicker.

  “Oh, that reminds me,” added Peta, frowning. “What about my car?”

  Max glanced at Phoebe and back to Peta. “Well, honey, I’m afraid the news is not so good there.”

  Peta bit her lip. “Total loss?”

  Max nodded, and Phoebe crossed the room to give Peta a hug. “Don’t you worry about it, sweetie. We’ll leave all that to the insurance company right now. I have to run. Behave yourselves...no, don’t see me out, Max. I know the way.”

  Phoebe grabbed her keys, her bag and her coat and whirled herself out of the house. Both Max and Peta winced as they heard her tires spinning in the driveway.

  Silence fell as Peta reached for her laptop and settled herself comfortably in front of the keyboard.

  “Interesting,” mused Max.

  “What is?” She pulled up information and began downloading to her filing system with a few efficient mouseclicks.

  “The geopolitical situation in the Lesser Antilles?”

  “Oh yes, right...” mumbled Peta. “What?” She looked up.

  Max sighed. “Never mind. I’ll leave you to your work. If you need me, just yell. I’ll be upstairs. My laptop is up there, along with Branulf the Muscularly Challenged and his erstwhile babe, Morriae the Thick Headed.”

  “Ah. You’re still editing Sword of My Passion, are you?”

  He nodded. “Sadly, yes. I can’t wait to find out if he does more than smolder at her dove-white breasts...”

  “He hadn’t better or we’ll have to switch genres, and the release is already being promoted as an historical, not a bodice ripper.” She turned back to her monitor.

  “It could sure use some bodice-ripping,” grumbled Max as he climbed the stairs. “Come to think of it, so could I.”

  Chapter Ten

  Unaware that Max was entertaining visions of ripping her bodice, Peta worked steadily for the rest of the day. It helped take her mind off the man upstairs and the fact that just being in the same room with him raised her URST levels into the danger zone.

  Certainly he was delectable. And of course she’d love to just tumble him right into her bed and have her way with him. Or let him have his way with her. Or discuss ways they could have each other.

  She wrenched her mind off him and back to her work, only to find herself doing the exact same thing just about every ten minutes or so. Drat the man. Even when he wasn’t in the same room, he was disturbing her.

  Finally, the light faded, and he reappeared, still looking delectable. Even more so since he’d obviously been running his hands through his hair, which had rumpled it to a soft mess.

  Peta sighed and told her twitching fingers to be still.

  “If I have to read about one more heaving bosom, I’ll heave myself.”

  She grinned. “Editing getting to you, is it?”

  “I don’t mind editing.” He pulled out a chair, twirling it around and doing that essentially guy-type thing of sitting on it backwards. “It’s just the twaddle I have to edit that bugs me.”

  He crossed his arms on the back of the chair and leaned his chin on them, studying Peta. “Do women really like that stuff?”

  She chuckled. “You bet. Heaving bosoms, thudding hearts, knights on white horses. They go for it in droves.”

  Max shook his head. “Makes no sense to me. It all stops short. He’s about to kiss her, and then, wham. He gets attacked by marauding Vikings.”

  “In a medieval historical?”

  “Well, by somebody who could just as well be a marauding Viking. I doubt if anyone reading that drivel would care about historical accuracy anyway. Hysterical accuracy is more like it.”

  She smiled patiently at him. “Max, don’t dismiss it out of hand. It pays the bills, which, I might point out, includes your salary.”

  He pursed his lips in distaste. “Right. I forgot. Fourteen trembling bosoms a week covers my grocery bill. I’ll make a note.” He stood up and stretched. “Speaking of grocery bills, I’m hungry.”

  She closed her laptop. “Yes, now you come to mention it, so am I. How about beans on toast?”

  Max stared at her. “What?”

  “Typical British meal when you can’t think of anything else. I have beans, there’s bread, we can poach an egg and stick it on top if you’d like?”

  “And you eat this...stuff?”

  There was a distinct pause between the words this and stuff. Peta could clearly hear the original word he’d been planning on using, and it wasn’t stuff.

  “Well, of course.” She raised a defensive eyebrow.

  “Um. How about we call out for a pizza?”

  About to argue the point, she realized that she probably should humor him. He was, after all, taking care of her. And actually, pizza sounded a lot better than beans on toast right now. “All right. You’ve convinced me.”

  He headed for the phone, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “thank God”.

  They chatted companionably over their pizza, discussing non-personal things like their work, books, movies, and generally avoiding any topic that might have brought up the undercurrents that seethed b
etween them.

  Peta found herself fascinated by Max’s hands. They were strong and masculine, but with fingers that were long and shapely. She swallowed a large chunk of pepperoni as she caught herself wondering what he could do with them, besides spread shaving cream on her legs.

  She coughed, and decided enough was enough.

  “Mmm, this was great. Really. Thanks for thinking of it. But it’s been a long day. I think I probably should turn in.”

  “Okay.”

  Well, damn. That was too easy.

  He helped her out of her chair and picked her up, stopping for her cane on the way. “I’ll bring you your pain pills when you’re settled,” he said. He carried her up the stairs to her room and lowered her onto her bed. “Just give me a shout. Can you manage from here?”

  She wondered what would happen if she said no. But she knew she couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t face the possibility that all his teasing and innuendoes were just that. Teasing and innuendoes.

  No, it was better to hold on to her fantasies of wild monkey sex with this man, than have him turn her down. Or worse, agree, and then watch him flit off to the next little chickie that caught his eye.

  “Thanks, yes. The cane makes it all much easier. If you want to leave the pills here...” She nodded at the table.

  “You won’t take ‘em.” His answer came right back, smoothly and quite accurately. She wouldn’t have taken them.

  She bit her lip. “Go away now.”

  He grinned. “Gotcha, babe. Can’t hide from old Max.” He turned to leave the room. “Don’t waste too much time, okay? I’m just going down for water and the pills, and I’ll expect to see you in that bed when I get back. None of that face-creaming or hour-long nighttime ritual stuff women seem to love. You need rest.”

  She narrowed her eyes, and although it was on the tip of her tongue to ask where panty-creaming stood in his overall categorization of things, she held back. “Thank you, Max. You’re so acute.”

  Accepting the sarcasm with a snicker, He left.

  Ten minutes and two pain pills later, she was alone.

  He’d given her the pills, watched steadily as she swallowed them with a grimace, and tucked her in efficiently, simply wishing her goodnight.