All Knighter

by Em Petrova

  “Looks like you’re getting around fine, but those docs forgot to fix something.”

  “What’s that?” Rocko kept his expression neutral as usual.

  “Your face is still as ugly as ever.”

  Rocko nodded. “Takes an ugly fucker to know an ugly fucker. You buyin’ me a drink or what?”

  Ben waved at the stool next to his, and Rocko slid onto it without a wince at the movement. Good—real good. Ben needed all of them healthy and whole, because he had a gut feeling another mission would be dumped on them soon. It wouldn’t surprise him to get the call right this minute.

  Rocko ordered his drink and they sat sipping in silence. Last time Ben had sat at this bar, he’d been dreaming of Key West and a set of golf irons. So much had changed in such a short amount of time, and fact was, he wasn’t sure how he felt about any of it.

  “That’s the longest you’ve ever kept your mouth shut.” Rocko raised his drink again.

  He pushed out a sigh. “Just a lot on my mind.”

  “Something to do with the force?”

  He shifted his shoulders, his shirt suddenly feeling very tight. “I didn’t sign up for this, but it was handed to me.”

  “Sounds like you have resentment.”

  Did he? He thought harder and finally shook his head. “No, that isn’t it. I’m honored to be given the assignment.”

  “Is it because of what happened to you last time?”

  The feeling of blows raining down on him and the flames licking at his skin haunted him, an echo of the past he had to shove into a closet and lock the door on, like every other man in his situation.

  “No.” His voice grated, and he downed the rest of his whiskey.

  “Then it has to be a woman.”

  Swallowing the burning alcohol, he considered this new question. He’d never thought Rocko to be much of a conversationalist, but then again, they still didn’t know each other well. There was a bond between them, sure, because of what they faced together. But they’d never hung out this way.

  He ordered another drink and when it was in hand again, he responded to Rocko’s statement. “There is someone I need to think of. I guess it has me wondering how far she’s willing to go with me.”

  “Like can she not hear from her man for a week, month, maybe more and live through the fear of what’s happening to him?”

  He nodded.

  “Have you asked her?”

  “I already know she grew up in a similar situation.”

  “Jackson,” Rocko said.

  “Yes.”

  “Then she’s well aware of the lifestyle. But does she love you enough to see you through it? To wave goodbye to you and give you a pretty smile to give you something to remember when you’re facing that shit we face?”

  Ben’s chest grew hot. “Love hasn’t been discussed.”

  “But you love her already.”

  “Damn, when did you get so intuitive?”

  Rocko grinned and spread his first two fingers to point to each of his eyes. “I’m not blind. Anybody who sees you look at her knows you love her.”

  Until that minute, he hadn’t admitted it to himself, yet Rocko was right. He was in love with Dahlia and keeping her happy had rapidly become his lifelong mission, something he’d walk through the fires of hell to see completed every single day.

  They drank in silence a bit longer. The clink of the bottles and glasses offered a calming atmosphere, as did Rocko’s undemanding presence. He was simply Ben’s friend right now, there to listen or just drink.

  “Will you give it up for her?” Rocko asked after a while.

  Ben set down his empty glass. “If she asks.”

  “Then let’s hope she doesn’t ask, because I heard something through the grapevine that’s about to go down.”

  Ben stared at him. “Let’s take this outside.”

  With a nod, Rocko knocked back his drink and they left the bar and got into Rocko’s SUV.

  Ben turned to him. “How the hell are you getting intel and I’m not?”

  “My former team was deployed at oh-six-hundred, and I got a text from one at 5:58.”

  Swallowing back his adrenaline that had started pumping the minute Rocko had dropped the words back in the bar, Ben asked, “And it said?”

  “See you over there, buddy.”

  “Over there.”

  Rocko nodded.

  “Fuck.”

  “You didn’t hear it from me, when Jackson finally gets around to telling us to scramble.”

  “’Course not.” Ben rubbed at his jaw, rasping with stubble. Where the hell were they headed and into what for how long? The questions could fly at him all day like bullets in the fucking Afghan desert, but he’d know nothing until Jackson wanted him to.

  He reached for the door handle.

  “Where you goin’?” Rocko asked.

  “If we only have a few hours, I need to be with my girl.”

  Rocko’s teeth flashed white with his grin. “Yes, you do. See you soon, Cap’n.” He gave a lazy, half-assed salute that Ben would let slide this time.

  Throwing him a smile in return, he got out and closed the door. Rocko pulled out of the parking lot seconds later and Ben followed him down the road until their paths split and he headed toward the Market District.

  He let himself into Dahlia’s apartment and checked his watch. She still had another hour on her long shift, and he considered going over there and demanding that her boss let her go early, but that wasn’t right. She had a job before him, the same as he did.

  He sank to her sofa, a subtle gray that looked as hard as cement but when he stretched out, he found it was surprisingly comfortable. Even reclining, his mind was hard at work, already going over what he’d say to his men, how he needed to text his parents and sisters so they had a last conversation with him before he headed into whatever hell they were meant to face.

  Drawing a throw pillow under his head, he caught a whiff of Dahlia’s scent lingering on the fabric. His eyes drifted shut and his mind wandered through their time together in the cabin. Being with her alone had been incredible. But even when his family had shown up, which had thrown him for a hell of a loop, she’d gotten along with them well.

  His family liked her, and Dahlia had enjoyed herself, laughing with his sisters as they all sat on the dock together long after the stars popped out. In bed that night, she’d snuggled against Ben and told him what a good day she’d had.

  Dammit, he didn’t want to leave her right now, when things were getting so good between them.

  The sound of the key in the lock roused him, and he sat up just as Dahlia walked in. When he set eyes on her, his heart gave a happy thump, and if he hadn’t already admitted his feelings back in that bar with Rocko, he sure as hell was now. Nobody had made him feel this way besides Dahlia.

  She wore slim pants and a frilly white top, her hair pulled off her face in a way he hadn’t seen it before.

  There was so much to learn about her, and leaving would put that on hold, dammit.

  What choice did he have?

  She was lugging a leather purse and a huge bag stuffed with what appeared to be a blue blanket.

  “Are you having naptime at the office now?” he asked, getting up to take the bag from her.

  She smiled. “It’s my knitting project I mentioned to you.” She looked more closely at him. “What are you doing here?”

  “Thought I’d surprise you. Is that all right?” He cupped her face, and she leaned into his hand, giving him another tug on the old heartstrings.

  “I’m glad to see you. I had a…” Her throat worked for a second, and with alarm, he saw her eyes were red-rimmed. “I had a rough day. I’m just going to change clothes and take a second to regroup, okay?”

  “Of course.” He’d never seen her this way, but damn, did he know what she was going through. At times the stress was so much to bear, and those precious seconds she asked for could really help.

  Leaning in, h
e kissed her softly. “Take the time you need. I’ll just be out here.”

  She gave him a grateful smile and then disappeared into her room. Ben went back to the sofa and sank down, setting the knitting bag on the floor. He reached in and pulled it out, examining the even, orderly stitches that helped to keep Dahlia sane when things were going sideways. He had his own coping mechanisms. Everyone did.

  He found the needles still in place and twisted the yarn around his finger. It took him a minute to find the rhythm but soon he’d worked through a dozen or so stitches.

  “Ben!”

  He looked up to find Dahlia standing there in sweats and an old Astros T-shirt.

  “What the… Are you knitting?” She rushed across the room and plopped down on the couch to look closely at his stitches. “Oh my God, you are! How did you learn?”

  A sheepish smile crossed his face and he passed her the project. “There was a guy in my platoon who did it to relax. He showed me how.”

  Her eyes twinkled. “I’m shocked that a big, burly Marine like you can knit. Actually, I think your stitches are better than mine. Now I’m jealous.”

  “Yeah? Hmm. Well, let me show you how I use my needle.” He arched a brow.

  With a toss of her hair, she climbed into his lap to straddle him. He planted his hands on her hips and claimed her mouth. There was no saltiness of tears, and whatever trauma she’d lived through seemed to be gone for now, and if it wasn’t, he was damn well going to chase it away.

  He drew her deeper into the kiss, and she clutched at his shoulders, pushing her pussy down on the bulge of his jeans. Lust pulsed through him. Groaning, he clamped her tighter to him and slanted his mouth over hers again and again.

  Between long sweeps of his tongue, he said, “Dahlia, do you think you should quit your job?”

  She stilled. “What?”

  “I hate seeing you stressed.”

  She drew away to look into his eyes as if stunned he’d made such a suggestion. “Just because I have a stressful day doesn’t mean I don’t love my job. What I do is really important. Helping people is really important to me.”

  Crap, now he’d offended her.

  “How else do I earn a living? Or do I just run home to daddy? He has a big house, spare rooms for me.”

  Ben started to shake his head, but she cut him off.

  “What about all the time and training I’ve put in? I just throw those things away?” She settled a hand on her hip, fire flashing in her eyes.

  Okay, offended her was a bit of an understatement. “I just thought there are other ways you can be just as helpful. Healthcare or—”

  She was shaking her head. “You think that wouldn’t be equally as stressful? Watching people die in person?” Her voice cracked, and she climbed off his lap, stepping back from the sofa and folding her arms over her chest.

  Ben took in her defensive pose and had no idea how to fix his open-mouth-insert-foot moment. He stood and stepped up to her, not touching her, dying to touch her.

  “I only want the best for you, honey.”

  “Well, your job’s stressful. I see how you came back, battered and hollow-eyed after that last mission. Why don’t you quit?”

  He tightened his lips and she swayed back and forth to force him to meet her eyes. She had no idea of the nerve she’d struck and how close to his line of thinking she was. For the time being, he didn’t need to chase after the money. He could give it all up and work some construction job, pounding concrete nine to five.

  Except there was Sean to look after. Dylan, Chaz and Roades. And Rocko.

  He slid his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just hate seeing you suffering after a day’s work and no amount of knitting’s going to ease that.”

  “No,” she said quietly. “But you do.”

  An involuntary noise broke from him as he grabbed her. His mouth landed on hers and skittered off as he lifted her and tossed her over his shoulder. Her plump behind rode around his ear.

  Squealing, she kicked her feet, and he delivered a sound slap to her ass.

  “Ahhh! Ben!”

  He smacked her lighter this time and then slipped his fingers down the cleft of her ass. He couldn’t wait to strip these sweats off and have his way with her.

  Each step he took to the bedroom had his cock throbbing harder. By the time he dropped her onto the bed and followed her down, blanketing her with his body, he was steely-hard.

  Breathless, she stared into his eyes, her teeth set in her bottom lip.

  Slowly, he gripped her wrists and stretched them over her head, pinning her with hands, his body, his stare. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t even remember your own name let alone the stress you were feeling.”

  Her eyelids fluttered. “Is that a dare?”

  “It’s a promise.” He stamped her mouth with his and kept both of her wrists pinned overhead in one of his own hands as he began teasing her with light kisses. Along her lower lip, to the corner of her jaw and around to her ear. Then reaching her neck with the point of his tongue.

  She bucked upward. “Stop teasing.”

  “Not a chance, honey.” He sucked at her throat until she writhed. Moving one hand across her body, he cupped her breast and flicked the distended tip through her T-shirt and bra. Stripping her would take more time than he wanted to spend—he was too eager to bury his cock in her. But he needed to take his time and give her an overload of sensations to help her unwind.

  Or unravel.

  He closed his fingers over her nipple lightly at first and then increasing the pressure until she cried out.

  He moved his hand, and she arched her back. “Do that again.”

  “Hmm. You like this?” He watched her face as he repeated the move. Seeing her face grow pink and desire flood her eyes was enough to drive a man crazy. A woman like her came around once in a lifetime, and he was damn well going to hang on.

  He just prayed he could keep her.

  The soft moans coming from her sweet lips had him aching to strip her immediately. Forcing himself to keep it slow, he kissed down to her breast and clamped his teeth over one nipple.

  “My God, Ben,” she cried.

  He released her hands to pull up her T-shirt, but she didn’t move them from over her head as he slowly raised the hem. Spattering her stomach with kisses and a series of short flicks of his tongue until he reached her bra. It took half a heartbeat to strip her bare, the top and bra abandoned on the floor.

  She smelled of sweet perfume and sweeter arousal. He wasn’t going to last long and one taste of her would make him blow.

  He slid his hand into her stretchy waist of her sweats. Finding her bare.

  He stopped dead, looking into her eyes. “You’re not wearing any panties.”

  She shook her head, a glimmer of invitation in those dark eyes that had him acting.

  Without pause, he sank his fingers into her tight sheath. Two fingers stretching, plunging as he sucked her nipples and she trembled under him. When he added a third finger, stretching her to the limit, she cried out.

  Ben surged upward to capture her lips, still fingering her, hand moving in her sweats like they were teens on a Friday night. Except he had much more adult visions for their future, and it involved a church and him decked out in a tuxedo.

  How he’d fallen for her so damn completely was anybody’s guess, but right now all he could think about was getting Dahlia to scream. He tore his lips away, hovering over her as he curled his fingertips inside her pussy.

  “Come for me, honey. I want you to soak my fingers.”

  * * * * *

  A dark heat gripped Dahlia’s lower belly, and she wanted that tension to draw tighter and tighter until it finally snapped like a thin cord and she did what he was demanding of her.

  To come and soak his fingers.

  She rocked her hips. His fingers filled her completely, and a deep thrum was beginning inside her core. One brush of
his thumb over her clit and she’d be shooting like a star through the sky.

  His scent enveloped her, and her mind blanked to anything but the pleasure he was giving her. Hope rose with each tick closer to the end she got. Why couldn’t this work—them? A real relationship, with crazy-hot sex on a weeknight followed by big bowls of ice cream and her feet in his lap as they watched a movie? Free time at the cabin, loving each other to the music of the bayou. And waking in each other’s arms.

  He stilled his fingers, applying pressure to her inner wall. Juices flooded his hand, and he groaned. She mewled in answer and found his lips. Their mouths clung, their tongues slowed.

  When he moved his fingers a fraction, it was enough. Liquid heat claimed her body, and she shook as the orgasm hit full-force. A scream left her throat, and Ben plunged his fingers in and out of her pussy in time to her pulsations as he twirled his tongue over hers.

  The release only provided a moment of relief, because he withdrew his fingers and then thrust them back in harder. Mimicking what she needed from his cock.

  She grabbed at him. “Ben, I need you. Now.” Sliding her hands between them, she popped his jeans button and unzipped his fly. Reaching inside his briefs, she gripped his thick cock at the base and stroked the full length to the tip.

  He threw his head back on a growl. “Keep that up and I won’t get inside you.” He rolled away and she watched him kick off his jeans and roll on a condom. She shimmied off her sweats, damp from her release. Holding his stare, she didn’t think her heart could get any fuller. She couldn’t fall in love with him more.

  He stood there for a long minute just staring at her. When she got off the bed and wrapped her arms around him, he cupped her face with so much tenderness. “Honey, I want more of the more I asked for before. I—”

  She silenced him with a kiss, going on tiptoe and hooking her calf around his tree trunk of a leg.

  Groaning, he lifted her in one fluid move, tucking her thighs around his waist and easing her down on his cock. Each inch that filled her had her crying out louder. Holding her under the ass, he began to move. Rocking his hips as she slid up and down on him, her nipples rubbing against his hard chest and the head of his cock stretching her soooo deep.