by Xavier Neal
“I shouldn't fucking be here!” I explode.
“Why not?”
“Because I'm the child of a viscous rape!” Hearing the word causes a small gasp to come out of Mandy. “I am the fucking product of forced sex. She was brutally raped by a man that took an oath to protect the innocent! She was victimized! I was the goddamn result! So no! I don't blame her for giving me up! I wouldn't wanna look a reminder of what happened to me against my will in the fucking face every fucking day either!”
Her shaky hand stretches across to try to touch my leg, “Michael--”
“No.” I flinch away from her, the anxiety from the situation enough to make me thankful I'm sitting down. “Just fucking let it go. Let's get the fuck out of here. She doesn't need me in her life. Let her raise the two little girls she wanted.”
Immediately she asks, “How do you know she has children?”
In a mumble I look out the window back at the type of house I wished to Santa to let me live in when I was younger. “Because you aren't the only one who went digging.” Briefly I glance over. “Now can we go? I have to get to work.”
Mandy nods, but doesn't say another word as we drive off. What else could she possibly have to say? I'm the outcome of something no woman should ever fucking fall victim to. The seed sprung from a nightmare that I'm sure haunts her when she lets it. I can't imagine what would happen if I had to face Khloe again. The anguish that we would both suffer. My birth mother has already had enough forced on her. I'm not fucking forcing that too.
After Mandy drops me back off at my car, I drive to the HORN regional headquarters and complete all points of check in without so much as a smirk. As soon as I'm inside I take myself to the physical training center, pull on gloves, and throw myself at a punching bag. Relentlessly I swing at the thing for what feels like hours, exhaustion never sinking in. Every time I hit, I feel the sting of a mistake strike back. Getting jumped. Picked on. Starved. Used. Each hit makes me feels like I'm breaking apart.
Unexpectedly there's a grab of my shoulder and on instinct I swing my fist around. Grim catches my hand before it has a chance to lock with his jaw. Displeased he grunts, “Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“Sorry.” I retract it. Quickly I shake my head. “I didn't—I mean—It was—I--”
“Merlin's,” he remarks folding his arms across his chest. “Now.”
“Right,” I agree pulling off the gloves and tossing them down next to the bag. “Why didn't you just call my name?”
“I did,” he argues. “Several times. You didn't hear me?”
Guilt forces me to shake my head again.
Shockingly Grim says, “Been there.” Before I have a chance to say anything else he demands, “Let's move.”
The two of us relocate to Merlin's to see Director Shepard, Jazz, Lordy and Merlin waiting around the monitor he uses to display information.
“Did you get lost Jacket?” Director Shepard snidely remarks.
Promptly I try to apologize, “Sorry Sir I--”
“I don't care,” he cuts me off. “You have wasted some of my time. Unacceptable.”
“Sorry sir.”
He doesn't respond to my comment. “As you three are aware The Face was scheduled to move merchandise. It should've been moved by this point but he was tipped off.”
“You think there's a leak in our team?” Grim almost growls.
“I said no such thing,” Director Shepard answers. “I'm not sure how he was tipped off, but he was. That's been the delay in him moving the girls. However, at this point we now have names and faces. Merlin. JZ proceed.”
With the click of the button the first face pops up. “Katrina Morgan. Age 16.” The young girl has curly red hair and freckles. Short. My arms fold across my chest. Merlin hits another button. “Tracey Cumberland. Age 15.” This girl has wavy brown hair. Chopped. Tanned skin. I shake my head in disappointment. These poor victims. Helpless. There's a sudden hesitation in Jazz causing my eyes to shift over. However it is brief as Merlin clicks the remote and a photo damn near drops me to my knees. “Khloe Abernathy. Age 13.” Any air in my lungs is robbed from me at the sight of her all grown up. Blonde hair still softly shaping her face. Bright blue eyes paled. Broken. And it's all my fault.
“These are the three girls The Face keeps close to him. They look well fed and well kept because typically they are,” Jazz explains not making eye contact with me. “His purpose is to make them dependent upon him to the point they would never betray him. It takes years of training. Years to create the devotion these girls possibly have.” She clears her throat and Merlin clicks to another picture of the three of them holding hands. “It's hard to say that if rescued they will flip on him, but it is something we have to risk trying. If even one of them breaks, it could be the key piece to getting to the Face.”
“JZ do you feel this team is prepared to handle this situation?” the cold way the question is phrased leaves no room for question. I am the problem.
Jazz folds her hands together and nods. “Yes sir.”
“Grim,” Director Shepard turns his attention to him. “You're leader out in the field. You're the man your team members look to. You guide them. It is your job to protect them and know if they can handle such situations. Do you feel your team is prepared to say focused?”
With slight confusion Grim nods. “Yes sir.”
“Even given Glove's circumstances with Abernathy?” The question shoots Grim's head over his shoulder at me. “JZ. Explain.”
Her eyes meet Grim's. “Khloe Abernathy was in the same foster home as Glove. The last one he was in before he joined the Marines. He...he shared a special relationship with the victim.”
“Do you believe this will cloud his judgment?” Director Shepard sharply inquires of Grim as my entire body feels like it's being lit on fire. Heat so fucking strong radiating through my body I swear I can smell my flesh roasting. Doing my best to hold my own, I squeeze my body tighter together and remain silent. I have to prove I am in control. I have to. For Khloe. “Do you believe this connection will prevent him from keeping his focus?”
Without being reluctant, Grim says, “No sir. I believe Glove will complete this mission accordingly.”
“As you did with the last mission?” the distaste in his voice is clear. We are not who he wants to grab these girls. But it's our job. I need this. I need to make amends. I have to save her from at least one monster.
“Yes sir.”
“Alright.” Director Shepard nods. “JZ I am expecting a risk analysis on my desk as soon as possible.”
“Yes Director,” she replies before he strolls out of the room.
Once he's gone I open my mouth to speak when Grim growls, “Interrogation room. All of us. Now.”
He storms out of with the three of us behind him. Like the solid unit we are, we relocate to one of the rooms without the mirror for our actions to be scrutinized from the other side.
When all four of us are inside, Jazz closes the door behind her as Grim erupts, “What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On?” Without waiting for anyone to answer he snaps, “Since when do we fucking keep shit from each other?”
“Like you don't have fucking secrets of your own?” I snap at him. “Like you didn't keep Haven's fucked up past from us!”
His fist suddenly slams hard into my abs knocking me slightly backwards. I deserved that. I crossed a line. But so did he. Retaliation rushes through my system. I lunge back when Lordy blocks me.
“God you boys are like juveniles.” Jazz leans against the table in the room.
“And you,” I growl shrugging Lordy off. “How could you not fucking tell me before this?”
“She's good at keeping shit to herself,” Grim replies anger on his face just the same. “Trust me. She only tells us shit when it's convenient.”
“No.” She stomps her heel. “We're not hanging my ass out to dry here. I stuck my neck out for you.” She points to Grim. “And you...” her attention turns to me. “I'
ve just put my career on the line for you. There's no fucking way you should be a part of this mission--”
“You let Grim help with Haven!”
“He had a clear mind!” She yells back. “He figured out how to turn his brain off and focus. I could rely on him to do that! He practiced that method for years! But you? I can't expect that from you! It's not who you are. You're--”
“A fuck up!” I scream at her. “I know! I deal with it every. Goddamn. Day.”
Lordy tries, “You're not a fuck up.”
“Really? So that scar by Grim's ribs from where he took that blow for my mistake? Khloe being stuck with that bastard--”
“Is not your fault,” Grim argues leaning against the wall.
“It is my fault! I promised to save her! I promise to protect her! I fucking left her!”
“You did what you had to fucking do to survive!” Grim yells back. “That's what we do! We are trained to survive! You get yourself the fuck out of a losing situation! It is not your fault something happened to her!”
“Yes it is!”
“What did happen?” Lordy questions calmly. “How did she end up from foster care to...slavery?”
Jazz wets her lips. “I believe, Jerry had a gambling debt to pay. Sold the girl. Reported her as a runaway. Your close relationship worked for a perfect scapegoat.”
“We have to save her,” I whisper out air leaving my lungs again. “We have to...”
“We will,” Grim assures me. “But I need your head in the game. Believe me, I know how fucking impossible it's going to feel when you get in the heat of the moment. But you have to shut that shit off before we walk out the door for that mission. Clear?”
“Clear,” I reply.
He nods at me and states, “I'm leaving.”
“Where are you going?” Lordy asks.
“Home to my wife,” he replies before walking out, still livid.
Lordy turns his attention to me, “Do you--”
“I'll be fine,” I deny any help from him.
“Are you--”
“Fine I said.”
He nods and at that moment there's an announcement that he's being summoned by the Director. In what sounds like Spanish he mumbles something that doesn't sound like he's pleased. It still baffles me that our country boy is a linguistic specialist. When he's drunk his accent makes it sound like he's turned jibberish into an actual language
The minute it's just Jazz and I she sighs, “I wanted to tell you first, but--”
My hand raises to cut her off. “You were just doing your fucking job. And now I have to do mine.”
“Exactly.” She clears her throat and for a minute I almost feel like she wants to apologize deeper. That she wants to say more. But she doesn't. She shouldn't have to. She does her job even if that means fucking us over. Being callous to our emotions.
“I appreciate you taking my side with the Director.”
“I went with my gut.” She shrugs. I try to offer her a smile. “Which makes me weak. My job is to analyze behavior and predict outcomes. Not go against the facts that are presented.”
“So why did you?”
“Because you three are something incredible. You're the reason exceptions have to be made.” With that she steps sharply towards me and firmly says, “Do not make me wrong.”
“Yes ma'am.”
“Now...you know what kind of alert we're on so getting drunk is out of the question. Go find that girl you're in love with and bury yourself balls deep in her.” My face breaks out into a full smirk. “You need it.”
And I do. I need something to clear my head. A high to ride that will eliminate the turmoil spinning out of control inside me. Something to hold me up before I collapse. I need to get lost in something. Someone. I need someone I know whether or not she admits it, needs me too.
**
My fist bangs on Mandy's apartment door. Two pounds and I wait. Two more. I prepare to pound again when she swings the door open.
“Have you lost your mind?” She gripes at me.
Instantly I drink in her gorgeous legs that have nothing covering them. My mouth cracks open slightly for my tongue to moisten my lips while admiring her bra less tits in a long white t-shirt she's preparing to sleep in. Her hair is piled on the top of her head and the makeup she never leaves home without is nowhere in sight. She looks fucking stunning.
“Michael, have you--”
I assault her lips with mine before she can finish the sentence. At first she resists slightly pushing against my chest, but when my tongue licks her bottom lip gently she melts, opening up for me. Backing her up into the apartment, I wrap a hand around her nape, kick the door shut with my foot, and continue the kiss. Mandy moans and I move my hands to yank her up. Her legs curl around my waist while her hands bury themselves in my hair. I pull away from the kisses to safely guide us back to her bedroom, littering her neck and shoulders with my lips to make sure I keep her attention. Now that I have it, no way in hell am I letting it get away. Dropping her on to her king size bed, I pull my shirt over my head. Mandy's eyes widen and I swear there's a whimper out of her beautiful mouth. Pulling out a condom from my back pocket, I crawl on top of her as her body falls backwards. My lips drop to hers for our tongues to greet again before rolling off to taste the skin of her neck. Collarbone. The hand that's not clutching the condom slips down her body that shudders from my touch. A check mark that her body wants me. Between the soft whimpers and way her body is arching up for me, it's very clear that she wants everything that I do. That the months of denying me to be in this position were for show. A joke. A lie. This is exactly where she wanted me to be. The realization causes am animalistic groan out of me. I nip her neck at the same time my hand slides in the front of her lacy panties barely grazing her clit.
“Oh...” she breathes out heavy at my gentle touch.
Slipping two fingers inside, I stroke her with intent and devotion. My tongue tries to stay occupied by finding new spots to taste while her panting tries to grab it's attention. To beg it to replace where my fingers are. My dick stiffens harder in my jeans at the thought. Fuck.
“So close,” she informs me of what the clenching of her muscles on my fingers had already alerted me too.
“I know...”
I slip my fingers out as easy as I slipped them in. “Then,.then why--”
“Because I wanna feel that on my dick,” I declare in her ear. The words cause her to whimper loudly, which spurs me to move faster.
Desperate I manage to slip my jeans down slightly and wrap my cock. When it nudges her entrance, her eyes fall closed in anticipation. The beautiful sight is enough to make me come before moving. With a deep breath, I focus and slide inside, her pussy constricting around me like it's been waiting a life time to greet me. Fuck. I've been waiting a life time to worship it. Mandy lets out an orgasmic cry as she comes from the first couple of pushes. Fuck, I could come right along with her. Pleased I slowly continue to stretch the muscles that feel like they haven't been used in years. Once I've pushed my orgasm as far as I can away from the brink, I drift my hand down her thigh and pump into her harder. Faster. Determined. Determined to prove I'm not a complete fuck up. I can do something right. I can't be the guy that says what she wants to hear, but I can give her body everything it craves. Everything it needs. Rescuing it from neglect. I can be that guy that brings her to ecstasy again and again. I can praise her body. Turn it into the alter that I'm allowed to worship at. That only I deserve to be at. Angling my hips to reach deeper inside her is well accepted by the gasp that seeps out. Suddenly her walls mimic the motions they did when my fingers were inside.
Leaning my lips against her ear I ask, “You wanna come again, don't you?”
“Yes,” she breathlessly answers thrusting her hips up to meet the sharp blows I'm providing.
“What was that?” The word bounces around but doesn't come out again. “You did wanna come again?”
Even more helpless than before she
cries, “Yes...”
With a smirk I keep up the speed and whisper, “Brat...”
“God yes!” Mandy screams her entire body falling subject to the orgasm that's pouring out of her.
I grip her tighter, not wanting to miss a moment of the trembles that are a thank you to my dick for doing it's duty. With a few more sharp pushes, I let out a low rumble as the high of sex spreads through me until I come. While trying to steady my breath I lean my sweaty forehead against hers. Leaving my eyes shut, afraid if I open them I have to deal with regret in hers, I try to regain a bit of control. She didn't say no. She didn't tell me to stop. But I didn't offer. What if this was a mistake? What if she didn't want this?
“Michael,” her voice calls my eyes to open. Once they are she smirks up at me, “Promise me we get to do that again.”
Relief floods my system along with pride. “You're a brat you know that?”
Mandy's fingertips run down my arms, stroking my dog tag tat that is a pair wrapped around my bicep. One with my name, birth date, and USMC, the other with the words Die For Their Freedom. “So I've been told...” And with a sweet grin she winds her fingers through my hair again and pulls my lips back down to hers.
31 Days Til The Wedding
Rolling over I stretch my arm out across a smooth surface. One eye creeps open to see a gorgeous view. Mandy's hair is all over her pillow, the blanket barely covering her nipples, those nipples that enjoyed my tongue lashing last night. I admire how her legs that spent hours over my shoulder are now tangled in the sheets. Most adorable thing is the tiny snore coming out of her. With a wide smile I shut my eyes. I was surprised when she didn't kick me out when we were done last night, but relieved. Khloe's face didn't haunt my dreams like she has been more frequently since Jazz first brought her up. Another relief.
“Michael...” her voice calls out softly. It sounds so different. Vulnerable almost. The Mandy only I get to see. The Mandy only I get to know.
“Yeah?” I lift myself up, open my eyes, and move so I'm slightly hovering over her.
“What was last night about?”
