Fighting For Olivia

by Zoë Normandie

He spread her legs without hesitation, and watched her with furrowed brows. She moaned with his touch as he traced the slit up and down, feeling its wetness.

  “Is this what you want?” he said, betraying none of the pain he kept within.

  She nodded as tears continued. She wanted it very much. But she shouldn’t have it.

  When she closed her eyes, her tummy felt a mess of longing, needing, and anxiety. When she reopened them, she noticed that he had rope in his hand, stolen from one of the supply shelves. Looking at her, his face emotionless, she watched him carefully and quickly tie her arms above her head and affix them to the table. Soon, she was immobile—a fitting metaphor for how she felt inside. Tied up, held down, she lay before him like a feast. It was apparent that he loved holding her down and being rough, which was all well because she liked being controlled by him.

  “This is a bad idea.” He gazed upon her body in a way that nearly brought her to climax.

  “It always has been.”

  She wondered what he was going to do next but didn’t dare ask, or else she would end up losing control of her tears altogether. The anticipation was killing her. Her heart ached at the hurt in his eyes as they grazed over hers for a moment. He quickly moved them back to her body.

  “You have to stop me.” He trailed one finger down her side and toward her thigh. “Because I can’t stop myself.”

  Taking his place again at the foot of the table, he knelt, and blew a line of air down her slit.

  “I can’t now,” she cried out softly. “But I tried.”

  Bringing her ass up and in his hands, he planted his face onto her clit. Lightly, he tasted her. The action shocked her, and she wondered: if this was what he did when he was angry with her, what did he do when he was happy?

  His tongue, pressed against her pussy, sent electric shocks through her body that couldn’t be described. Even the slightest touch of his tongue was enough to make her shake. Her body quickly remembered the orgasms he’d granted her. She would have bounced off the table in anticipation if she weren’t tied down.

  Slowly, with his tongue, he massaged her clit. The circular motions became harder, longer, more rhythmic. Once he found a spot that got the most shakes and moans out of her, he stayed put, massaging until he drew out her orgasm. She cried out in pleasure and pain because she wanted more but couldn’t ask for it.

  He gave it to her anyway.

  She felt his big warm fingers enter her as his tongue continued to work. Two, three fingers and a fast-moving tongue brought more wetness spilling out of her.

  “Ryder,” she cried out.

  He seemed to love hearing her reactions, because he stood up with a seriously painful looking hard-on. He hadn’t bothered to fix his pants back up, which worked for her since she loved the view. He had a beautiful cock in every way.

  If she had to pinpoint the moment she lost her mind, it might have been then. There was something about Ryder that surgically removed all logic from her brain and replaced it with pure, unadulterated emotion. That was the only way to explain her actions.

  “Fuck me,” Olivia demanded. “Let me have it. I need it.”

  His eyes grew wider, pupils fully dilating, as he watched her writhe below him, just begging for his touch. She knew she shouldn’t, but she had no choice—her need was greater than her sense. Watchful and aroused, he remained still with his member firmly in his hand. With his other hand, he let his thumb play with her clit, keeping her warm, equally unable to let go.

  “We have to get the fuck out of here.” They both knew it was true. “Now.”

  “Please,” she begged, like she would never have anyone ever again.

  It was painful to have him looming over her. She wanted him so bad. She wanted his cock to fill her up. She wanted them to make sense again. She wanted to have her cake and eat it too.

  She didn’t know why she said what she said next, or where the words came from. But they came out quickly, without her consent.

  “I love you.” The words poured out of the deepest part of her soul, unbeknownst to her mouth or her brain.

  A look of shock immediately crossed his face. For a split second she didn’t know how he’d take her admission. She didn’t know how she should take her admission.

  What was wrong with her?

  Without hesitation, the master chief pumped himself into her to the hilt, with all the fury, passion, and hunger that flew back and forth between them. From there, the muscular man treated her to the best tied-up, tabletop, missionary sex that she had ever had. The flimsy metal table rocked back and forth, threatening to snap under his movements. With her legs raised up and resting on the front of his shoulders, he fucked her. He fucked her hard and long and drew every last bit of pleasure out of her, until he spilled his own inside her.

  She gasped for air when he finally collapsed, his hands grasping at the edges of the table. Though he was a big boy, he was careful. The table, luckily, was reinforced.

  Coming to, she inhaled sharply at her unexpected statement of love. Him coming inside her—again. What were they doing?

  She shivered quickly. It wasn’t the cold.

  Untying her quickly and letting the rope fall, he stared into her eyes. She saw love and conviction. He gently pushed back the hair that had fallen into her face. “I’m never going to let anything happen to you. He’s going to learn that you are mine, under my protection, and you are not to be fucked with.”

  That reality sent her into a spiral of anxiety. He was really going to throw himself into the fire for her. He was going to sacrifice himself to protect her, like he did for everyone else.

  Something terrible turned in her tummy, and tears came out of her eyes again. Her brain was working in overdrive, drowning out anything her heart had to say. She realized that she did love him—absolutely. But she couldn’t be the reason why he sacrificed himself.

  “I’m going to fucking kill him.” Determination crossed his brow.

  I have to stop him.

  “I shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry,” she blurted out, and tears fell harder from her eyes.

  His body stiffened. “What do you mean? Why did you say it?”

  She shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to lie to him, but also unwilling to confirm the truth. “I keep making things more complicated between us, and making things worse for you… and I can’t seem to stop myself.”

  “Do you love me or not?” He took a step back, looking at her with an expression of deep hurt.

  Yes.

  She moved off the table, following him, grabbing at her clothes. For once, she didn’t say a word. She couldn’t find the right language to express herself.

  “This is crazy. Why did we just fuck?” His jaw tightened. “I warned you. I’m not doing this on-again, off-again bullshit. Either you’re in, or you’re out. I don’t think you’ve taken a damned thing I’ve said seriously.”

  “Ryder.” She jumped forward, pulling on her sweater. “Please, that’s not—”

  “Just go home if that’s what you want. I need someone who’s here for me. I need someone I can trust.”

  Ryder got off the table and reached for his pants. If she’d felt an ice wall before, it was a whiteout now.

  She’d completely lost his trust. He was betrayed.

  But before Olivia could say anything else, an angry, impatient knock came at the small supply room door.

  “Fuck,” Ryder spat, turning to the door with a violent look in his eyes. “I knew it.”

  Blackshot’s harried voice came from the other side. “I’m looking for the master chief.”

  Ryder exhaled, refusing to look at her, smoothing out the clothes he had just finished getting back on. Only a deep growl came in response to Blackshot’s request.

  “Master Chief?” The senior chief’s voice rang again. “There’s a situation.”

  Ryder gave Olivia one last, long glance. The look in his eyes broke her heart. She couldn’t describe exactly what it was, but she kne
w in that moment it was all over.

  Blackshot refused to stop banging on the door, so Olivia stepped forward and opened it, wishing she had something in hand to pummel him with.

  Senior Chief Blackshot refused to acknowledge her when she opened the door, like she was beneath him. He looked around the small room, back and forth between Ryder and herself.

  Sex was in the air. Anyone could smell it.

  He looked directly at Ryder. “What the hell have you been doing in here… with the fucking consultant?” His mouth dropped open. “He’ll kill you for this.”

  “What the fuck did you just say to me?” Ryder’s voice was chilly. “You have five seconds to explain why you are here.”

  Clearing his throat, Blackshot said quickly, “We found the rebel leader. We need to act fast. Your orders?”

  Ryder snapped. “Go fuck yourself, to start.”

  Blackshot fell silent.

  Without looking back at Olivia, Ryder marched out of the room.

  Her heart cracked. She had to sit down on the nearby chair to deal with the pain.

  What have I done?

  Her mind spun, but there was not an ounce of liquid left in her body to release, so the tears never came.

  MONTHS EARLIER

  “Olivia Forbes,” said a stout, middle-aged man in a stylish gray suit.

  Olivia nodded, watching him review the paperwork in front of him.

  “I want you just to sit back and relax,” he explained as he began setting up the attachments on her body.

  It was the day of her polygraph—the last step of her top-secret clearance.

  “You are going overseas?” he asked, attaching the cords to his machine.

  She nodded. “As soon as I’m cleared.”

  “Understood,” he said. He moved back behind the desk.

  She took a deep breath. She’d done it before. It wasn’t a big deal. She had nothing to hide.

  The man was clicking away on his computer. “To me, what’s important is loyalty, and with that comes trust,” he explained as he worked away.

  “I get it,” she replied, looking over. “I’ve done this before.” She realized her tone may have come across as flippant. She always spoke her mind quickly, and sometimes that wasn’t wise.

  He stopped clicking and swiveled his chair back to where she was sitting. “Ms. Forbes, I don’t usually do this, but I’d like to offer you some advice.”

  Olivia might have been taken aback if it were anyone else, but the way he looked at her was fatherly. She got the sense that he viewed her in a good light, and that was sparking his off-script run.

  “You are going to work with the SEALs?” he asked.

  “Yes.” He knew all about what she was going to do. He had her file.

  “It’s a highly tight-knit community. Very close,” he said. “If you are lucky, some of them might even allow you in, and if you are very lucky, you may even be trusted.”

  He studied her response. She took great care to look appreciative as she waited for him to make his point.

  “Don’t ever break the trust given to you. It’s a precious gift. You have a responsibility while you are out there. And that’s what this clearance process is all about. Loyalty.”

  She nodded profusely. There was nothing confusing about his message. She heard him loud and clear.

  “Just as important is placing your trust in the right people.”

  “I’ve never had a problem with that before. Trusting, and being trusted,” she explained.

  The man turned back to his computer and looked through his files. “Yes, I can see that,” he noted as he read. She could only assume he was reading the previous year’s polygraph results. “Even still, SEALs are a different breed. I cannot stress this enough. They are insular and untrusting. If you are trying to infiltrate them and get their cooperation, you have your work cut out for you.”

  She let out a deep breath as his message sank in. She could only begin processing its seriousness.

  “Ready to begin?” he asked, making a few clicks.

  She nodded. “The sooner I can get cleared, the sooner I can get to the Sahel.” Her eager, excited tone carried throughout the room.

  27

  The heli drop wasn’t as bad as expected. Night raids usually had a certain edge to them, but so far the weather was cooperating, Ryder thought, as he stalked the perimeter of the ancient stone complex, a recently discovered fortress that housed the remaining rebels.

  Fuller had deployed nearly the entire force of their troop on the mission. Their task was to kill a high-profile target, the leader of a local extremist group. It was a last-minute, fast-acting plan. They’d gotten intel and had to move fast. It was the reason why they were deployed in the first place. They had spent years collecting intelligence on the rebel leader’s whereabouts. Waiting in the shadows for him to appear. Strategically fighting his militants.

  Tonight was the night to execute.

  Orders were transmitted over Ryder’s earpiece—team leaders instructing down to operators. Ryder carefully listened to the positioning of the guys, wondering what the hell Blackshot was up to. Deep distrust rocked his chest. Ryder knew his reckoning was coming, but so was theirs.

  Moving into full focus mode, he shut out anything that compromised his ability to get the job done. Ideally, he wouldn’t get killed either, though he felt in his bones that it was going to happen sooner than later. He’d solidified his fate a long time ago. No one made enemies that powerful, that determined, that vicious, and got away with it.

  It was easier than he expected to shut out Olivia. The thought of her running to Fuller behind his back was so painful that it turned his veins to ice. He lowered himself further into that self-contained vortex of unfeeling by remembering how she loved him…. and then didn’t.

  Trust no one. Survival mode.

  “Rogue one to tango one.” Ryder’s emotionless voice boomed into the mic hooked up on his gear. “What’s your position?”

  The earpiece buzzed back. “Tango one to rogue one. We are circling and ready.”

  Tango one, their AC-130 Specter gunship air support, wasn’t far off the target site. Ryder knew that if he couldn’t get the job done, air support could just drop explosives on the site. They had rockets, missiles, you name it. Command staff couldn’t let the rebel leader sneak away again. It had been too long, with too many lives lost. He was the center of gravity for the mission, and they just had to get him.

  John nodded at him from a distance at the corner of the perimeter. The young SEAL was always nearby, and they were all on the same channel.

  Hours earlier, Ryder and Fuller had strategically decided upon best points of entry into the militant base. And that wasn’t all they had decided on. The enraging conversation still heated Ryder’s blood.

  “You fucked her, didn’t you?” the commander had snarled as he rolled up a map of the rebel fortress. “Don’t fucking lie.”

  Every muscle in Ryder’s body flexed. “Say it again, and you’re dead.”

  The commander’s yellow teeth bared into a sick and twisted smile. “Tit for tat, now. If you so much as breathe any bullshit grievances, I’ll string you up for fraternizing. Kiss your career goodbye, Luciano.”

  “Fuck you. I’m sick of your blackmailing bullshit.” Ryder lunged forward, but the commander caught his fist. “Fuck you to hell.”

  Fuller just smiled, knowing he held all the power. “I don’t think you are capable of leading these men on this operation.”

  Ryder reluctantly took a few steps back and saw the threat coming to life. He had to back off. His men needed him. He could deal with the commander the next day. If he saw the next day.

  And as he’d marched away, he felt his time would be up quicker than he thought. It was going to be a wild night.

  Ryder looked out over the darkened silhouette of the stone fortress. There they finally were: the final mission. He could see that the teams in were in their positions. Everyone was ready to
storm the fortress. Comms, the cryptologists, and air support were all on standby, waiting for Ryder’s word.

  Engage in direct action.

  Kill the target.

  Don’t fucking die.

  In the silent blackness of night, it felt like the air had been sucked out of the fortress. There was no movement. No chatter. Nothing.

  And that’s when Ryder knew they were ready. “Team one. Move.” He breathed out, creating a domino effect of carefully executed orders.

  In a cascade effect, the tasked teams stormed the base, first with snipers picking off guards, then with stealth assaulters wrangling the militants. The master chief and senior chief tasked on the operation ran through orders with subordinates, recalibrating as required.

  The body count of rebels rose.

  Through the gates within the stone walls, Ryder followed along with the teams, entering the compound and watching over the play. The SEALs were easily managing the situation—no hiccups yet.

  But there was no sign of the rebel leader.

  “Rogue one to tango one. Hold off on your drop.” Ryder ordered the gunship to wait. Air support was not needed yet. The guys were still searching the base. Where the fuck was the boss?

  His question got a rapid answer. An explosion went off on the opposite side of the property. Fire and stone burst in his peripheral vision. A stone wall crumbled, revealing a tower just beyond.

  “What the fuck?” Ryder muttered under his breath, spinning around to get a better look.

  “That wasn’t us.” Blackshot’s voice rang cautiously through the mic.

  “God damn it. Something’s not right here.” Ryder clenched his teeth as worry crept up his spine. “Hold back.”

  Was it a booby trap? Or did their heat signature assessment miss someone? He moved quickly toward the tower. Leaders led.

  “I’m on it. Could be our target,” Ryder said into his mic. “All teams hold back.”

  The tasked SEAL teams maintained their positions on the south side while Ryder and John crept north. The Saharan desert blew sand into the compound through the crumbled, blown-out wall. Ryder motioned to John to keep behind him, and they approached the explosion site on the deserted north side of the property.