Field Stripped: 15 Steamy Military Romances

by Marissa Dobson

  She smiled, gratefully. “Thanks. You seem like a nice guy.”

  His head sliced to the side, back and forth. “That’s not what she said,” he said, the cigarette dangling from his lips.

  “Don’t look. There she is.”

  Zack’s head swiveled to see Aphrodite emerge from the women’s room. Automatically, he slipped out of sight, obscured by a palm tree and the spindly bush. His eyes narrowed as he watched, letting out a long, blue stream of smoke from his nostrils and mouth. So fucking hot.

  She turned in a circle, looking every which way, wrinkled her nose, waving her hand in front of her face, and continued on her trek away from him. Her long brunette hair fluttered in the breeze as her bikini clad hips rolled side to side.

  Sexy wench. She can probably feel me watching. He flicked the cigarette to the sand and ground it out with his dirty white Vans sneaker. He could find her again. He would find her again. His manhood already issued orders to his mind. Sir, yes, sir, he said to the demanding organ. Why not? I have another eighteen hours with nothing to do, thanks to Stephanie.

  “Do you have a name? Mine’s Monica.”

  “Adonis,” he said, smiling.

  “I’ll say.” The words seemed to pop free from her mouth in a gush. She blushed, an embarrassed giggle escaping from her lips.

  “Kidding. It’s her nickname for me. It’s Zack.” He blinked a couple times, his mind swirling with the blurred lines reality versus concocted fantasy.

  “A pleasure, Zack.” She stuck out her hand.

  He stared at it for a moment, finally relenting to take it. Her hand felt pudgy, damp, and squishy…not like Aphrodite’s kitten soft skin. “Well. I’d best be on my way. Good luck. Don’t let the breakup get you down. He probably wasn’t worth it.”

  “Neither was she.” Monica smiled, reaching into her tote. “Want these?” She held out her pack of cigarettes.

  “Sure. Make sure you quit. No more, got it?” He took them and wandered in the direction Aphrodite had gone, pitching the smokes in the first garbage receptacle he passed.

  At the seaside bar overlooking the pier and the water’s edge, his unbuttoned shirt once again draped along his sweaty torso, he settled back in his chair with a beer. He decided to wait on the Jack and Coke. Too early. And he had to watch his cash. He’d paid Stephanie’s rent before she dropped the news bomb on his heart. And he’d somehow dropped his wallet at the Greyhound bus station this morning. Or it was lifted from my pocket. It had been returned missing all the paper money he’d had except for the bills he hid for emergencies.

  He propped his feet on the worn wooden railing, worn wooden table to his side, and stared morosely at the sea, lit golden and dusky blue by the brilliant, disappearing sun. He balanced his phone, holding one corner with his index finger, the opposite corner perched on the table, twirling it with his thumb. The text message flashed, Go to hell, spin, Go to hell, spin, Go to hell. Sensing someone, he flattened the phone against the table, placing his palm over it, and said, “It’s not polite to read over someone’s shoulder.”

  “It’s not nice to make me give you a blow job in the bathroom and walk away like I’m some sort of cheap trash. Your text message should be my line.”

  “Have a seat, Aphrodite. I didn’t make you do anything. And I treated you with respect. You were an ‘oh, so willing’ participant, girl who likes to give head to ice cream.” He brought to mind the image of her sitting on the beach an hour or so ago, a few yards away from him, pretending to give a blow job to a chocolate ice cream cone. He snorted appreciatively. He let his feet drop to the floor, turned his chair toward the table and gestured to the empty seat. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “I don’t drink.”

  “Okay, then, ice tea? Soda? What suits?”

  She studied him with eyes the color of molasses at midnight, smoky dark with hints of honey. Her lips smashed together in a prim gesture and she turned away.

  Amused, he said, “Suit yourself. Drinking alone never bothered me.” He took a long swallow, letting his eyes drift along her body. So fucking hot.

  “Want to know my name?”

  “You already told me in the bathroom. It’s Aphrodite. And I’m Adonis.” A much better name than the last thing Stephanie called me—something about a cretin asshole dipshit motherfucker. Fucking bitch. He toyed with the beer bottle, picking at the label, thinking how much more pleasurable it would be to toy with the woman sitting next to him instead.

  She smiled, her entire face lit by the gesture. “Right. But I have a real name. It’s…”

  Swiftly sitting forward, he clamped his palm over her mouth and spoke to her startled eyes. “It’s Aphrodite. That’s all I need to know. Please…” he added for good measure.

  She pushed his hand away. “Okay! All right! I’m Aphrodite.”

  “Doesn’t that name make you feel beautiful?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “That’s your name. That’s the only name I need, the one that turns me on.” He drained the amber bottle before lifting his hand to signal the waitress.

  “Are you saying my real self doesn’t turn you on? You get off on fantasies?”

  Ignoring her, he focused on the waitress.

  When she sauntered over, he said, “Another IPA.” Glancing at her nametag, he added, “Please and thanks, Bobby.” He inclined his head toward Aphrodite. “You?”

  She gave him a flinty glare before turning to the server. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

  “ID, please.” The waitress held out her palm.

  Aphrodite rummaged around in her huge carpet bag and retrieved her wallet. She slid the driver’s license free and held it out to the server.

  Bobby nodded and strode away.

  “By the way, I’m not forcing you to do anything,” Zack said. “I believe in things consensual.” His face grew grim. Like the important decisions between a man and his fiancée…the woman I spent the last five years loving. A bitter lump wedged in his heart, as if a cancer seed began to sprout.

  “Who wants you to go to hell?” Aphrodite asked.

  “The person who wrote the message.” The dark seed inside extended roots into his gut.

  “What’s her name?”

  The roots wrapped around his dick, strangling it, making him feel neutered. Fucking Stephanie. It’s a wonder I could even get it up with Aphrodite. “You’re a nosy little thing, aren’t you?” His eyes dropped to her full cleavage, evoking stirs from his crotch, thinking how much he’d like to draw those babies into his mouth and suck until she screamed with pleasure.

  Okay… Aphrodite could excise the cancer with a jiggle of her bobbing breasts poised over my mouth. She’s one extremely hot babe. He clenched and unclenched his hands, the same way he’d like to knead her perfect globes. His mouth began to salivate and his eyes narrowed as he contemplated what he’d like to do to her…with her…for her.

  “Well?”

  “That’s a need to know kind of thing.”

  “You know my boyfriend’s name.”

  “Didn’t log it into memory when I overheard you on the bus this morning, sorry.”

  “It’s Justin.” She bit the name out in clipped tones.

  “Why are you with him if he makes you so unhappy?”

  Her lips pressed together. Finally, she pried them apart and said, “Not sure. Known him all my life. Are you from Kentucky?”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Your accent.”

  “Are you?”

  She nodded. “I miss it. I don’t like So Cal.”

  “Let me guess. You’re here because of Justin, right?”

  Her head bobbed up and down.

  Zack made some kind of disgusted, dismissive sound. It surprised him. I don’t know a thing about her and I feel protective?

  “Are you ever going to tell me how you got that scar under your eye?”

  “I like the answers you gave in the ladies room. Combat. Knife fight. Bobcat attack.
How you came up with the last one is anyone’s guess, though.” He smiled. “Do I look like someone who treks around the woods?”

  “Not really. I like your tattoo. I noticed it in the bathroom.”

  He glanced at the sleeve covering his upper arm, as if he’d forgotten he even had a tattoo. “Uh, thanks. It’s a Navy thing. They’re particular where we get them and what symbols we use, so…I went with a Navy theme.” He shrugged, then laughed.

  “I wondered. You’re on a submarine?”

  “Not at the moment. Let’s keep it that way and talk of other things.”

  The waitress sauntered to their table, tray in hand, placed tiny napkins on the table, an amber IPA on each.

  Zack lifted his in the direction of Aphrodite. “Cheers.”

  “What’s to cheer? You’re right. I shouldn’t be with him. And now I feel so guilty at what you made me do…” She chewed her lip.

  “Ah, ah, ah, darlin’. I did not make you do anything. You’re the one who kept teasing me by giving a blow job to an ice cream then sticking your fingers down your throat. You women need to get your stories straight.”

  A rosy hue crept up her neck and spread to her cheeks. “I told you. I was kidding.”

  He gave a slight shake of his head. “Sorry, baby. That’s not flying with me.”

  “Still…I’m going to hell.”

  “It’s not such a bad place. Don’t sweat it.” He took a swig of his brew. “Are you leaving that for me?” He lifted his chin, indicating her untouched IPA.

  “No,” she said sulkily. “I’ll drink it.”

  “Have you ever even had a beer? Are you going to get drunk after two sips?”

  “Of course, I’ve had a beer,” she said hotly. “And we’ll have to see if I get drunk, won’t we?”

  “I look forward to it.” He found himself amused by her. She looked like an angel…full red lips, a heart shaped face, innocent doe-eyes, long lashes, and long, shiny hair he’d love to feel sweeping along his chest… You’re a sweet, young thing, aren’t you? Hot, sweet, sexy as hell. I’m in trouble.

  They drank, silently, each staring at the sea immersed in their own thoughts. When he finished his drink, he looked at her half-finished one and said, “Let’s go.”

  She blinked. “Where are we going?”

  “To do what we both want to do.”

  “What do you think I want to do?” She shivered.

  “Don’t be coy. You either don’t have a clue what signals you’re throwing off or you want to mess with me. If it’s the latter, I’m leaving. Not in the mood to be messed with.”

  “Don’t go.” She clutched his wrist. “Okay, let’s do whatever you think it is I want to do.”

  “Let’s test it out first.” He grabbed her hand and placed it in his lap, over his extremely hard erection.

  She gasped, looking right and left.

  “When you make noise like that, you draw attention to your actions, Aphrodite.” He chuckled. “Neither of us wants to get in trouble. Been there, done that. Try again, only quieter this time.”

  Her hand reached out tentatively, like a cat’s paw. It settled along the front of his pants like a small, warm blanket. “Hot damn, girl. You’re as sexy as fuck.”

  “I’m not doing anything.”

  “It’s the way you’re not doing anything that’s driving me crazy.” He placed his palm over her hand, making her move up and down his shaft. “Keep touching me and see if you can catch the eye of that guy.”

  “What guy?” She looked around anxiously.

  “See him? Across the way there? Brown haired dude with a mustache. Looks to be about your age.”

  “What? Young?” She smirked.

  “Don’t get smart.”

  “Yes, sir.” She saluted him. “Okay, I see him. Why do you want me to catch his eye?”

  “Just do it. Don’t ask so many questions. It spoils the game.”

  She glared at him. “Do I get to know any of the rules?”

  He slowly shook his head side to side. “Except for consent, no.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “You don’t want to play, I’ll leave you alone.” He pushed away from the table and prepared to stand.

  “Wait!” she hissed. “I don’t want to be alone. I didn’t plan on coming here by myself.”

  He settled into his seat, making sure his legs were under the table. “Hand.”

  She complied.

  “Stroke.”

  She stroked. “Wow, you’re big. How can you fit inside a woman?”

  “Want to find out?” He gave her a cheeky smile.

  Her head shook back and forth like a flickering flag. “No. I’m already in big enough trouble.”

  “Who are you in trouble with?”

  “Justin, for one.”

  “Does he know?”

  “No! And if my parents found out…” She closed her eyes.

  “Aren’t you an adult capable of making your own decisions? What do your parents have to do with anything?”

  Her eyes popped open. “They want to keep me safe. They’re a bit overprotective. They call me all the time, voicing ceaseless opinions of how I should live my life.” She wrinkled up her nose.

  Zack forcefully shook his head. “Your life. Your rules. Leave your parents out of it. And Justin, too, by the sound of it.”

  She scrunched up her face, making her look adorably innocent, like someone he should walk away from, right now.

  “Keep stroking. I could come in two seconds.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “Not here, it isn’t. We’ll go somewhere else for that.”

  “I have a hotel room.”

  “Nah.” Too intimate. “We’ll find someplace. Catch that guy’s attention. Do it.”

  She bit her lip and turned toward the brown haired male. “He’s looking right at me,” she whispered. She dropped her gaze.

  “But he can’t hear you,” he whispered back, chuckling a little. “He’s across the room. And I’m so close, girl. You’re dangerous. Stare straight at him. Look him in the eyes while you’re stroking me.”

  She snatched her hand away. “You’re nuts, you know that?”

  He laughed. “Been called worse. Ask my ex.”

  “The one with no name?”

  “One and the same.” He leaned forward to grab his bag and stood, placing it in front of his trousers to shield from prying eyes.

  “Hard to hide that thing, isn’t it?”

  He laughed again. “Let’s go.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a secret.”

  “What’s in your bag?”

  “Need to know basis things.”

  “You’re not going to shoot me, are you?”

  He grimaced. “No, not going to shoot you.”

  “Stab me? Choke me? Drug me? I’m not going to be in the papers tomorrow, am I? Involved in some sketchy military cover-up?”

  “Jesus, girl, you watch too much TV. If that’s what you think, you’d better run.”

  She studied him, squinting through one eye. “I think you’re safe enough.”

  “And I’m hard as fuck. Let’s go.” He dropped a few bills on the table, grabbed her hand and strode from the bar, limping slightly from a recent injury involving Stephanie, a bottle of wine, and a strong swing from her softball pitching arm.

  She laced her fingers with his, making his breath catch. Her small hand felt like a flower pressed against his palm and he dared not squeeze it too hard lest he crush the petals. His breath quickened at the intimate touch and he let go, scratching his jaw so as not to hurt her feelings.

  “How’d you hurt yourself?” she asked, eyeing his leg.

  “Long story.”

  She made that same prim gesture with her sweet mouth. “You sure are a lot of mysteries.”

  He scoffed.

  Lengthy shadows stretched away from the sandy shore, as day gave way to twilight.

  “Where are
we going?” she asked again.

  “I told you it’s a secret.”

  “You and your secrets,” she said.

  He practically dragged her down the street to an ancient, rickety boardwalk area whose heyday was long past.

  “This place looks creepy,” she said.

  “It’s hardly used. No one comes here anymore.” Old Rolling Stones era rocker tunes played, blasted through loudspeakers perched on poles. “I think it gives a job to a few alcoholics or drug addicts.”

  Aphrodite shivered. “Are we going to ride the roller coaster? It doesn’t seem safe at all.”

  He glanced up at the decrepit roller coaster creaking along the tracks. It looked like the kind he used to ride when he and his buddies had crossed the border into Tijuana. Not ringed with safety fences, or any kind of barrier for that matter, those roller coasters could slice the hands off of those awaiting a ride, if the cars didn’t fly off the frail, rusting tracks first. “Agreed. Not what I had in mind. I thought I’d take you for a different kind of ride.”

  “What’s that?” she asked, looking both fearful and intrigued.

  “You’ll see.”

  He led her along the splintery wood ramps, past the Fun House, past the Midway, the rides spinning to make it look populated when, in truth, hardly anyone rode the Tilt-a-Wheel or other rides from the past. He chuckled as they passed a ride called the Exploder. Something I’m about to do if we don’t hurry things along. He tugged at the crotch of his shorts. It didn’t ease anything, only brought his attention to his needs.

  A narrow, shadowed alley opened like a crack between two worlds. Barely wide enough to fit his shoulders, he pushed her ahead of him, past the small restaurants and cafes, closed for business. Smells of debris, piss, decaying food and garbage wafted in the cloistered passageway.

  Aphrodite began resisting forward movement, backing into his chest, her hands pressed against his thighs, her velvety hair caressing his torso. Her touch made his arousal grow, like a match to gasoline. “Don’t worry, this will be fun.”

  “For you or me?”

  “Both.”