MaryDee Night
By M.S. Tarot
()
About this ebook
For Oliver West, the local night clubs are his kingdom. Glittering palaces filled with music and erotic delights for all the senses. Known by the nickname “O”, he is a benevolent ruler, forsaking nothing in his quest to slake the desires that decent people hide. Like an angel fallen from heaven, he left decency and innocence far behind him long ago.
Or so he thought.
Enter, the lovely Paige Turner. With her mane of Cruella de Vil hair and a smile more wicked than any witch, she could tame the club-hound “O” if she wished. With a request for a single red rose and a wink that promises things he never dreamed of, fate is showing him that Paige can be the Queen to his King.
But, given his past, will Oliver be able to do what he has never imagined himself doing to be worthy of her?
MaryDee Night is a 17,500-word MMF erotic romance novella.
M.S. Tarot
A fan of reading and books from around the fourth grade on, I have devoured a huge library of published works by a vast variety of authors in easily a dozen genres. This leads me to the simple fact that I love to read. If I love to read, I must love to write, stands to reason. So I decided to give it a try.That was 2012. Since then, I have posted more than a hundred stories online. I’ve won contests. I’ve written stories that stand in the website Literotica’s Hall of Fame. And I have, thanks to my fans there, earned myself a place in their Top 250 Authors List on what is arguably the largest erotica website online.But before that, I made friends. Other erotica writers, without whose support you would not now be reading this short bio.Their enjoyment of my writing and encouragement has given me the confidence to attempt to go even further with my writing. Beyond my comfort zone, to distant unsighted shores, to places where the waters are no longer familiar and even the stars are strange. That’s where I’m going; come join me.M.S. Tarot
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MaryDee Night - M.S. Tarot
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
MaryDee Night
About M.S. Tarot
Don’t Miss These Great Titles From Deep Desires Press
MaryDee Night
M.S. Tarot
Copyright © 2017 by M.S. Tarot
All characters are age 18 and over.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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There is no fear.
"THERE IS NO FEAR!"
Bullshit. Absolute bullshit. Complete and total absolute bullshit. Sitting in my row, surrounded by my brothers of the 82nd Airborne, I’m clutching my reserve chute to my stomach to keep the butterflies quiet. Looking down at the C-17’s worn metal deck plates under my feet, too afraid to look up, lest the guy across from me see my face. See it and know how terrified I am.
I follow the shouted commands to stand up, and then the command to hook on by purely trained habit. Then I am standing, terrified, looking at the back of the helmet of the guy in front of me. The hair on his neck needs to be trimmed. By training, my eyes go over his yellow static line. The loadmasters walk the rows doing their double-check. The reserve chute of the man behind me bumps my main chute and I feel a moment’s panic and relief. Panic that I’m being pushed, relief that I’m not going to be the last man out the door.
Check static line!
"CHECK STATIC LINE!"
Check equipment!
"CHECK EQUIPMENT!"
The incessant hiss of the C-17’s multiple engines becomes a dragon’s roar as the side door is opened and rolled upwards. Though I can’t see it, I know that ahead of me the jump masters are checking the door for sharps edges. It was done on the ground, twice, but they do it again. All I can focus on is the loop of yellow static line in my left hand.
And my fear.
It is ethereal, translucent, but viscous. Permeating every part of me, flowing through my body. Making me tremble, both in terror and in fear that my terror will be noticed by the others. And I know it will never stop. Not even when I’m out the door and my chute is deployed will this fear end. I am a coward. A useless coward. I’m less of a man than my father … my fear shows me that clearly. My dad parachuted into battle! He went in, spitting tobacco, cussing the enemy a blue streak, and with guns blazing. Not scared in the least.
West! Check your chin strap!
I do it automatically, but I am concentrating more on keeping my hand from shaking than doing it right. The jump master pulls my shoulder, turns to me, and then he checks it. He looks me in my eyes for a second, then nods as if he accepts what he sees. What that must have been I have no idea, but I’m sure it was a lie. Everything I was projecting had to be a lie; the truth was too harsh for even me to look at closely.
Oliver West, coward. A hidden coward, trying to act the role of a brave man, following in my father’s footsteps. But why the hell did his footsteps have to lead out the door of a fuckin’ airplane?
Then we are moving!
My breath at a growing pant, I waddle forwards with the row. Step, step, step … I see the door Step, step, step … men are handing off their static lines and stepping out. Lemmings off the cliff, I think as I too move towards the big blue empty. The soldier in front of me goes out the door, and then it’s my turn. I pass the static line to the jumpmaster and I’m out the doorway before I can give myself time to think.
One, two … Oh, shit!
I know something is wrong but it’s all happening too quickly to think. There is a feeling like a giant grabbed hold of me, and then I’m spun up like a fly in a spider’s web, white 550 paracord cocooned! Then, damn it, the plane decides to hate me too. As it smacks me like a redheaded stepchild, I wonder What did I ever do to it?
Again and again I'm slammed into the fuselage of the plane. Every blow a hammer of pain across my whole body. And it never seems to end. The knowledge that I'm hung up under the plane, trapped against the metal by the hurricane of air passing over me, comes to me in a brief flash.
Only to be hammer away seconds later.
Stunned, I can’t tell how much time has passed. Wind roaring in my ears, tumbling in it like a broken kite, I look up and see to my horror my main chute and my reserve are five feet above