Falling Hard

by Shelly Bell

  The disappointment seized me. All my little butterflies held protest signs, and they were in danger of starting a riot. “I’m on birth control.” I had to be. It regulated my cycles. That was very important when you lived in a world where you donned white tights at a moment’s notice.

  He exhaled, taking my hand in his. “I had a physical when I enlisted. I haven’t had sex since then. I’m clean.”

  “I trust you.”

  He toyed with the edges of my bra, which now barely contained my heaving breasts. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this.”

  “How long exactly?”

  “Four years.”

  That was hard to believe, except the cloak of his cockiness had drifted away, revealing his insecurities. “It’s been a long time for me, too.”

  “How long?”

  I paused, unsure of my answer until he unhooked the top two fasteners of my bra. “Never.”

  He paused at the final hook. I let out a whimper of protest.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  I shook my head.

  “It’s not like I’m waiting for marriage or anything. I’ve been so focused on dance that I wasn’t looking for anyone.”

  “I can’t believe someone wasn’t looking for you.”

  “Someone was—you. I don’t have any doubts about this, but if you’re not ready…”

  He took my hand and held it against the hard length of muscle that rested against his thigh. “Does this feel not ready?”

  My panties melted as his fingers unsnapped the last hook. His hot, wet lips touched the sensitive flesh of my breasts. He took my nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue against it, while rubbing the other with his thumb. James grabbed me and, in one commanding move, flipped me onto my back. I surrendered to him, losing the last shred of control. I gave it up willingly.

  He hands cupped my breasts. My nipples hardened against his touch. It was excruciatingly pleasurable, which seemed a contradiction in terms, although it was the most accurate statement. His tongue flicked across each nipple. He made a path of tender, lazy kisses down my torso, reaching my skirt.

  “May I?” he asked, pulling on it. I loved boys with good manners.

  “Please,” I replied breathlessly.

  He pulled down my skirt, and then his mouth moved back up my legs as his hands stroked them. His tongue lapped over the fabric of my panties, causing a rush of moisture there. He made quick work of freeing me from that final barrier. His eyes hooded as if they were feasting, not looking, at my naked body sprawled before him.

  “You are…perfect, Lilly Franklin.”

  “Likewise,” I said, curling my toes around the belt loop of his jeans.

  He stood, unzipping and discarding his jeans and black boxer briefs.

  Hot damn.

  He lay on top of me, caressing my hair, nibbling on my earlobe. “I want to fuck you so hard right now, but I’m going to let you set the speed. Do you understand?” His hot breath against my skin made me squirm beneath him.

  I nodded in response. He grazed his fingers down the same path he’d kissed until he inserted one into my dripping sex. I moaned from the pleasure as he slowly explored me.

  “Am I hurting you?”

  I shook my head.

  “Say it,” he said in a soft demand.

  “It doesn’t hurt.”

  “You’re very tight.”

  “Um…thank you?”

  He chuckled against my cheek and brushed his mouth along my jaw, until he reached my lips. He sucked my lower lip between his. “I could kiss you all night.”

  “I hope you do more than that,” I said in a choked voice I didn’t recognize as my own.

  “I will, but first I’m gonna taste you.” I opened my mouth, releasing my tongue to him where he embraced me in a different kind of dance. He tasted sweet and minty. My new favorite flavor.

  When he released me, I was panting in the most unladylike manner.

  He smiled, shaking his head. “Thank you, but that is not what I meant.”

  He moved down my body, punctuating a path of kisses until I felt his tongue flick against my clit. I thought I was in uncontrollable mode before, but I became spastic as he explored me. I clutched the sheets, but it wasn’t enough. I sat up on my elbows, but the sight of his head between my thighs was too much. I fell back, trying to calm my shaking legs as my hips flexed into his face, inviting him deeper. I screamed, I cried, I cursed, I begged…for what, I wasn’t sure. Certainly not for him to stop. Vibrations floated through me causing every cell in my body to come alive at once.

  He was on top of me before my climax ended, kissing me passionately. The hard warmth of his body combined with the cold metal of his Dog Tags skimming against my collarbone almost caused another wave of vibrations. My mouth sought his over and over.

  He tilted my chin, holding my face close to his, searching it as he pushed forward. I was glad because, in this moment, the act of speech seemed impossible. He rocked us both, filling me with him. It was uncomfortable at first, but that tense feeling quickly faded away. I wrapped my legs around him, urging him to move on.

  “James,” I whimpered.

  “Lilly,” he whispered.

  He covered my lips with his, not relenting in the passionate hold. I had no comparison, but I knew in my heart that I would never regret James Hutchinson being my first.

  Chapter 6

  Hutch

  I was in the convoy. We’d done this a dozen times. I made a joke. I could never remember what it was. Something lewd and crass that made them all laugh. That laughter was the last normal sound I remembered before the ear-splitting explosion. Before my unit was no more. Before my world changed. Everything went dark and loud. I drowned in the sounds—our screams, metal scraping, bodies tumbling, hard things slamming into other, harder things. Then I couldn’t hear at all. I was blind and deaf and half-dead all at once.

  I called out names. Every fucking name. No one answered but Briggs. I heard him just above the constant ringing.

  “Sir?”

  “I’m okay, private,” I replied, except it didn’t sound like my voice.

  “Do you hear the gunshots?”

  I hadn’t until he said that. They were in the distance somewhere.

  I lay awkwardly on my side in the rubble of it all. I breathed in the acrid smell of blood and burnt metal, resulting in a hacking fit. Is this what hell smelled like? A twisted body beneath me and one beside me. I fumbled until I could reach across to feel for pulses. Please…please let me feel a heartbeat. Nothing. The prisoner was dead. My brothers were dead…except for Briggs. Private Brian Briggs, eighteen-years-old with a wife and a newborn back home. My lungs stung with every breath, and my heart pounded so hard I thought it was trying to escape my body.

  “The window. You see it, sir?” Brian asked.

  I looked up, blinking my eyes, trying to get out whatever grit had gotten in. Finally, I saw the dirt-covered glass. Were we buried beneath the sand? Was this our casket?

  I kicked my leg, my boot making contact with the glass. Each kick had a little more power than the last but never enough.

  “I can’t do it.”

  “Try one more time.”

  I reached out each arm, trying to gasp something sturdy to hold onto. The sound of the glass cracking urged me on. I think I kicked that fucking window a hundred times. My adrenaline-ripe scream drowned in the sharp sound of raining glass. I lifted myself up, ignoring the sharp pain in my right leg.

  The vehicle was on its side. I balanced my body, reaching inside the open window, feeling the scrape of glass as it embedded into my skin. Briggs was still inside.

  I reached for his hand. “Pull yourself up.”

  “I can’t walk.” His face was bloody. He lay awkwardly, a bone sticking out of his leg. I dry heaved a lungful of air.

  “You got arms, don’t you? Pull your fucking self up.”

  He grunted and cried but he never gave up. Finally, he was o
n top of enough bodies that I could grasp his hand. I think I dislodged his arm from the socket pulling him from the steal debris and crushed bodies. Out of breath and energy, we rested on top of the Humvee.

  “You’re hurt.”

  I followed his gaze down to my leg. The pain had dulled, but now it came back in sharp bursts. I closed my eyes to fight off the nausea, seeing the streaks of red against the sticky sand covering my leg.

  “It’s not my blood.”

  The faint sound of bullets snapped my attention back. We had to go. We had to run. The bullets would be upon us. I prayed for a little hope…a way back home for us.

  He put his arm around my shoulder. Thankfully, we were close in height, the two tallest boys in the unit. We walked through the sand, fighting to make forward progress with each step. He cried out in pain. I bent down and lifted him over my shoulder in a fireman carry.

  A mile or twenty, I had no idea. What I did know was that I couldn’t walk anymore. I eased Briggs to the ground. Exhausted and defeated, I fell onto my back. We both stared at each other—sand, grit and dirt masked our faces.

  “I’m sorry, man. I can’t.”

  “It’s okay. Good try, sir.”

  My right leg throbbed with a pain more fierce than anything I’d ever experienced. I managed to sit up, each movement taking excruciating effort. Something shiny and sharp stuck out of my calf, preventing my fatigues from rolling up all the way. But I felt it. Felt the blood ooze down my skin, sticky and warm, coated with grit and sweat. I fell back in defeat.

  With the sand beneath me and the sun above, it didn’t take long for my skin to scorch. Dying of dehydration or sunstroke wasn’t the worse way to go. I took a moment to say a prayer for Mom and Colt, apologizing for not fighting harder and for the brothers we left behind. I squinted at the unrelenting sky. The ringing in my ears subsided just in time to hear a fresh round of ammunition. Please let them be merciful. Let them shoot us in the head. Or let the sun get us first. Or…or something else if necessary.

  “You got your gun, Briggs?”

  He nodded, a small smile on his face. “Yeah, we can fight them off.”

  God help me, I laughed because he had no idea why I really wanted it.

  “Keep it close.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  “Hutch, call me Hutch right now.”

  The quiet stretched around us as the pauses between gunshots grew.

  “Hutch, I’m scared.”

  “Me, too.”

  I closed my eyes, the rhythm of my heart slowing to staccato bursts.

  “I lied, Briggs. It is my blood.”

  “I know, bro.”

  He crawled over to me. I opened my eyes at the sight of him hovering over my face, blocking out the harsh rays of sun.

  “Hutch?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Wake up before you scare her.”

  I opened my eyes, swallowing until the taste of gritty sand left my mouth. I blinked until the room came into focus again. Realization of where I was and who I was with hit.

  Lilly’s hands lay flat against my chest, her brows knitted with worry.

  “You were having a nightmare.”

  Her soft voice wavered with fear. Too late, Briggs.

  “I’m fine.”

  I shifted away from her.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  If the nightmare hadn’t been bad enough, my leg ached. It swelled against the tight bandage that held the artificial limb in place. I’d forgotten to take off the prosthetic. That wasn’t true. I’d done it on purpose. I didn’t want her to see me without it.

  I should have thought about the ramifications of spending the night with her. I’d been nervous as hell to reveal my battered body to her. But there was no reflection of disgust in her face…or pity. Thank god for that. I might have walked out otherwise. Instead, she looked at me like a woman who desperately wanted to fuck me. And that…that was a look I craved. But there were other things I should have thought about, like not having any pain meds on me or a walk-in shower complete with retractable showerhead and plastic handicap chair like I did at Blake’s condo.

  I swung myself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, wincing through the pain. I sucked in a harsh breath as I fumbled with the tight medical bandage that connected my knee to the fake limb. I should never have laid on it this long. The agonizing pulsations on my right side were a beacon, drawing energy from every cell in my body. My fingers shook with clumsiness as I attempted to remove the binding that connected the real me to my crutch.

  “What are you doing?”

  The soft whisper might as well have been a scream, the way my back stiffened.

  “Go back to sleep.”

  She sat up, her bare breasts pressing into my back, her hair skimming my shoulder. She put her arms around me. “Let me help you.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  “I think you do. I can—”

  “I fucking do this every single day, Lilly!” The bark in my voice had bitten right into its mark.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked. I hated myself for making that happen. I reached for her wrist before she took her arms away. I kissed the underside of it.

  “No, I’m sorry. Just go to back to sleep, baby. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  She didn’t say anything. She walked around her side of the bed and into the bathroom.

  That was great. She was leaving.

  She came back with a glass of water and a damp towel.

  “Thank you,” I said, drinking the water greedily as she wiped the sweat from my skin. “I’m not supposed to sleep with the prosthetic. My upper leg swells and it makes it uncomfortable. It’s hard to take the binding off when that happens.”

  “Show me how to do it.”

  “I don’t want you to see me this way.” My own voice betrayed me, vocalizing the thing I didn’t want to admit.

  She crouched in front of me. Her hair was such a tangled beautiful mess that even in pain, I couldn’t keep my hands from fisting through it.

  “I took off all my clothes in front of you. I did it without reservation because you make me feel that comfortable. I hope I make you comfortable enough to let me see you completely naked. Please…let me help you.”

  I swallowed down my insecurity before instructing her. She didn’t look at me with pity. There was only kindness and compassion in her eyes. After she removed the bandage, she took my prosthetic and carefully leaning it against the wall. She washed the bandage and laid it out to dry. Then she rifled through her purse until she pulled out a small silver tin.

  “What’s that?”

  “My neighbor makes this. Its homemade salve, but I call it my own personal magical potion. I use it whenever I get a muscle ache.”

  I gasped when she put her hands on my stump, rubbing a generous amount of the cream into my skin.

  “Shhh…I can massage it. That should get the blood circulating again, which will reduce the swelling.”

  Her fingers pressed into my skin with firm pressure. She did it for a long time until I felt the throbbing ease up. Then the pressure subsided completely. Although I appreciated the salve, I thought the true magic was in her touch.

  “You can stop now, Lilly. Thank you. That stuff really works.”

  “I’ll get you a tin.”

  She ran her fingers there once more before kissing my stump. “There’s no need to thank me.”

  “I wasn’t just thanking you for making me feel better.”

  “Then what?”

  I titled her chin so I could look at her beautiful face, the moonlight casting shadows against her creamy skin.

  “Thank you for being you.”

  I traced the curve of her smile.

  “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  It was appropriate since she was the nicest thing that ever happened to me.

  Chapter 7

  Hutch

  Lilly slept on her front
. She’d draped an arm and leg over me, resting her head against my chest. I watched her sleep, enjoying the feel of her smooth skin warm and silky black hair touching me. I wanted to lie in that bed until half past forever. I propped myself on my elbow, staring at the way the sunlight streamed through the windows, casting light and dark patches against her skin. Last night we’d made love again. I’d leaned against the headboard while she straddled me. I didn’t wear the prosthetic this time.

  Both of us had been completely naked.

  Now, I drank her in, memorizing every detail of her body, saving it in the recesses of my mind for the lonely nights to come. Unfortunately, that activity also raised my flagpole. How was this possible? I chalked it up to a combination of how hungry I was for her and how horny I was in general. I lifted her hand. I pressed my lips against her fingertips and worked my way down her arm. Her moans encouraged me as I kissed her awake.

  “Morning beautiful. How do you feel?”

  “Like I never want you to stop doing that.”

  “That’s good, because I don’t want to stop.”

  The room suddenly filled with music, the familiar lyrics slicing through our moment.

  “Fuck, my brother is such a cock block.” I fell back against the bed, cursing Colt a dozen ways.

  She sat, cupping her mouth against the escaping laughter. “That’s my ringtone.”

  “You need a new ringtone. I can’t deal with my brother’s song playing while we’re…playing.”

  She crawled over my lap. “It’s in my pocket.”

  “Lilly, you can’t jump across a man’s lap like that.” Her bare ass was in my sights. I caressed it.

  “Oh my god, and you cannot do that.”

  “Why?”

  She clutched the phone in her hand. “James…oh fuck.”

  “Okay, if you insist.” I grasped her hips, getting ready to fling her back. “Stop. It’s the dance troupe.”

  I tensed. She tensed. Time stopped. The damn song played on before it too stopped in the middle of a word. The beep of a new voicemail broke the trance.

  I smacked her ass.

  “Ouch.”

  “Check your messages.”