Unfinished Hero - Raid Part 29

Then he grunted, "f.u.c.k."

"What?"

"Do not wanna ask this s.h.i.+t, but did some f.u.c.kwad do somethin' f.u.c.ked with your stomach?"

I was baffled by this question so I repeated, "What?"

"Babe, you don't want it, we won't do it, but like I said, I want all-access and that might include me comin' on you. Is that gonna be an issue for you?"

I didn't answer. My mind was filled with Raiden coming on me, and how if he did that I'd get to watch, and how I kind of wanted to do that immediately.

"Hanna," he called.

"What?" I answered distractedly.

His hand came up and cupped my jaw. "Honey, talk to me," he urged gently.

G.o.d, he was being sweet and he totally had the wrong end of the stick.

So I found myself blurting, "I have a pouch."

I watched the shadow of his head twitch and he asked, "You have a what?"

This was not fun in any way.

But I couldn't have him thinking some "f.u.c.kwad" did something "f.u.c.ked" to my stomach.

"I, um... well, am not exactly toned there like you're, well... toned... or more like cut, well... everywhere."

"So?"

I blinked into the dark.

"So?" I repeated.

"Yeah, so?" he asked.

I didn't know what to do with that question so I remained silent.

Raiden didn't.

He asked strangely, "Are you s.h.i.+tting me?"

I didn't know what do to do with that question either. What I did know was I wasn't s.h.i.+tting him, though I also didn't know what he thought I was s.h.i.+tting him about.

"Well, no," I answered, and suddenly his shadow was gone and the bed swayed because his big body landed on its back beside mine.

"Jesus, women are so f.u.c.kin' whacked," he informed the ceiling.

I pulled the covers up to my chest, lifted up on an elbow and twisted his way.

"Sorry?"

I felt his eyes on me in the dark. "Babe, guys like p.u.s.s.y," he declared.

"Okay," I said slowly.

"A woman's gotta smell good and she needs to take care of herself. By that I mean, she's gotta wash her hair, shave her legs and work it, whatever it is she's workin'. Her clothes, the way she does up her face, the way she moves, it doesn't f.u.c.kin' matter. She does that and has a sweet p.u.s.s.y, a guy does not give a f.u.c.k and gets off on whatever wraps that package."

I wasn't sure that made me feel better and I communicated this by saying a disbelieving, "All right."

Raiden got up on his elbow to face me, his arm moving to wrap around my waist and haul my lower body against his.

"That's not entirely true," he carried on. "Some guys like big t.i.ts, some guys don't give a s.h.i.+t about t.i.ts and like a round a.s.s. Some want long legs. Some want short women they can protect or feel like they can dominate. But bra.s.s tacks, it's about the p.u.s.s.y."

I was sure this didn't make me feel better, therefore I asked, "So essentially, if it's female, a man will sleep with it?"

"No, essentially a man won't f.u.c.k anything he doesn't want and women have got to get it in their heads that if he's givin' her his d.i.c.k, he likes what he's burying his d.i.c.k inside."

Well, that was certainly clear, if crude, and something that again left me with no response.

"Hanna, baby," his voice had gentled and his arm pulled me closer, "what I'm sayin' is, we like what we like, we're drawn to what we're drawn to and I wouldn't be f.u.c.kin' you if I didn't want what you're givin' me. All of what you're givin' me. You're pretty. You smell good. You're legs are f.u.c.kin' amazing. You've got great t.i.ts. You're toned and in shape but soft in great f.u.c.kin' places and I like it like that. Add you bein' cute, dorky, sweet and f.u.c.kin' hilarious, it's perfect. All of it."

Okay, that made me feel better.

I thought, for the first time in a long time, about the woman I saw him with, pet.i.te and skinny-minnie.

"So, you, uh... like tall and curvy, not short and skinny?" I asked.

"No, I like t.i.ts and hair, however those come, but what they gotta come with, what turns me on most, are smells and personality. You might think that's bulls.h.i.+t, but it's true. You got all that, but add your legs and I don't have to court a backache in order to take your mouth, major bonus."

That absolutely made me feel better so I smiled.

Raiden must have seen it in the dark because he leaned into me, taking me to my back and again loomed over me.

"So, you gonna stop that s.h.i.+t with your stomach?" he asked.

"Yeah," I answered.

"All-access?" he pushed.

"Yes, sweetheart," I promised.

"How about you give that to me now," he suggested and a pulse pounded between my legs.

"Okay," I breathed.

"Spread for me, Hanna."

I opened my legs at the same time I had a minor preliminary o.r.g.a.s.m.

Raiden put a hand flat between my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, slid it down, glided it over my belly then it dipped between my legs.

My hips lifted and I bit my lip.

He s.h.i.+fted and ordered gruffly, "Wrap your hand around my c.o.c.k, honey. Jack me off while I play with your p.u.s.s.y."

Readily, I did what I was told.

I came first.

Five minutes later, Raiden anointed my belly.

And I got to watch.

After cleaning him off me, I fell asleep with Raiden spooning me, big hand splayed at my stomach.

And I fell asleep thinking this was good news for my sundae addiction, I liked my little pouch and I was going to keep it.

That Friday afternoon...

Grams was sitting on her back porch, feet up, eyes closed. I'd dragged her chair to the end of the porch so she was bathed in sun.

Raiden was at the far end of the backyard with the push mower, its engine droning.

I had a mess of afghans all over Grams' porch furniture and my basket of ribbons with me. I was folding, tying and tagging them.

Spot was lying on the floor inside the backdoor, his enigmatic kitty face studying my movements. I didn't know if he wanted me to let him out so I would cease my work and give him cuddles or so he could do his best to draw my blood.

Grams's house was in the residential area of town, two blocks down from the end of the businesses, one block in. As we were somewhat removed from the big city, not a suburb but not far away, thus we had wildlife, but the scary stuff didn't stray into town, making clawless Spot a ready-meal should we let him out. Still, we didn't let him out, just in case.

Therefore, being confined indoors was one of many things that didn't make Spot happy, and I suspected he was studying me and plotting ways to draw my blood.

"See my precious girl's decided to play with fire," Grams told the backs of her eyelids.

I pulled a bow tight on an afghan and looked at her.

Then I looked at Raiden in jeans, a now sweaty tee and running shoes, mowing my grandmother's lawn.

I looked back at Grams.

"Yeah," I answered softly.

"Mm-hmm," she mumbled ambiguously.

"It's not mine to share, what he's shared with me, Grams, but you were right. He's dangerous," I told her.

"Know that, chere," she replied.

"He's also worth the risk," I finished.

Her eyes opened and came to me.

"Talk in town and lots of it. Shocked you and that boy haven't received your invitations to be grand marshals, sittin' on a float in the parade the town intends to plan to celebrate your togetherness, what with them bein' beside themselves with joy their local hero's courtin' the town's sweetest girl."

I knew she was worried. I didn't want her to think I was going in with anything but my eyes wide open, but I couldn't stop the goofy smile that I knew hit my lips.

Grams wasn't done "Those in the know about that fire within, that would be his Momma and his baby sister, they got all kinds of faith in you. Especially with Rach.e.l.le practically havin' the menu planned for your wedding and Ruthie Miller grumbling about the bike shop bein' closed, seein' as she wanted to buy her boy a bike so he could ride alongside his girl."

The news of Mrs. Miller and Rach.e.l.le approving was so welcome I had to bite my lip so I didn't break my face smiling huge.

I felt Grams eyes sharpen on me and my smile faded.

"Don't get ideas. That boy's behind won't mount a bike, precious. He might blow one up in a military exercise, but he's not gonna ride alongside you while you mosey into town and pick up salad fixin's for dinner."

This was true. And it was funny.

I beat back the laughter and agreed, "I know, Grams."

Her voice got sharp when she warned, "Do not take this lightly, child. You knew the danger, you still made a decision, took on this job and now you got people countin' on you. His Momma, his sister, me, the town and, most importantly, him."

My amus.e.m.e.nt fled. I held her eyes and nodded.

"Proud of you," she said and she sounded it.

My heart warmed, but the smile I gave her was shaky. "Thanks, Grams."

"I'm proud, but that don't mean I'm not worried. Fire's gonna get hot, chere. You made your choice. You do what you gotta do to take the heat."

I nodded.

"Hope I live to see it," she continued and my heart lurched.

"Grams-"

"Want one thing before I die: to know you'll go on after me and do it safe and happy. That boy's got the capacity to give you both, he doesn't destroy you in the process. I hope I live to see him battle that blaze so he gives my girl safe and happy."

"You're going to make me cry," I warned.

"Boudreaux do not cry, chere. You know that. Place to cry, on the back porch in the sun is not it."

I pulled in a deep breath through my nose and again nodded.

"There'll be good times, Hanna. Fill yourself up with them, hold onto them tight, *cause when the bad times come, you'll need them," she advised.

"Now you're scaring the pants off me," I told her.