Rogan (Men of Siege Book 1)

by Bex Dane

"You know sun shines out of my ass wherever I go."

  Falcon laughed. "Y'all joining me tonight for some of my pork barbeque?"

  Rogan nodded. "Wouldn't miss it."

  "Have fun. Later, Tessa." Falcon waved and walked back up the steps.

  "Follow me." Rogan led me to a rustic barn behind Falcon's house. He used the keys Falcon gave him to unlock the door and swung it wide. The barn housed a red Jeep Wrangler with giant tractor wheels. An oversized American flag hung proudly from a pole in the back.

  "This is Betsy." He swayed his palm like he was showcasing a luxury car at an auto show.

  "Betsy?"

  "Hop in." His big hands at my waist lifted me up into the passenger seat. After he passed behind the Jeep and jumped behind the wheel, he lowered his chin and winked at me. "Buckle up."

  The engine thundered in my ears and a strong rumble vibrated under my feet. He tapped his cowboy hat, put her in gear, and backed us out of the barn. After a fifteen-minute drive, we veered onto an unpaved road and drove around the outside of a gate marked "Private Property." My teeth rattled as we bumped along the rugged dirt road. Rogan drove slowly at first, but sped up when we hit a flat area. Tree branches whipped the sides of the Jeep. We emerged from the brush at the top of a cavernous pit filled with muddy water.

  "I built this pit for Mitch Bixby, the guy who owns this place." Rogan's eyes scanned the horizon.

  "You built it?"

  "Technically, I excavated it for him."

  "Were you a contractor?"

  "No. I just happened to have a rocket propelled grenade handy that day and used it to excavate this hole."

  "You made this pit with a grenade?"

  He laughed. "Yeah, it was fun. Ready to get her dirty?"

  "We're going in there?"

  "Hell yeah."

  My head bounced off the headrest as we thunked down the bank of the pit and splashed to a standstill at the bottom. Rogan jerked the wheel and the back of the Jeep jackknifed. Chunks of mud arched over our heads, landing in heavy thuds on the windshield.

  We trudged through the muck, sinking deeper as we went. The engine revved and the wheels spun but we stayed put. The Jeep coughed and hiccupped and... stalled out.

  "Oh no! Are we stuck?"

  He peered out the windshield at the water rising around us. "Can you swim?"

  My breath caught in my throat. "Like in the mud?"

  "Betsy gets stuck, we gotta swim for it."

  "Oh. I don't really know how to—"

  He laughed and restarted the engine. "Just kiddin'." He jabbed the gearshift into reverse. Silty water flew through the air as we slugged backward. Rogan maintained total control of his vehicle. It did exactly what he wanted it to, just like Takoda followed all his commands without a thought of disobeying. With Rogan in charge, there was nowhere to go except where he wanted you to. He shifted back into gear and forged a different path forward.

  "Yee-haw!" Rogan exclaimed as we dropped from the steep incline of the bank to the flat ledge next to the mud pit. He didn't stop to regroup, just punched the gas and took off for a rocky trailhead. I clung to the handle above my window and admired him in his element, his face relaxed and his mouth... smiling. Oh my gosh, Rogan should smile more because his pink lips curved in that grin was the most inviting thing I'd ever seen.

  "What color is life now?" he asked me.

  "Bright canary yellow! But it's all splattered with mucky brown mud!"

  Rogan sped us faster down the trail. Betsy clunked hard on the far side of a mountainous boulder, and I gasped.

  "You scared?"

  My heart hammered against my chest. "No. I trust you."

  He took off toward another sizeable rock face.

  "Your turn." He stopped the Jeep and stepped out. "Hop over."

  "What? No."

  "Time for that off-road lesson. C'mon."

  "I can't drive stick."

  "I'll teach ya. It's easy."

  "Okay."

  ***

  "Pull over there by that pond." Rogan pointed to the bank of a pond with mossy green water and a lot less mud.

  I cut the engine and turned to look at him in the passenger seat. "You're a good teacher."

  "You're a quick learner. You did great for your first time on a stick, first time wheeling."

  "I hope I didn't ruin Betsy."

  "She's tough."

  "That was so much fun. Can we do it again sometime?"

  "Anytime. Just ask, we're here."

  I stepped out of the Jeep and laughed at the coffee-colored mud covering every inch of her, including a generous spatter on the American flag.

  He laid a blanket on the grass under an old oak tree and drew some food out of his pack. He handed me a wrapped sandwich. "Chicken salad."

  "Yum."

  He opened a tub of cut watermelon and placed it on the blanket between us as we ate in silence.

  "You planned all this?"

  "Planning is my forte."

  "I thought shooting was your forte."

  "They go together. A good shot is well planned."

  "Mmm." I picked up another piece of juicy watermelon.

  "I brought you a gift."

  My swallow made an audible gulp. "You did?"

  He fished in the front pocket of his pants and pulled out a purple velvet pouch tied with a golden tassel. "For you."

  I worked the string open and extracted a loose yellow stone shaped like a pear. It sparkled in my hand. "What is it?"

  "Yellow sapphire."

  "Yellow sapph— What are you doing walking around with jewels in your pockets?"

  A wicked grin grew on his lips. "I got lots of impressive jewels in my pocket. I'll show you sometime."

  I laughed. "Sapphire? Aren't they blue?"

  "This one is yellow."

  "It can't be a real sapphire."

  "It's real. Authenticity is important to me."

  "So the ruby necklace and the black tourmaline are real too?"

  "Of course."

  "But the rubies I saw at Burlington Mall were so expensive."

  "Don't worry about that. Do you like it?"

  "It's perfect and the prettiest golden yellow, like today. Thank you."

  "You're welcome."

  "You're letting me thank you now? Why? What's changed?"

  He took off his hat and set it on the blanket. "I'll tell you later." He curled his hand behind my neck and lowered his head. "Now give me more kisses."

  I angled my chin to the side. "Presents don't buy kisses."

  "Questions buy kisses?" His breath tickled my cheek.

  "Mmm. Yes. Tell me about Falcon and Betsy."

  Rogan leaned back on his elbows and crossed his feet at his ankles as he looked up at the clear baby-blue sky. "He's my spotter and a far better marksman than me."

  "Spotter?"

  "We're a two-man sniper team, three if you count Takoda."

  He rolled to one hip, bringing him closer to me. I put the lid on the melon and moved the tub aside. He filled the space, and his abs brushed my knee.

  "Couldn't ask for a better man at my side when I'm downrange. Anytime I'm under fire, I turn around and see Falcon at my back. He's a goddamn hero if there is such a thing."

  "And why's Betsy here?"

  "I come out here once a month and train with Falcon. Shooting and hunting. You comfortable with that?"

  "Yes. My father and the boys would go out hunting deer."

  "What kinda weapons they keep around there?"

  "Mostly shotguns. They were big on preparedness."

  He nodded like that meant something to him. "Anyone there have a rifle? Shoot targets?"

  "There was a group of men on the compound. They called themselves the Redeemers. They'd get together in the woods and shoot at trees. They ran security patrols and scared off any outsiders who got too close. Bunch of jerks, if you asked me."

  He took in all my information like intelligence data. "So, did I earn myself kisses?"


  "Hmm. Seems like I did a lot of the talking. You did that on purpose."

  "Me?" He touched under my chin and tugged. I eagerly responded because I'd been aching to kiss him. Being so close to his smile and his rugged strength all day teased my blood into a low boil. How could anyone spend time with Rogan and not want to mack out on his plump pink lips?

  He kissed my smiling lips with a grin on his own. The second our mouths touched, the humor faded and passion took over. We opened at the same time, grasping to get deeper inside each other. His hand curled around my back and heaved me on top of him, my knees straddling his waist. I squeezed my thighs together just to feel the unforgiving strength of his muscles underneath me. I felt tiny on top of him, but powerful too. I grabbed his ears and dove into the kiss.

  He flipped me to my back and pinned my hands over my head with one palm over my wrists. "Gonna feel so good to finally be inside you."

  "Oh..."

  He looked up at our hands. "You okay with me holding you down like this?"

  I looked up too but couldn't see anything. "Yes," I answered, breathy. "I'm pretty okay with anything you wanna do."

  He grinned and closed his eyes as he pressed his forehead to mine. "Good."

  Something wet slid up my arm. I gasped and saw Rogan had wiped a stripe of mud from my armpit to my elbow.

  "Hey!"

  He laughed and reached for more mud.

  "No," I screamed and squirmed, but his strong hips held me down.

  He smooshed a heaping handful of sticky mud into my chest, staining my shirt and chilling my bones.

  "Let me go."

  "No."

  "Let me go. It hurts." I lied.

  "You won't retaliate?” He sat back and released my hands.

  "I wanna clean up. Get off!"

  He moved off me and I climbed to my feet, bending at the waist to wipe the mud from my chest. "You know there's a lot of snow in Idaho."

  "Yeah."

  "One thing we were allowed to do."

  "Hmm?"

  "Snowball fight!" I lobbed a chunk of mud at him as I straightened, but he was prepared for me and sidestepped my shot.

  He laughed at my underhanded attempt.

  "I'm a snowball champion." I crouched to gather more ammo.

  "Sure you are." He stalked to me, and I landed one satisfying hit on his chest before he tackled me to the mud. We rolled and wrestled. I almost had him. Or he let me think I had a chance, but he pinned me on my back again. We were filthy and wet, just like Betsy, but he was laughing, and I loved it.

  He stood and offered his hand to help me up. "Let's go, snowball champion."

  ***

  "Wow. Falcon cooks delicious barbecued pork," I said to Rogan as he flipped the lights on. "Is this the room you sleep in when you visit Falcon?"

  He glanced around. "I lived in this room for a while." A wistful look crossed his face. "But most of the time we don't sleep here."

  "Where else do you sleep?"

  "In the woods."

  "Like camping?"

  "If you consider sleeping outside with no tent camping."

  "Oh."

  "I'll take the couch. You get ready for bed."

  "Yes, Sergeant Boggs."

  "Master Sergeant."

  "Excuse me. Master Sergeant Boggs." I snapped my heels and saluted him.

  He grinned and walked to the couch as I grabbed my bag and headed to the bathroom. I'd already showered earlier, so I changed into my cranberry silk camisole with matching shorts. I snuck glances at Rogan in his boxer-briefs and T-shirt on the couch as I climbed into the queen-sized bed I would sleep in alone.

  Rogan turned out the light and the chirping of bugs outside filled the room. "Are you named after Bixby Boggs?"

  "No. Coincidence."

  "How'd you get that nickname?"

  He took a deep breath and spoke softly, like he was reminiscing about the story behind the nickname. "Boggs is a codename Blaze came up with during sniper training. I was the only one in my class to remain undetected during fieldcraft. I vegged up good in my ghillie suit, stayed stock still for hours. Even the experienced trainers never found me. Boggs is some creature in a children's movie that blends into his surroundings, becomes invisible."

  "Ah, a handy skill for a sniper."

  "Handy ain't the word for it. Stealth is a prerequisite. They can't kill you if they can't see you. Usually."

  The hum of the bugs filled the silence again. Rogan spoke so casually about killing and death, resigned to accept it as part of his job description. Though it remained unspoken, his tone imparted a deeper sadness hinting at the toll the loss of life had taken on his battered psyche.

  "Tell me about the yellow sapphire."

  "It's called the sundrop sapphire."

  "It is? Why? Because it's yellow, like..."— oh my goodness—"sunshine?"

  "Yeah."

  I closed my eyes and let the rasp of Rogan's simple yeah wash over me. Rogan had given me him—black, raw, and unfinished. He'd given me me, a dazzling polished gem. I'd never had anything of value. Even color had been kept from me. Now Rogan bestowed valuable gifts like candy. Not just monetary worth—and I'm sure these jewels held worth beyond my comprehension—but he'd offered me his soul, his company, his touch—all in his unassuming way. The pain of his absence still stung. He'd abandoned me with no explanation and let me think he was dead, but he was offering me these gifts now, and I should be smart and make the best of it.

  "Thank you. For the sapphire, today, everything."

  "You're welcome. G'night."

  "Night."

  I tossed and turned, trying to sleep and pretend the sexiest man I'd ever met wasn't sleeping on the couch in the same room.

  He cleared his throat and his voice was tight. "I've slept in a lot of rough spots, but this is one of the toughest."

  Ah, he was struggling just as much as I was. "Come over here."

  "Not fucking you for the first time in Falcon's guest room."

  My belly flipped like it did anytime Rogan talked about us having sex. "We won't take it that far."

  "I will."

  "You said you had self-control."

  "I do."

  "Then come over and hold me."

  "Fuck."

  If I didn't see his silent shadow pass through a beam of moonlight, I wouldn't have known he'd moved. His weight tipped the side of the bed, and his hand landed flat on my stomach, just above my belly button, but he kept his body at a safe distance. His head inched closer to mine, and his nose nuzzled my ear. "Thought you looked beautiful covered in mud, but you in that nightie is the prettiest sight I've ever seen."

  He threw one leg over mine, and his hard cock rubbed the fabric of his sweats against my bare thigh. My mind recalled the image of his angry dick pointing at my face at Siege all those months ago. His intensity paralyzed me with fear back then. Now I wanted nothing more than to take off his sweats and explore every centimeter of his glorious cock. I wanted to taste it, caress it, take it inside me.

  I pressed on his lower back, urging him to sling his other leg over and line our bodies up. He shifted and centered his dick at my core. He ran his hand through my hair and kissed me at the same time he stroked his cock along my panties. I groaned as the charge flowing between us lit up like an electrical fire.

  My hips surged up to meet his, mashing his hard shaft against my pubic bone. I grabbed his ass with both hands and squeezed. He was as rock solid as he looked. Rogan was an amazing specimen of a man.

  He growled and froze.

  "No, no, no. Don't stop."

  He tore his face away from mine and peeled his body off, hovering over me on his hands and knees. "Good night. Get some rest. Tomorrow we're flying outta here."

  "Ugh! You're driving me bonkers! I finally give in to you and you say good night like it's so easy."

  "Trust me. It's not easy. I wanna take you right now. I'm so hard, wanna shove it in your mouth, make you gag on it."
/>   Oh my.

  "But I want your first time to be memorable, and I got more to show you. You wanna know me and trust me, we need to go somewhere first."

  "Where?"

  "Uh-uh. Surprise."

  "You're killing me!"

  "No, babe. You're living in full color. What color are you now?"

  "Green. A very dark horny green surrounded by a fiery, pissed-off red."

  He pressed his lips to mine. "Due time, Sunshine. In due time."

  He settled at my side again and tucked my head into his chest. His giant erection still rubbed my leg. Rogan must have stellar self-control because I wanted to take care of it. Now I was in a rough spot, trying to sleep knowing he was still turned on beside me.

  "Let it be." His low voice hummed in my ear.

  "It's very hard."

  "Could cut diamonds with my cock right now. Find sleep."

  I resisted a while, but the activities of the day finally caught up with me, and I found sleep.

  Chapter 23

  "There's a waterfall that looks like it's flowing from a cloud."

  Rogan angled his head and peered out the window of the taxi cruising the quaint streets of the Caribbean island nation of Saint Amalie. "Mount Pintaro. It's a volcano."

  The cone-shaped peak of Mount Pintaro rose steeply out of the water and disappeared into the mist.

  "You've been here before?"

  "A few times."

  "Could it erupt?"

  "It could," he said from his seat next to me in the back of the taxi. "Probably won't."

  The driver pulled up to the entrance of a sprawling building tucked like an oasis inside a stand of lush palms and ferns. "Is that a palace?"

  "No. The prime minister's mansion." Rogan opened the door and offered me his hand.

  "Are we taking a tour?"

  He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze and helped me out of the taxi. An older couple and a group of about ten people gathered at the top of the stairs. Their skin color varied from the darkest tones to the fairest shades, but all of them waited for us with expectant smiles.

  A blonde woman wearing cream slacks and a chiffon blouse clasped her hands in front of her as she bounced on her heel-clad toes. Her face squished like she was fighting tears. A distinguished man with wavy brown hair placed his hand on her shoulder for a moment before she burst from the group and embraced Rogan. He bent to curl an arm around her tiny waist.