Call of Duty [Class of '93 Trilogy Book 3]

by Felicia Forella

  "I love your tits."

  A moan slid from her lips when Chad palmed her breast, his fingers spread to cup the mound. He rotated his hand, drawing her nipple to a stiff peak. He dragged his hand up and away, bringing his fingers together but ignoring the hard bud. She wanted to cry out when he repeated the motions again and again. Just when she thought she'd have to whine, he suckled her into his mouth and tortured her other breast with the same sensations. He nibbled at the flesh, his teeth inflicting a combination of pleasure and pain that made her wet and ready. She arched her back, a silent plea for more—more of his mouth and hands and the fervor he whipped up in her body.

  "Touch me.” Her voice held a rough edge she didn't recognize.

  "I am touching you. Just like I told you I would.” He lifted his mouth millimeters from her breast, his breath caressing her wet flesh.

  "I want more."

  "Tell me."

  "I want you to touch me between my legs."

  "Here?” His hand dipped to trace the groove where her inner thigh met her torso.

  So close, but not at all what she wanted.

  "More."

  "Tell me."

  She shook her head, knowing what he wanted but not able to give it to him. He tipped her face, forcing her to look at him. The depth of his desire stole her breath.

  "It's okay to let go. Trust me enough to tell me."

  Of course she trusted him. If she didn't, she'd be at home, not in bed with him.

  "My pussy. Please touch my pussy."

  "With pleasure."

  He wiggled a finger beneath the waistband of her panties and stroked at her clit. With these kinds of results, she'd get used to talking dirty. Hampered though he was by the satin material, he massaged and tweaked the sensitive bud with stunning results. She whimpered when he pulled his hand free only to sigh in anticipation when he crawled between her legs and tugged off her panties.

  As she watched, he stretched out at the juncture of her thighs and draped her legs over his shoulders. He wasn't, was he? Oral sex had turned Brian off, unless it was on him, and even then he complained about her technique. Reciprocating was out of the question. Pushing herself up on her elbows, she watched as Chad stroked his index finger over her and tugged at her lips. She felt even more moisture pool down there. He stared at her flesh like a woman with PMS eyeing up chocolate. He caught her gaze as he spread her open with his thumbs and kept staring as he lowered his mouth. His tongue flicked over her clit, alternating quick licks with long slow ones. When he sucked on it, she thought she'd died and gone to heaven. Watching him intensified the sensations. A finger pushed inside her, curling up to press on a place that felt connected with her clit and she learned the true meaning of nirvana. Her orgasm exploded through her body and she cried out. Dark spots splashed behind her closed eyes and all the air sucked out of the room.

  Pieces of her sanity returned to her and her breathing slowed as Chad propped himself over her and slid into her with one smooth stroke. The hard, full length of him stole what little breath she'd regained. She looked up to find him staring down at her, an unreadable expression on his face. She hooked her legs around his waist and surged up. He grasped the hint and began to ease in and out of her. He'd pull back until only the tip of him remained inside her body then slam back until his balls slapped against her. It wasn't enough. With her hands on his hips, she urged him faster.

  He pushed his body up and grabbed her hips to pull her closer to him. Then he lifted her legs up and propped her ankles on his shoulders. Holding on to her thighs, he thrust into her body. So deep. She'd never felt anything touch her so deep inside her core. He shifted just enough that his pelvis bone bumped her clit with every stroke. That was all it took. Her second orgasm rolled through her, igniting all her nerve cells until she shivered.

  Above her, Chad groaned, his movements harsh and jerky. His tempo increased and with one last gasp, he collapsed to her side and pulled her close. With her ear to his chest, she listened as the thundering of his heart begin to slow.

  Wow.

  She hadn't thought it was possible to duplicate or improve upon that first performance. It was a good thing she hadn't bet on it or she'd have lost. Big time. She'd never before been multi-orgasmic.

  He rolled to the side and retrieved a tissue to take care of the condom she hadn't even noticed he'd put on. Thank heavens one of them had some common sense. She'd been so engrossed in her own pleasure, nothing else mattered.

  "Are you hungry? I've worked up an appetite."

  "Something light might be nice."

  "Good. You'll need your energy for round two.” His smile was wicked and sexy and full of promise.

  "Round two?"

  "Oh, hell, yes. Once with you isn't nearly enough."

  * * * *

  An hour later, Casey soaked in a bathtub big enough for two all by herself. Chad's cell phone had gone off as they'd finished a light supper, so she'd decided to indulge in the luxurious bathroom while he took the call in the sunken living room, allowing him some privacy. The only improvement to the experience would have been bubbles. She wasn't about to mention that when Chad joined her. Knowing him, he'd run down to the Grand Canal Shoppes and find some horribly expensive brand.

  This had been one of the most magical days of her life. Strike that. The most magical day of her life. From the moment Chad called to invite her, she felt as if she were walking in some Disney fairy tale. The man was most definitely Prince Charming material, even if he didn't come with a bridal set in a velvet-lined box. If nothing else came of her involvement with him, she owed him a huge debt of gratitude. He'd gone a long way to restoring her sense of femininity after Brian stole it from her. Maybe, once Jackson turned eighteen, she'd be willing to try this relationship thing again.

  As if on cue, Chad strolled into the bathroom in all his naked glory and as comfortable in his skin as in his uniform. Why the hell not? The man possessed a body that shamed underwear models into retirement.

  "Sorry about that, linda."

  "Don't be. It gave me a chance to enjoy this bathtub. Except that I'm all alone. And it's too big for just one person.” She dipped her finger in the water and twirled it around, trying to come off as a combination of innocent and sexy.

  She must have succeeded. As she watched, his erection surged to life, rising proud and strong from the nest of tight, dark curls. She'd thought he was kidding when he talked about round two. She should have known better.

  Pulling her legs close to her chest, she made room for him at the end of the tub. Instead, he stepped behind her and sat down, dropping a condom on the edge. Part of her wanted to be insulted that he'd come in here with one thing on his mind, but she couldn't be, since it was on hers as well. He stretched his legs out on either side of her and situated her close to his body. She sagged back against him, her head lolling against his shoulder. It didn't get much better than this.

  His hands came up to cup her breasts, his fingertips tickling the sides and underneath. “I could play with these all day. If I had a pair, I'd never leave the house."

  Yeah, it did get better than this.

  His erection throbbed and pressed at the base of her spine so she wiggled against it. He nipped at her ear and whispered, “Little minx,” but she felt the smile on his lips. He caught her nipples between two fingers, his index and middle fingers acting in tandem. The pressure tightened and hardened them but wasn't enough to satisfy the longing they whipped up.

  "Look up.” Chad's hot breath in her ear caused her to shiver.

  It was then that she realized their reflection was visible in the glass from the stand up shower. While not a mirror, it was easy to make out their bodies. Casey watched his hands plump her breasts, with Chad watching, too.

  Oh, yeah. Chad stared at his hands cupped around the most magnificent set of tits he'd ever had the privilege of playing with. Whoever said that more than a mouthful was a waste had never set eyes on these beauties. He was a boob connoisse
ur and these were top shelf.

  But she's more than a great rack, that part of him he wanted to ignore argued.

  Now was definitely not the time. Not after the phone call from General Covington. Major Erika Dalton-Greene had showed up on his doorstep with talk of chatter. A known terrorist agent, Luz Ramos, had been spotted in Las Vegas and there were concerns with all the teams in town for the training exercise. She'd received permission to address the groups tomorrow, to put them on guard.

  Shit was about to blow sky-high and this might be his last time with Casey Wilkes.

  Pushing aside all other thoughts, he flicked the lever to drain the water and tried like hell to ignore the irony. He moved to sit on the wide edge of the tub and rolled on the condom. Once he was ready, he sat Casey high on his lap so that his dick rested in the folds of her plump pussy lips. Her heat scorched him. He grasped her wrist and led her hand to him.

  "Put me inside you."

  She shifted, and guided his head to her opening.

  "Watch,” he nudged her chin up, “watch in the glass as I fuck you."

  She flinched at the harsh word. He didn't care. He needed down and dirty sex, hot wild monkey, make-you-forget-everything-else sex.

  "Are you watching?” He noted her eyes, riveted to the scene. “Watch my cock fill that sweet little pussy. So tight, so hot, like a fucking glove."

  He grabbed her waist to help her establish a rhythm. The surreal experience of feeling her muscles cling to him and watching their own private porno showing spiked his desire. He'd never been so desperate to explode.

  "Play with your nipples.” She shook her head, but complied, twisting them between her thumb and forefinger. “Is that what you like? Is that what you want me to do?” She nodded.

  Bracing his knees closer to the tub wall, he pumped his hips in counterpoint to her movements. She felt so damn good. He snaked an arm around her body to play with her clit. Her soft moans quickly escalated to sexy little whimpers and groans, combining with the wet slap of her ass on his thighs.

  His orgasm built in his balls, too soon. He'd come twice already. He should last hours. She did this to him. He'd gone from fighting her to ... to...

  She'd squirmed under his skin.

  "Come for me, honey.” He intensified the pressure on her clit. “Let go."

  Her bounce picked up in intensity and he felt the ripple of her muscles contract around him. Thank God. She had to go first, he refused to come and leave her unsatisfied. Her chest heaved as she panted and she lost the focus to keep moving. Taking over, he thrust deep, determined to hold off.

  The marble tile in the bathroom amplified her cry when she finally let loose and came, his name on her lips. Her pussy milked him, clamped around him, and sent him over the edge in an orgasm drawn from his toes.

  Opening his eyes—he hadn't even realized he'd closed them—he looked in the glass to see Casey slumped back against his chest, her head lolling against his shoulder. He'd never seen anything more beautiful than the look of complete satisfaction on her face, her eyes closed, her breathing heavy, and his cock still inside her. As he regained his breath, he slid out and disposed of the condom on the bathroom floor. When he thought his legs might hold him steady, he scooped Casey in his arms and headed for the bed. He'd turned down the sheets before going into the bathroom, so he tucked her between layers of soft cotton and climbed in beside her.

  She curled up to his side, her arm slung across his chest. Within moments, her breathing deepened as she fell asleep. Yeah, her ex was an idiot of colossal proportions, but he was sure as hell glad the man was. Even Navy aviators possessed more common sense than that man.

  As he lay there, one thought ran through his mind over and over.

  He wanted out of this mission.

  Chapter 13

  How many Navy pilots does it take to change a light bulb?

  One ... he just holds the bulb

  and the world revolves around him.

  Chad sat in his car, the bright sun heating up the leather seats. The sprawling two-story building in front of him taunted him. It wasn't that long ago that he'd pulled into the same parking space, excited to be a part of the best damn training squadron in the entire military. He'd been anticipating the end of a multi-year black ops assignment designed to bring down an up-and-coming Latin American terrorist organization before it strengthened to become another Al Qaeda. The military and Homeland Security had been hypervigilant since that god-awful September day six years ago. Chad had been honored to be asked to participate in the unnamed operation.

  Was it really only a month ago? It felt like a lifetime.

  Sitting in his car for the rest of the afternoon wasn't an option. A conversation with General Covington was on the agenda, as well as an encounter with Major Dalton-Greene. Yippee-fucking-skippy.

  He'd rather be back in bed with Casey. Oh, for a repeat of the morning's—and last night's—activities. Even though he hadn't been able to convince her to make love one last time after breakfast, it had been a satisfying interlude. Not just sexually satisfying, either. Which brought him right back to the reason for his conversation with the general. Time to suck it up and go inside.

  His booted feet echoed in the almost empty hallway. Most of the pilots were in the auditorium being debriefed, also known as being told how much they sucked and would have died if this had been a real dogfight.

  The outer reception area to General Covington's office was empty, his administrative assistant off on other duties. Perfect. He rapped on the open inner door to the private sanctum.

  "Sir?” He saluted.

  "Come in, Major. Close the door behind you."

  He stepped into the office and waited for a signal to be seated. The general nodded his head toward a chair so Chad made himself comfortable while his superior finished the task at hand. He wanted to tug at the neck of his flight suit or drum his fingers, anything to help him draw air into his lungs and get rid of some nervous energy. But the Air Force Academy had trained him well. Outwardly, he was the picture of grace under pressure. Too bad his insides were doing an Irish dance. Fear was a healthy thing. It kept him alive more times than he could count.

  "Have you heard anything from your contact?"

  Geez-fucking-Louise, he hadn't realized the general had finished. “No, sir, not yet. Do you think Major Dalton-Greene has any information, sir? Or do you think she's on a fishing expedition?” He'd tie the flies for her if that's what it took to keep her out of his hair for the next couple of days.

  "She hasn't come to me with any suspicions, only concerns."

  "No offense, sir, but do you think she'd come to you?"

  "I was her contact and CO when she and Greene were battling it out with Ramos. I like to think she'd come to me."

  Point taken. Only he and the general knew that he'd been feeding Ramos information. Erika didn't know how right she was when she suspected a leak.

  "What's your gut telling you, Monroe?"

  That he was fucked, that this whole thing was about to blow so sky high they'd have to send the space shuttle up to gather all the pieces. “I'll be making my move by Thursday at the latest. That's our last day with live ammo. Junior doesn't just want the jet, he wants the firepower that goes with it."

  "I agree. Godspeed, Monroe."

  Chad inhaled deeply, needing the well wishes for more than just the upcoming “treason.” If things went bad with the general right now, there wouldn't be anything left for the terrorists to chew up.

  "Is there something else, Major?"

  Damn, he's good. Of course, in the Air Force, unlike the other branches of the military, it took brains to make general. “As a matter of fact, sir, there is.” His insides built up to the grand finale of that dance.

  The general sat behind his desk, his fingers laced, his index fingers touching. Chad wondered if the general would choke him or punch him out after he learned that he had designs on his daughter. Only one way to find out.

  "Sir, if
I make it back in one piece, I intend to ask Casey to marry me."

  Judging by the look on the older man's face, he'd managed to surprise him. For a second or two. “I didn't realize you knew my daughter that well."

  "It's just that, er, well, sometimes—sometimes it doesn't take that long to just know."

  "I can understand that. Does she know this?"

  "No, sir. I didn't feel it was fair to her, in case this whole operation goes poorly.” Chad pushed down on his knees in an effort to keep his foot from shaking.

  "She'll hate you if that happens."

  "So will most of America, sir. But I'll be dead. Won't really matter, will it?"

  "I won't be able to explain anything to her.” The general pierced him with a dark look.

  "I understand that, sir.” This operation was so black, so classified that only people knew about it. Four others—General Covington, the Secretary of the Air Force, the Secretary of Defense, and the President. If he came back, he'd be a national hero. If he didn't, each and every one of those four men would deny they'd ever known a damn thing.

  "And when you do come back...” When. From the general's lips to God's ears. “Do you think she'll have you?"

  "I sure as hell hope so, sir.” She'd made love to him with her heart and soul, she hadn't faked that. It had to mean something.

  "Are you worthy of her?"

  "Hell, no, sir. But if she'll have me, I plan to spend the rest of my life trying to be the man she deserves."

  "For her sake, I hope you come back alive."

  It was the closest he'd get to an approval and he'd take it. “So do I, sir, so do I."

  "Anything else you want to spring on me, Major?"

  "I think that's enough for one day.” He tried not to smile.

  "Dismissed."

  Chad's salute was returned. He startled Johnson when he retreated to the reception area but he flashed a smile and soothed her questions. As he strode down the hall to the training pilots’ conference room, the steady click of sensible navy blue pumps echoed in counterpoint to his booted footfalls. The hair on the back of his neck bristled, telling him exactly who walked behind him.