Read The Right to Bear Arms: BBW Military Paranormal Romance (Wild Operatives, #1) for Free Online Page A

pair. They were more than a handful for even my large palms, and the tips were hard bullet points I wanted to suck into my mouth.
    Her fingers danced over my zipper, a playful tease that I couldn’t bear. My cock swelled even more under her touch and became so hard it hurt to remain in my jeans.
    Not like this. As much as I wanted her, I didn’t want our first time together to be in a cramped truck cab like we were a couple of randy teenagers. I became conflicted between having her in the truck or dragging her outside. Fantasies danced through my mind of bending her over in the grass and sweet-smelling clover, of raising that luscious ass of hers to the air, spreading her thighs, and thrusting into her tight hole.
    The effort to pull away from Dani’s sweet little mouth exhausted my willpower. I groaned then finally twisted my face away. “Baby... baby, wait.”
    “Wait?” She panted against my cheek, each breathless exhale making me wonder how sexy she’d sound in the throes of orgasm.
    I kissed her again, raw with my hunger and need for her. The bear in me demanded satisfaction, but the man warred against bestial instincts and implored me to be patient. When I made love to Daniela, I wanted us to enjoy every second, unrushed, unhurried, and not sore from putting her through the ringer at the gym.
    The sexy minx nibbled my lower lip and playfully tugged it when the kiss ended. Her dark eyes smoldered. “What are we waiting for?”
    “Not now, darlin’.”
    “Not now?” Her brows drew together in confusion.
    Regret filled me as I dragged in a deep breath and got myself under control. “Not now,” I repeated. “You’re tired and...” I had trouble separating my hand from her tits. I squeezed one again and watched her arch into my palm. “When I do make love to you, it won’t be in a parked truck.” I couldn’t wait to dive inside of her, but also couldn’t justify putting sexual need in front of manners.
    “Come inside.” Her invitation preceded a hot blush.
    “I wanna do this right, Daniela.” I eased forward and kissed her again, keeping it light and tender. Her breathy sigh nearly did me in, but I managed to pull back. “Next weekend, I want to take you out. A real date, one that doesn’t involve guns or punches.”
    “What’s a real date?”
    I couldn’t tell if lust made her sarcastic, or if she honestly didn’t know. I didn’t put it past her douche of an ex to have never treated her to an honest-to-goodness night on the town. “Dinner and dancing,” I replied, maintaining a straight face. I didn’t want to laugh if she was that clueless.
    “Dinner and dancing?” Daniela gave me a dubious look, skipping her brown eyes over me and letting them linger on my crotch. My cock jumped beneath my jeans, throbbing with renewed need. “What kind of dancing are we talking about?” Leaning forward to reach me, her lips drifted over my jaw and traveled lower until she found the pulse point in my throat. She sucked gently and nipped, filling my head with images of her gorgeous lips around my length, sliding up and down with frenzied abandon.
    “There’s a country western bar called Spurs, near Houston. It’ll be a nice ride.” I groaned and tried to focus on something neutral. Baseball. The unforgiving Middle Eastern sun. MREs. When that worked, I patted her thigh and nudged her back from me.
    Daniela fixed me with a skeptical look. “What am I supposed to wear to a country western bar? I’m not a cowgirl.”
    “Every woman in Texas has a pair of boots, darlin’,” I exaggerated.
    “I don’t,” she insisted.
    “Aw, hell, it doesn’t really matter what you decide to wear. We’re going there for fun. It’s not a fashion show.”
    “Okay.” She pursed her lips in thought, glanced away, and then peeked back at me again through her curly hair. “Friday sound good to you?”
    “It sounds perfect.”
    “Are you sure you don’t want to come in for... a cup of coffee?” She fixed me