The doubts didn’t leave her all day, and they continued to haunt her deep into the night. By lunch break the next day, she had decided she would take the risk of climbing up the watchtower again. She wasn’t sure what she expected to see or if it even mattered at all.
She saluted the guard on duty and, when he didn’t pay her much attention, walked past him toward the side of the tower facing the border.
There he was—Sergei, standing in a group of soldiers patrolling the construction site. She watched him turn to a private and strike up a chat. Something the private said must have been funny because soon Sergei was laughing. As she watched his open mouth she remembered the sound of his laughter, deep and genuine. The other soldier walked away and Sergei turned his head toward where she was standing.
He squinted and stood completely still.
She held her breath as she watched him cast a quick glance around before looking back right at her. His face crinkled into a broad, authentic smile, and for the blink of a second, he tipped his hat.
In the bright midday sun, she smiled back at him. One day.
THE THUNDER OF WAR
Anya Richards
He dreamed of her, the need so great it gave excruciating reality to every sensation, burning them into his skin. Every imagined sound echoed through his soul, taking him home.
Beautiful Mei, her slim body curled around his side, the weight of her thick black hair spread over his chest, a few strands fanning up to feather his cheek. He traced the gentle valley of her spine, curled his fingers around her hip to softly explore the sleek skin stretched taut across the bone. Even caught in the grip of deep sleep she moved closer, the leg thrown over his thighs tightening and a sigh whispering from her to warm him all the way through.
Holding his breath so as to better feel the rise and fall of her rib cage, he treasured the memory of each inhalation, the little rush of each exhale. Her body was so slight, seemed too tiny to contain the lioness spirit he so loved, surely too small to bear the weight of his desire. Sometimes he felt like a brute when his body covered hers, the contrast between his hulking frame and her slender beauty never more marked than then. But her arms always welcomed him, her eyes encouraging every intimacy, no matter how rough. Mei would wrap her legs around his waist and pulled him deeper, urging him to hurry, hurry and give her all he had.
Sometimes she would push him onto his back, hands firm with determination as she mounted him, taking him in one frantic plunge. As she rocked and swiveled, her prim little mouth would whisper how much she loved the feel of his hardness stretching her, how much he turned her on.
Did she realize that when they made love, just being with her filled him more completely than his cock ever filled her sweet, wet pussy?
Body growing taut with remembered ecstasy, he cupped the firmness of her ass softly, not wanting to wake her. The cheek fit perfectly into his palm, and he imagined letting his hand fall lower, fingers creeping between her parted thighs and over the soft strands of hair, finding them damp with anticipation. He’d explore her slowly with only the lightest touches, intentionally making her crazy. Soon she’d be pressing against his hand, those little whimpers that wordlessly begged for more breaking from her throat and driving him insane in return.
The background of his mind—the part that never really slept but constantly patrolled—went on alert, making him suddenly aware of the heat pressing down on him, sealing him to the bed with a slick of sweat. A rumble sounded in the distance, accompanied by a staccato rattle, like hail on the roof.
Not thunder and hail—explosions and gunfire.
Anger gripped him that the sounds of conflict should intrude on his memories of her. The two things didn’t belong in his brain at the same time, should never come in contact, even remotely. That was why he fought, put his life on the line so that Mei and their kids would never have to live with the constant fear of violence, never lie in bed and hear bombs going off down the road. Even her dream presence at such a time was an abomination to everything he stood for. It made the steel in him harden, grow cold with rage.
Shh…
He tried to ignore her voice, push Mei aside and lock her back into the recesses of his mind where the horrors of Afghanistan, in the throes of its deadly struggles, couldn’t touch her, even in his imagination.
She wouldn’t go.
Instead her hand, now pressed over his heart, was warmer than the sultry air, and the brush of her lips against his chest was more real than the hardness of the cot beneath him.
It’s all right, darling. Mei’s fingers circled, rubbing with soothing intent. Let go.
Any moment now the siren would go off, ripping him out of his dream and into action. Instinctively he squeezed her tighter than he ever would have had she really been in his arms. In his dreams he didn’t have to temper his strength.
Yes, darling. He couldn’t decide if she sounded sad or merely winded from the hug. Hang on to me.
But conversely her words made him loosen his hold. She tightened hers on him instead.
“They’re gonna need me. Any minute now they’ll sound the muster.”
She lifted up on one elbow, and her breath fanned his cheek as she said, “Stay here with me until they do, Jack.”
He couldn’t refuse her anything. She knew it too, but never asked for the impossible or more than he could give without surrendering his soul. It was one of the things he loved most about her. He knew the life he offered wasn’t what she would have chosen for herself, wasn’t anywhere near ideal. Hell, she’d given birth to Donny alone but never once blamed him for it. When he brought it up she just shrugged and reminded him that she’d known who and what he was from the beginning. That on their first date he’d told her he was a lifer—army to the core.
It was something he needed—the knowledge of being a part of something bigger, more important than himself, of being of service to others in a fundamental way. Once he met her a new dimension had opened in his life, one he never wanted to lose, but a life of service wasn’t always compatible with having a relationship. Sometimes, even now, he wondered if it could really last. Then he’d look into her eyes, see the unwavering acceptance, and fall for her all over again. Her refusal to make him choose between duty and love chained him to her with an unbreakable bond.
The rumble of conflict still sounded, now accompanied with the thud of booted feet and the roar of engines firing up. He should be out there. Who knew what was happening, which of his comrades might be hurt, in need of reinforcement? Yet longing to give in to her plea made him hesitate.
As though sensing his indecision, she whispered, “Stay, until they come to get you.”
So he subsided onto the cot, sank back into the dream, even while still listening to the hellish sounds of the outside world. But they were fading slightly, ceding to the strength of his need for just a little more time to dream of home.
“Ah, Jack. My Jack.”
Mei touched her lips to his so softly, so swiftly he had no time to respond. Then her mouth drifted lower, all the way to his chest, and he caught his breath. He exhaled with a groan when her teeth grazed his nipple.
The thunder grew louder, and Jack tensed.
“No, my darling.” Warm air blew across his abs as she spoke, and the stress of combat was instantly transmuted to coiled desire. “They haven’t come yet. Stay.”
“Mei.” He couldn’t let the fantasy continue. It was the worst possible time to be lost in her enchantment. Tangling his fingers into her hair, he tried to hold her still. “I have to go.”
But not even ten years of army discipline could help him when she whispered once more, “Stay,” and touched her tongue to the tip of his cock.
“Oh god.”
Squeezing his eyes even tighter shut, he gave in to the wet heat of her mouth moving slowly, gloriously over his flesh. In repose it was such a prudish-looking mouth, with thin, solemn lips and slightly downturned corners. Even when Mei smiled it was usually with a quality o
f restraint that brought to mind schoolteachers and librarians. But when she sucked him—oh, god, when she sucked him—the slip of her tongue, the ravenous way she surrounded his cock, gave lie to those impressions.
And the memory of looking down, seeing that proper little mouth opening, taking him in, always shot his arousal into the stratosphere. Remembering the way she wriggled and moaned, with pleasure in what she was doing evident in every move and sound, drove him crazy.
But she was forcing him to the edge of orgasm too quickly, the suction of her mouth and the play of her hand on his balls making him arch up to meet her every downward plunge.
He pulled her away, groaning as she pressed against his hands, obviously wanting to go back to what she was doing.
“Let me love you, Jack.”
He shuddered. Those were his favorite words in the world. A bomb could fall on his tent killing him instantly and he would die happy with his last memory being her saying that.
Without replying he pulled her up and over so she draped across his chest, and took her lips, inhaling her breath, trying to steal her soul the way she’d stolen his. Mei opened her mouth for him, welcomed him with a sound of such need his balls drew up tight and his arousal went from insistent to desperate. Yet the kiss was sweet—filled with desire but not frantic—all soft sweeps and tangles of tongues, breathy moans.
The slight weight of her body on his was perfection. Her warmth and scent soaked into his pores until his entire world once more shrank to her—only her.
He couldn’t stop his hands from moving, reveling in the sleek skin, delicate muscles and sinuous motions of her body, her back and arms, nape and shoulders, buttocks and thighs. Getting lost in her was so damn easy. Sliding his lips across her cheek, he aimed for the sensitive spot behind her ear, but she turned her head, following his motion.
“Jack,” she whispered against his mouth. “Kiss me more. Don’t stop.”
Nothing. He could deny her nothing. So he lifted the fraction necessary and gave her his heart once more through his kiss. Mei took it, as she always did, and the caressing motion of her lips said she would always keep it safe.
But he wanted more—needed more—yearning blasting over him like the wash of a jet engine on takeoff. Reaching between her thighs to find the slick, wet flesh, he teased her clit with a butterfly stroke, was rewarded by her gasp, the trembling of her thighs as they gripped his waist. Suddenly her gentleness disappeared and he felt the lioness awake. Little growls of pleasure rumbled from her throat as she nipped at his tongue and lower lip, and her fingers dug almost painfully into his biceps. She pressed down, trying to increase the contact with his finger, but he locked his arm around her waist and held her in place.
She was so hot and wet, slick as drenched satin. It always thrilled him to know he could do this to her, bring out her desires with nothing more than kisses and the love that boiled fierce beneath his skin. With more light strokes he tormented her, knowing the gentle exploration wasn’t what she wanted. Slowly he slipped the tip of his finger into her, just up to the first knuckle, feeling her inner muscles clamp down, try to pull it farther in. When he withdrew, the sound she made into his mouth was feral, and he couldn’t help his huff of laughter.
Finally breaking the kiss he pushed her to sit up, straddling his abdomen. Mei tried to slide back, intent on getting his cock into her, but he gripped her hips hard and held her still.
“Jack.” Her voice cracked slightly, and the sound of it made his cock pulse.
“Hold on, baby.” He slid one hand up to cover a breast, heard her gasping exhalation when he tweaked the tight nipple between his index and middle fingers. “Give me a little more time.”
Arching her back pushed her breast farther into his palm. “All the time you want.”
Her breasts were so sensitive, so responsive. With a couple of pinches the nipples were as tight as they could be and she was panting, the instinctive jerking of her hips leaving a slick, wet trail on his stomach. When he curled up and took one furled peak into his mouth, Mei held on to his head and cried out his name again.
Inch by inch he licked, sucked and nipped all around the small mounds, worshiping the tender skin.
“Oh God, Jack.” She was rubbing her pussy against him, harder and harder, with jerky, shuddering motions. “I want you so bad.”
Dropping back against the pillow, he lifted her effortlessly, bringing her pussy up toward his lips. Mei kept her grip on his head and settled over his face with a little moan, spreading her legs, bracing her knees on the pillow.
He didn’t know why, but this position always made him feel vulnerable, as though the pinning of his head to the bed with her body and muffling of his hearing by her thighs put him at a disadvantage. For a man not used to feeling in any way helpless, it was an almost claustrophobic sensation that brought with it a jagged stab of fear. She was the only one he would let shackle him this way, and the knowledge of that truth only heightened his enjoyment.
Sometimes he let her set the pace, but this was his dream, and he didn’t give her that opportunity. Gripping her ass, he brought her into full contact with his mouth, held her there as he swept his tongue from the entrance of her pussy up to her clitoris. Opening his mouth as wide as he could, creating suction, he tried to drink her, eat her whole. The taste of her, her scent and the sensation of her slick folds on his tongue always drove him wild. He couldn’t get enough. Over and over he lashed at her pulsing flesh until he heard from her rhythmic, escalating cries that she was close to coming.
Closing his lips over her clit, lashing and sucking, he took her over the edge. Mei tensed and bowed, nails digging into his scalp, and the wild, high sound of her release almost made him lose his mind. Her hips jerked, making him tighten his grip on her ass so as to keep contact with the pulsing flesh. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her. He wanted more—more of her scent inundating his head, more of her taste filling his mouth—more of her heart-shaking pleasure at his touch.
Pressing his tongue flat to her clitoris, forcing himself not to move, he gentled her, yet kept her simmering just at the boundary of arousal. The rhythm of Mei’s orgasmic contractions slowed, her body relaxed in his hands. But her breathing was still ragged, and her hips began to move in a subtle, circular motion, telling him she was once more climbing toward ecstasy.
Easing her body up slightly so as to slick his tongue through her folds, he lapped slowly, resisting the urge to lash her to another quick orgasm. He loved making her come over and over, always wanted to leave her limp and completely spent at the end.
She was mewling, pressing down against his hands, obviously wanting him to go faster, harder. But he ignored her demands, taking his time, circling her hole, caressing the smooth skin behind it, tickling over her hard little clit. Once more her nails scraped his scalp, her thighs tightened on either side of his head. The speed with which she was again scaling the wall of pleasure made his cock pulse in sympathetic desperation.
“Jack,” she cried, her need echoing between them. “Oh, Jack, you’re making me crazy.”
She wasn’t alone. He couldn’t take much more either. But this time he wanted to watch her come, needed to see her porcelain skin flush pink and damp with desire, watch her face contort and her lips part as she panted and cried out. And there was always a moment when she opened her eyes and looked at him with a glazed, almost surprised expression, as though she couldn’t believe what she was feeling. He lived for those moments, for the instinctive, love-filled smile she gave him just before she reached her peak. Then, just for that split second, he truly felt like a hero—her hero—and life was complete, perfect.
With one swift movement he rolled her onto her back. Leaning over her, he absorbed her heavy-lidded eyes, the way her lips appeared slightly puffy from his kisses, the rosy glow that suffused her cheeks, neck and chest. She held out her arms, opened her legs and tilted her hips up, inviting him to do what they both so urgently wanted.
Soun
d boomed through the tent, and he started to roll away, tried to shake himself out of the dream. He’d been so into it he felt disoriented, couldn’t tell whether what he’d heard was a bomb, mortar or tank fire. He had to go, throw on his fatigues and get out there. Why hadn’t the muster sounded? Why hadn’t someone come for him?
He was struggling to get off his cot, realized something was wrapped around his chest, holding him back.
“No, Jack. It’s just thunder, baby.”
He shook his head, trying to dispel the lingering sense of unreality. It sounded so much like Mei, as though she was really there. But she wasn’t, couldn’t be. His brain insisted he fight to get free, get out and do his job, but his body wouldn’t listen. Not even in the grip of a hallucination would he risk hurting Mei. Adrenaline pumped through his system, driving his heart rate to maximum speed, making his muscles twitch with the need to move, to battle his way through to the other side—back to sanity.
“Sweetheart, please. Look at me.” A soft hand pressed to his cheek, trying to force his head around. “Jack, you’re home. You’re with me.”
“No.” He shook his head, realized his eyes were closed, didn’t want to force them open and see that it really had all been a dream. “No. I have to go. They need me.”
“I need you too, Jack. Let me have you now. Please?”
It was the sound of tears in her voice that made him open his eyes and turn his head to look, although now he knew for sure it must be just a dream.
Mei never cried.
But she was weeping now, dark eyes wide, rivulets of tears streaking her cheeks. Jack blinked, shook his head to clear his suddenly blurred vision, his stomach clenching with anguish. Unable to maintain contact with her shadowed gaze, he let his slip around the room. It was their bedroom. The bed they were on was the one they’d bought together just before they married. The dark shapes of the dresser and rocking chair were familiar in the gloom. Even unable to see them, he knew exactly where the pictures of the kids were on the wall and that the darker square on the bedside table was the wedding picture of Mei and him. The sheer curtains at the window fluttered in the breeze, and he knew he’d lifted the sash just a little before bed, as he did every warm night.
Duty and Desire: Military Erotic Romance Page 10
