Field Stripped: 15 Steamy Military Romances

by Marissa Dobson

  Her pussy tasted just as he had remembered, but even better. He shoved a finger inside her, then another. He teased the spot inside that drove her over the edge. Logan licked one of his other fingers and teased her asshole, then slowly pushed it inside her.

  At first, Miranda froze on the bed.

  “Relax, baby. I won’t hurt you,” he mumbled.

  She did as he instructed. Relaxing her body, he pushed his finger deeper inside her. He pulled back and pushed it in further.

  Suddenly, her body thrashed and convulsed. “Oh my GOD!” She came hard and her body shook. Logan grinned and sucked on her clit a little longer. “Logan! Stop! Please! I can’t take it!”

  He sat back and using his forearm, made a long swipe across his face. “So, I gather you liked me teasing your ass?”

  She nodded and panted on the bed. “No one had ever done that.”

  Logan grinned and positioned himself on top of her. “Just wait ‘til you let me fuck you there, woman.”

  “Oh god,” she whispered as Logan pushed himself inside her. Miranda’s pussy tightened around his dick as he thrust inside her. Her back arched and pressed against him.

  Logan captured her lips and kissed her. “I missed you so much,” he whispered against her lips. “I need you in my life.”

  “Yes, Logan,” she gasped as her hands moved up underneath his arms. He continued to thrust against her as they kissed and made love into the early evening.

  Epilogue

  The Black Hawk rotor beat against the air and Logan sighed hard. The plane landed last night in Atlanta and he, along with his unit, had been taken to Fort Bragg this morning. He had let Miranda know he was coming home soon, but wanted to surprise her exactly when.

  Six years had passed since he met her. Five years had passed since he gave her his name. He let her in the know of what his duties were, exactly, with the Delta Force. Some of the situations he still could not talk to her about as they were red acted, but other than mission details, she had a good idea on what he did.

  She told him on many occasion how proud she was of what he did for his country. She also told him what an amazing father he became when they had their son and then daughter.

  The day Miranda took a test and found she was pregnant, the news made Logan cry in happiness. He shared with her that he lost all hope of becoming a father when Susan died. He never planned to remarry, and he also never planned on meeting Miranda. “You have made me the happiest man ever to walk this earth!” He smiled at the memory.

  His Top Sergeant put the call in today for Miranda to make an appearance with their son, Logan Junior and daughter, Emily. They were to receive a medal of valor on Logan’s behalf.

  Logan grinned to himself, wondering what his wife would be wearing, and how big his son and daughter had become.

  The Black Hawk landed and he turned toward the opening.

  Brody jumped from the pilot’s seat with a wide grin. “Welcome home, you old married fucker!”

  Logan chuckled and hugged his longtime friend. “It’s great to be home, you single asshole!”

  Next, Logan had been led into the gymnasium where the awards ceremony took place. He stepped inside the air conditioned building and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “You all right, man?” Brody asked as he clapped his friend’s shoulder.

  Logan nodded. “A year in the sandbox fucks with your head. No air, limited resources, limited everything. Here…hell, it’s like heaven.”

  “Nah,” Brody pointed toward Logan’s wife and grinned. “There’s your heaven in a red dress.”

  Logan grinned and nodded. “Damn, I missed that woman. Look at Junior and Emily! They’ve grown!”

  Brody chuckled and clapped his back once more. “Good luck, man.” Brody took his leave.

  Logan watched him as he passed Miranda and gave her a hug. He said something to her and she nodded a few times, then wiped her tears.

  Miranda’s name was called through the microphone and Logan readied himself. She had no idea he was there, and he had to plan this right. She stepped toward the podium and their children remained to the side of the stage. They were so well behaved and Logan beamed with pride.

  She began to talk and he noticed her voice sounded shaky. He knew she was not much for public speaking. Something caught his attention and when he looked, the organizer of the event waved him over.

  The organizer gave him instructions, told him where the stairs were and whenever he was ready, to go for it.

  Logan grinned and nodded. He stood opposite stage of his children and wondered who would see him first: Junior or Emily. He approached the stage stepped onto it and sighed, then made a beeline for Miranda.

  Everything suddenly went silent…until he heard Emily. “DADDY!”

  Miranda froze and turned toward around, wide eyed. She blinked and shook her head, then blinked again. The shock on her face changed quickly to disbelief, to excitement, then to tears. Her lip trembled as she quickly raced for him, and jumped into his arms.

  Logan chuckled and caught her mid-air, holding her tightly. He buried his face in her neck as Miranda cried in his embrace.

  “Oh my god, you’re home? How can you be home? Why did you not tell me? Oh god, you’re home!” Everything came from her all at once. Then the children reached him.

  “DADDY!” they both screamed at once. Holding his wife with one arm, he embraced his children with the other. Emily began to cry and he could tell Junior did his best to keep himself strong.

  Miranda finally released him and Logan dropped to his knees. He embraced Emily and pulled Junior in close. “You two have grown so much!”

  “Daddy,” Emily cried. “Daddy, I missed you so much! You missed my birthday, Daddy! I turned three!”

  “I know, baby girl, I know. I promise to make that up to you every single day.”

  “Daddy, I turn four next week,” Junior announced. “We can celebrate it together, Daddy!” Junior sniffed and Logan looked to his son.

  “I’m so happy to hear that, son. I really am.” He held him close and felt Junior shake in his arms. He finally let go trying to be strong and cried with his family.

  Logan stood and held both of his kids in his arms, then leaned forward and kissed his wife. “I’m home, baby, and unless there’s another deployment, I’ll be here a while.”

  She cried again and laughed at the same time. “Welcome home, baby, welcome home.”

  * * *

  THE END

  Julie Morgan

  Hailing from Burleson, Texas, and growing up in the country with big tractors and bonfire parties, I would daydream about far off lands, hoping to get inside their worlds one day. I can remember daydreaming about flying; not in a plane, but like an angel or a bird. I would occasionally write these thoughts in my journal, but never did much with them beyond that. I’ve worked in IT my entire career and have always had a fascination with electronics. I like to take things apart and see how they are put back together, preferably with nothing left over.

  I’ve always had a love of books in the contemporary and paranormal genres. After encouragement from my family, I finally made the leap from writing in a spiral notebook to writing in a laptop.

  Now residing in sunny Florida as a military wife, I spend my free time with my daughter. She’s my light in this dark world. You’ll find us putting together puzzles, playing games, or reading stories about animals or princesses.

  As a family, we volunteer our time with the local Autism Research center here in Polk County, in hopes of finding a cure one day. Once you learn to see the world through the eyes of an autistic person (child or adult), the world never looks the same again.

  For more information on Autism or how to volunteer, go to www.autismspeaks.org

  For more information:

  @JulieMorganBook

  JulieMorganBook

  www.juliemorganbooks.com/

  Locked and Loaded

  by Alyssa Breck

  Knights
of War MC Series Book One

  One more term paper and Holly Farris will have her graduate degree in journalism. When her research lands her in a seedy bar in Dallas, she crosses paths with an alluring ex-Army Ranger turned enforcer for an outlaw motorcycle club.

  Hunter McKay doesn’t like reporters nosing around his club but he’s drawn to the petite blonde with the big attitude. Layers of secrets are peeled back and Hunter starts to feel something he hasn’t felt in a long time. Holly’s inadvertent involvement in an FBI investigation provokes a prison gang to put a hit on her and Hunter must decide how far he’s willing to let himself fall to save her.

  Chapter One

  The moment after she walked into the bar, Holly figured it hadn’t been her brightest idea. Smoke hung heavy in the air and she cleared her throat. A woman across the bar stood beside a pool table and suggestively slid her hand up and down the cue stick. Her jeans were too tight and her boobs were squished together by a paisley patterned corset. Who dressed like that in a bar? Her hair was messy and the ghastly shade of red was nothing God had created, that shit had come straight out of a bottle.

  At the rear of the club, another woman spun around on a pole. She wore nothing but a neon pink G-string and white platform heels. Her brown hair was pulled up in pigtails. A group of men sat at the two tables in front of the stage. She came close to the edge and slid down to the floor. She sat on her ass and lifted her legs up then spread them open. One of the men threw a balled up dollar bill that landed between her thighs. She smiled and winked at him before crawling back toward the pole.

  The men in the bar all had one thing in common. They wore the cut. The leather vest of the Knights of War. That’s what brought Holly out of the comfort of her small house in Sugar Branch, Texas to a seedy bar in Dallas on a Saturday night. One last thesis for her sociology class and she’d have her master’s in journalism. A big chunk of the dissertation paper was already written but she needed a little personal experience to polish it up; a little personal experience with a biker gang.

  Holly held her purse close to her side and slid onto a stool at the bar. The thought that she could blend in fled her mind like water down a storm drain. Unless she took off her clothes and joined the chick spinning on the pole or gave a beer bottle a blow job, she stuck out like a sore thumb.

  The burly bartender wiped the counter with a white towel. “What can I get you, darlin’?” His t-shirt had a picture of a skull with two guns crisscrossed behind it; the same image that adorned the back of the leather vests.

  “I’ll have a margarita, please.”

  “Sure thing. Blended or on the rocks?” He smiled. A large gap separated his front teeth lending a softness to his kind of scary demeanor.

  “On the rocks.” She reached into her purse and slid a ten-dollar bill across the bar.

  He set a salt-rimmed glass in front of her and poured an extra shot of Patron on the side. “That’s on the house, sweetheart.”

  “Thank you.” Holly licked some salt off the glass and took a sip of the margarita. She choked. It was mostly tequila with a little margarita mix. “Wow. That’s strong.”

  “We don’t water our shit down here.” He winked at her and moved down the bar. “Another?” he asked the man sitting a few seats away from Holly.

  The man didn’t answer but just nodded and the bartender tipped a bottle of Maker’s Mark to fill the empty glass.

  Closer by Nine Inch Nails started playing and the man turned around in his seat. The volume increased and a red light lit up the stage where the woman danced. The beat was erotically hypnotic.

  Holly downed the shot of tequila and chased it with another sip of the margarita. The stripper walked around the pole, dragging her feet. She jumped up and wrapped her legs around the pole. The same man who’d thrown a dollar at her stood up and hooted. “Fuck yeah!” The other men laughed and clinked glasses and bottles together.

  She wondered why this guy at the bar wasn’t sitting with the rest of his crew. He wore the Knights of War vest along with a solemn expression on his face. Holly studied his profile. His nose was straight and his lips full. He stroked his beard and seemed entranced by the stripper. Tattoos covered the backs of both his hands.

  As the song came to a close, he stood up and walked toward Holly. Faded jeans hung on his hips. His gait was smooth and unhurried.

  She turned around and took another swig of her drink.

  He sat down beside her. “Do I know you?”

  Holly smiled. “I don’t think so.”

  His eyes slid down to her chest and he stared without apology as if he were entitled to the view.

  Holly pulled her jacket closed.

  “What’s your name?” he asked. The ice clinked in his glass as he drained the last of the whiskey.

  “Holly.”

  He tilted his head. “You’re named after a Christmas plant. How sweet.” Sarcasm laced his words.

  She frowned. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

  “Who said I was nice?” He lit a cigarette and blew the smoke toward the ceiling.

  A stack of index cards sat on her desk back at home. She’d rehearsed the questions she would ask. All that fled her mind as she watched him do nothing more than smoke a damned cigarette.

  He wrapped his hand around her arm and spoke low and deliberate. “What are you doing in here?”

  She looked at his hand then up to his face. “I’m having a drink in a bar. Why?”

  He leaned in close enough that his breath was hot on her cheek. “Don’t bullshit me, little girl. This is not your scene and we both know it.”

  Straightening her spine, she said, “Take your hand off me, please.”

  “Are you a cop?”

  Holly laughed. “Are you serious?”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?”

  “No, I’m not a cop.” She pulled her arm away and he let go.

  Up close, his brown eyes held a softness that his actions hid. But interrogating a woman in a bar seemed to come second nature to him.

  “If you’re not a cop, then you’re just plain stupid. This is no place for a pretty little thing like you to be hanging out alone.”

  “I can take care of myself.” Holly put her hand into her purse and touched the leather pouch that held the pepper spray her mother had bought her for her birthday.

  “Take a good look around here, sweetheart. You’re a lamb sitting in the wolves’ den. I don’t know what you’re stroking in your purse but I’m betting it’s nothing that could stop someone from snapping you in half.”

  The hostility wasn’t something she was used to. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to warn her or if he was just a jerk. “Are you always this mean?”

  “No. Sometimes I’m meaner.” He nodded toward her empty glass. “What are you drinking?”

  “Margarita. On the rocks.”

  He rapped on the bar and pointed to her. In less than a minute, a fresh drink sat in front of her and his glass was refilled.

  “Thank you.” She looked at his vest to see if his name was on it somewhere. Sgt. At Arms was embroidered on a patch on his right and Master Reapers on the left. “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Hunter.”

  “I’d like to say it’s nice to meet you but you’re kind of an asshole.”

  His eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed. His smile was a little crooked but it suited him. “And you’re kind of feisty. I like that.”

  Holly smirked. “I think it’s liquid courage.” As she sipped her second drink she silently reminded herself that she had planned to have only one drink. This was work. Observation.

  The stripper left the stage and the party of men began to scatter inside the bar. One of them grabbed the redhead by the pool table and backed her up to the wall. She let the pool stick fall to the ground and wrapped her tattooed arms around his neck.

  Hunter crushed out his cigarette and lit another one.

  Holly pointed to the pack of Camels.
“May I?”

  He pushed them toward her. “Social smoker?” The lighting was dim in the bar but he looked like he spent a lot time outdoors. His skin was sun-kissed.

  “Yeah. When I drink.” She shook one out and he flipped open a silver Zippo to light it for her.

  There was no DJ or jukebox but the music was pretty loud. An old song came on that she remembered hearing as a kid and she moved her head a little bit to the beat. Black speakers were mounted on the corners near the ceiling.

  A hulking blond guy with tattoos up and down his arms and on his neck reached between Hunter and Holly to grab the same pack of cigarettes. “Who’s your friend, Hunt?”

  “Holly, meet Maddox. Maddox. Holly.”

  He glanced down at her cleavage and smiled. “Howdy.” The patch on his chest read “V. President.”

  “Hi.” She took a hard drag on the cigarette and blew the smoke upward. There wasn’t much left in her glass and she swigged the last of it.

  “Do you want another one?” Hunter asked.

  “No. I shouldn’t. I have to drive home still.”

  “Where’s home?”

  “Sugar Branch.”

  The light glinted off the silver rings on his left hand. “You’re quite a way from home. What brings you to Dallas?” He flicked an ash into the bowl on the bar. Bits of gray weaved through his brown hair and more so in his beard. He probably had ten years on her.

  “Business.”

  “And what kind of business brings you to a bar like this?” Hunter licked his lips and she lost her train of thought. Bearded bikers weren’t her type in general but he was growing on her. Fast.

  Before she could answer, the door to the bar opened and a group of men filed inside. They wore cuts like Hunter’s but were from another club. The patches were different. Glorious Bastards MC. Both Hunter and Maddox stood.

  Holly steeled herself for a bar fight like she’d seen in the movies. Instead, Hunter stuck his hand out and shook hands with a squatty man sporting a sizeable beer belly. He clapped Hunter on the shoulder.