For Love or Country
Page 20
“I am,” I whisper, before surprising him.
Ivan's hands slide down to my lower back and I can't help it any more, I arch, pushing my hips back and into his cock, feeling the head slip into the gap next to my pussy and start to spread me open. “We can discuss oral activities later. But I need you now, my love.”
Ivan lifts my waist carefully while he adjusts himself between my spreading knees, his cock slipping out for a moment before he lines up again, and I get up onto my elbows. “Ivan?”
“Yes?” he asks, his right hand rubbing my hip, I know he loves my ass. I'm not ready yet for that, even as sexy as it sounds, but we've discussed something else….
“Your thumb?” I ask, and I hear Ivan hum in pleasure. He's patient, and as he eases his cock inside me, there's no rush, just the warm pleasure of his cock spreading me open and filling me. I never knew how good it could feel until Ivan and I gave ourselves fully to each other, no condoms or any other barriers between us, and now that I know we're going to spend the rest of our lives together as well, I'm finding even new levels of pleasure. “Yessss...”
Ivan thrusts slowly, relishing the feelings as his hand massages my ass, a fresh pleasure of anticipation filling my chest as his fingers slide closer, closer, until his thumb brushes against the puckered ring of my ass, rubbing slowly. Ivan's hips stop for a moment, his cock throbbing inside me as he takes it in, my pussy clenching each time his thumb sweeps against the sensitive spot. “Amazing.”
“You're telling me,” I groan happily, “that feels so... oh God that feels so fucking good.”
Ivan laughs softly, his hips moving again to let his cock start thrusting in and out of me again while his thumb massages in perfect sync. Ivan knows that when he's brought me all the way to cursing in bed that he's tapped into something primal, sensual. His cock lights up the nerves inside me, my pussy squeezing him each time, greedy to keep my perfect man inside me forever.
Ivan's hips speed up, my body starting to shake with the power of each slapping of our hips, my nipples dragging on the mattress and adding to the fire building in my belly. I'm lost in a haze of pleasure when suddenly, I feel my ass open up and his thumb slides in, all the way until he can't go any deeper. I freeze, and Ivan stops, not moving at all as he gives me a chance to adjust. I squeeze my ass and my pussy, then sigh as the tightness gives way to the intimate, deep feeling of being taken by the man I love, and I push back, thrusting myself back and forth on his cock and thumb while Ivan holds himself totally still until I reach forward and grab the sheets, and lower my head to the cotton, grinning happily.
Ivan takes over, thrusting harder with his cock, and I'm quickly swept away by the fire that builds deep in my belly. Each hard, hammering thrust from his cock shakes me to my core, my pussy and ass both filled with my man, the man I love forever, and I give myself to him and he pounds me into total submission. His cock is huge inside me, his balls slapping my clit each time our bodies crash together, and I can't hold back any more, I bury my face in the pillow and cry out as my first orgasm sweeps through me, but Ivan doesn't stop.
“One more,” he grunts, his thumb slipping out of my ass so he can grab my waist and he starts thrusting even harder, his cock driving into me over and over, my body rocked by spasms as one orgasm builds on another, and I'm driven higher than I've ever felt before, my breath catching in my chest and my heart skipping beats I can't feel any more.
Seconds become eternities as Ivan carries me away, until I feel something scary and huge inside me, and I wonder if this time I can even survive it. “Ivan....”
When the world returns, I feel Ivan on top of me, sobbing at the intensity of what we just did, and I take his hand, holding him close as we roll, sighing in happiness. “Tell me that wasn't just some trick your Russian trainers taught you.”
“No...” Ivan whispers, sniffing. “That was... that was my heart.”
“And you have mine,” I whisper, kissing his hand. “Let's rest a little bit more, then we can get up and start the day. We've gotta tell Ashley and Simon about this.”
Later on, Ivan gets in a last little bit of exercise in the back yard of the house, playfully teasing me that since I was so upset with his little middle of the night jaunt, he was going to 'stay on his leash,' as he put it. I used a chunk of my first paycheck after we moved to go out and buy a barbell set for him along with a couple of sheets of plywood to set up a basic weightlifting platform as a present. Even though it is very cold, it's sexy to watch my fiancée doing cleans, front squats, and other lifts on the wood. Right now though, I'm talking with Ashley, who I let study the ring a little bit longer before I pull it back. “It's a good ring,” Ashley says. “You should be proud to wear it.”
“Thanks. Ashley, I know you and Simon are casual on the whole rank thing, and you told me it was okay that Ivan and I are intimate, but I gotta ask you... is this a problem? Did we need to get permission from you guys before he asked? I mean, he's technically still a prisoner.”
Ashley shakes her head, smirking. “He's on parole, not in Leavenworth still. Let's be a hundred percent forthright, his timing isn't perfect, but we can adjust in the future.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, shifting around. “Adjust in the future how?”
“When we can, Simon and I take aliases that allow us to be together. Whether thats as spouses, or as supposed boyfriend and girlfriend, or even as just co-workers, the 52nd tries to make sure that it doesn't look weird if we spend time together outside of duty hours. But the identities that you two have set up for this mission, getting together's going to be more difficult. You can still see each other outside of post and stuff, but hanging out at the PX during lunch or something's going to be impossible. Do you think you two can hold off on the pre-honeymoon love fest during the mission?”
I smirk, nodding. “Does a quickie in a roadside motel count?”
Ashley laughs, shaking her head. “What happened to that shy, insecure little butter bar that walked into my office months ago and had to pick her jaw up off the floor when she saw me? Huh?”
“I guess the right guy can do that for you, but I give a lot of credit to you and Simon as well. Your training's been kick-butt, Ashley,” I answer. “Now that's been settled, let's go over the mission a little bit, okay?”
“Sure,” Ashley replies, going all business. “Okay, you're going to be an E-4 in the Fort Drum Housing Office, Contracting Division. There's a serious problem going on with the new enlisted housing, probably someone skimming on the contract, and your job is to figure out where the problem is. We've tracked it down to a couple of the contractors, but we need to know who the link in the Housing Office is. Once we know that link, we'll sweep in and take both sides down at the same time.”
“From what I read in the files, the prime suspect is the officer, a Captain Rollins?”
Ashley shakes her head quickly. “Don't go in there with any assumptions, Christina. That's how things get overlooked. Yes, the Inspector General has looked already, and they focused on Captain Rollins, but they never found enough evidence to say one way or another. Don't make that same mistake. Your job is to observe, and to gather evidence. That's it. Remember that.”
I nod, and look at my left hand wistfully. “I will. So I guess that means I need to take this off for a while, don't I?”
Ashley shrugs. “Oh, I don't know about that. Make up a story, say it's your grandmother's. If you want to wear it, you'll find a reason. Good luck, Christina.”
It's funny,
how quickly the habits fall back into place after quite a few months of not being in a military uniform. Part of it, of course, is being in ACUs again, although the inverted teardrop of a Specialist on my rank tab isn't quite right. Still, part of me feels good to visit the uniform again, if for no other reason than to remember what I was, and what I've become.
“Sir, Specialist Christina Brooks reporting to Captain Rollins!” I pop off, saluting the most picture-perfect salute I can muster. It's not that hard to play up my natural perkiness, apparently it is something that both Ivan and Ashley have noticed, and encourage. The harder part I think is going to be playing dumb, or as Simon once joked, to play as blonde as Ivan is.
“At ease, and relax,” Captain Rollins replies, returning the salute. “I'm not the damn company commander, I just run this division. There's enough GS civilians running around this place that trying to do things all uniformed style doesn't work anyway.”
I visibly relax, and tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear, one carefully placed so that it will fall out of place again when I need it to. It used to bother me before formations, now it's a tool to play up my desired image. “Okay sir. So like, what would you like me to do? Because, I'm so totally ready to get something done. The past few days of just doing inprocessing have been the worst.”
Maybe I'm overdoing the Valley Girl act a little, but I'll adjust. The big thing is to make sure that I don't come off as smart, but a nice, bubbly airhead. The rest comes in time and keeping my eyes open. Thankfully, it seems to work on Captain Rollins. “Well, Sergeant Lomarco is out today, so chill out. Actually, hold on, I'll call for someone to set you up with a desk and get you squared away on the network, just a moment.”
Captain Rollins makes a call, and soon a woman comes in. “Hey sir, what can I do for you?”
“Anne, would you take Specialist Brooks here down to the Contracting office and get her set up with a desk and get her on the computer system? I've got a meeting with the Colonel this afternoon, and I'd like to have all my t's crossed and my i's dotted,” Captain Rollins says. “Thanks.”
“Not a problem sir,” Anne says. She smiles and gives me a wave of her hand for me to follow her. “Follow me. By the way, I'm Anne Gardner.”
“Christina Brooks,” I reply, keeping up. “So what do you do?”
“I actually work directly for the Colonel that Captain Rollins mentioned,” Anne says as I catch up. She leads me down the hall to a small office, three desks only, one of which is clearly empty. “The building's a bit weird, so my desk is down here, while the other desk belongs to Sergeant Lomarco. He's out on a quarters inspection right now, someone cleared post without getting their stuff squared away and I think he's kicking a little butt. As for me, I'm the post range office. When anyone wants to go out and use a training area, they shoot me an email or give me a call.”
“Wow, that's a pretty busy job, isn't it?” I ask. I notice behind her desk a framed rugby jersey, with 'USMA Rugby' emblazoned on it. “Wait, you're an ex-officer?”
“Me?” Anne says with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Honey, I wish. I’m just a regular woman, although I am an Army brat, my father’s retired. That jersey belongs to my husband. Here, take a look.”
She hands me another frame from her desk, and I see Anne in a posed family portrait along with a handsome, fit man and three kids, one looking about seven or eight while the youngest is still an infant. “Cute family. So your husband's a West Pointer?”
Anne smiles and takes the photo back, putting it back on her desk with a tender look on her face as she sits down in her chair, nodding. “Thanks. That's Vince, my husband, along with Hunter, Tina, and April, our baby daughter. We took that over the summer, April turns one pretty soon. The jersey's his, he was an Academy grad. I-1 Ironside.”
I blink, then hide my inner smile. I-1 Ironside, living in New York now... no way. Major Locker told me a little bit, and Ivan filled in some gaps that he knew, but to think... the odds are pretty long. “Wow. So like, you guys have been together a while then?”
“A while, we met at West Point,” Anne says, her eyes focused on her computer. She taps away, then scribbles some information down on a Post-It note and hands it to me. “Okay, there's your login ID and password for that computer. If I were you, I'd change the password, it's been on that account for a while, the last Spec-4 they had here wasn't very useful.”
I take the note over to 'my' desk and sit down, turning on the computer and unlocking it. Opening the email, I see that there's nearly a hundred unread messages, and I start at the oldest, working backwards. Maybe they'll give me a clue as to what's going on in the contracting office. When I'm about halfway through, I stretch, and look over at Anne who's still working away. “Excuse me, Anne?”
“What's up? And what do you want me to call you, Christina or Brooks?”
I smile, I like this woman. “Chris is just fine. Anyway, I had a question. How'd you stay in such good shape? I mean, you've got three kids, yet you look good enough to make me jealous.”
“Thanks, but I'm not quite that good,” Anne says, blushing a little. “Actually, Vince and I go bike riding together four times a week. Hunter likes being in charge of Tina and April, and it gives us an hour of couple time. We do some other stuff too, but that's what keeps the legs turning Vince's head the right direction. How about you? You have a boyfriend?”
I nod, holding up my ring. “Shhh, it's still officially a secret. But yeah, he's awesome.”
“Well then, how about at lunch, you let me take you out for a sandwich at a little place nearby and we can gossip? Also make some plans for this weekend, maybe you come by our place? Kind of a welcome to the office thing,” Anne says. “I'll give you some advice, Sergeant Lomarco is not the type who does welcoming parties.”
“Thanks, I think I'll do that.”
Chapter 22
Ivan
My shoulders ache as I lug the bag of cement from the back of the truck to the cement mixer. It's a small job today, just laying the walkway and the parking spot for the house before later on another group will come in and finish putting in the rest of the carport. Still, twenty feet of concrete for a walkway and then a carport's worth on top of it is quite a lot of cement and sand to mix.
“Hey, new guy, hurry it up,” the foreman for the house, Gil Branden, calls from the truck he’s leaning against. I stifle a complaint. I've been on the job for only two weeks, I'm not high enough up the ladder before I get to mouth off back to him.
I reach the mixer and set the bag down, pulling my carpenter's knife from my tool belt and cutting the corner before upending it into the rotating drum of the mixer. My work partner, Harry Washington, adds water. “Don't sweat Gil,” Harry reminds me for what seems like the hundredth time since I joined the crew, “he gives every new guy a ration of shit. I think he likes seeing who he can break and who he can't.”
“He won't break me,” I rumble in my American accent, lifting the fifty pound bag and pouring it into the drum. “I can hang.”
“Hell, I know that Zeke,” Harry says. My cover name on this operation is 'Zeke' Blackwell, I guess it's as good a name as any.
Harry and I let the cement mix up before dumping it into the mold, creating another ten feet of walkway while we smooth it out. As we work, I keep track of what we're using and what I'm seeing. There's only fifteen minutes left on shift today, and my fingers are slightly numb as I help Harry quickly spread the concrete smooth, finishing up just as Gill calls that it's quitting time. The dozen guys on the crew, half on this part of the duplex house and half on the other part, quickly pile into the three pickups and one supply van that the crew is using and drive back to Branden General Contractors, where we punch out.
“Gotta love a union job,” Harry says as he puts his time card back into its slot. “Starting pay of twenty five an hour, good bennies, and you're done at a reasonable hour, none of this shit that they do in some of them other states where guys have to bust their ass on free overtim
e in order to keep some scab from swiping their spot, eh Zeke?”
“It's nice,” I answer. “So you've worked in other places too?”
“Oh yeah, I've done construction all the way from the Carolinas to Maine. Part of it is that I like working with the base contractors, actually. Like, here at Drum. Sure, we can't use the commissary, but half the clerks at the PX don't even check if we're supposed to be there or not, and the ones that do usually let you slide if you give them a smile and a bit of a dumb act. And Uncle Sugar, he can be sweet. Of course, the hard part is that he's also a tightfisted SOB at times, so when they complete work at a base like this, he only gives it out in dribs and drabs until the damn walls are falling down or some Congressman needs his dick rubbed the right way before he opens up the purse again. So I've bounced up and down the coast over the past twenty years, most of the general contractors know me, I've got my Master's license so I can command good rates. I'll do commercial work if I'm really hurting, but I figure I'm set for at least another couple years.”
Harry is a natural talker, and at forty four, has been in the construction game a long time. Since my job is to listen, he talks my ear off most of the way out to the parking lot, where I turn right at the sidewalk. “You need a ride somewhere, Zeke? It's gotta suck taking the city bus back to your apartment.”
“No, I'm good, thanks,” I tell him, waving. “I've got a date tonight, she's willing to pick me up.”
“No shit?” Harry asks. “Damn, guess you can go a long way on baby blues and a square jaw. Your sweatshirt is streaked in cement still.”
I look down, and shrug. I was supplied clothes for the mission, strictly Army-Navy surplus variety stuff. I don't have to worry about replacing this. “Huh. Well, it's not just the jawline, you know.”
“You young guys,” Harry says with a laugh. He's married, and I get the impression that his marriage is boring but stable. “Just remember, a regular deal might be less exciting, but it's better to drive a Chevy every night than a Ferrari once.”