Cahill

I could hear the din from the bar as I exited my SUV and I was still almost a block away. What a shame! I knew from long experience that would change as soon as my foot crossed the threshold. I tend to have that effect on people. I’m six feet six inches tall and I weigh an even 250 pounds—all of it broad shouldered muscle. My Body Mass Index at my last physical was less than four percent. My light brown hair is styled exactly the way it’s been for the past fifteen years—ever since I first joined the Navy. Sure enough, no sooner had I taken my first step into the bar than the noise died. When I turned left and stepped up to the bar the people there couldn’t back away fast enough. I took a stool in the middle of the empty space and sat down, waiting for the bartender to approach. “I’m not looking for any trouble.” “Good…neither am I. Give me a ginger ale.” He reached under the bar for a glass and some ice. Twenty seconds later he slid the glass in my direction. I pulled a fiver from my pocket and dropped it on the bar. He ignored it and walked away to draw a few beers and pour some wine. It looked to me like this was a pretty cheap crowd. Checking up and down the bar all I could see were longnecks and drafts. I reached into the lower left pocket of my cargo pants. Like almost everything else I was wearing they were a true deep navy blue. My heavy shoes were black as was my wide belt. My belt said as much about me as the bold white lettering across my chest. Just below the American flag over my heart were the letters that were my life—U. S. MARSHAL. On my right hip was my nickel plated .44 Magnum Colt Python, just behind two speed loaders in addition to the twenty-four rounds on the belt. On my left hip was my ASP Talon baton—every bit as deadly a weapon in my hands as the revolver. A pouch at the back of my right hip held my stainless steel handcuffs and its partner on the opposite side held my radio—my link to my backup team. I placed the photo flat on the bar as the bartender returned to me. “I’ll have another,” I said in a loud voice, continuing so I wouldn’t be overheard. “Don’t pick it up and don’t make a production of looking at it. I’ve been told that he comes here a lot. Is he here tonight? If he is and he escapes because you’ve given me away I’ll see to it that you’re arrested for obstruction of justice.” He gulped a few times but did as he was told, nodding slightly in response. I continued almost at a whisper. “If my nose is pointing to twelve o’clock, my right ear to three, the back of my head to six, and my left ear to nine, tell me where he is. Again, don’t point or do anything obvious and we’ll be fine.” He pretended to wipe the bar as he whispered, “About 4:30 with his back to you.” I picked up the reflection in the mirror then asked, “Red shirt with black and white stripes, looking away from me?” He nodded again. Now, in my normal tone of voice I asked, “Where’s the men’s room?”

Fredrick_Udele · ファンタジー

レビュー数が足りません

69 Chs

CHAPTER 11

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We were in the SUV when Lucy asked, "What was that bit about hoping to need the house only a short time?"

"Well, I've realized that I made a big mistake earlier this week—a huge one, in fact."

"Oh, when was that?" She had the beginnings of a big smile on her face.

"It was when we were talking about our feelings for each other. I told you it was too early to tell you that I loved you. That was the mistake. It's not too early, after all. I love you, Lucy. I'm in love with you and I don't give a damn about your money. I'll make a decent salary and I have about three million from my lawsuit from my parents' death."

"Are you…asking…"

"Actually, I haven't yet, but I am now. Lucy Ann Bascomb, will you marry me?"

"It is quick, but I've never been more certain that it's the right thing for both of us. I will, Matt, but first you're going to have to ask my father. I know it's an old fashioned custom, but it's something that must be done in my family."

"What happens if he says no?"

"I don't think he will. He's been trying to get rid of me for years."

"I'll never believe that. Just tell me that you'll still be mine."

"I'll always be yours, Matt…always. Now, let's go home to seal the deal." I started the engine as Lucy leaned across the console to kiss me. I wished then that I had a bench seat so I could hold her as close as possible to me. Unfortunately, that had to wait until we were back at the trailer.

Max scampered up the steps then turned to wait for us. Lucy opened the door and we quickly stepped inside. I dropped my gun bags to the floor as Lucy locked the door. Then she came to me, giving herself to me wholly and completely. I picked her up and carried her to bed. We were kissing passionately the entire time.

I tried to lay Lucy onto the bed, but she was having none of it. She stood next to me, her slender lithe body pressed into mine as I deftly removed her clothing. Removing mine was a bit trickier because of my pistol. Lucy knew by now that I never allowed anyone to handle my weapons. It's not that I'm picky or temperamental; it's just a matter of safety. Handling any kind of gun is potentially dangerous. Every year there are dozens of injuries or deaths from people handling what they thought was an unloaded gun and then there are the accidents hunters have when they climb over a fence or trip on a log. There's never a reason not to exercise the best safety practices when handling firearms.

I laid my belt and holster on the floor then Lucy almost tore my uniform from my body. We fell together onto the bed. My hands roamed her soft sensuous body, concentrating on her small, but sensitive, breasts and her muscular ass cheeks. There was no need to massage her pussy. She was grinding into my thigh and she was incredibly wet in her desire.

We must have rolled back and forth in our passion for each other for fifteen minutes or more before Lucy pushed me onto my back. Of course, I went willingly, knowing what she had in mind. She broke our kiss. Then, staring straight into my eyes, she straddled my hips and held my achingly hard cock to her slit. She rubbed it into her folds twice before slowly engulfing me into her heat…her wetness, her velvet vise.

Lucy rocked slowly as she savored the ecstasy in her cunt. Seconds later I took her hard nipples into my fingers, gently squeezing and rolling them as I massaged her breasts with my huge powerful hands. I thought for a second how ironic it was that the hands I used to destroy criminals could also be used to express my love for this wonderful woman.

Very slowly we progressed to our mutual conclusion. We were eager—not for our own pleasure, but to share the rapture that only making love can create. I couldn't speak for Lucy, but it was the most exhilarating experience of my life and when we both came at the exact same instant I knew it was as spectacular for her as it had been for me. Rather than just collapsing on my chest, she gripped my short hair in her fingers and laid her lips to mine. "I hope you're in the mood, because I'm going to want that again as soon as you're ready." I groaned in mock annoyance, but couldn't stifle a big grin.

Lucy next spoke when she broke the kiss several minutes later. Our faces were covered in spit when she asked, "Do you like kids, Matt?"

"I love them and I'd like to have a really big family—like ten or twelve." I laughed crazily at the expression on her face. I kissed her first then suggested that three or four would be great. After a sigh of relief she told me that would be great and that the only thing greater would be to start as soon as we were married. I agreed immediately, just before Lucy took my secretion-encrusted cock into her mouth. Not surprisingly, I was ready for round two.

We spent most of the weekend in bed, but we did get up to shower around eleven Sunday morning. That's when I learned that Momma and Daddy held a big barbeque every Sunday afternoon for their family and closest friends. If you live in the north you probably don't know the difference between grilling and barbeque. Grilling is cooking anything other than pork shoulder. Spending a dozen hours to slowly grill a pork shoulder results in what we in the South call barbecue. Different areas have different kinds of sauce ranging from sweet and mild to smoking hot and extremely spicy. Personally, I preferred a tomato-based sauce even though that's a sacrilege in North Carolina where they love vinegar-based sauce.

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