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UNDENIABLE: Sexy Sizzlin Romance (Siri's Saga Book 1), page 1


UNDENIABLE: Sexy Sizzlin Romance (Siri's Saga Book 1)

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UNDENIABLE: Sexy Sizzlin Romance (Siri's Saga Book 1)



  Jessika Klide


  Copyright © 2016 Jessika Klide, LLC

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, named features, artists and bands are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used for reference and without permission. The publication / use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.


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  May you find a love

  you cannot live without!













  Maximus Aurelius Moore stands outside on the balcony of his Italian studio in Rome wearing only a pair of black Calvin Klein briefs, waiting patiently for the sweet little piece of ass he has hired to photograph. He listens to the sounds of the civilized city and thinks about the call he received early this morning from his old army buddy, Dirk Sam. Dirk told him he would be coming to Fort Rucker in the Spring for training, but he wouldn’t be staying with him. He would instead be needing a nice apartment.

  "Moore, I got hitched." Dirk laughed. "And I’m not pulling a fast one over on you. I’m for real."

  "What the fuck? Hitched as in married?" Aurei asked truly shocked.

  "Yeah. Married. Me." Dirk laughed even harder. "It’s a long story, bro. Too long for a phone call. It’ll take several six-packs of brew to get through."

  "Give me the short version."

  "I fucked this crazy girl years ago and when I came back to London, I looked her up. She needed a husband, so I married her." He chuckled enjoying stringing Aurei along.

  "You’re fucking with me, Sam." Aurei laughed.

  "No, man. I’m serious. I’ve made a deal with a devil, but she’s one helluva devil." He paused, then asked. "So, can you help me find an apartment?"

  "Of course. No problem. When?"

  "Sometime in April or May. Not sure of the dates yet."

  "Just let me know. I’ll stock the fridge with a case of beer."

  "Yeah. Sounds good. Thanks, Hard."

  I can’t wait to meet the hellion that caught him. She’s got to be a real piece of work. I smirk, then laugh, remembering the nickname he tagged me with. It’s been a long time since I was called Hard, but some names just stick and that’s one of those names.

  Army Aviation Flight School, Fort Rucker, Alabama. Six years earlier.

  Dirk bragged to the others on the flight line Monday morning.

  "Dudes, my wingman Moore earned a new nickname Saturday night."

  "Spill it!"

  "His new name is Hard-Core, but I call him Hard for short."

  They all laughed at that.

  "Hey Hard, come over here and tell them what happened Saturday night."

  "Naw man. Let it lay."

  "Hell no!" They all chimed in. "Spill it!"

  "We walk in, right? And immediately, Ole Hulk here draws the ladies’ eyes. You can hear the word 'Eye Candy' buzzing around the bar."

  "That’s two words, Sam."

  "Shut the fuck up, Moore! Anyway, we sit down at a table and nothing happens, right? Wrong! Some drunk chick comes up, plops down in his lap and starts to grind him."

  "No, she didn’t. Quit exaggerating."

  "Yes, she fucking did. But our Officer and a Gentleman here, being the best damn wingman ever, simply stands up and excuses himself to the restroom leaving me the drunk chica. When he comes back, I’ve done made a move to hold her right here." He pointed to his dick and they all laughed. "But her wing-lady rescues her from my evil cock, and they leave." He frowned and everyone boos. "Which should be bad, right? Wrong! That’s good because she broke the ice and now Mr. Muscles here is acting like a fucking chick magnet. I swear they were swarming." He flexed his biceps. "Maybe I should improve my guns."

  Everyone laughed.

  "By the time midnight rolls around, there is sure 'nough a catfight brewing as the pussies positioned themselves to make a play for my main man. While I’m here working my ass off to pick one up, he’s working hard over there not to have a threesome at the table."

  "So how did he get the new nickname, Hard-Core?"

  "Patience. I’m getting to that!"

  "Did he go hardcore on them and fuck those pussies like the dawg we know he is?"

  Someone chanted. "Who let the dawg out?" So, everyone barked.

  "Naw man! He mows them down! It was brutal, I tell you!" He hung his head then shook it. "He told them. 'Look! I’m not into you and I'm not getting "in" to you.'"

  "Ahhhh!" They all moaned.

  "That’s a hardcore rejection right there."

  I laugh. It’ll be good to see ole Sam I am again. The first time I laid eyes on Dirk Sam, we were asked to stand at the Hail and Farewell party and were introduced as the only two bachelors in Green Flight. Sitting at opposite ends of the same table, we stood locking eyes and sizing each other up. We were both athletic specimens at 6’ tall and around 220 pounds, but I was wearing a J-Crew shirt with khakis and he faded distressed jeans with a t-shirt that read Loose Cannon. I’m blonde and with a beach tan. He’s a dark brunette with olive skin.

  To everyone there we looked like opposites, but not to me. He had the same look in his eye.

  "Aurelius is the youngest candidate too."

  All eyes turned to the dark haired, dark eyed young man, and the moment Dirk realized their eyes were on him instead of me, the blonde buck with the crooked grin, he quickly set the record straight, calling the crowd out with a wise-guy grin of his own. "I hope you ladies and gentlemen did not just profile this dark meat as the Mafioso because I’m Dirk Sam. He’s Aurelius Moore."

  Dirk was enjoying the hell out of pushing their politically correct buttons and I knew we would be brothers. I gave him a heads-up man salute and simply said to the crowd. "Ciao."

  From that point on, the practical jokes and the antics were nonstop. If we weren’t pushing each other’s buttons, we were teaming up to push everyone else’s.

  I lean over the balcony railing and spit. Then a crooked grin slides on at the fond memory that simple action conjures. The seed spitting contest was one of the best. Vodka filled watermelons produced quite a show. First place was hard to earn, but Hard-Core and Sam I am prevailed.

  I stand, then stretch. Sam and I were made from the same mold, just handed two different lives. Sam told me during one late night of drinking while we were closing down the local bar. "I joined the military because I had nowhere else to go. My mother died a week after I graduated from high school." He hung his head and I listened quietly, knowing it was difficult for him to share. "At 18, I was homeless. Going through her stuff, I came across newspaper clippings of this British politician that looked like a real prick. Part of me wondered what the hell she had these for, but the other part knew. He was my sperm donor." He looked up at me and smirked. "I took the last money I had and bought a plane ticket to London. 'Blimey Bastard'" He looked down the bar
for a long time into his distant past. I could tell something had happened that he wasn’t going to share. When he looked back at me, he had pushed the memory down deep inside. "I almost got myself killed. I hightailed it back to the States, and joined the Army to fly this badass bird." He grinned and downed the beer. That was the last he spoke of his hardships and he never mentioned London again until the other day. I wonder what happened to send him back to London? And now he’s married and to a crazy British bitch? Can’t wait to hear that wild tale.

  I enlisted not because I had to, but rather because I wanted to. Flying Apache helicopters just appealed to me. When my dad retired from the military, he moved us back home close to his parents in rural Alabama. I fell in love with the warbirds flying overhead. The sound their blades make as they chop the air overhead. Nothing else like it. But I did rush into enlisting when I was featured on the cover of an Italian tabloid. "Maximus Moore, Rising Star on the Italian Social Scene. Perhaps we should consider this young American, inline to inherit the Liotine Fortune, as the most eligible young bachelor in Italy. We will definitely be keeping a watchful eye on him." That comment sent me straight to the recruiter without thinking twice and without telling a soul. I signed away 6 years of my life determined to be who I am, not who someone else portrayed me to be.

  I drop my head and smirk. Man did that announcement cause an uproar.

  We were all at the family villa in Italy, on spring break, when Grandpa Al said to me. "Maximus, I would like for you to come to Italy when you finish high school to discuss your future."

  I raised my head then turned my eyes to his. "This is as good a time as any, I reckon, to tell y’all." Pushing my chair back, I stood to face him and the rest of them, proudly announcing my decision. "I’ve enlisted in the Army. I’ll be leaving the day after graduation for basic training. I’m going to fly Apaches."

  The air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. Grandpa Al was the first to speak. "Maximus, what have you done?"

  "I’ve done what I wanted to do. I want to serve my country and I want to fly helicopters. Grandpa, I’m not university material. I don’t think I can stomach four more years of school to earn a boring degree, doing something I will loathe. I can go through Warrant Officer Candidate School then flight school in less than a year and come out a helicopter pilot."

  Grandpa looked right at my mom and said. "Zita, you and Bob should have told him."

  "Should have told me what?" I asked her. She sighed, didn’t answer, and looked at my dad. He simply shrugged his shoulders, then spoke for them. "Son, when you were young your Grandpa here established a trust fund in your name. We didn’t want you to grow up using it as a crutch. We wanted to make you an independent thinker. We were going to tell you after you graduated."

  "That’s dope!" I beamed at everyone. "Thanks, Grandpa!" His stern face made me falter and I looked at my mom and dad for more information.

  "It transferred when you turned 18," Bob answered my unasked question.

  I turned back to Grandpa Al. He told me. "There is a million-dollars in it."

  "Whoa," was all I could say.

  If I had known, I wouldn’t have enlisted and my life would certainly not have become the big complicated collection of secrets it is.

  Grandpa spent every waking moment with me those two weeks, giving me a crash course in business management and investing. "Maximus, use your talents. You have a good head on your shoulders. Begin buying other businesses and learn from them. Hire go-getters. Treat them with respect. Pay them well. Reward good effort. Do not hesitate to use the talents of your employees. Remember your family loves you. They will be loyal to you and want you to succeed. Be loyal to your employees in return, but allow no one to mind your business but yourself."

  As it turns out, Grandpa was right. My personality, coupled with a logical mind and the concise communication skills I learned in the military has made me a keen observer and an excellent venture capitalist. I’ve managed to turn that million-dollar trust fund into Maximus Enterprises, a multimillion-dollar conglomeration of successful business ventures worth multi-millions.

  I turn my ear to the door, listening for the model, but I hear only silence. She must be applying makeup. I should have told her to stay natural. I lift my face to the sun and let my mind drift along, waiting patiently.

  Maintaining a dual lifestyle has been challenging, to say the least, but I’ve successfully kept my business persona and my American life separate with the help of a successful team of handpicked Italian family members I employ. Back home in Alabama, my homeboys know I have money, but not the extent of it. My military family doesn’t know anything at all. They simply know me as Warrant Officer Aurei Moore, an Alabama homeboy, currently stationed at Fort Rucker.

  I lace my fingers, put my hands on top of my head and chuckle. I’ve got jaw-dropping news for Sam I am too. If he comes in after my military obligation ends this spring and I have officially resigned, I’m going to come out of the millionaire player closet. My bro is going to be shocked. I chuckle harder as my eyes follow a car passing on the street below.

  "Signore?" The sweet little piece of ass calls looking for me from deep inside the studio. I twist my head to her voice. Her bare feet pad across the hardwood floor as she comes closer then stops in the doorway. "Why are you in the cold air?"

  "Reminds me how alive I am."

  "Are you crazy man? It’s freezing!"

  I laugh. I guess I am a crazy man standing out here freezing my balls blue. I shift my stance to look into the room. Her arms are crossed over her nakedness and she is obviously cold.

  "I will wear the mink." She says and retreats inside. I smile at her sweet little ass as she disappears.

  Granny Moore introduced me to the art of photography when I was a preteen. She was worried about my 'badass' attitude and gave me my first camera. "You seem to be finding yourself in the middle of schoolyard battles, Dear. You should report Ann's bullying to the teachers. Let the adults handle the children."

  I didn’t answer. I knew the only way to protect my little sister was to kick their asses and since I could, I did. Worked too. But then the next year, we moved to another school, and it started all over again, so I had to teach those bullies too.

  "You are breeding anger, and anger breeds unhappiness, and unhappiness isn’t a pretty sight for these old eyes." She told me as she handed me a box wrapped in Superman gift paper. I smile again remembering her underlying message. She was proud of me for doing the right thing, even though it wasn’t what she wanted me to do. "I want you to take this and look for positive things to fill you. Focus on the inherent beauty in this world. It is everywhere. Do that, Hun, for your Granny Moore and your life will be full of warmth and goodness."

  That summer, I came to Italy to stay with the Liotine side of my family. I took that camera and found beautiful girls willing to pose topless for me. I smirk, remembering. My life has definitely been full of warmth and goodness. I turn my ear to the door, listening, but there is still silence. When this last model arrived, I told her like I’ve told all the others before her. "I’m sure Adona informed you, but I want to be clear before we begin. I shoot nudes. You aren’t required to do anything you don’t want to do. Are we clear?"

  "Sì. Where do I change?"

  I didn’t answer. I pointed to the spot where she was standing, then to the fur coats hanging on the hook, and left the room for the balcony.

  Adona’s Modeling Agency has been providing me with a steady stream of beautiful women to photograph and thereby fuck for years. Since modeling is such a cut throat industry the girls wouldn’t dream of dishing amongst themselves about fucking the photographer for fear of being backstabbed nor would they brag about it for fear of being fired or blackballed. Which allows me to fuck with no strings attached whenever I want, and I can have a new one every time. It’s perfect for someone in my position. My only requirement of Adona is the models she chooses for me are single and my identity remains anonymous.

  Today’s beauty steps back up to the doorway wearing the sable mink now. Lowering my head, turning my ear to the door, I wait for her to join me, but she doesn’t. Instead, I hear her feet retreat inside to the warmth of the heated floor.

  "Are you ready?" I ask over my shoulder.

  "Sì. I am ready." Her tone is professional, but enticing. "Please come here, Americano. Where it is warm."

  I turn to face the room and see her hovering at the edge of the shadow. Should I hold my hand out and ask her to come to me? The sun is bright and I might be able to capture the colors in her raven hair. Inside it will simply blend with the black mink she has chosen to wear. Unless I turn the spotlights on, but I don’t feel like dealing with setting them up now. I walk the few steps to the door, lift my arms overhead, brace on the threshold and lean in, watching her reaction to me and trying to decide inside or outside.

  The sweet little piece of ass takes a step closer, coming out of the shadow, throws open the fur coat and invitingly strikes a perfect nude pose. My cock thumps with her uninhibited presentation, making me grin at her in appreciation while noticing how her pale skin illuminates in the direct sunlight. My decision is made. Although her hair would shine in the sun, it would drain her pallor skin of color. Inside it is. Taking the camera hanging on the door latch, I put it around my neck and up to my eye, turn it on her and focus the lens. Her nakedness shines white and pasty against the darkness of the mink. Her hair mixing with it forms a hood effect around her heart shaped face. Snapping pictures of her, I get right to work. After a few dozen full-length ones, I lower the lens to capture her breasts.

  I love a good set of tits. I fell head over heels for a perfect pair thanks to a scene from my childhood of Lynda Carter as Wonder Woman running on the beach in an old TV rerun. Her natural D’s bouncing up and down so hypnotically, moving and flowing. They gave me my first hard-on and my first ejaculation, so naturally, I’m an expert on the subject, and although I fuck skinny models whose tits are not natural, but rather the best implants money can buy, I’m still a connoisseur. She’s a perfect C cup with soft pink nipples that face forward for the most part and are only slightly off center. I zoom in on the tips which are shrunken tight by the exposure to the cold air in her bare-all offering. Tiny goosebumps are raised in the areola and my cock starts to come alive. She arches her back, pushing her breasts out and turns slightly to give me the best angle, then she dips her knees, pushes her ass out working the angles for me. She’s a pro and I do appreciate pros. I shoot a trail of zoomed shots, lower. Her skin is flawless. No moles, no freckles. Her navel sits in a concave stomach. She’s a tad too skinny. She could use a little meat on her bones. I drop the camera down to find her ... 'runway’ of pubic hair. I zoom the focus in tight and see her pink flesh peeking through the hair. Although I love a beautiful pair of tits, pussy is what I really have a thing for. Ah. There’s the prize. My dick thumps at the sight, hardening further. It’s been too long between fucks. I click off dozens of pictures. Moving around her, dropping lower and shooting an up angle, testing her comfort level with my focus to find she doesn’t shy away. She continues to offer different poses and lets me work whatever area I want. She is comfortable in her skin. When I stand up straight and zoom out, turning the focus on her face, I find her smiling, then she winks, flirting.

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