“As soon as the plane gets closer, honey,” I reassure him. “The runway's a little way from this hangar, and they have to taxi still. Just remember, Daddy will be happy, but he's still going to have work to do, so he can't go on leave just yet.”
“I want to show him my hockey skates! They're so cool!” Lance says eagerly. As a birthday gift, my parents gave Lance a set of Bauer skates, and he's itching to show Aaron and go skating after seeing Aaron's old high school hockey photos.
“You'll get a chance, honey,” I reassure him. I hear a polite cough behind me, and I turn, seeing two people in their fifties, both wearing Army t-shirts. The man is tall, with the same hazel eyes that I've dreamed of for six months. “Mr. and Mrs. Simpson?”
The man nods, holding out his hand. “Carl Simpson, and this is my wife, Angie. Are you Lindsey?”
I shake, smiling before Carl pulls me into a hug, and I feel the same warm general goodness that I've always felt from his son. When he releases me, I step back, and I see that all of us have tears in our eyes. I kneel, taking Lance's hand. “Honey . . . these are your grandparents.”
Lance looks up in shy surprise, looking at Carl and then Angie, who kneels down. “Honey . . . I know we haven't met, but I'm very happy to meet you. I'd like a chance to get to know you.”
It's the perfect thing to say. Lance goes over and hugs his grandmother, who cries harder. Before we can say anything else, a general buzz goes through the crowd as the hangar doors open and the first troops start to come in.
Each new face that comes in is agony as we search the crowd eagerly for any sign of Aaron, but with four chartered airliners needed to ferry all the brigade from Germany to New York, even if they're staggered, that's a lot of people to move through. And I can expect, officers come last. First in, last out. That's the officer's way.
That's part of the reason I feel nervous as well, I know. The brigade commander had the planes land in rank order, and as an officer, Aaron's on the last plane. Almost everyone around me in uniform is also an officer, and I have to expect by now that some of the people at Fort Drum have heard about . . .
“DADDY!” Lance yells, pulling free of my hand and running toward the door of the hangar. My heart catches as I see Aaron jog a few steps and scoop Lance up into a huge hug, and then I'm running toward him, my six months’ full stomach barely holding me back as I make my way to him. Aaron sees me coming and sets Lance down, grabbing me and swinging me around to absorb my momentum before kissing me, and I feel whole again.
“Aaron . . .” I start when we can breathe again, but I stop when he goes down on his right knee, taking my hand. “Aaron . . .”
“Lindsey,” he says, without pausing and wasting even a second. “Lindsey, will you marry me?”
His eyes are so calm and assured, and I guess it's just a formality, really. We've known this moment would be coming for five months, and now that it's here, the impact isn't lessened one bit. I nod, wiping my eyes with my free hand, and clear my throat. “Yes. Of course, I will.”
There are a few cheers around us at my words, and I realize a cameraman is snapping photos of the whole thing. Aaron stands up and hugs me again, and Lance latches onto our legs, our family complete.
* * *
“I didn't think your Mom was going to stop crying.” I laugh as we lie in bed, the hotel room large and luxurious. In some ways, it’s appropriate that we don't have our quarters set up on Fort Drum yet. So many of the big moments in our relationship have been in hotel rooms. Starting tomorrow, Aaron's going to take a week to get us set up at Drum and arrange for his things to be moved here from Bragg, and for my stuff to be moved out of storage where I'd sent it up here. In the end, I put my faith in Aaron, and I've been so richly rewarded. I'm still feeling like the world is spinning.
“Yeah, when we asked if they could watch Lance for the night, I thought she was going to start sobbing,” Aaron says, lying on his side and stroking my belly. It's not that large yet, but I’m feeling our daughter kick from time to time, and I know Aaron's fascinated by the whole thing. “I'm sure she knows what we have in mind, but that's not important.”
“No, it isn't,” I purr, enjoying the touch of my man on my skin. He's not wearing anything. I'm not either, and the sense of natural closeness is thrilling me to my core. It's not time yet, but it'll come in when it is. “Can you show me the scar? I know Lance was so curious, but you can't exactly pull your pants up at dinner.”
Aaron laughs lightly and nods, sitting up. He scoots his butt back toward the head of the bed and pulls his right leg up higher, showing me the scar. It's not as bad as I'd feared, but there is a noticeable sort of groove in the muscle under his skin, like there's something missing. “Is it always going to be this way?”
“Probably, but it doesn't hurt anymore,” Aaron says, reaching down and idly stroking my hair. “I have to thank the Colonel for that. Working in the S-4 shop, it was just enough walking to let me get it back into shape without overstraining it and making a bunch of scar tissue in the muscle itself.”
“Are you going to miss being an XO?” I ask, looking up at him. Aaron shrugs, looking me in the eyes, then he leans down and kisses my forehead.
“It doesn't matter if I'm a S-4, S-2, XO, PL, or any other alphabet soup name the Army can think of. As long as I'm here with you, right now, that's all I care about. Actually, I got something for you, too. Used my one-day layover in Germany to good effect.”
I tilt my head, curious, as Aaron reaches over to the nightstand, and as he does, I notice his cock, lying thick and wonderful on the inside of his thigh. I chuckle, knowing whatever it is Aaron wants to give me, I think it can wait, and I reach out, running my fingers along the soft, smooth shaft and cupping his balls, humming. “Later.”
Aaron freezes and looks down, his hand still outstretched as I stroke his cock again, smiling as it quickly starts to harden. “Uh . . . Lindsey, it's been months for me. Like, two-minute trigger time.”
“Then fill my mouth.” I chuckle, turning onto my side and laying my head on his thigh, slurping his half-hard and growing harder cock into my mouth. It's the sexiest feeling I've ever had, the power of having him grow in my mouth while I lazily suck and lick around his head until he's fully hard, wonderfully missed and now here again. Aaron moans and adjusts again, propping his back against the headboard of the bed while I get to my knees, my stomach still easily out of the way as I swallow him deeper and deeper, until his cock is all the way in my mouth and I can feel the head probing the back of my throat.
“That feels so good,” Aaron groans, his hand going to my hair as I bob up and down on his cock. I don't know if it's an expert blowjob or not, but I pour myself into it, licking and sucking on the hard, wonderful shaft until he's trembling, and I pull on his ball sac gently, holding off his orgasm a little bit longer. I'm rewarded by a hungry growl from Aaron, who holds my head and starts to pump his cock in and out, losing control. “Lindsey . . .”
I don't think he understands my mumbled reply, 'come,' but his body understands when I reach under his ball sack and find the tender spot behind in the taint where I can massage his prostate from the outside. Aaron groans deeply and thrusts one last time, his cock erupting in shot after shot of sweet, slightly watery come that I drink eagerly. It's not as thick as I'd expected, but it's delicious, and I massage his softening cock as his eyes roll back with the sensation. When I finally let him out of my mouth, he sighs happily, pure ecstasy on his face. “I read somewhere that felt good to a man.”
Aaron sighs happily again, nodding. “Amazing. I feel bad though. I’m out of practice, and I’m going to need a few to recover.”
I laugh and stretch out, spreading my legs. “I'm sure you can think of something you'd like to do . . .”
Aaron laughs and nods, reaching over to the nightstand and grabbing a small bag. “Yes, but first,” he says, reaching into the bag and taking out a box, “I wanted to give this to you.”
He opens the box, and my
heart catches, looking at the diamond ring inside. “I had to email Pete, who had someone check you for some excuse or another,” Aaron says, and I know exactly what he's talking about. Beanie, that devious little . . . “so I think the size is right.”
Aaron takes the ring out and takes my left hand, sliding it onto my finger, where it fits perfectly, the diamond gleaming in the mellow light of the bedroom. “So what do you think?”
“I think I'm the luckiest woman in the world,” I reply, surprised more when Aaron leans down and kisses me, his lips caressing mine as his tongue tastes me before kissing along my neck to my right ear and tracing the curve before kissing down my neck. His hair is a little long by military standards, and I run my fingers through it in pleasure as he kisses to my breast, his tongue wrapping around my nipple and tugging me into his mouth.
I sigh happily while his hand rubs my thigh, working in small circles to between my legs. His fingers softly brush over my pussy lips, and I can barely feel anything except tingly electricity that runs all the way down to my toes. “Mmm, yes . . .”
Aaron's fingers stroke me tenderly, gathering the wetness I'm oozing until they slide slick and free between my lips, his mouth working amazing magic on my breast the whole time. My knees spread farther, and he slides a finger deep inside me, curling until he finds my g-spot and rubs, each curling movement of his finger triggering nerves in my pussy.
It's been a long time for me too, so my body is on a hair trigger as well. Aaron's lips on my nipple as well as his fingers in my pussy light a fire deep in my chest, my orgasm building quickly, and I'm soon on the edge, ready to come. “A–Aaron . . .”
“Mmmhmm . . .?” Aaron says, his eyes finding mine even as he sucks on my nipple, and he brings the heel of his hand to my clit, grinding down on it as his finger rubs continually on my g-spot. It's too much. I can't hold back any longer, and I come, a long, groaning cry pulling from my soul and leaving my legs clamped around his finger, unable or maybe unwilling to let him go, it feels so good.
Time stretches out, and I feel pure, utter joy as Aaron's body presses into mine, the weight comforting and telling me I'm safe. My heart grows, light filling my body, and then I'm smiling, totally blissful. Aaron lets my nipple out of his mouth and pulls his hand out before turning and gathering me in his arms. “That was beautiful.”
“You make me feel beautiful,” I reply, hugging him close. We stay there for a long while, just cuddling and holding each other carefully before I speak again. “So is there a ring for you?”
“Yes, I was going to let you put it on,” Aaron says, letting go of our embrace to take the box my ring came in and turning it over, where I see the other side is also a ring box. “Nifty little set box they gave me for it.”
Aaron's ring is a textured gold band, with a hole in the middle where my diamond is. “Some douchebag tried to get me to get the curved band that is supposed to match perfectly with my class ring, but I told them that I'm never wearing my class ring again.” He laughs softly as I take the ring and put it on his finger, where we let the rings match each other in the light. “This Ring Knocker has knocked for the last time.”
“You’d better not be done knocking me,” I tease, kissing him. “Two kids already. I was thinking, oh . . . as many as we want?”
Aaron laughs and nods, rubbing my belly. “I can do that. What about you?”
“We'll figure that part out tomorrow. For now, I have my man, my children, and I'm in love. What else do I need?”
Aaron
“Five years. Hard to believe that you've been an officer for five years,” Pete says, toasting me with the half-sized can of beer that we've snuck into the parade stands. It was a lucky break when he found out that he was being posted to USMA as an instructor in the Department of Physical Education, and to be honest, he deserves it. With him being on leave before taking his position at the Academy and me on change of command leave, it was the perfect time for us to come down and visit my Alma Mater.
“Not quite five yet, Pete. Four years and ten months. Just seems longer,” I tell him, leaning back and resting my shoulders on the warm aluminum of the parade viewing stands. “So are you going to miss the regular uniform for a couple of years?”
“Me?” Pete asks, laughing. “Hell no. Although I do wish they'd have updated that ugly ass instructor's uniform. That gray polo shirt and those shorts straight from the fucking seventies. I feel like my balls are hanging out the bottom when I try them on. Still, better than ACUs all the time.”
I nod, watching as first and second regiments go through their parade practice. Spring parade season is starting up soon, and the cadets are in the cool sunshine under arms, their rifles on their shoulders and their tar bucket hats all resting uncomfortably on their heads. “Hey, there go the Devils.”
“Yep. I wonder if we ever looked that young and intense,” Pete asks, and I wonder as well. A hundred faces, all with that mix of stress, hope, boredom, fear, and dedication that I suspect was on my face during my four years. I wonder how long it took for it to come off my face. “Jesus, so many of them look like they've got a stick up their ass.”
“Just remember that next year when you're teaching boxing,” I remind him. “Lesson one, pull the stick out of your ass.”
Pete laughs, nodding. “Yeah, that'll never happen. So . . . four years, ten months. Army's going to be looking for an answer pretty soon.”
I nod, humming. “They will be. Actually, my battalion commander's asking for an answer when I get back to Drum.”
Pete raises an eyebrow, then chuckles. “I guess being high speed like you and having that Silver Star in your record gives you a little bit of leeway. My battalion commander wanted my damn answer with six months left on my five. Of course, I'm MP, not Infantry. Infantry always needs good officers.”
“So why'd you stay?” I ask Pete, curious. It wasn't the only reason I came down here, but I have wanted to ask him this for a while. “I mean, your wife and kids have to hate your time away from home as much as mine.”
“I don't know. I guess the Army is just where I fit in. Dana doesn't quite understand, but she's willing to put up with it. Lindsey at least understands the uniform firsthand,” Pete reminds me. “Where is she, anyway, and how's she doing?”
“You can ask her tonight. She already insisted that we take you and your family out for dinner. Tonight or tomorrow, your pick. But she's doing well. She's a GS-9 now, and last year, she cleared more on taxes than I did. Colonel Kierney hooked her up with the right people. As for where she is, she's taking Lance and Cassie around a little, showing them some of her old stomping grounds before they . . . there they are now,” I say, pointing across the parade ground, where I see them near the MacArthur monument. “You wanna say hi now?”
“I'll save the catch up for tonight. I'll talk with Dana and give you a call. Nothing big though, man. I know you. You're going to insist on paying, so I'm calling it now, King's Garden delivery,” Pete says, offering his hand. “I'm gonna go find Dana, and we can hook it up later.”
We shake and get up, walking down the bleachers to the grass, splitting at the bottom. It's hard as I walk across the grass around the edge of the ground not to fall into the old marching steps punctuated by the big bass drum that the Corps uses to measure out the parade beat, the familiar 'boom . . . boom . . . boom-boom-boom . . .' that was a big part of my life for four years.
I come around, and Lindsey sees me, waving. I wave back, giving my wife a hug while Lance looks at the words inscribed around the monument. “How's Pete?”
“Good. He said he's going to talk with Dana, but that dinner has to be cheap. How was your walk?”
Lindsey gives me a wry look and shakes her head. “Strange. I feel like it all happened a lifetime ago, but then again, just yesterday. Part of me wanted to see if we could borrow a couple of bikes from Arvin and the two of us head out to Buckner.”
I laugh, giving her a little kiss. “You would, too. Lots of good memories for
us out there.”
Lindsey purrs and squeezes me tighter, her eyes full of meaning. I put my lips right next to her ear and hum softly, hugging her tight. “You really ready to try for number three now?”
“Maybe,” she whispers back. “Or maybe I just love my husband.”
I squeeze her tighter, then let go, smiling. “Well, keep that in mind, because if we keep going, fourth regiment behind me is going to get a show that is totally not in the rule book.”
“Daddy, what does hallowed mean?” Lance asks, interrupting us. Cassie is sitting on one of the benches, content to watch the parade practice, but Lance has been working on his reading, and he’s doing an amazing job, in my opinion.
“It means very, very special,” I tell him. Lance nods and goes back to reading quotes from MacArthur's speech. Lindsey gives me a look, and I nod. “I made my decision.”
“And?” Lindsey asks, still hugging me. “Admit it, Captain Simpson. You loved being a company commander.”
“I did. But, well, Mac here kinda helped me make up my mind.”
Lindsey quirks her head and looks back at the bronze statue of MacArthur, then at me. “Huh?”
“Duty, Honor, Country,” I say, pointing out the words that were etched deep in my heart years ago. “I always wondered, even as a plebe, why they chose the order they did for those three words. Maybe they rolled off the tongue better that way, but I didn't think that was it. Eventually, I decided . . . it's a ranking order. Duty's the most important thing, even more than Honor, and both are a hell of a lot more important than Country. And my duty, first and foremost, is to you and Lance and Cassie. You guys backed me for long enough. So, no more weekends away, no more leaving the house before Cassie's even awake enough to do more than grumble and turn over.”
Lindsey hums and squeezes me tighter. “It'll be nice to not have to sleep by myself anymore.”
Baby Fever Page 40
