Major Dad: An Older Man Single Dad Military Romance Page 11

  I've gone past the point-of-no-return. I have to trust our friendship to guide him now.

  “Say again?” he says, confusion in his voice.

  “I need Rylie’s address,” I tell him, exposing the risk I’ve taken.

  “You’re bullshitting me, right?”

  “No, I’m sitting in The Thinking Cup, at the end of my rope trying to find the Westfield residence on Google and not having any luck.”

  “What the hell are you thinking? Are you fucking on drugs, man?”

  “I’m in love with her. Can’t you understand that?”

  “You can’t…I can’t…I can’t believe how irresponsible…” He trails off and remains silent.

  “Frank, are you there?” I ask hoping he hasn’t ended the call. I realize I’ve placed him in an awkward situation. “I need your help.”

  “This phone call didn’t happen, Ethan. Get back here, and we’ll talk.”

  “Sir,” I say, “Yes, sir. But, I’m here now. Please, just give me an address.”

  I wait for what seems like an eternity.

  “This didn’t happen,” he says, and then he speaks a street name and number before ending the call.

  My Lyft cruises down Beacon Street and I’m flabbergasted by the opulence and history.

  “That can’t be it up there,” I say to the driver.

  “Wicked,” he says in a strong accent. “Yooz going to tha part-ay?”

  Several groups are walking up to the door. Everyone is dressed in suits and evening gowns.

  “I’m not sure,” I admit. I’m winging it, and there’s no turning back.

  I exit the car and stand on the sidewalk feeling the cool evening breeze and wishing I’d thought of a shower and change of clothes before I made my grand entrance.

  I look like a schmuck and worse, I don't even know if Rylie is home. Or on a date – which would be much worse. My return flight to Hawaii is leaving in the morning. Which means I have less than eighteen hours to find Rylie and convince her that we deserve another chance.

  I walk up to the front door of the Westfield residence and take a deep breath.

  A short, portly man with a scowl on his face opens the door. He’s dressed in a black-on-black tuxedo, and I extend my hand.

  “You must be Mr. Westfield, sir,” I say. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Ethan Hayes.”

  The man frowns. He’s failed to extend his hand, and I feel awkward with my outstretched hand hanging in the air, so I drop it to my side.

  “Are you on the guest list?” he asks. “Mr. Westfield is at the bar. Shall I summon him?” He gives me the once over, and I realize that being dressed in jeans, a tee shirt, and a leather biker jacket is a dead giveaway that I’m not an invited guest.

  “I’m actually here for Rylie,” I announce. “Rylie Cole?”

  He frowns again. “Is she expecting you, Mr. Hayes?”

  “I…well, no, actually,” I admit. “But, if you could be so kind, perhaps you could let her know I’m here. At the door. I’ve flown a long way to see her.”

  “As you wish, sir,” he says.

  Then shuts the door in my face.

  Fuck.

  I stand alone there and the evening chill begins to get to me. Five minutes pass and I’m still not certain that Rylie is even here. Or that what I now realize was a butler is even going to inform her of my arrival.

  The door opens, another man, statuesque with breeding, wearing a well-tailored suit, steps outside. He closes the door behind him.

  “I’m Charles Westfield,” he says. “I understand you’re Ethan Hayes.”

  “Yes,” I say extending my hand. “Major Hayes, sir. I’m just in from Hawaii. Pardon my intrusion and excuse my shambolic appearance but I need to speak to Rylie.”

  He takes my hand and gives me a polite, but cold, handshake. I wait for him to say something, but he appears to be in deep thought. “I’ll announce you, Major,” he finally says to me. “But, I can’t reassure you that she'll be willing to speak to you. Please, come in.”

  I follow him into his luxurious home. Shit, is this what Rylie’s become accustomed to now? He directs me to an antique chair that looks like it’ll break into pieces under my bulk. I lower myself gingerly and wait.

  Voices reverberate from the party the Westfields are hosting, but nobody else comes to investigate my presence. After ten minutes of sitting in the most uncomfortable chair I’ve ever experienced, metal springs poking my glute muscle, I’m restless and edgy.

  Another couple of minutes pass and I hear women arguing.

  I recognize Rylie’s voice and my stomach churns, with an uptick in my already pounding heart rate.

  Uninvited, but drawn to track Rylie's voice, I enter the massive dining room. Every single one of the two dozen guests turns their head and stares at me.

  A woman that looks enough like Rylie that I’m sure it’s her mother scowls. The guests, all dressed in suits and gowns, have either disdain or astonishment on their faces. Ya, I know I look like a fucking tramp. What on earth made me wear this bad boy jacket to come meet her parents?

  Rylie, sitting beside the woman I assume is her mother, finally speaks, “Ethan, what are you doing here?” Her voice starts strong but breaks down into a tremble.

  “I came to find you, Rylie. I flew to Boston because I won’t continue pretending we aren’t meant to be together. I know you came to my house and Caden’s mother was there.”

  She opens her mouth to speak but I hold up my hand to silence her until she hears me out. A sharp intake emanates from a few of the female guests. Whatever.

  “I was putting the little guy to bed,” I continue. “He’d had a nightmare. While I was comforting him, his mother was lying to you.”

  Her face softens a little, presumably in empathy for my son. But her mother glares.

  “You never told me he has a child,” she hisses.

  “Mother, please,” Rylie interrupts, “let him finish. He came a long way to ….speak to me.”

  “I never had any intention of reuniting with her. Never. Never will. She lied to you and I knew nothing about that until she let it slip that you’d come over.”

  I can see Riley starting to relax. Her body is limp with emotion and I wish I could scoop her up and carry her the fuck out of here. This isn’t her at all.

  “I've never been more sure of anything in my life, Rylie. We’re meant to be together. I love you utterly, completely, and crazily. I want to prove to you I can make you happy. You have so much to offer the world, too, Baby. Think about the animals and the environment you love and want to help save. This life here is not you.”

  I wave my arms indicating the fancy table, the expensive fixtures, and the antique paintings on the wall. The assembled crowd draws another disapproving breath. I don’t give a shit. I’ve found my stride and I will get my girl back.

  Rylie pauses, looks around at the group and then says, “I don’t know—”

  “You do, Rylie, I believe you do know. You know what your heart tells you and what your mind confirms. We’re right for each other.”

  “But.”

  “No buts,” I tell her and stretch out my hand. “Come here, baby. Come home.”

  She stands and shakes off her mother’s attempt to clutch her shoulder. The crowd stares silently as she approaches me.

  She stops short of allowing me to pull her into my chest but picks up both outstretched hands.

  “I’m still scared, Ethan,” she admits.

  “Everything worth achieving is scary. Love requires risk, sacrifice, and devotion. I’m in love with you Rylie Cole and I’m here to ask you to return to the islands. Together we’ll live the life you know you’re meant to live.”

  I step towards her and she lifts her face to mine.

  Her smile opens like a rising crescent moon. Now, brooking no more doubts, I take her into my arms and lower my mouth to hers.

  Again the inhalation, now mixed with a few ahhhs from the softer women in
the crowd.

  When our bodies reconnect, I feel alive again. Her kiss resurrects my soul from the inside. The fire spreads from my center to the tips of my fingers which gently caress her face as if we’d been transported to a lonely mountaintop and had all the time in the world.

  21

  Rylie

  “Rylie, you need to listen to me,” my mother says.

  “No, mom,” I respond as I clasp my suitcase shut, “I really don’t have to listen anymore.”

  “You’re making a huge mistake.”

  “Ethan isn’t Dad,” I point out, for the thousandth, “and I need to live my own life.”

  I hug her and roll my suitcase behind me, making her squirm in horror for the sake of the floorboards. Ethan is waiting in the foyer. He runs to the stairs and lifts my case so my mom can breathe again. Then he wraps me under his solid wing so the warmth and a familiar, comforting feeling swells into my chest.

  “Mr and Mrs Westfield,” Ethan says firmly, but with kindness in his voice, “Rylie is in good hands.”

  My mother frowns.

  “I think you’re making a horrible mistake,” Charles says. He looks to my mom and adds, “But she’s not our prisoner, Mary.”

  “I’m calling your father,” she mutters between sniffles. Her melodrama is manipulative, although I doubt she realizes it.

  “I love you, Mom,” I say as I follow Ethan out the front door. He managed, at massive expense, to get me booked on his flight back to Oahu.

  My body is trembling as we tumble into the back seat of the Lyft Ethan ordered. We head to the Hyatt on the airport, so we can relax until the last minute before the early flight.

  I’m so excited I don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep.

  As Ethan looks over at me and lifts my hand into his lap, his look of wolfish hunger tells me what he has in store.

  Images of his rock hard cock taking me back to paradise flash through my mind.

  “Are you hungry?” he asks.

  “For you,” I whisper in his ear while pressing my hand into his bulge. “Are you on the menu?”

  “I can arrange that,” he says planting a kiss on my neck, just below my ear. It causes a ticklish delight.

  “I’d like to start with an appetizer.”

  “There’s a happy hour special tonight,” he states. “Two for one nibbles.”

  “I’ll never run out,” I coo.

  “Not if I can help it.”

  The moment the bellhop shuts the door on us, Ethan lifts me in his arms and presses me into the wall. I wrap my legs around his midsection and tug him between my thighs. He laughs at the strength of my lust for him. His mouth slams onto mine and I feel the intensity of his passion in the strength of his kiss. His tongue dives into me hard, fucking my mouth over and over. My fingers, pinned above my head entwine with his.

  I’m his prisoner again.

  Rocking my hips, I push my drenched pussy against his body. Then pulling back I say, “Are you ever going to fuck me horizontally?”

  He silences me with his mouth covering mine forcefully as his hands tear at my uptight little cocktail dress. The flimsy fabric rips apart and I couldn’t care less – I have no intention of ever wearing that again anyway.

  My hands scrabble at his tee, yanking it up, desperate to have that amazing torso bared to me.

  “Do not move an inch,” he croaks, dangerously threatening.

  I giggle as he toes out of his boots – no laces this time – and unhooks his belt to free the stunning pulsating bulge. His cock is nothing short of beautiful. Breathtaking in its size and smooth rigidity. It barely sways as he kicks out of his pants.

  “In too much of a hurry to remember your kecks?” I tease.

  “I’m a commando, remember?”

  “How could I forget?”

  “And yeah. I was in a big rush to get to you.”

  His body is flush with lust, glistening in the dim light, and his erection can’t be ignored. All I want to do is drink the entire shaft down into my throat. Ethan stops to gaze at me, standing motionless as ordered in my new underwear (thanks mom).

  “So fucking gorgeous,” he moans.

  I scan his incredible naked body, taut with not an ounce of body fat. There are other scars including a huge one on his thigh, various puncture wounds and slices have left their mark. He seems to wear them like tattoos. A unit badge is inked on his leg and several tats that appear to be Japanese or Chinese characters.

  He pulls the straps down my shoulders and sucks one hard bullet point into his lips, then the other. He unhooks the bra rather than ripping it, mindful I guess that we should keep this sexy outfit for another time. It drops to the ground and he picks me up. I hook my thighs around his waist as he spins me around. I only have a brief grind against his solid dick before he tosses me back onto the bed and yanks the dripping panties down my thighs.

  Any girlish shyness is swamped by wanton lust as I spread my legs wide for his gaze.

  “Fuck, you’re perfect. Your pussy is perfect.”

  I move to all fours, like a jungle cat ready to pounce. “Give me your manhood, Major.”

  “Your appetizer,” he says

  “It looks like the main course,” I mewl.

  My pussy has never been so wet. Juices run down my thighs from Ethan’s lascivious gaze. Then he hauls my hips up off the bed and flips me over onto all fours.

  “I’ve never been so hot— ohhhahhhh.”

  The rest of my thought is forgotten as he drives himself to the base, cutting off my sentence. Being filled by Ethan is the most delectable sensation. His hands cup my tits and pinch my nipples as he lifts me up off the bed and impales me with my back lining his incredible chest. He definitely likes the vertical, I guess it allows him deeper inside me.

  “I’m too close, Baby,” he says.

  “I want you to come inside me,” I demand, panting.

  He bends to place me back on the bed without losing any penetration. His head so deep I feel him rubbing provocatively at my cervix. He pulls out and circles it around my pussy entrance until I push back, urging him to plunge into me again.

  Ethan is masterful at finding parts of me that have never received a man's touch. His cock sawing into me, takes special interest in a spot halfway that makes me gasp with the most intense shard of pleasure each time he hits it. His fingers pinch my clit then release that to move behind and rub his dripping fingers around my darker hole.

  “Oh god,” I moan.

  “He can’t help you now, Baby,” Ethan husks. “You’re all mine.”

  My mind can’t focus. I want to feel everything at once, but like a pinball crazily bouncing from bumper to bumper, the intensity of his fucking won’t allow me to stay in one train of thought for long. I stop trying and go mindless, surrendering to the pleasure power of Ethan.

  All I can do is push back onto his wood and tighten my tunnel around his girth which he seems to love. He emits small feral sounds and picks up the pace, hammering into me like it’s our last night on earth.

  His fingers continue to work magic even while his muscle twirls and swirls around my pleasure button.

  “Fuck that’s so good,” I moan. My climax is already threatening.

  The lightest touch of his fingertip and the point of my clit shoots me into an ever-increasing wave of orgasm.

  I force back onto his manly weapon trying to push him deeper, faster.

  “I’m coming! Oh, Baby, take me, take me, oooooh!” I twist, groan, flex, and writhe like a banshee flying into the night. My shouts echo off the walls and incite him to work my sex into an astonishing fireworks display exploding in my mind.

  I gasp. “Oh, God, I’m…ooooh, Babe, no, no, yes, yes…” He doesn’t relent, and I feel another base camp start to the peak of pleasure.

  “Come again for me,” he commands in a guttural growl.

  “Please, come with me,” I manage to say between pants and grunts. I pull his thick swollen member into the far reaches
of my pussy. He rains down a slap on my ass cheek and I claw my fingers into the bed covers, half delirious with aftershocks and a new climax building. I can pull and tug as he slides up and down with his rod..

  I pant with increased intensity as my second orgasm gains momentum. Not able to speak, I let out deep animalistic moans as I come.

  His shaft pushes deep into my tightness as I flex and milk his.

  Fuuuckkk. I feel his entire body constrict as his orgasm is shot from his sack.

  Ethan growls long and low as he comes.

  My climax shudders into several slow convulsions.

  Ethan finishes the last spurts then rolls me over as he lays down without losing our deep connection.

  “I want you inside me forever,” I moan, without restraining my demand.

  “Done,” he husks, pulling me into his arms and spooning me, so I’m nestled under his hard but comforting wings.

  My man wraps his leg over me, drawing me closer and kisses my neck as I fall into a hypnotic trance.

  22

  Ethan

  Two weeks after returning from my clandestine trip to Boston, Rylie and I take Caden to the beach. His mother, not surprisingly, has disappeared to Las Vegas, or was it Reno? Needless to say she didn’t commit to a return date, not that it would have mattered much if she had. My son hunts for his beloved treasure glass along the shore and comes running with the brightest pieces to present to Rylie. His little gifts of affection made her smile, and that in turn makes me the happiest I’ve been as a man and a father in years.

  “Can we come to the beach again tomorrow?” Caden quietly asks when Rylie was absorbed in some algae along the shore, just far enough away that we can talk in secret.

  “We have a special date tomorrow,” I answer.

  “You do?”

  “I told you, bud,” I explained patiently, “I’ve got a secret surprise for Rylie. Remember?”

  He giggles, and his face blushes with excitement. “Does she know?”

  “Shhh,” I whispered. “No, she doesn’t know. If she knew, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”