Quadruple Duty

by Krista Wolf

  I nodded slowly, letting him continue. I could tell there was more he wanted to say… if I only were smart enough to stay silent.

  “I was a foster child,” Ryan said simply. “The same typical story you hear all the time. Bounced from home to home until I was old enough to enlist, then got the hell out of there as soon as I could.”

  “What about your actual parents?” I asked boldly. He didn’t answer. “Did something happen to them or—”

  “Don’t know, don’t care,” Ryan said defensively. Then, “Does it even matter?”

  I shrugged one shoulder. “Mattered to me.”

  “You?”

  I nodded grimly. “I lost both my parents in a car crash when I was a kid.”

  His expression changed. People’s expressions usually do, when something like that gets laid out on the table. Only Ryan’s face wasn’t full of the usual pity. He didn’t rush in with the standard “I’m sorry,” or try to grab my hand for emotional support.

  “How old?”

  “I was nine.”

  “Damn. Nine is rough.”

  “Yeah, it was.”

  Now it was his turn to be silent, wondering if I’d continue the tale. It wasn’t something I talked about often. Or even at all, really.

  “Nine’s probably the worst possible age to lose people that close to you,” I said. “You’re old enough to have all these great memories, but young enough that you still need someone to raise you. Someone new. Someone… strange.”

  I wanted to stop, but when I looked back at him his eyes were comforting. There was understanding there instead of sympathy — a deep understanding that I hadn’t gotten from anyone else. Ryan had been where I was. He knew.

  “For me it was my father’s best friend and his wife,” I said. “They took over where my dad left off. Tried to raise me according to his wishes, but they already had three kids of their own.”

  My fingernails tapped the table absently. My gaze dropped.

  “Didn’t work out like that, did it?”

  “No,” I admitted. “Doug was alright I guess, but Cynthia always resented that she was saddled with me by default. I was never going to be her daughter. I wasn’t even going to be a sister to my three teenage ‘siblings’ either, just a nine-year old nuisance they teased and ignored. Far too young to relate to them on any real level. Way too old to be cute.”

  When I looked up again, I noticed Ryan’s body language had changed. He was more relaxed. His hands were open on the table, instead of closed.

  “It sucks, doesn’t it?” he asked. “Not fitting in anywhere?”

  “Yeah. It does.”

  “Do you still talk to them?”

  I hesitated for a long moment before answering. “Not really,” I admitted, with a little bit of shame. “Holidays maybe. A phone call here and there, on a birthday. It’s on my end too, if I’m being honest. They were never really my family to begin with, and I wasn’t all that accepting.”

  “They got thrust on you,” Ryan nodded. “Just like you got thrust on them.”

  “Exactly.”

  I went back to my drink, which was nearly empty. Suddenly I needed something stronger. Something other than soda.

  “My parents abandoned me,” said Ryan, “from what I was told. Something something drugs. Something something ‘couldn’t possibly take care of a kid’.”

  “Do you remember them at all?”

  He looked over my shoulder, as if seeing something that wasn’t really there. Eventually he shook his head. “Not really. Vague flashes of my mother, maybe. Bits and pieces.”

  “But you know where they are now?”

  Ryan’s tensed up again. I could see the muscles of his beautiful shoulders go visibly tight. “Not even a fuckin’ clue.”

  “You know their names though,” I said. “Certainly you’re curious enough to—”

  “NO.”

  The word, and the way he said it, left no room for interpretation or discussion. I saw his jaw flex. The temples on either side of his handsome, masculine head throbbed with defiance.

  “I understand what you went through,” he relented, “but for me it was different. I was rejected, Sammara. Disavowed by the people who were supposed to love me, whereas you were abruptly cut off from a family that already loved you.”

  He opened his palm. It was a gesture of empathy, an offer of a shared connection. I reached forward without breaking our gaze and gently slid my hand into his.

  “You want to get out of here?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Me too.”

  Seventeen

  SAMMARA

  We rode through the streets, and this time I leaned even closer against Ryan’s leather-wrapped body. I clamped my thighs tighter. Interlocked my wrists around the flat expanse of his stomach, rather than just rest my hands on his hips.

  I did all this not because I was scared. Not anymore.

  I did it because there was less between us now.

  We stopped for drinks — some little corner dive bar he’d picked out a long time ago. I didn’t know how long he’d been going there, or who he went with, or how many other girls he’d taken. None of that mattered, really. All that mattered was the closeness we felt as the evening progressed. The walls around the both of us developing cracks and crevasses as the night wore on.

  I told Ryan about my own life, what I’d been doing, who I’d been doing it with. I went into some detail about my childhood too, and he listened intently, even if he didn’t reciprocate.

  Most of all we talked about nothing. We drank a few beers from the bottle, then shot a game of pool on the rattiest, most shredded up pool table I’d ever seen.

  “Never played 9-ball,” I told him, after he racked. “Only 8.”

  “Anyone can play 8-ball,” he replied. “9-ball takes more foresight. Shot discipline.”

  “Shot discipline?” I’d laughed. “That sounds almost military.”

  “It is.”

  From there I asked him about his service. Where he’d linked up with Kyle, and Dakota, and Briggs, and how long he’d known them. It turned out he hadn’t toured with them initially in Afghanistan, but instead met them later on in Iraq. He told me stories about each of them in turn, but was conspicuously vague when it came to details about himself.

  Even so, I was careful not to push. Ryan could tell me whatever he wanted to, when and if he was ready.

  And that was all I really needed.

  At one point during the game he placed his hands on my hips, supposedly to balance me as I leaned over to make a shot. His touch was strong and confident, yet at the same time, gentle too. As if he handled things like explosives, and needed to treat me with the same delicate attention.

  His touch sent shivers down both my legs.

  We ended the night at his motorcycle, all big and black and chrome. I could still feel the heat radiating off the big silvery exhaust pipes as we sat on the seat, face to face.

  “So…” I said finally. “You and me…”

  I was practically straddling him, my hands flat on his thighs. His legs were flexed. Beneath the fabric of his jeans, I could feel the strength and power there.

  “Ryan, I’m not looking for an instant connection,” I said. “Or even a connection at all. Maybe we just don’t like each other,” I shrugged. “Maybe I put too much salt in your coffee, and it’s a rift so terrible that it can never be repaired.”

  I saw the crack in his stoic expression. The smirk that betrayed his epic seriousness. It was sardonic and smarmy, yes… but it was there.

  “Still, it wouldn’t be fair to the guys if we didn’t give it a level shot.”

  “A shot, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  I expected him to lean in… to plant his lips on mine, just like in the movies. The classic motorcycle seat first kiss I’d seen a dozen times, in a dozen or more cheesy romantic comedies.

  Instead he only extended his hand.

  “So… truce?”

  I stared down at his hand curiously. This part had never been in the movies.

  “A truce would assume we were at war to begin with,” I said. “Wouldn’t it?”

  “Fine,” he countered. “A ceasefire then.”

  The hand was still there. I stared at it a moment longer before taking it. He shook it firmly, like I was another guy.

  “Okay. Ceasefire.”

  He smiled and a warmth flowed through me, followed by a sense of optimism and accomplishment. Maybe things could be okay between us. Sort of.

  You still don’t know where you stand, do you?

  I ground my teeth together in frustration. No. No, I didn’t.

  Shit.

  Ryan strapped on his helmet and kicked-started the bike all in one motion. It roared like a lion, rumbling noisily beneath us until he lifted me up and set me back on my feet.

  God he was so, so strong.

  I stood with my hand out, waiting for the other helmet. Instead he placed his hands on the handlebars.

  “Gotta run,” he said.

  “Run?” My brows crossed with confusion. “Run?”

  “I’m working again tonight. Have to be on base in twenty.”

  I blinked, staring back at him in confusion. “And what about me?”

  “You’re taking a cab home,” he said. “I already called for it.”

  “B—But—”

  “It’ll be right here in a few. Don’t go anywhere.”

  My shoulders slumped. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. I thought we were making progress, maybe understanding each other. And now here he was ditching me on some darkened street corner, and riding off into the night.

  It didn’t make any sense.

  “Fine,” I sighed. “Go.”

  Ryan kicked the bike into gear and nodded in my direction. “Thanks for understanding.”

  I stepped back as he released the handbrake. The tires began to roll.

  “And Sammara?”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t mind the salt,” he winked.

  Then he lowered his visor and roared off, leaving me in a warm plume of dust.

  Eighteen

  KYLE

  Knock. Knock.

  She opened the door as she had last night, only this time she only peered around the corner. Sammara’s face was flushed, but her eyes not sleepy. In fact, she looked almost breathless.

  “Oh…” she smiled sheepishly. “Hi.”

  I stood there for a moment, looking at her from the chin up. The door still didn’t move.

  “You uh… going to invite me in?”

  Her expression crossed with a tiny flash of alarm. She squelched it quickly. “It’s late, Kyle.”

  “Yeah but you’re up. And I wanted to talk to you.”

  Sammara’s eyes shifted left and right. Checking the hallway.

  “I’m not decent.”

  I laughed. “Did you forget I’ve already seen you not decent?”

  She rolled her eyes playfully, as if to say ‘ha ha’. But she relented. The door opened.

  Once inside I took her immediately in my arms. I kissed her so hard, so fast, it left her gasping.

  “Oh…”

  She was wearing a T-shirt, and not a very long one. It barely covered the tops of her delectable thighs. And just beneath, the tiniest flash of color. A strip of silken material. Green… maybe turquoise blue.

  She kissed me back one last time and then pushed me away, just before I could settle my hands over the two globes of her magnificent ass.

  “I want you,” I said flatly.

  She looked as she did the night we’d made love, all flushed and pink and warm, with soft curves and plump lips. Even without makeup she was stunningly beautiful. I stepped forward again, and put my face against hers.

  “You have to wait…” she squeaked. The sentence began firmly but trailed off unconvincingly at the end.

  “Why?” I whispered huskily. “I’ve already had you. Let the others wait a week. I want to take you again.”

  I kissed her some more, leaning into her body. Forcing her backward, step by step, until she was at the edge of the bed. Sammara was moaning softly, sometimes kissing me back, sometimes playing up her reluctance. Her hands went to my body, though. I was melting her resolve.

  Finally her calves were pressed up against the mattress. Her knees buckled. She nearly fell backward…

  “Kyle listen,” she twisted away. “You made a promise, remember? To your brothers-in-arms. We can’t break that promise, not even together. It would be like betraying them from the very beginning.”

  Shit.

  She was right of course. I knew she was right, deep down inside, even though I hated myself for it.

  God she’s gorgeous…

  I couldn’t imagine not being with her. Just walking away and leaving her here. Going back to my room and—

  A sudden thought occurred to me. I reached down and lifted her shirt… then sank to my knees and began kissing the flat of her stomach.

  Sammara sucked her next breath so sharply it sounded like a hiss. “Kyle… wait…”

  “You said we could kiss you,” I told her. “That’s what you said.”

  I ran my hands up the outsides of her legs. Her body reacted with an electric shiver.

  “Yes but—”

  “Well then I’m kissing you,” I said, planting tiny kisses all around her navel. The kisses grew slower… then lower. “Just kissing you.”

  Blindly my fingers found the outside waistband of her tiny panties. I rolled them down her legs, revealing a powder-blue thong. The fabric of the crotch was noticeably darker. I touched it, and my fingers came back wet.

  “You’re soaked.”

  Sammara didn’t reply. She only reached down with both hands, to sift her fingers through my hair.

  “This isn’t just because of me…” I teased. “You were touching yourself before I got here.”

  It wasn’t really a question. But I stopped kissing until I got an answer.

  “Yes.”

  I kissed her some more. Trailed my tongue lower and lower, until it dropped below the depression left behind by the elastic that had ringed her waist.

  “Then you need this.”

  I pushed, and she dropped backward onto the bed. Her legs fell open, her lovely thighs parting in a sign of surrender… just like the sigh that softly escaped her lips.

  I went straight to work, burying my face between her legs. She was smooth and slick, her pussy glistening like a little pink flower. I parted it with my tongue, savoring her sweetness, enjoying how absolutely drenched she was as I slid my longest finger inside her.

  “Ohhhhhhh…”

  It was the same as before. Sammara’s thighs clamped slowly shut around my head, inching closer to my ears as I absolutely devoured her. My tongue bathed every inch of her, inside and out. I slid it down over her clit, then drove it deep to scoop up her sweet nectar and bring it into my mouth.

  The taste of her brought back memories. Memories of fucking her. Of exploding inside her, my face buried in that shimmering sea of cornsilk hair…

  She made a noise, and I glanced up over the smooth expanse of her body. Sammara was whimpering, biting down on her own knuckles in an attempt not to be heard. I reached up with my free hand, pushed her fingers away, and clamped my palm down over her mouth instead.

  “MMMmmmPPPhhhh!”

  She bit down on my palm, even as she gushed into my mouth. Her orgasm was silent, secret. The whole thing a forbidden pleasure. Maybe that’s what made it so good for her — that we were partners in crime, exploiting a technicality. A loophole to get her off…

  When she freed me from the prison of her strong, slender thighs, I slid up and kissed her some more. Sammara’s tongue went everywhere, licking and sucking on mine, tasting herself on my lips. She was lost in lust. Totally consumed in the moment.

  Her eyes met mine, and a question passed silently between us. We could both feel the iron spike of my hard-on, trapped between our bodies.

  “We can’t,” she whispered. Her eyes were sorrowful and apologetic. “We… we shouldn’t….”

  “I know.”

  I was in agony, aching to be inside of her. More ready for it than I had been for anything else in my entire life.

  But she was right. It would be a betrayal. And if I wanted this whole thing to work — which I did now more than ever before — it couldn’t start off with a betrayal. Especially of my brothers.

  Going against every instinct in my body, I pushed myself up and away. My own release would have to wait.

  “I’m sorry,” Sammara said breathlessly. “You know I—”

  “It’s cool,” I stopped her. “I get it.” Leaning in, I kissed her on the forehead. “Actually what you did was sweet. It shows inner strength. Loyalty. The other guys would be impressed.”

  She looked suddenly terrified. “You’re not going to tell them that we—”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Okay,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Good.”

  Between my legs I was still throbbing. I tried shifting everything around, to make it more comfortable.

  “How’d it go with Ryan?” I asked.

  Sammara’s smile returned. “Good, I think.”

  “You think?”

  “Well either he hates me, or he hates the fact that he doesn’t hate me.”

  I laughed. “Sure sounds like Ryan.”

  “Yeah.”

  She stood up and smoothed her T-shirt back down over her ass and legs. She didn’t bother putting her panties back on, though.

  “I reminded him that you all agreed to try this,” she said. “That you put thought and work into it, and for it to happen, he has to give it a fair shake.”

  “Fair enough.”

  She shifted, crossing one leg over the other. There was something else.

  “Then Ryan told me something.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

  All at once she seemed hesitant. A little reluctant to continue.

  “Spit it out,” I laughed. “You can’t go back now.”

  Sammara crossed the room and closed her hand over a frosted glass of water. She took a long sip, and I got to watch her shirt ride up over her ass again as the cool liquid slid down her delicate throat. When she was finished, she looked back at me.

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