My head was jerked back, face upturned at the ceiling at the feeling of what he was doing with those fingers. Pleasure began to build inside me again like a tidal wave. I felt him move his hand from my hipbone, up the flat of my stomach, and to my bare breast, where his magical fingers began to do things to my hardened, sensitive bud that was driving me insane. I cried out, greedily needing another release.
“Come all over me, baby,” Ellis whispered, his words guttural, needy.
I began to pant at his words, feeling like I couldn’t breathe, my world going dark as I closed my eyes. A mounting desire began to form too quickly inside me, my stomach sucking in to stave off the desire for just a few seconds longer. My sex clenched, dripping and swollen against his beautiful cock and what it was doing to me. It didn’t take me long to shatter under his skilled thrusts, gripping the sheets and screaming out his name and a few shouts to God as I rode out the blinding orgasm. His dick was doing things to my insides that rivaled what his fingers were doing to my outsides – my peaked buds, the swollen need between my legs. As I clenched around him, he too pushed against me hard, stilling as his body pulsed, both hands now clasping my hips almost painfully as he groaned his release into me, laying his hard chest against my back. He collapsed on top of me, breathing hard into my ear. He didn’t lie there long, but rolled over, got rid of the condom, then came back to lie down next to me.
I had rolled over onto my back and threw my tank top back over my head, pulling it down to cover half my exposed body. The covers were pulled up to the flat of my stomach. As Ellis climbed in, his warmth radiated onto me, causing me to sigh in happiness.
The sex with him was great, obviously – and his visits here and there were all I had. Was he a commitment-phobe? I didn’t know. Would he be here in the morning when I woke? He never had been. Did I care? Of course I did. Was there anything I could do to change the outcome? I was too tired to care. I drifted off into a satisfied, blissful sleep.
Chapter Five
Ellis
God, she looked so beautiful lying there asleep. Her red hair was splayed out over the crisp, white pillow, and the light from the electronics in the room caused the shadow of her eyelashes to illuminate over her cheeks as her eyes were closed and peaceful.
But I had to go. I didn’t want her to wake up and find me there. I suppose I should rephrase that. I didn’t think she wanted me there when her beautiful caramel colored eyes fluttered open in the morning and saw me still lingering. Talia was a strong girl. She didn’t seem like the type who would want to find a man in her bed at 8 in the morning as the sun was streaming into her windows. She would probably find it offensive or old-fashioned to actually wake up with her head on my chest, my arms encircling her small, pale frame.
But not me. This engrained and innate need to protect and watch over her was buried deep in my heart and soul. I wanted to spend every waking minute with her. I wanted to drive her to work and then pick her up when she was done with her shift, greeting her with a kiss as she got on my bike. I wanted to drive her home to a place we shared together and spend the night worshipping her perfect body until she was screaming out my name over and over. But that just wasn’t the kind of relationship we had.
Instead, I would text her, she would text back, and I would take that as an open invitation that she wanted me, even if it was just for the night. My heart raced and my body saluted to attention when she’d tell me to come over. I definitely didn’t have to be told twice when she gave me an open invitation. So on nights like these, when she let me adore her and explore her every inch before falling asleep, I assumed she only wanted sex.
And that – I could live with.
But just for now.
There was a pink light beginning to creep over the horizon as I rode my bike toward my apartment, ready to sleep the day away. It killed me to leave Talia sleeping, it really did. One day I’d stay all night and see what she thought – test those boundaries – but for now, I’d give her space.
I had often thought – maybe it was me who wanted it this way? No commitment, get what I wanted and give her what she needed – and then leave, move on with my day, my week, my month. I wasn’t sure. I was so fucked up inside, it was hard to decipher what I wanted or needed anymore. All I knew for sure was that I needed a job and something to focus on before I went utterly motherfucking insane.
I pulled into the parking lot of my apartment complex and hurried to my door, anxious for my own bed. After stripping and showering under some hot, steamy water, I fell into bed wearing nothing at all, letting my thoughts of Talia consume me. Lord knows visions of her beautiful face and body was so much better than the ones of sand, smoke, and sordid danger that usually plagued me.
My eyes fluttered closed and blackness took me, but it was anything but blessed or peaceful.
The truck is on its side and I slam my eyes open, wondering just what the hell is going on. One minute I’m driving through the desert with my fellow Marines on our way to check out a possible enemy camp, the next, the truck I’m in is on its side, smoke billowing from the top of it. Groans and moans of pain echo around me. My rifle is still in my right hand, but I cannot move my left. It’s stuck between my seatbelt and the butt of the rifle.
I yank hard to free myself, my brain still in a dazed fog as to what the fuck just happened. I manage to free myself by cutting the seatbelt off with my knife and crawl from the vehicle. About 20 feet away, I see a man lying on the ground. He’s writhing around in pain, so I stagger to my feet, coughing from the smoke, and go to him.
Kneeling down, I set down my weapon and my eyes take him in. He’s big guy, dark hair, muscular. As my gaze scans his body for injuries, my eyes bulge at the hulking piece of shrapnel sticking out from his leg. His camouflage pants are shredded, the blood beginning to bloom around the wound like a fast-moving storm overtaking a countryside. The guy is grunting and trying not to scream, the vein in his neck bulging fierce while his face turns purple.
“Get this damn thing out of my leg right fucking now!” he screams at me in a painful desperation.
I lick my lips and take a shuddering breath. I really want to pull it out of his leg. My God, it looks like it hurts more than anything on Earth. But my basic first-aid training kicks in, and one of the most important rules was – ‘never remove an impaling object.’ I knew his femoral artery had to be pretty damn close to the wound, and that piece of metal could be the only thing keeping his artery from spouting a fountain of blood and killing him in less than 15 minutes.
I could kill him if I pulled that fucker out.
Sgt. Hawthorne is what his uniform reads. I didn’t know him at all before this roadside bomb had rocked all our worlds, and this was a hell of a way to meet someone.
“Get the fucking doc now!” I yell to my comrades, trying to show this guy that I was desperate to help.
I could tell he was trying to be strong but I definitely did not think anyone with this kind of wound could last very long. He’s going to pass out from the pain or continue screaming. Or worse – die. I should probably check him for other injuries. What if the shrapnel hit him elsewhere?
His head is thrust backwards and he’s got his eyes closed. He was a tough fucking bastard and I had to respect him for that. My eyes begin to scan him for other wounds, and with my right hand squeezing his thigh, I try to keep the pain at bay. I then lift my left hand to shove up his shirt. There’s so much blood everywhere, I have no idea what is splatter or what could be new wounds.
I look down at my hand and something doesn’t look right. Why are my pinky finger and ring finger shredded? They look like hamburger and are bleeding everywhere. Why doesn’t that hurt? Shouldn’t that hurt?
The clink of the smoke marker hitting the ground and a smudge of blue smoke rising in the air faintly registers as the screams of other Marines around me resonates in my ears. I rip a piece of my shirt off and wrap it around my hand so I can help Sgt. Hawthorne here while we wait for the chopper, whi
ch I can hear pulsing closer and closer. I’ll deal with these injuries later. Probably just a couple broken bones or cuts…
I gasped out loud as my eyes slammed open. I. Hate. That. Fucking. Nightmare.
I cradled the sides of my head in my hands. Make it stop.
I didn’t get very much sleep after the nightmare that never left me alone, and I knew sleep was futile. It was early afternoon now, and decided I should probably go see my mother.
Knowing she’d grill me about what I was doing with my life, if I had a girlfriend, if was ever going to settle down, and anything else she felt like throwing at me, I decided to spare myself the hassle and just call her instead. I could get the third degree over the phone instead of in person, and not waste any gas or miles on my bike doing it.
I flipped the covers off and pulled on some athletic shorts that were on my floor. Yawning, I raked fingers through my hair and wandered into the kitchen. I tossed a few scoops of ground coffee into a filter and hit the start button.
Scrolling through my phone while it brewed, the pungent aroma of the coffee hit my senses and immediately reminded me of Talia. She always smelled perfectly pure and amazing, but there was also that faint smell of coffee that lingered on her because of her job. I smiled a little as I shoved the coffee cup under the spitting stream and filled my mug. Sipping it carefully, I decided I needed to see her again. Today. Tonight. Sometime soon.
I found her name in my texts and shot off one to her. It’s time we had a real date. Fuck all these dumb-ass rules.
After texting her, I called my mom and had a stilted conversation with her about the things I knew she’d grill me about. Did I have a job? Not yet. Did I have a girlfriend? That’s a loaded question to which I had no answer except “I’m working on it.” And the last – when the hell was I gonna grow up? I shook my head at the last one. If she knew half of the shit I’d seen, she’d gain a shitload more respect for me.
Talia
Ellis wasn’t there when I woke up this morning. Did I expect anything different? No. Was I hoping for a small miracle? Yes.
Why did he feel the need to leave when I just wanted him to stay? Had I ever told him I wanted him to stay? Not sure. Maybe it was time I communicated more. But what if he liked it this way? This casual, no-strings-attached hook-up… I liked it, and I hated it.
I laughed to myself. Of course he likes it this way. He’s a dude. I’m just a dumb girl who thinks I deserve more when I know I don’t.
Nobody wants you, Talia. You’re pale, have red hair, and are too shy. Good luck finding a man. Nobody wants an ugly girl. You should wear more makeup.
I shook my head at the negative thoughts that plagued me constantly. The ones my stepfather would pound into me as a young teen. The only escape I had during those early, horrid days was the promise of sneaking out of my bedroom window at night after my parents were asleep to go hang with my friends. Smoke weed, cigarettes, and whatever else my friends could get their hands on.
My mom had no money. She worked in a fancy restaurant waitressing her ass off, and probably flirting with the boss. It was the only way I figured he managed to let her use his address to get me into a school that was halfway decent. Lord knows the school I was zoned for was nothing like the one I actually ended up attending.
Still, I never asked questions. All my newfound friends at the high school, with their designer clothes and fancy makeup and expensive shoes had accepted me. When questioned once or twice at my choice at cheap fashion, I had made up some bullshit about how I hated my stepdad and was rebelling against him with cheap clothes from the second-hand store. The reality was, I only got something new when my mom had gotten some good tips.
The lie about my stepfather hadn’t entirely been a lie. I did hate his ugly ass. He was an abusive drunk, slapping my mother around when he was really wasted. He would say hideous things to me after she’d pass out from either drinking too much of the cheap booze he’d brought home for her, or after he’d rough her up some more.
I would lock my door and pray he didn’t try to break the lock and come in to scream at me some more. I had put a poster of my favorite band over the fist-sized hole he’d left in my wall one night when he’d rifled through my nightstand and found my journal. The place where I had told my deepest, darkest secrets, thoughts about how I hated him and wished my mom would leave him.
Rick was his name. I loathed him for what he had done to me and my mom. Rick had eventually caused the demise of my mother, feeding her addictive personality with drugs and alcohol until her small, pale frame couldn’t take the abuse anymore, and she’d succumbed to an overdose.
I went through bouts of being angry at mom for not being strong enough to stand up to Rick, to a deep, dark sorrow at her gullibility and sensitive nature that had caused her to stay. “He’s sick,” she’d say, referring to his alcoholism. “I vowed to stay through sickness and in health, and he’s sick, Talia,” she’d croon, brushing a stray curl from my face, smiling at me with the warm caramel colored eyes that were so much like mine.
Not that I had an argument for that. I didn’t actually want to argue, but I was still angry to an extent. Angry at her, angry at Rick, angry at myself. But that was all in the past.
Was I ready to take on a damaged man, just like my mother had? It had ultimately been her downfall. That was not a future I wanted for myself. I was in school, and Bo was there, cheerleading, telling me I was almost done.
The coke, the heroin, the marijuana, the spice… I had tried it all and I had pulled myself out of the mire of addiction. I wasn’t going to turn out like her. I wasn’t going to let a man tell me what to do, how much money I could spend, where to work or not work, and what kind of person to be. I was going to be my own person.
My phone chirped and I pulled it from my nightstand to look at it. I first noticed the time – 1:42 p.m. Smiling at how lazy I’d been to sleep in this late, I then looked at the text.
Ellis: I want to see you tonight. Feel like being seen in public with me, sweetheart?
I sighed. My night was wide open and the thought of seeing him exhilarated me a little, but also scared me.
Yes, he’d been gone this morning when I woke briefly, and my heart ached at the thought of seeing him. I bit my lip in contemplation. He said he wanted to take me out. That, I could do. So was I ready to go out with him instead of just letting him into my bed? Yes, I was. He had my heart, there was nothing mysterious about that.
Well, I think I was. I chewed my cherry-red lip and hit reply: Yes. What time are you picking me up? PS – I hate Thai food, so just don’t.
I grinned at my sass and hit send. Throwing my phone back on my nightstand, I giggled like a schoolgirl and threw my arm over my eyes.
Chapter Six
Ellis
I punched the air in triumph. She agreed to go out with me. Like, out in public. I was cautiously happy. My brain questioned as to why she hadn’t agreed to this before. Then a thought hit me: Had I ever asked?
Meeting her in that coffee shop six months ago had been the best thing to ever happen to me (even above being sentenced to becoming a Marine instead of an inmate, as if that was some sort of punishment), and when we first started talking, nothing made me happier than to get a call or text from her. Sometimes, if I didn’t hear from her for a day or two, I’d visit her coffee shop under the pretense of just wanting coffee. Sure, I lived off the shit to keep me from dozing off mid-day from the lack of sleep I got at night, but seeing her there in her green apron and wild red hair was more of a buzz than any caffeine jolt could ever be. But I think she knew it, too. She would smile shyly while asking what kind of drink she could make for me.
We went on a couple of dates here and there, but after a few weeks, it seemed to morph into just sex. Not complaining about that since it was completely fucking incredible, but knowing what little I knew about women, I knew she probably wanted more than that. But who was I to decide what she wanted? I was only in charge of my own self �
�� what I wanted, what I needed, what I craved, and what I had to have. Talia was all those things. Did she feel the same? I thought so.
I chuckled at myself. These thoughts were starting to sound way too chickish. What the fuck was wrong with me? I should just be happy I had some hot girl willing to let me into her bed.
Blowing out a breath, I silently cursed myself for wishing my brain worked that way. It didn’t, but that didn’t stop me from keeping up the ruse that it did. While was I happy she had agreed to go out with me, I had to whip down these over-analyzing thoughts and hopes. I was behaving like a stupid, pussy-whipped bastard, and that just wasn’t me. I was a badass with tons of skill and no need for something permanent or – shudder – emotional. Chicks were just baggage and a hassle that I just didn’t need. Right? That’s what I kept telling myself.
After fucking off all day looking at job websites and scrolling through social media to see what else everyone else was doing, I got myself cleaned up and put on a fitted white T-shirt with a collared white and blue plaid button-up shirt thrown over it that my mom had gotten for me one Christmas. I left it open down the front. My jeans slid on nicely, and after a squirt of cologne, I plucked my keys from the dining room table and drove my rumbling baby to Talia’s apartment.
* * *
She opened the door looking irresistible. I had to flog back my desire when my eyes raked over the loose black dress paired with a set of rough worn cowboy boots. Her red hair was wild around her shoulders, eyes twinkling at me in amusement when she caught me ogling her.
Field Stripped: 15 Steamy Military Romances Page 71
