by Krista Wolf
“God…” she swore, looking down. Her tummy quivered. Her entire body was shaking with adrenaline. There was come seeping out of her pussy, all around my throbbing shaft. And I was still hard. Still buried inside her…
“Love you,” she whispered, taking my face in her hands. She leaned forward kissed me before I could react. Before I could say anything, because I was still in shock.
You love her also.
I did. Somehow. Some way, on some level, it had actually happened.
I waited until the kiss was broken. Until we’d collapsed sideways into the bed, holding each other, our foreheads touching. I waited until her sapphire eyes were locked on mine, and I could see the swirl of conflicting emotions battling it out, somewhere deep within the forest of her mind.
Then my mouth formed the same words she had.
And I told her too.
Forty-Two
ANDREA
Over three weeks. That’s how long we waited. That’s how long we spent cooped up in our little villa on the mountain, playing house together, waiting for a shot at Xander Kyrkos.
It was nerve-wracking. Even maddening, at times. There was so much on the line. So much in the way of anxiety and tension.
And yet they were still three of the best weeks of my life.
First, we were together. All four of us, at least in turns. There was never a repeat of that night — of me, wrapped up hotly with all three of my lovers together. But that was only because one of the guys was always missing. Someone was constantly positioned up on the ridge, manning the sniper point, at all times.
They took turns up there watching for Kyrkos, day and night, hot or cold, rain or shine.
At home, they took turns on me.
It was incredible, hopping from bed to bed. Alternating sleeping with one or more of them, always waking in a new place, a different man’s arms.
What I couldn’t contribute in vigilance, I managed in every other way. I took good care of my boys. I made sure the house was kept, the fire stoked, the water heater in the back of the house always primed and ready for showers. Marcus and I chopped most of the firewood together. I prepared meals with Holden, who seemed to enjoy cooking more than any other chore. Randall had a penchant for cleaning; whenever he wasn’t on the ridge, the place was always spotless. It was just like it had been in the gym. He’d traded his restlessness for something constructive.
And at night…
At night I warmed their beds. Or they warmed mine. In retrospect I didn’t really have a bedroom, I simply slept with someone else, or napped in whichever room was unoccupied by whoever was spotting the ridge.
Sexually, all bets were off. All pretense at modesty had gone out the window that first wild night. The guys took me anywhere and everywhere the mood struck, and I was always more than willing. Sometimes two of them would gang up on me. They’d strip me down and ravage me together, leaving me breathless and spent and happy.
As the days wore on, I started taking the initiative as well. I jumped Randall at least three times in the shower, which had become sort of our thing. Holden and I stayed up later than most, and I enjoyed letting myself into his room and climbing naked into bed with him. It didn’t matter what time it was, or how long of a day it had been. He was always awake… and always ready.
As for Marcus, we did a lot of things outdoors. We went on long walks together, and they usually ended up the same way: with me bent over in front of him, or screwed so hard into the ground my ass left heart-shaped impressions in the grass. Once he fucked me hotly up against a tree, one leg pinned high over his shoulder. On that one I wasn’t sure which was more impressive: the testament to his stamina, or the one to my growing flexibility.
But as sexually sated as we all were, there were boring times too. The long days of waiting wound on and on. The nights — when we weren’t sipping drinks or playing games — sometimes dragged.
The worst part was looking out over the town below. There was a whole bustling city beneath us; a living, breathing town filled with people and places and fun things. A town teeming with life and excitement, by day as well as by night.
Even harder to accept: it was achingly, tantalizingly close.
I couldn’t count the number of times I’d begged Holden to let me do another shopping run. I’d even tried bribing him… in some of the most wicked of all possible ways. But no matter what dark deeds I promised him, he always said no. He stayed strong, even in the face of promises of unfathomable pleasure. Or at least, me pulling out all the stops and employing every sexual trick under my hat.
In the end it was temptation that got the best of me. Or should I say, best of ‘us’… because it was Randall who shook me gently awake, late one night.
“Shhhh…” he whispered, one finger over his mouth. He was fully clothed, boots and everything. I didn’t know what he wanted, but I knew right away what he wasn’t after.
“Wanna get out of here?” he murmured, glancing back furtively over one shoulder. “For a little while, at least?”
Marcus, I knew, was on the ridge. That meant Holden was sleeping.
“Are you fucking kidding?” I swore excitedly, swinging my legs off the bed.
Forty-Three
ANDREA
We ran. That’s how exciting it was, finally getting away. Finally slipping the bonds of our little villa, to escape into the wide, moonless night.
It felt like we were two teenagers, escaping our parents. Like we were doing something forbidden and wrong. I knew that made it even more fun for Randall. Doing exactly the opposite of what he was supposed to do had always been his thing.
“Soo…” I said, as we made our way toward the glimmering city. “How long do you think we have before dad wakes up?”
Randall laughed. “If I know Holden? Four or five hours, at least.”
It was late but not that late. Holden had crashed surprisingly early, having just come off an extended stint on the ridge.
I grabbed my lover’s tattooed hand and pulled him down the hill. “We’d better move fast then.”
At the rate we were moving it didn’t take long. Soon we were on pavement, walking the winding, switchback streets leading down to the city proper. The town was lit beautifully at night. The sound of voices and laughter was like music to our ears, as we reached Taormina’s narrow, cobbled streets.
“Other people!” I cried, pausing just to look around. It was like getting oxygen again. Like coming to the surface after a long, deep dive.
It was late enough that most of the city’s restaurants were closing. The streets were still bustling with people, though. Streetlamps protruded from the stuccoed facade of lighted shops, illuminating the stone archways and wrought-iron balconies of the ancient city.
Without really talking about it we stuck to the crowds. We kept our heads low. It didn’t take long to find a beautiful outdoor lounge, where dozens of lacquered tables were lined in neat rows. Each one was lit by the warm, beige glow of a single candle.
Randall and I grabbed drinks and took seats near the end, in the even further darkness beneath a beautiful little tree. Five minutes after that we were hopelessly relaxed. Melting into the fabric of our elegant chairs.
“You have problems with authority,” I smiled, holding up my giant glass of Merlot.
He clinked his beer against it and sighed. “I could say the same about you.”
“Yeah, but you have problems with authority and you joined the military,” I laughed. “Kinda a glutton for punishment, don’t you think?”
Randall smiled and shrugged. “There’s a little story behind that one.”
“Oh?”
“A bit boring, though.”
“Try me.”
The SEAL stared at me across our little candlelit table. For a few seconds he didn’t say anything. Then his eyes unfocused, and saw whatever tension was left in his body drain away.
“I grew up with absentee parents,” he said. “Mom was there, but fully checked out.
Dad was never around. The funny part was I have a fuck-ton of brothers and sisters. I’m the youngest of eight.”
“Holy shit.”
“Funny, that’s what we said, too.”
He took a pull from his beer and scratched at his beard. “Anyway, I had zero supervision. Allie — that’s the second oldest of our clan — well, she did her best with me, but it was a losing battle. As a kid I hated her always trying to boss me around, telling me what to do. Looking back now though, she was probably the best of them. The others were doing their own thing. No one but Allie really gave a shit.”
Seven siblings! I couldn’t even imagine it.
“As a teenager I started getting into even more trouble. Things ramped up quickly. I could never keep friends very long, because I kept dragging my friends into bad situations. The smart ones ran. The ones that didn’t, got caught and went to jail for all sorts of stupid things.”
“Not you though.”
“No,” Randall admitted. “Not me. I was too fast, too slick. Like ‘liquid shit’, they’d say. It wasn’t a good nickname, really, and not one I wanted. Eventually I started going at things solo. I was alone a lot. Especially as my siblings got older and started leaving the house, one by one.”
He drained his beer and placed the glass on the table between us. Then he leaned in closer.
“I started stealing things. Lots of things. It became a sort of game for me, a way to ‘get the energy out’, as my mother would call it. Hell, I didn’t even need half the stuff I stole. I just enjoyed doing it. I’d say it was the thrill of the chase, but I was rarely even chased. I was just that good at it.”
“…until you got caught,” I guessed.
Randall’s eyes glimmered. He leaned back again, a smile stretching beneath his beard. “You’re a smart one.”
“Don’t change the subject,” I countered. “Continue the story.”
“It was a neighbor of ours — a store owner — who got me. The old man was fast, almost as fast as me. Turns out he’d been in the Navy — a runner on an aircraft carrier. Rather than bust me, he sat me down. Told me stories about all the places he’d been, the things he’d seen. During his service he’d sailed all over the world, north and south of the equator.”
“So he convinced you to join the Navy?” I asked. “Just like that?”
“Well, the fucker strong-armed me,” Randall smiled. “After talking to me for an hour, he told me he’d still call the police if I didn’t do two things.”
“Uh oh.”
“One, he wanted me to work for him. And I did for about a year, right before I went in. He paid me well, too.”
“And the other thing?”
“I had to go down to the recruitment office with him,” said Randall. “The very next day.”
I laughed. “And you went?”
“Had to. The guy knew me. He’d been watching me grow up in the neighborhood for years. He said I needed structure, direction. I needed an outlet, to blow off all this pent-up energy.” Randall paused, tapping a finger restlessly against his lips. “And he was right.”
His eyes fell to the candle now. They had the somber look of remembrance.
“That wasn’t a boring story,” I said. “That was actually kind sweet.”
“Yeah, but it ends shitty.”
“Why?” I said. “You didn’t just join the Navy, you became a SEAL. You’re not just any sailor, you’re an elite specialist. The guy must’ve been totally ecstatic when he found out you—”
“He died,” Randall said, “just before I got assigned to BUDS training. Missed telling him by three weeks.”
His story ended abruptly, just like that. I laid my hand over his.
“Oh, honey I’m sorry.”
“He would’ve been proud,” Randall said absently. “I wanted him to be proud. My father couldn’t give a rat’s ass what I did, and my mother was living with someone else by then. But he… he was the only one who really…”
He shook his head back and forth, as if waking from a dream. “He got me,” said Randall. “Him and Holden. All my life, they were the only two people who really—”
KA—THUNK!
I nearly jumped out of my skin as the figure slid up behind us. A big hand slammed downward. Randall’s arm shot out like a cobra, grabbing it instinctively by the wrist as it deposited two fresh beers in the middle of the table.
I looked up the arm… and there was Holden.
“Thought I might find you here,” he said, shaking his head. “So predictable.”
Randall let go of his wrist and grinned. He slid a chair over from an empty table, and that’s when I noticed something: Holden was grinning too.
“I’m disappointed,” he coughed, as he sat down. “You could’ve at least picked a spot where you’d have your backs to the wall…”
Forty-Four
MARCUS
I found that my spine usually stopped hurting after the third hour, when the numbness set in. It wasn’t something I’d had to deal with when I was still active. I’d had much longer stints behind the scope of the M107, on harder ground than this. Then again, I’d been six or eight years younger. Maybe nine.
Father Time could really kick the shit out of you.
Mentally I was distracted as well. I was still focused, my eye still trained for the slightest hint of movement in the abbey’s courtyard below. But my brain kept tapping me on the shoulder. No matter what I tried, it kept bringing my thoughts back to her.
Andrea.
She no longer resembled Haley to me. Physically sure, but now she had her own traits, her own distinct personality that made her unique in my mind’s eye. It was in the way she walked, the way she laughed. They way she touched me.
The way she kissed...
I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I should’ve been bothered by the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about her, because the obsession would eventually bring on the usual pain.
Only this time the pain didn’t come. The more I thought about Andrea, the happier it made me. And the more I was with her…
I should’ve been bothered by the other stuff too. About having to share her — with a couple of Navy guys no less! But these weren’t ordinary sailors, and these weren’t ordinary guys. They were like brothers, the two of them. And to me, over time, they’d become brothers-in-arms.
Maybe it was because the four of us had bonded over something so unique, but I really liked Holden and Randall. Each man had his own quirks and idiosyncrasies, but after years of bunking shoulder-to-shoulder with personalities like theirs, you tended to adapt. It rounded your sharper edges.
And besides, we shared something else unique. Something I’d never shared with any of them men I’d ever bunked with: a girl.
That should’ve bothered me too, come to think of it. But the more I ran it through my mind, the more I realized I wasn’t even jealous. Yes, I cared for this girl. Yes, I had feelings for her. And my feelings were probably way deeper than I ever wanted to admit.
But for some reason… with Holden and Randall? I saw them more as brothers than as competition. We’d all been with her. Somehow it’d even happened simultaneously! But even that was strangely comfortable. Casual.
And yes, sizzling fucking hot.
That part was probably the weirdest for me: how much I’d actually liked it. How much I’d loved pleasuring this girl together, all three of us. We’d brought her to all new heights of sexual ecstasy and gratification. Places only a girl surrounded by lovers could go.
But it was hot. Her facial expressions, her moans and screams and cries. The way her body rocked back and forth as we took her from either side. The look of nirvana-like delirium in her eyes as we took turns screwing her brains out…
I spent most of my time wondering what would happen afterward. What life might be like for us once things returned to normal. Not one of us had seen ‘normal’ for months and years now. Normal hadn’t been in our vocabulary since—
Movement.<
br />
An icy chill shot up my spine as three men entered the courtyard. I ordered my body to relax. Forced my breathing rhythm to go slow and deep…
It could be nothing, of course. The men could been gardeners for all I knew. Over the past weeks we’d seen all kinds of sporadic activity at the abbey. Enough to let us know he was there, but no sign of—
And then suddenly… there he was.
Kyrkos was shirtless and yawning and fresh from sleep as he stepped cautiously out into courtyard’s shadows. It was just minutes until dawn. He was wearing some sort of a long robe. Holding something snug against one shoulder…
His cat.
Ah, yes — that damned cat. Now I remembered.
Memories came flooding back. Recollections of the few times I was actually in the man’s presence, either to be chastised for something or to be praised for a job well done. It was always the extremes, with Kyrkos. For every other aspect of my tenure with Indigo, I’d dealt only with men like Galleti.
Kyrkos took three more steps into the grassy courtyard. He stopped under a fig tree. Plucked one of the fruits. I watched him eat it, while training the crosshairs on the middle of his forehead. He was still chewing. Still holding that cat…
Take the shot.
I’d already flipped the safety. All I had to do was curl my finger around the trigger…
You get the shot, you take the shot. Don’t hesitate.
I trained the crosshairs down Kyrkos’s thick neck… onto his hairy chest. No use in taking chances. With the .50 cal it didn’t matter. A strong hit, anywhere center mass, and the exit wound itself cause lethality.
The three men behind him stood arms crossed, looking in no particular direction. They should’ve been looking for me. Too late now.
Kyrkos reached for another fig, and I anticipated his moment. At the same time, I took a long, controlled breath.
I let it out slowly… then squeezed through the trigger.
