Lieutenant Commander Stud

by Carter, Chance

  “Stop it,” I grunted. If I planned on doing this, I had to do it now, before I lost my nerve.

  I slipped off the end of my bed and checked that I was presentable. Blouse straight, another of my professional pencil skirts, and underneath it? Nothing. Though, the bag Ryan had gathered for me contained a few personal items, I opted to go without.

  I needed all the confidence I could muster for this.

  I opened the door and entered the hall, walked past the officer’s mess and continued down the corridor. I opted to keep the tiles, though I already decided they’d need to be buffed and cleaned before the end of the revamp.

  Thoughts about redecorating and how far I’d come kept me from running back to my bedroom.

  I stopped outside Ryan’s quarters and inhaled through my nose. Finally, I raised a fist and knocked once.

  “Come.” His voice sent a shiver through me. I hadn’t heard it in a week and it was like hearing it again for the first time.

  I let go of the breath I’d held in, then opened the door and stepped over the threshold into his plain room. They hadn’t painted in there yet. I bumped the door shut with my heel, and let my arms hang loose at my sides.

  Ryan turned from the window, then froze.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Chanel,” he replied, “what are you doing here?”

  “I had to see you.”

  “You know that’s not a good idea. It’s pointless. We can’t be together. I don’t want you to get hurt.” He forced each of those sentences out and I could tell that they were a product of his mentally bullying himself into saying them.

  He wanted this as much as I did.

  I reached behind me and turned the lock.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I don’t care what you say, Ryan. I know that you want me as much as I want you. And I know that you’re going to leave me here.”

  “I have to.” He bit the words off.

  “I know. I understand.”

  “You can’t possibly understand what this is like. You can’t. I won’t condemn – ”

  I cut him off by freeing the first button of my blouse.

  “Chanel.”

  “I know you have to leave and I don’t care. I need you, even if it’s just for one last night, one last time before you push me aside again.”

  “I’m not pushing you aside,” he grunted, as if I’d punched him in the gut. “I wouldn’t do that after what happened with Whitmore.”

  I didn’t want to think about Whitmore or his empty threats. I wanted Ryan and that was that. If this was the only time I’d feel real love in my life, then I wasn’t about to waste the opportunity to have that one last time.

  “Just shut up and make love to me,” I said, and undid the second button.

  Ryan worked his jaw, but no sound came out.

  “Close the blinds,” I said, heart fluttering. A rejection now would crush me. I’d never put myself out there like this with him or anybody else.

  Ryan didn’t move a muscle. Just stared at me.

  “Close them.” The third button popped free. “Close them. I’m getting naked either way. If you want people to see, I don’t care anymore.”

  He closed the blind, a single tug and they were shut. It was just me and him now. Alone and with a tiny space between us, closer than we’d been in a week. How was it possible to love someone so soon?

  I didn’t doubt that I’d fallen for him. It was plain fact. It would’ve been like denying a facet of my personality.

  Ryan stared at me. “This isn’t a good idea. You’re going to get hurt.”

  “And you’re not? You care that little?” I undid the last of my buttons and parted my blouse, exposing my breasts. My nipples were already puckered for him, ready. I bit my bottom lip and ran my fingertips over them, watching him carefully.

  Ryan grunted as if he’d touched me himself. The bulge in the front of his pants became more pronounced, and he shifted it. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I can’t stand the thought of you leaving without having this heat between us one last time. I know you think it will only make things worse, but they can’t get any worse than this. I – I need you, Ryan. Please, just understand that.”

  He crossed the room and took both my hands in his, examining them closely as if he could read the future in them, then met my gaze.

  My heart went crazy. I couldn’t stand another second of this.

  Finally, he leaned in and took my lips with his, claiming my mouth as surely as he’d done before. He probed me, massaged my tongue with his, tasted and grunted at the growing pressure between us.

  We broke apart, both gasping for breath.

  He unzipped my skirt at the back, then shimmied it over my hips and down my thighs. Ryan’s fingers were sure, but his expression wavered between unkempt desire and concern.

  I had to wipe that second emotion clean. I grabbed the front of his pants, unbuttoned them, then tore them down. His dick bounced free, and I sighed. God, it’d been too long. A week was an eon.

  I tried lowering myself to the floor in front of him, but he held me upright and shook his head. “No,” Ryan said. “Not this time. I want this to be something else. Something special. For us.”

  “Us,” I replied. As if there could ever be an ‘us.’

  He stripped off his shirt, removed my blouse, and we both kicked off our shoes. We stood entirely naked in front of each other.

  I scanned the slopes and planes of his abs, pecs, his broad shoulders and the defined, muscular arms. He’d always been flawless, but this attraction went past skin deep.

  Ryan took my hand again and led me to his single bed in the corner. He helped me into it, brushing a fingertip in long line of pleasure down my spine, then lay down beside me, propped up on one arm.

  He traced the contours of my breasts, circled each areola, then slipped down my torso, abdomen, over my mound and between my legs.

  I throbbed for him.

  Ryan’s dick pressed into my thigh, his finger parting my lips, sliding between them, entering me, then slipping upward, over my clitoris and circling it – a light pressure. All of the little pleasures built up and I jerked beneath his touch. I bucked upward and craned my neck toward his.

  I kissed him, open mouthed, then sucked on the sweet spot at the base of his throat.

  “Careful,” Ryan said, “you’ll leave a mark.”

  I wanted to. It would only last a week, but he’d have something to remember me by when he left. No, don’t think of that.

  “You’re so wet, Chanel,” he whispered, and kissed the top of my head.

  “And you’re so hard.” I squeezed his dick and worked my palm over it.

  He grunted, and pre-cum coursed over the tip. He worked his fingers inside me, and I matched the pace with my strokes.

  Ryan’s eyes drifted shut and he leaned in again, nuzzled my cheek with his nose, dousing me in his scent. He brought me closer to the edge, too close, I’d shatter into millions of tiny pieces before he even entered me.

  “Please,” I whimpered. “Inside me, please.” I let go of him to show I meant it.

  Ryan opened his eyes and smiled at me, hazed over with desire and a hint of satisfaction. At least, the anxiety was gone. He took hold of my hip and rolled me onto my side, then moved in behind me.

  Kisses on my neck, arm underneath him, holding me close, keeping me safe. Nothing could feel this good again.

  Ryan angled his dick toward my entrance and rested it there.

  I wiggled and moaned. “Come on,” I said.

  He chuckled, a low throaty laugh – the hairs on the back of my neck stood up – then he entered me slowly, inch by inch, parting my lips, then squeezing inside. Once again, we fit together perfectly.

  I cried out, softly.

  Ryan kissed my ear lobe and moved inside me, slow, long thrusts that burned my core. I could barely see from the heat, barely breathe. Flames licked me, I wanted to explode already, bu
t he didn’t lessen the intensity.

  He was thick inside me, every ridge and vein pronounced, stroking me toward my orgasm. Ryan’s fingers bit into my hips. He buried his face in my neck and kissed, then bit gently.

  “Oh God,” I moaned. “Ryan, oh my God.”

  His breaths gusted over my neck. “Gonna come,” he grunted, and pounded into me, faster this time, deep as he could go, growing thicker if it were possible.

  I gripped the bed spread and scrunched it, tightening around him, my eyes rolling back in my head. My orgasm built and I shuddered against him, releasing all the tension I’d held over his departure, over losing the man I loved.

  I had disconnected thoughts, an image of his back as he walked away from me, bag in hand.

  Ryan pulsed inside me, releasing everything he had, and holding me tighter still.

  Finally, he was spent, and settled back on the pillow.

  Tears sprung up, immediately, and I swallowed to banish them. Didn’t work. Maybe this was a bad idea. I couldn’t picture my life without moments like these, and now, I had to let them go.

  I sat up on his bed.

  “Don’t go yet,” he said, half asleep. “Chanel, please.”

  “I have to,” I replied, and slipped off the end of the bed. I ran to where we’d dropped our clothes and dressed as quickly as possible. I didn’t say goodbye. This couldn’t be the last time I saw him, and saying it now would make me sob openly.

  Ryan got up too. “Chanel.”

  “Don’t. Sleep. I’ll see you another time.” I blinked tears and rushed out before he could stop me.

  Chapter 32

  Ryan

  Commander Shepherd stood behind my office chair and gripped the top of it, squeezing the leather and releasing, squeezing and releasing. He glared daggers at me.

  I stood my ground, arms at my sides, drawn up straight.

  “I thought the trouble was over, Petty Officer Baker,” he said. “I thought we resolved this.” The Commander hadn’t called me into his office once to discuss Whitmore’s ‘escape’ from his guards. I’d assumed it’d blown over, but apparently, it hadn’t reached him until, now. And then, only because he’d gone to see Whitmore himself.

  The asshat had openly bragged about it.

  “Do you know why I stayed behind, Baker?”

  “No, Sir.” He was scheduled to leave weeks ago.

  “Because I had to ensure that the transition of power here was smooth. I had to ensure that you didn’t fuck it up again somehow. I’m glad I stayed.”

  “Sir, these are extreme circumstances. I can’t control –”

  “You can’t control anything,” Shepherd said, and slapped the chair. It shuddered and rolled to one side. The Commander bore down on the desk and planted his knuckles on top of it. “I asked you to find me evidence, actual proof that Whitmore beat that Meek Springs kid and you’ve done nothing in the past two weeks but fuck around.”

  “Sir, Whitmore admitted that he beat the civilian to the interior decorator, Chanel Scott. She can testify to that,” I said, smoothly. It was my Ace up my sleeve. Except for that, I had nothing. How could I when the evidence was washed away in the storm and none of the witnesses had seen what I had?

  “Miss Scott,” Shepherd said. “The same woman who’s redecorating the base.”

  “That’s correct, Sir.”

  “And the same woman who’s spurred rumors around the base. Rumors about you,” Shepherd continued.

  I kept up my poker face. God, I’d made a mess of everything here. I deserved the demotion and the relocation tomorrow. If I could just keep my shit together until then… no, it wouldn’t make me happy, but it might save my career with the Navy.

  “I hear everything.”

  “It was Whitmore, wasn’t it, Sir?” I sighed. “He’s obsessed with Miss Scott. He threatened her in private, though I’m not sure if she’ll press charged against him. Regardless, he added another crime to the list for which he’ll be convicted.”

  “You sound confident about that.”

  “I know him,” I said, “I thought I knew him until now, but I’ve come to know what lurks beneath his façade, Sir. He’s criminal.”

  Shepherd eyed me. “You might be right about that, Baker. Can you explain how he got out of his quarters without supervision?”

  “We investigated the guards on duty, Sir. We discovered that Officer Wyatt changed the roster to reflect his name during a time he knew he would be out on a supply run,” I said. “He’s been punished appropriately.”

  “I doubt it,” Shepherd said. “I want to see Officer Wyatt after we’re done speaking. You’ll have him sent to me, immediately.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Baker, I’m disappointed in everything that’s happened on this base. Apart from Miss Scott’s endeavors. The base seems to have come along nicely. The soldiers seem uplifted.”

  He used the word ‘seem’ a lot there.

  “She’s a brilliant interior decorator, Sir,” I said, formally. “I’m glad that Meek Springs had something to offer.”

  “Apart from a petition, you mean.”

  I raised an eyebrow and opened my mouth to question him about it.

  Commander Shepherd waved me to silence. “Nothing will come of it. They’ve gathered their signatures, but ultimately, this base is here to stay. There’s not much they can do against the will of the United States Government.”

  Except cause trouble in the town when soldiers did supply runs. This didn’t bode well for the base, but it wasn’t my place to say that anymore. I wasn’t the CO here. “I’m glad to hear things will be resolved, Sir.”

  Commander Shepherd grunted. “If you can call it that. We still have a half-dead boy in hospital and a criminal to convict.” He didn’t mention that the criminal was Whitmore. Could there still be doubt that he’d done it?

  Whitmore had shown his mutinous side. He’d gone against authority several times prior to the incident and after. Surely, there couldn’t be a question as to whether he was capable.

  “Sir, if you’ll speak to Miss Scott, I think you’ll find that –”

  “I don’t need to speak to Miss Scott. She’ll testify when he’s court-martialed,” Shepherd said, and waved again. He dug around in his jacket pocket and brought out a wrapped cigar. “I’m leaving today. I think I’ll celebrate that in peace.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I said, and saluted.

  A knock at the door stalled my exit.

  “Wait a moment, Baker, this might be relevant,” Shepherd said, then raised his voice. “Come.”

  The door opened and Petty Officer Jameson entered. She saluted.

  “At ease.” Shepherd brought out a cigar clipper and gestured with it. “What news do you have for me, Jameson?”

  “Sir, we’ve received information from the local police in Meek Springs. The victim of the attack, Timothy Meller, has come out of a coma. He’s in Cregton General speaking to the police, right now.”

  I balled my hands into fists – silent triumph. This was the best thing that could’ve happened. Not only was the kid alive and talking, thank goodness, but he’d be able to reveal the truth about Whitmore.

  Commander Shepherd froze with the clipper halfway to the end of his cigar. “That so?” he said. “Well, I’ll be damned. Has Mr. Meller said anything of note? Anything relevant?”

  Jameson nodded, her arms still tucked behind her back. “Yes, Sir. He gave a description of the man who attacked him.”

  Commander Shepherd finally clipped off the end of his cigar into an ashtray on the desk. “And?” He asked. “Are you going to tell me the verdict or do I have to squeeze it out of you, Jameson?”

  “Sorry, Sir, I’m a – never mind. Sir, he gave a description which matches Jack Whitmore. From what we’ve heard, he described the incident as Whitmore following him out into the alleyway and assaulting him brutally. He doesn’t have too many of the details because his memory is fuzzy.”

  Silence followed Jameson�
��s words.

  I couldn’t help the rush of relief that washed over me. This was conclusive evidence. If Timothy pinned it on Whitmore…

  “Thank you for the information, Petty Officer Jameson,” the Commander said. “You’re dismissed.”

  Jameson left and I turned to follow her out.

  “Not you, Baker,” Shepherd said. “You stay.” The click of a lighter behind me, followed by the sound of Shepherd sucking on the end of the cigar. “You stay.”

  I shut the door, and faced the Commander again, nerves chasing through my stomach. If there was any chance he’d let me stay and resume command of this base, this would be it. I could put it forward, but the fear of being let down dominated me. If he said no, it’d be like losing everything again.

  The tryst with Chanel last week had almost pushed me over the edge. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing her again. She’d avoided me all week, and it was better that way, but the last time –

  “You want to ask me something, Baker?” Shepherd sat down in the leather chair this time.

  “No, Sir,” I said.

  “You sure about that?” Shepherd puffed out a cloud of cigar smoke. “Because you look like you’re thinking about asking me something.”

  “Nothing, Sir.”

  “Baker, I can’t give you back command of this base. I’m moving you because of the way you handled this situation, regardless of the outcome,” Commander Shepherd said, “you didn’t truly think that I believed you were responsible for Meller’s attack.”

  I didn’t respond, but kept my hands at my side, rigid.

  “I didn’t. What I believed wasn’t in question. We have the evidence to put that maniac in prison for a long time. He’ll be court-martialed and suspended. In fact, I’m going to have him taken off base, right now.”

  “That’s good news, Sir. Good for the base. Good for the other soldiers.”

  Shepherd studied me, the cigar held between two of his fingers. “Good for the soldiers, yes. Ensure that you’re prepared to be shipped out tomorrow, Baker. Dismissed.”