“Am I distracting you?” I teased, sliding my hand between us, cupping his balls.
Another groan.
“Definitely distracting me.”
“Tell me fighter pilot things. I’m seriously disappointed if there isn’t a secret handshake.”
He tilted his head to look at me, another smile tugging at his lips. “You have my dick in your hands and you’re still busting my balls?”
“Pretty much.”
He sighed, as if resigned to his fate. “No secret handshake. Shit ton of traditions—songs, things we say, things we don’t say, things we do, things we don’t. It’s its own code.”
I was beginning to figure that out, just like I was beginning to realize that he was definitely his own man. And I liked that a lot.
“Okay, give me an example of the lingo.”
I circled his cock, stroking and squeezing, loving the feel of him jerking against my palm.
He was silent for a moment and I wasn’t sure if he was thinking of an answer or succumbing to the feel of my fingers working him over.
“Vocabulary.” He pushed the word out. “We don’t say ‘box,’ we say ‘container.’ And we don’t say ‘head,’ we say ‘cranium.’”
I blinked, my hand stilling. “What?”
“We don’t say ‘box.’ We say ‘container’ instead.”
“You just said ‘box.’”
“To explain it, yeah. But otherwise, no ‘box.’”
What?
“Why?”
“Think about it.”
I thought about it.
“Once again, why?”
He lifted himself up on his elbow again, his hand reaching between us, his fingers stroking me much as I did to him, teasing my clit. “We don’t say ‘box.’”
I took a second—probably because he was already stoking the fires of arousal within me—and then the totally juvenile, sexual joke hit me.
“You have got to be kidding.”
The last word came out with a squeak as his finger dipped lower, sliding into me with one smooth thrust. I tilted my hips up, wanting it deeper, and he gave it to me, plunging a second finger inside.
He flashed me a boyish grin, entirely too pleased with himself and still hot as fuck. “Nope.”
My eyes narrowed even as my breath hitched and he did a twisty thing with his fingers that had my head falling back.
“And cranium?” I ground out.
“We don’t say ‘head.’”
I got that one a little faster, despite the fact that he’d definitely just hit my G-spot. “That is the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”
“You going to lecture me on fighter pilot vocabulary, or are you going to come your brains out?”
I opened my mouth to give him a sassy retort, but then he hit that spot again, and a moan escaped instead.
His head came down, his lips brushing against mine as he whispered, “Definitely going to come again.”
He wasn’t wrong.
NOAH
I woke early, a week of being on the day train with early brief times catching up with me.
Part of our job was dealing with the sheer unpredictability of our schedules. Some days I showed up at 3 a.m. and came home at 4 p.m. Other days I was in at noon and home at 2 a.m. It made getting on a consistent sleep schedule challenging, to say the least. So even though I’d barely slept all night, my hands, mouth, and cock full of Jordan, I was up now, lying on my side, my arm draped around her waist, watching her sleep. Watching her sleep and trying to get my shit together.
I figured it was the combination of tits, ass, and attitude that had me hooked. Not to mention the hair. And the laugh. She had a great fucking laugh, one that reverberated all the way to my dick. She felt tailor-made for me, my type to a T. My type in a way I hadn’t found before. So yeah, I was definitely not letting her walk away without seeing how this would play out.
She stirred, her body stretching out, a lazy yawn spreading her lips.
“Morning.”
Her eyes fluttered open, giving me a sleepy smile. “Good morning.”
I reached out, my finger trailing down the curve of her cheek, her skin silk beneath my touch.
“I like waking up to you,” I whispered, my voice tight as I gave her more than I’d anticipated.
The knot in my throat only got bigger as I watched the pretty pink spread across her cheeks. It had been a long time since I’d woken up with a girl in my bed, since I’d had a night like last night—hell, I wasn’t sure I’d ever had a night like last night. And yeah, maybe I was more than a little lonely. Or maybe it was just how good she felt beside me.
My last girlfriend, Heather, and I had been together for a year, only to break up when she’d wanted four little words and a ring, and I’d given her four very different little words—I’m going to Afghanistan.
Maybe she would have handled the short-notice deployment better if a diamond had accompanied it, but even as I’d thought about it, I couldn’t make myself pull the trigger. It hadn’t been a commitment thing; it had been the feeling that we were interchangeable to each other. I’d liked her a lot, but that was a pretty shitty basis for a marriage, especially one that would be tested as much as a military marriage would be. And considering she lived in the same town where I was stationed and had already been through her fair share of fighter pilots, I was pretty sure I was little more than a patch and a pair of wings.
Nothing about the girl next to me felt remotely interchangeable.
“Me, too,” Jordan mumbled, her voice a little sad.
She sat up, staring over at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was just after 10 a.m. I’d been watching her sleep for two hours, which was one hour and fifty-five minutes longer than I was comfortable with. I wasn’t a player by any stretch of the imagination, but I also wasn’t the kind of guy who watched girls sleep. But it had taken that long for me to figure out where I wanted this to go, to plan my next steps with the same level of attention I gave to a mission.
“Come back to Nellis with me.”
I said the words like they were an impulse and not what they really were—the result of two hours of mulling over what the hell happened next and how to handle the unexpected conundrum of meeting a girl I really liked in Vegas, of all places, the home of one-night stands and no-strings-attached fun.
“What do you mean?”
“We have to be back at the base this afternoon. I have to mission plan for a sortie Monday morning. Come back with me. You could stay in the hotel if you want.” My heart beat a little faster. “When does your flight leave on Monday?”
“Afternoon. Three or four.”
“I should be back from my flight by then. I could say good-bye before you leave. And we’d have tonight together.”
She was quiet for a moment, and I held my breath, waiting to see what her answer would be.
“I have plans for brunch with my sister and her bridesmaids in an hour at the Wynn. What time are you going back?”
“As long as I can get back by six, whenever works for you.”
I didn’t say the rest of it, the pleading part of my brain that desperately wanted another night with her in my arms. I figured this was the moment when I would find out if everything between us had been enough to keep her interested, enough for her to be willing to take a chance on this. She’d been uncertain last night, and fuck if I hadn’t done everything I possibly could to convince her, and still I didn’t know if it was enough.
It felt like an eternity, but finally she gave me the answer I needed.
“Okay.”
The surge of triumph that filled me had me pulling her body under mine, taking her mouth, my hips rocking against her core.
“How much time do you have before you have to start getting ready for brunch?”
> Jordan wrapped her legs around me, her hands grabbing my ass, pulling me even tighter into her body, and I took that for her answer.
I made her come twice before she left to meet her sister, a wide smile on her face and her hair a messy tumble that unmistakably said she’d just been fucked.
EIGHT
JORDAN
We held hands as the cab made the forty-five-minute drive from the Strip to Nellis Air Force Base. We didn’t speak.
Maybe it was stupid, but I was nervous. So much more nervous than I’d been going up to his room, the kind of nervous that came with venturing into uncharted territory where boundaries were murky and undefined.
I kept questioning the decision to come with him, doubting my sanity, cursing the impulsive streak that had me hitching my wagon to a guy I knew next to nothing about. But no matter how many times I tried to wrap my head around how I’d gotten here, I couldn’t get to a place where I didn’t see myself sitting next to him, my hand clutched in his.
So I gave up and just went along for the ride.
“Are you hungry?” Noah asked, breaking the silence between us.
I shook my head. “I’m pretty sure I’ll never be hungry again. That buffet was intense.”
He grinned. “Yeah, it’s my favorite. Definitely the best buffet in Vegas.”
I’d considered not gorging myself on the eclectic fare for like a second, but the lure of so many of my favorite foods had been too powerful to ignore. Hopefully, I had a bit of time for the food baby in me to subside before we were naked and horizontal—or vertical considering the added food poundage he’d have to support if he did me against the wall again. Or in the shower. He’d had some amazing moves in the shower this morning.
“How long do you have to go into work today?” I asked, hoping that would buy me enough of a reprieve.
“An hour or two? It shouldn’t be long. I just have to finish up the mission planning I started on Friday.”
Friday. The day we met. The day all of this had started. It had only been two days and yet it felt like so much more.
“We can go out and get a drink after or stay in if you want,” Noah added.
I squeezed his hand. “I think we should stay in.”
He raised our joined hands to his lips, my pulse racing as he kissed my knuckles, his voice rumbling over my bare skin. “Sounds good to me.”
This guy was so freaking hot.
“So am I going to get to see some planes while I’m here?” I squeaked, trying to get my bearings back.
He grinned. “Do you want to see some planes?”
I’d never really thought about it, but it’d be cool to see what he did all day.
“Yeah, I do.”
“We can check out the flight line, then. There should be some jets out for you to look at.”
I nodded like this was a normal, everyday occurrence, when really it felt like I was in a movie or something. The whole thing was just surreal. I mean, a few days ago, I’d been getting ready to board a flight to Vegas. Now I sat next to this fascinating guy whose touch set off fireworks throughout my body. I’d never imagined my life could change so much in just a few short days, and even though this was still new, and I wasn’t even sure what it was, that feeling that I stood on the precipice of something unexpected was inescapable.
We drove to the Nellis Air Force Base gates and Noah took me to the visitor’s center to get me checked in with a pass that would let me stay on the base for the night. The whole thing was way more intense than I’d expected, and silly though it may be, I felt like I was entering a whole other world. I cracked a joke about being in a spy movie that made Noah hook his arm around my neck and press me into his side for a kiss that left me breathless.
I watched as people in uniform saluted Noah, and while he was nice to everyone, it was impossible to miss the air about him that stated unequivocally that he lived in a world where he commanded a great deal of respect. And that was undeniably sexy, too. Maybe it was the fact that he was confident without being an arrogant dick. Or even more, the feeling that he’d earned every inch of the deference that he was given.
We walked the rest of the way to the hotel and he pointed out things on the base, holding my hand the whole time. As much as he gave off the cool, tough guy vibe, I loved that he didn’t shy away from being sweet with me, that he didn’t care who saw. Every moment I spent with him made me like him a little bit more, unveiling a side that was even more intriguing.
He took me up to his room and we dropped off our bags and then he grabbed his wallet and a lanyard with an ID card on it and held his hand out to me.
“Come on, I’ll take you to see the flight line and the squadron.”
I fucking melted.
I wouldn’t have protested if he’d led with sex; hell, food baby or no food baby, I’d been ready to jump him again for a while now. But he wanted to show me where he worked. And he genuinely looked excited to do it.
I really liked him.
He took me on a short tour of the base as we headed to the flight line, his arm draped around my shoulders, pointing out the various sights. I didn’t know what I’d expected a military base to look like, but I walked around wide-eyed as he gave me a crash course in how the base operated. We walked over to the building where he had been working while he was at Nellis for the past couple weeks and he pointed out the flight line across the street, showing me the row of F-16s.
“There’s no flying on the weekends, but you’ll hear them taking off tomorrow morning. They’re loud.”
They looked loud. They were huge, gray, intense. The guy who I’d spent the night with felt even more like a mystery. I couldn’t quite wrap my head around what it would be like to sit in the cockpit and fly one of these things. What it would be like to go to war in one, to do the kind of maneuvers he described now, to fire missiles or drop bombs. He said his primary mission was suppression of enemy air defenses, and while I had no clue what that meant, it sounded badass in a way that was far out of the realm of badass I’d previously measured all other things by.
“It means we’re the first ones in during a conflict,” he explained. “We take out the enemy’s air defense systems to protect the other planes.”
And suddenly badass began to sound really fucking dangerous. I swallowed, reconciling this new part with all the other ones I’d learned about him.
Noah flashed a badge at some scary-looking security guys with some serious weaponry that had me sidling up closer to him, and then we were standing next to one of those giant metal beasts, and I once again struggled to get my bearings. As much as I stood out, he looked like he’d been born to be here, that feeling that I’d first gotten when I saw him at the club coming back to me.
This was his kingdom.
Noah stroked the metal with a gleam of pride that was both paternal and loving as he explained to me how the planes had the base and squadron they were from painted on their tails, as he threw out complicated terms and palmed the training missiles affixed to the jet. We walked along the row of F-16s, and he pointed out the one with his name, rank, and call sign painted below the cockpit.
He answered all my questions, explaining what the training missiles were and how they worked. He told me that part of his job was teaching guys how to fight in the air, and given the way he went through the process with me—clearly and methodically—I totally got how he would be really amazing at it.
“What’s it like?” I asked as we began walking off the flight line.
“Flying?”
I nodded.
He was quiet for a beat and I realized he wasn’t with me anymore, that he was somewhere else, up in the sky.
“It’s the ultimate rush. Everything fades away when I’m in the jet. For an hour or so, my entire world narrows to this cockpit. In one moment, it feels like I have the world in the palm of my hand, and i
n the next, it’s fucking terrifying and I’m putting out fires to make sure I don’t crash. For sixty-plus minutes, I’m consumed with getting my ass on the ground in one piece. It’s both heady and humbling. Best job in the world.”
I leaned into him, pressing my lips to his, giving him all the feelings crashing through me like a wave carrying me away. Then and there, I knew, whatever happened between us, wherever this headed, I would always share a piece of him with this jet.
I understood, or thought I did, at least, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a little scary, too.
NOAH
I exited the airspace in a four-ship formation, descending, my eyes on the Strip as I approached the runway, the big hotels gleaming in the Vegas morning sun. I hit a visual approach to initial, five miles from the runway, my jet two thousand feet above the ground.
Almost home. Almost back to Jordan, who I’d left curled up in my hotel room bed, her body calling me back as I’d headed to work long before the sun came up.
I keyed the mic and checked in with the tower, looking out the left side of the jet, the runway beneath me. Almost there. I executed a left-hand bank turn, slowing the jet, the gears coming down like clockwork. I looked over my left shoulder, made the radio call, waiting for the tower’s clearance to land, and then I began descending in the turn, slowing my airspeed. I slipped the power back to idle and I flared it off, wheels touching the ground, bringing the nose of the jet down.
I put on the speed breaks to slow the F-16 to a taxiing speed, exiting at the end of the runway, the motions I went through each time I flew nearly as familiar as breathing.
I taxied in to de-arm the jet, maintenance doing a quick check of the systems to make sure it was good to taxi back. I called the ops desk, notifying them of my status, and then I taxied the F-16 until I hit the parking spot and put it in park. I flipped the canopy switch, the canopy rising as I shut down the jet, going through the motions that were rote.
I began unhooking hoses, my com cord. I released my harness, then my lap belt, followed by my seat kit and G-suit. Each movement was a little faster than normal, still methodical but definitely spurred on by my desire to get back to the room. Grabbing my helmet bag from behind the seat, I disconnected the cord from my oxygen mask and removed my helmet, the dry Vegas air hitting my face. I picked up my gear, handing it off to my crew chief, then stuffed my classified materials in my G-suit pocket.
Fly With Me Page 8
