“First things first. You need to calm down.” He lays a hand on my hand. “I’ll get us out of this. You just have to trust me.”
“Alright.” I hope he can do as he says, but right at the moment I’m not so sure what he or any man for that matter can do against six men.
I watch as he climbs out of the booth and takes off his jacket. His arms bulge with muscle as he hands it to me. Keeping his eyes on the men, he speaks in a whisper that is just loud enough for me to hear what he is saying.
“There is a .357 in left inside pocket. If something was to happen to me, you pull that gun and get the hell out of here. Call a cab and go home.”
“Okay.” My voice is shaking with fear, but Jonathan seems to be calm and that gives me hope. I reach a hand inside of the pocket he specified and sure enough there is a handgun in there. I like the feel of the cold steel and rubber grip against my hand so I keep my hand on it for right now.
Harry and his group of three stands up and start across the bar toward Jonathan. Instead of standing his ground he stalks toward them with his head down and his hands up. He isn’t making a fist. His hands are open slightly so he can grapple. The first man to reach Jonathan is a short man, but he is absolutely huge. A lot of it is fat, but there is very clearly loads of muscle there. The fat man swings at Jonathan with a grin on his face. Jonathan ducks the blow and hits the fat man under the chin with an uppercut. The impact of the punch sounds like a board smacking concrete. His eyes cross and he hits the floor with a thud. Jonathan steps over and continues walking toward the others. Another man runs at him with his hands held out. At the last second Jonathan ducks and grabs the man’s arm. He whirls the man around and throws him at the bar with enough force to knock bottles off the shelf on the wall behind the bar.
Harry barks a command and the two men standing by the door with clubs in their hand’s start for Jonathan. My mouth is open to shout, but he sees them and turns. The first one to reach him swings his club overhand at Jonathan’s head, but he sidesteps and the swing misses. A single right hand to the jaw and now there is only one man with a club. Jonathan grunts as he blocks the club with his arm. He grabs the man by the face and pulls him in close. With the club he smacks the man in the side of the head and the man’s knees buckle.
Harry turns to the only companion he has left and sees what everyone else in the bar has noticed already. The man with a club at the back of the bar and the man that had been sitting at the table with Harry are making a run for the back door. They hit the door running and don’t look back. Jonathan starts for Harry, but the man holds his hands up.
“I’m sorry mister.”
“I know you’re sorry, but that don’t make up for the fact that you called her a bitch. Now put up your hands or I’ll beat you like a dog where you stand.”
“Mister. I said I was sorry now please leave me alone.”
“Fine. Like a dog it is.”
Jonathan takes a step toward him and Harry pulls a handgun from his pocket. I begin to slide out of the bench, but Jonathan holds up a hand and motions for me to stay put. He takes a step toward Harry and the man cocks the gun. The sound is loud in the bar now that the jukebox is off and not a soul is talking.
“You’ve got two choices.” Jonathan’s voice is a low growl. “Drop the gun and take your ass whipping or keep it and I’ll break your arm and then whip your ass.”
“You talk big for a man who...”
Harry is halfway through his sentence when Jonathan makes his move. He darts forward and grabs Harry’s wrist in a grip so hard that I can hear the bones crack from across the bar. A scream emits from his throat and raises in crescendo as Jonathan brings his hand up under the man’s elbow. The arm snaps and before Harry can scream again Jonathan hits him three times in the nose and mouth with his right hand. He lets the man fall to the floor and puts the handgun in his pocket. He motions for me to come to him and addresses the room.
“You all saw it. They started all the trouble. Not us. Now we’re going to walk out of here and no one is going to stop us. Are they?”
Every head in the bar shakes that they aren’t and we leave. I climb onto the motorcycle behind him and he pulls out in a hurry so that we can be gone before the cops show up. Minutes later we pull up in front of my house.
“Thank you for doing what you did back there.” I say as I climb off the motorcycle.
My heart is beating like a drum in my chest already from the excitement of the night, so it nearly explodes when he turns and grabs me as I climb off the bike and pulls me in for a kiss.
***
At first I’m not sure if this is what I want, but either bad judgement because of alcohol, years of longing to do this, or the sheer excitement of it makes me kiss him back. I pop my tongue past his lips and taste the scotch he was drinking at the bar mingled with beer as my tongue works over his own. His big, strong hands move under my shirt and find my breasts. He begins to massage my breasts as his thumbs play with my nipple, making them grow rock hard. I pull back from the kiss my breath coming in gasps.
“We should go inside.”
He nods his head. “I agree.”
In one smooth motion he lifts me up and gets off his motorcycle. As I mentioned before, I’m not little in the least, but he handles me like I’m a child. He carries me to the door. I unlock it and open it up. Once we are inside the house, he kicks the door closed and lays me down on the couch. He crawls on top of me and we continue to make out. His hands rove over my body, drawing moans from me. We rip our clothes off down to the underwear. I can see that he is hard even through his boxers. He starts kissing my neck. All around my neck he kisses and then he moves to my breasts, kissing and caressing them with his mouth and tongue. He swirls his tongue around each nipple until I shudder with joy. Before long I am all, but begging him to touch me between the legs. He grins and waggles a finger at me. Working down from my breasts, he kisses my stomach in a line down to my crouch, but when he gets there he skips it and covers my inner thighs in kisses.
A can no longer take it so I grab him by the head and shove his face into my crotch. The feel of him there drives me wild as he grabs my panties in his teeth and rips them off of me. He goes to work with his tongue and I lose control. Arching my back I try to push his head in closer as he brings me close to orgasm. My breathing quickens and I know I am about to climax. Just before I do, he pulls back and runs his hands up my body.
On his knees he reaches to pulls down his boxers, but I am through waiting. I sit up and yank his boxers down around his knees. His freed penis springs up and stands at attention. From somewhere he pulls out a condom and rips off the wrapper. I take the condom from him and slowly roll it down his length. I playfully bite the tip once the condom is on and he sucks in air through his teeth. He grabs me by the shoulders and lays me back on the couch. Very slowly he enters me and I shudder. My god, he is huge! He begins to thrust into me slowly. I run my hands over his hard body. Over his shoulders and arms. Over his pecks and abs. I’ve waited for this moment for so long and now it is finally here. As he picks up the speed of his thrust, I feel myself about to climax. Never have I had an orgasm this quick, but I’m about to.
“Oh god! Faster!” I yell as I begin to climax.
Jonathan redoubles his efforts and I let a scream. I throw my head back as the orgasm rocks throughout my whole body. For a split second I feel as if my head is going to explode from it and then he grunts loudly. I feel him climax as well and he slows to a stop. He rolls off me, but we are on the couch and he had nowhere to go.
He hits the floor with a thud. “Oof!”
“Are you alright?” I roll onto my side and ask him.
“Yeah. I forgot we weren’t on a bed.” He sits up and rubs the side of his head where it hit the floor. “Damn that hurt.”
“I bet it did.” I giggle as he stands up, disposes of his condom in the trash, and sits beside me.
“What we just did.” He turns to me. “Was that wrong?”
“Did it feel wrong to you?” I know that it didn’t to me. It felt like the most right thing I have ever done.
“No. It felt right.”
“I don’t see why it would be wrong. We’re not really related or nothing, but if this is to continue you can’t keep calling me Sis.” I figure that it would be best even if it does turn me on a little.
“Continue?” He looks at me with a quizzical expression.
“I thought you could move in and we could see where this goes.”
“I’d like that.” He grins at me. “But I don’t want to pressure you into something that you don’t want to do.”
“Oh believe me. You’re not pressuring me into doing anything.” I lay my hand on his naked thigh. I can’t believe how comfortable I am around him while being naked. Usually I’m nervous when I’m around a man naked. Not that it happens a lot, but this time I don’t even notice. He takes my hand and gives it a squeeze.
“How about round two Sis?”
I shake my head, but in truth I’m more turned on now that I was ten minutes ago. I slide off the couch and get on my knees in front of him. To my surprise he is already rock hard again and he hasn’t had two minutes rest. I take him into my mouth and he groans. Working up and down the length of him I relish the taste and the way he feels. He lays a hand on the back of my head and guides me. I feel him about to climax so I double my efforts using both my hands and my mouth. He thrusts his hips forward with a moan of pleasure and orgasms.
He bends over and pulls me to my feet. With his hands on my shoulders he gently pushes me down onto the couch and kneels between my legs. I’m already wet when he starts to use his tongue on me.
“Just like that.” I tell him as a grasp at his mohawk and twist the hair up in my hand. I let out a moan as he slips one finger and then another inside of me. My body aches with pleasure as he plays with me. My god he is good at what he is doing down there. I arch my back as my body begins to shudder and tremble. My orgasm rocks me from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head. A scream escapes my lips and for a brief second I hope that the neighbors don’t call the cops or something like that, but then Jonathan goes back to playing with me and I forget all about them. We take turns with each other for most of the rest of the night and as morning dawns we fall asleep on the couch.
The next day I wake up around noon and sit up on the couch to the sound of someone moving things around in my kitchen. I’m worried enough for a second that I look around for my purse and the handgun within before I realize that Jonathan stayed the night. The events of last night come flooding back to me and a smile spreads across my face.
Getting off the couch, I saunter into the kitchen wearing nothing with my birthday suit and find him standing in front of the coffee maker with two cups on the counter in front of him. He is naked as well and a thought pops into my mind. I pad up to him as quietly as I can in the hopes of giving his naked buttocks a good pinch, but he hears me and turns before I get anywhere near him. A smile blooms under his beard.
“Good morning.” He motions to the coffee maker. “I thought you might want a cup too.”
“Sounds divine. Did you use the new beans from Costa Rica?”
“I did. Are they any good?”
“The best I’ve ever had and they’ve got enough caffeine in them to kill a horse.”
“After last night I need something to start my engines.” He puts an arm around me and pulls me close. “You wore me out.”
Even though we are both naked there is nothing sexual about the moment. I feel only love for the big man holding me. Right then I know that I never want this moment to end.
“You did pretty well yourself.” I take the poured cup of coffee he hands me and take a small sip. “Are you staying for a while or do you have to go?”
He takes a long drink of his coffee and somehow it doesn’t burn him or if it does he takes no notice of it. “I think I might stick around for a while. Good coffee. Nice house. A beautiful woman. Man could get used to it.”
“Then get used to it quick and stay.”
“I think I will.”
THE END
More bonus story is on your way. Turn to the next page and enjoy!
Bonus Story 9/10
It was close to dark. Noah climbed down from his horse, lashing the reins around the wooden post at the edge of the wide dirt road. He took a moment to kick the dust from his boots and tuck the end of his shirt into his pants. This was the last house in the area and he wanted to look as respectable as possible. None of the other families were looking to hire a hand, especially one new to the area who had a scar visible along his neck and down into the collar of his shirt. Whoever lived in this house was his last chance of making a living in this town and truly putting the darkness of his past behind him.
Ranger thrashed, rearing back slightly and pulling against the reins. Noah grabbed the reins and held them firmly with one hand, and stroked the horse’s neck soothingly with the other.
“Shhh,” he murmured, “Calm down, boy. What's wrong?”
The horse thrashed again and Noah was reaching up to stroke the top of his head when he heard a muffled scream coming from the house. The small home stood back from the road, but the sound was loud enough to get Noah's immediate attention. A moment later another scream, louder and higher-pitched than the first, pierced through the quiet calm of the night, seeming to cut through the thickly humid air to reach his ears.
Noah released the reins, jumped out of the saddle, and took off running toward the unmistakable sound of a woman screaming. Her pleas reached a fevered pitch as Noah's feet pounded into the ground, kicking up dirt as he pushed toward the house as fast as he could go. As he grew closer he could hear a man's voice joining the woman's. The deep, growling voice sounded slurred, but the fury behind it was clear. There was another scream and the loud crash of furniture just as Noah made it to the porch.
He reached for the handle, but the door was locked. Without pausing to knock, Noah stepped back and directed a forceful kick to the middle of the door. The wood splintered beneath his boot and he pushed it out of the way so he could enter the house. A shirtless man stood in the middle of the room looming over something on the floor. He turned toward the sound of the door crashing in and Noah saw a form on the floor shifting.
“Who the hell are you?” the man shouted, taking a step toward Noah.
Ignoring his question, Noah pushed further into the room until he could see what was at the man's feet. It was the destroyed remnants of a table, a woman lying amidst the shards of wood. He couldn't see her face, but watched as her body writhed in pain and shuddered with sobs. Noah was reaching down toward her when he felt a massive hand grab him by the back of his shirt and yank him backwards.
“What are you doing in my house?” the man demanded.
“What did you do to her?” Noah asked, pulling out of the man's grip.
“What I do with my wife is none of your concern. Get out of my house.”
The man shoved Noah roughly toward the door, and Noah saw the woman sit up slightly to reach toward her husband.
“Caleb, stop,” she whimpered.
Caleb stepped back toward her and cracked the back of his hand across her cheekbone. The woman crumpled back onto the remnants of the table, covering her face with her hands and crying with greater intensity. Rage boiled in Noah's belly and he surged forward. His fist connected with the side of Caleb's head and the drunk man spun around, punching back ferociously. Noah tasted blood, and could barely focus through the fury building inside him.
Noah punched again. He hit, and heard a sickening crunching sound from Caleb's nose. Caleb stumbled across the room. His hand slammed down onto the top of chest against the wall, and came back up holding a small gun.
“Oh, God. Please, no, Caleb,” the woman begged, gripping the pieces of wood around her as if trying to pull herself to her feet.
“Shut up, woman!” Caleb shouted, sending saliva through the air.
Fearless from adrenaline and anger, Noah rushed forward and grabbed the gun with both hands. Though Caleb was slightly larger than Noah, Caleb’s drunken state made him unstable. In the struggle that followed, Noah fought to maintain control of the gun while attempting to force Caleb away. He tried to look over at the woman on the ground, but Caleb fought back with an intensity that forced Noah to keep his attention on the fight and the weapon between them. The look in Caleb's eyes was like a frenzied animal, and his teeth were clenched so hard that Noah could see the veins in his neck throbbing.
A single shot splintered the air around them. The woman screamed again, scrambling backwards over the broken table to cower closer to the fireplace. Noah drew in a breath and stepped back away from Caleb, looking down at the blood splattered across his chest. He lifted his eyes to Caleb's just as the man dropped to his knees and fell forward, clutching the wound. Blood seeped out from between his fingers, pouring across his pale skin and pooling onto the wooden floor beneath him.
Gurgling sounds rose from Caleb for a few seconds. Then he fell quiet. Noah stared down at him and let the gun fall from his fingertips onto the floor beside the dead man. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears and the harsh, trembling sobs coming from the woman across the room.
Stepping around Caleb, Noah crossed to the woman. Curled protectively in on herself, she lay on the floor with her arms covering her head. Noah touched her arm and she recoiled. He crouched down and rested his hand on her arm again.
“It's alright,” he said as calmly as he could, “You're safe now.”
After a moment, the woman turned her head to look up at him. Even through the tears were still pouring down her cheeks, her pale, blue eyes were startlingly beautiful. She launched herself into his arms, clinging to Noah as if terrified that Caleb was going to get up again.
“Help me,” she whispered desperately.
Noah wrapped his arms around her and rocked her gently like a child, patting her back and he murmured quieting sounds.
“You're safe,” he repeated, “He's gone. He'll never hurt you again.”
***
Emma pulled out of the strange man's arms as his words sank in.
“You killed him,” she gasped.
Panic shot through her even as the tension she had held in her muscles every day since she married Caleb began to fade. The man released her, but stayed crouched down close enough that she could look directly into his face. He looked calm, but there was something behind his eyes like the first dark clouds of a storm rolling into the sky.
“Are you hurt?” he asked as if choosing to ignore her statement.
Emma barely knew what it meant to not be in pain or terror and for a moment didn't know how to respond to his question. She forced herself to evaluate her body, allowing an awareness she had taught herself to ignore during her years with Caleb. A deep ache radiated from her hip where she hit the ground and she could feel bruises forming on her arms, torso, and cheek. Sharp pains in her back told her that when Caleb had thrown her through the table, pieces of the wood had torn through her dress and cut into her skin.
“I'll be alright,” she said quietly. They were the same words she always used to comfort herself when Caleb beat her.
The young man placed a gentle hand beneath her cheek and turned her face to look back at him. She saw his honey-colored eyes sweep across her and then felt his thumb brush over her cheek to wipe away a tear.
“I have to leave,” he said. Emma felt the panic sharpen in her chest.
“No,” she said, “I can't stay here,” she said frantically.
“I can't be found here when the sheriff comes to take your husband. If I am, I'll be arrested for murder. I have to go.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Emma asked desperately, watching as he climbed to his feet.
“Tell them the truth. Tell them he was mistreating you and that an intruder shot him.”
He turned to the door and Emma climbed to her feet, reaching out to grab the back of his shirt.
“Where are you going?”
“I don't know,” he said, something dark flashing in his eyes, “There aren't many places for me to go.”
“Take me with you,” she said.
He gave her a strange look and tried to step away, but she held fast to his shirt.
“Please,” she said softly, “Please let me go with you. I can't be in this house with him for another minute, even dead, and I can't stay once they find him. What if they suspect me? I'll be an outcast. I can’t stay here!”
The man looked at her with sympathy in his hard eyes, as though to apologize. He turned away. Desperately, she grabbed his arm to stop him. He turned and looked at her, and she met his eyes pleadingly.
“Please,” she whispered.
Emma could see the change in the man's eyes before his shoulders dropped slightly.
“Get what you need. You have two minutes before I leave.”
“Thank you.”
Emma released the man's shirt and rushed across the room to grab Caleb's old leather satchel. She dumped what was inside the satchel onto the floor, and shoved what little clothing she could inside. Adding her mother's locket from her jewelry box, Emma buckled the satchel and glanced around the space a final time. She knew deep in her heart that as soon as she stepped out of that door she would never see this house again, but she felt ready to leave it all behind.
The man reached for the satchel and Emma handed it to him. She stepped around Caleb's body and braved a look down at him. For the first time she gazed at her husband without fear in her heart. One hand lay flat in the blood beside him and Emma's eyes fell on the gold band around one finger. She had a sudden notion to take it with her; it was valuable after all. She leaned down and tugged the wedding band off of his finger, shuddering at the feeling of the still-warm blood against her skin as she let his hand fall back to the floor.
Emma stood and withdrew her handkerchief from the pocket of her apron. She wiped the blood off of the ring with the handkerchief, then placed both back into her pocket. She stepped over Caleb and moved toward the door, having no more need to look at him. The stranger stood on the porch, his beautiful face barely visible in the moonlight, and she stepped forward out of the house. Crossing through the broken door and into the humid night, it felt like she was stepping out of her shattered life and into something that was dark and unknown, but more open and free than she had ever known.
She paused on the porch long enough to fill her lungs with the fresh air, breathing out the scent of the ashes in the fireplace and the sting of Caleb's blood. Ahead of her, the man was fastening her satchel to the side of his horse. Emma stepped down off of the porch and ran toward him, suddenly breathless with the desire to get away from the house.
“You can ride, I'll walk,” he offered, but Emma shook her head at him.
“We can take the wagon,” she said, keeping her voice low, as if fearful that whatever waited in the night beyond would hear her.
The man looked at her quizzically. Emma gathered her skirts away from her feet to run toward the barn several yards away from the house. She could hear the man following her, and when she threw the heavy latch on the barn door, he stepped up beside her to help her pull the door open. Moonlight illuminated the inside of the barn faintly, revealing the shape of the small covered wagon in the corner. It had been there for more than a year, but she was sure it was in good enough condition to get them away.
Without a word, the man moved to the stalls on the side of the barn and took out the two horses. He released the door for the cow stall and let it stand open.
“She'll wander away and someone will find her,” he said.
Emma felt warmth fill her chest at his concern for the animal and watched as he hooked the horses up to the wagon and forced them forward. She followed behind as he drove the wagon out of the barn and toward his horse, where he jumped down, tied his own horse to the back of the wagon, and then climbed back onto the front bench. He looked down at her and Emma scrambled up beside him, and then through the flap into the covered part of the wagon.
She sat up on her knees and stuck her head back through the entrance to the back of the wagon to look at him.
“I'm Emma,” she said.
“Noah,” he said, wrapping his hands tighter around the reins.
“Thank you, Noah.”
Emma sank back into the wagon and felt it lurch beneath her as Noah snapped the reins and drove forward away from the house and into the night.
***
Emma didn't know how long they had been riding when the bounce of the wagon stopping woke her from a deep, dreamless sleep. She had stretched across a pile of quilts and let the rocking of the wagon lull her away from the fear and the horror she left behind. For the first few minutes she rested there, she could picture Caleb's blood soaking into the floor, but soon the movement of the wagon and the rhythmic sound of the horses' hooves on the ground washed away the image, and the world disappeared into welcome darkness.
Even before she opened her eyes she could sense the glow of early sunlight coming through the canvas stretched taut over the curved wooden hoops that made it look like she was lying in some great ribcage. She lay there with her eyes closed for several long seconds, reluctant to open them, worried that when she did she would discover that she had somehow dreamt it all. She feared that when her eyes opened she would be in the wagon on her way from her home in the East with Caleb on the bench in front and the years of torturous marriage were still ahead of her.