MILITARY ROMANCE: The War Within Himself (Alpha Bad Boy Marine Army Seal) (Contemporary Military Suspense & Thriller Romance)

by Claire Branson

  When Mike invited me in, I was struck by his handsomeness. The bar had been dark, and needless to say, the mug-shot didn’t do him justice. His jaw was strong, with a couple days’ worth of stubble gracing his cheeks and muscular neck.

  I was reminded that they called him Ox, and suddenly found it fitting. His shoulders were broad, and I believe that I could probably pull a large truck from the mud simply by tying a rope around the bumper and tugging.

  I found myself getting lost in his granite-colored eyes, which showed the wear of too much experience in too little time. They showed sadness that he couldn’t share. They showed a little boy deep inside the powerful body of a man. I longed to help him release his emotional burdens, or at least to help him carry them.

  “You look great,” he said, seeming to have been lost in my gaze too. “Your eyes are amazing. Their so full of kindness. I can tell that you’re a good teacher.”

  I’d never had anyone comment on my eyes before. I couldn’t say what my best feature was, but I would never consider those in the running. Without taking the time to rethink it, I put my arms around him and pulled myself into him. I buried my face in his chest. He smelled manly, like some mix of musk, engine oil, and bay rum.

  It’s hard to articulate how that feeling, that smell, affected me. The closest I can get to describing it is: it was like when your mouth waters, but with my whole body. Coming over was not like me, not overly-cautious, and I liked that I was already taking risks.

  I took another and gripped the bottom of his shirt to pull it over his head. His muscles were so defined, like those I’d seen on magazine covers for fitness magazines.

  I’d always thought those kind of muscles didn’t appeal to me, that they made a man too hard and bumpy, but there was still the softness to Mike. Just as there was a gentleness and vulnerability hidden behind his stony gaze, there was a pliable, giving quality to his sculpted torso, which I explored by running my fingers, still cold from the outside air, through the curls of his chest hair.

  He was being cautious, keeping his hands at his sides but fawning at me. It seemed like such a reversal, with him being the recipient of my advances. His caution must have come from his dedication to living a better life, to avoiding destructive decisions.

  But this was a good decision, and I wanted him to be an agent in our consummation. I moved his hands under my shirt and placed them against my soft belly. His hands were so large that, when extended, they reached nearly from my belt to my breasts. And they were warm on my still-cold skin, so that the hair on my back prickled up at his touch.

  I pulled off my shirt and bra, freeing my petite breasts. Instead of putting his hands over them, as I’d hoped he’d do, he pulled me to him and on to the couch, where I lay upon him as he reclined. I felt my skin thaw, the cold of the outside dissipating against the warmth of his chest and stomach. It felt as though I were melting into his embrace, and I could not ignore the growing bulge below his waist-band.

  I could feel his manhood fill his pant leg as it extended along my side. Gentle as he was being, I could tell that I would have to initiate more. I undid my belt and moved his hand into the back of my pants so he could grip my ass, which he did enthusiastically. His excitement became more obvious as his crotch made obvious jumps, nodding in agreement as I undid his belt and slid my hand into his boxers.

  He gasped as I kissed his chest, my hand making its way to his pulsing cock. I gripped his shaft as well as I could, though its girth inhibited me from completely wrapping my fingers around it. Seeming to have accepted that this was something I wanted without reservation, he finished the job of pulling his pants and boxers off, and then removed my pants and underwear.

  I drove my hips into his, enjoying the sensations of his impressive dick’s pressing against my pubic cleft and spreading its heat up my belly. He gripped my ass cheeks, and I sucked his nipple into my mouth as I grinded my clit against the base of his cock.

  I slid my slit along his length, leaving both of us slick with anticipation. I kissed the scars along his chest and face before kissing him deeply on the lips.

  We both breathed heavy through our noses. We kissed with the feeling of having finally found something we didn’t know we’d been looking for.

  Without breaking our lips’ seal, he pressed his thick cock against the mouth of my pussy, which, though wet with desire, needed time to fully accept his size. Once he finally slid into me, we both remained still, enjoying the full-body pleasure of filling and being filled.

  We kissed, sucking and nibbling each other’s lips, drunk with the physical joy of our union. When we began the locomotion of love-making, with my rocking my hips over his, the sensation of the shapely head of his cock sliding along the length of my pussy’s interior sent shivers down my legs. I felt senseless to speak, but managed to move my lips from his to utter, “This is . . . so . . . g-good.”

  I nearly drooled on him, so captivated was I by the feelings in my pelvis.

  “Yes!” he replied. “It’s . . . huh . . . amazing. You’re . . . amazing!” He squeezed my asscheeks, spreading them to slide one eager finger against my asshole to punctuate his enthusiasm.

  I continued straddling him as he sat up with his back against the couch. I took my time sliding up and down his shaft, enjoying the tug his thickness inspired every time I rose, as well as the tasty resistance in my pussy as I lowered myself back down.

  He supported me with his sturdy, able arms, tugging on my hair and cradling my neck as he kissed my chest and nipples.

  We took our time, basking in each other’s body. He—as he later told me—was taken by how emotional love-making could be, having mostly been around women who were interested in the thrill and not a love-connection.

  I, on the other hand, was relishing not only my growing affection for him, but this new naughtiness, this amazing sex with a stunning man I had only met recently.

  In my household, this behavior was considered reckless, wild, an activity for loose women, and I liked exploring my new identity as a boundary-pushing, ne’er-do-well of a woman, especially since I was with someone who made me feel safe, who made me feel strong and confident.

  We kissed again, breathing heavily as the contracting muscles in our hips synchronized. It felt as though my pussy, tightening rhythmically, was milking his fat cock, whose pulse was growing more obvious, so that each organ created extra resistance for the other with each breath, with each heartbeat.

  With my legs wrapped around his powerful back, I rode him to a crescendo, his thighs moving me up and down. The climax began in my pussy and ass. I felt like chocolate melting as the waves of pleasure radiated out to my feet, hands, and head.

  My nerves were all alive and firing as we clutched each other closely, prolonging the ecstasy for just one last thrust, and just one more, before the explosion rocked our bodies.

  We grabbed each other tight so we wouldn’t be thrown from the couch by the involuntary shaking in our legs and abdomens. He just pressed his face into my neck, and I into his, as we rode out the remaining waves of pleasure, convulsing into one another.

  I felt, between the pulsations of my pussy, the throbbing in Mike’s engorged penis, slick and warm with both of our juices. I felt full of love, and full of him, and we both smiled weakly as we looked into one another’s eyes, our gaze saying more than words could.

  Chapter 5

  On the night following my last day of school for the year, a month after we first met, Mike invited me to a party at his friend Scut’s house. He warned me that the night would be mostly populated by bikers, and that meant that things could get crazy. He explained that I should stay with him, especially because this wasn’t the kind of party you could attend unless you knew someone who was part of the in-crowd. I obviously wasn’t part of that crowd, but I did my best to dress the part.

  I wore a bra—a black, lacy one that I’d bought for Halloween one year but never wore— and a short leather skirt, fishnets, and boots, all of which
I’d bought the previous weekend just for this occasion.

  I barely recognized myself when I looked in the mirror. I looked like the kind of girl my parents warned me about. I looked naughty, slutty, hot, and maybe even dangerous. Never before had I felt turned on simply by looking at myself.

  I was further excited by my commitment to attend the party without any panties. It might have been a fairly mundane detail to the average woman, but it was sexy and new to me, particularly because my skirt was so short. “Sexy” was a label I was newly-adopting for myself, and I was eager to explore the different facets of the identity.

  Mike wore torn jeans, a wife-beater shirt, and his leather vest, which had probably seen more of the world in the years he’d owned it than I had in my whole life.

  The party was being held in a large dirt lot. Scut was a mechanic in addition to being a part-time drug-dealer, and he had plenty of space for events such as this. Floodlights from above lit the gathering, which comprised motorcycle enthusiasts from our town and nearby cities.

  Initially intimated by the number of people and their uniformly dangerous appearances—they each, undoubtedly, had criminal records—I felt better once Mike put his arm around me.

  He’d asked me to call him Ox at the party, mostly because more people knew him by that name, and it didn’t take me long to learn that he had an elevated status is biker circles. I was proud to be Ox’s arm-candy for the night, even if his reputation as a true biker, as an honored member of the community, was earned by committing crimes.

  “Ox!” Scut removed himself from a group of female bikers, all of whom were heavily tattooed and were probably younger than years of smoking and drinking made them look.

  “Get over here, you sonufabitch!” Mike gave Scut a big, manly hug that reminded me of two bears fighting. “Scut, you remember Lauren, right? From the bar?”

  “Right! Coughing girl, right? With the fruit drinks? Want me to get you something with an umbrella in it?”

  “Easy, Scut,” Mike said. “Lauren’s my old lady now. She’s tough. Don’t mess around with her. She belongs here.”

  “I’m just joking with you, Lauren. Welcome! Any friend of Ox is a friend of mine, and any woman who can keep up with him has to be hard as nails. And you’re looking pretty fine tonight, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

  “Thank you, Scut. It’s good to see you again,” I said, resisting the urge to grin from ear-to-ear, and hoping that I wasn’t blushing. My relief at being welcomed into the fold, in addition to Mike’s and Scut’s flattering words, had me elated.

  Scut grabbed two of the women he’d been talking to by the arms. “These are my girls, Eve and Dez. Girls, this is Lauren, and of course you know Ox.”

  “Hi Lauren. Hi Ox,” they said simultaneously, as if rehearsed.

  They seemed to bat their eyes at Mike, and I tried to avoid picturing them with him. One look around the party told me that partners were mostly formal with these people, and that swapping sex-partners was not unusual at all.

  As if he’d read my mind, Mike gave my ass a reassuring squeeze and pulled me close. I could tell that he noticed my missing panties. He gave me a sly smile and slid a hand discreetly up my skirt as we walked from the group to explore more of the party.

  As Mike introduced me to more people, I felt more comfortable, more like I belonged, and once the initial nervousness of being in this new place wore off, I allowed myself to enjoy the naughty feelings of being secretly bare-assed around all of these people.

  I noticed men and women looking at my cleavage, which was a new kind of attention, and I felt exhilarated that my ass and pussy were just a strong breeze from being totally exposed.

  Once I started feeling bolder, I found reasons to pick things up off the ground or arch my back and lean in to conversations, giving whoever was behind me an eyeful. Mike, having seen all kinds of craziness in his years with this group, seemed to find my experimentation cute, if not quaint.

  In reality, there were women walking around topless and even nude, so my little beaver-shots were probably not especially thrilling for anyone. To me, though, this was something totally new, and taking some ownership over my body, feeling like I had some power over others, was not only novel, but important. It challenged me to evaluate who I was and what I wanted in life.

  While Mike and I watched one of his friends perform in a heavy metal concert, he slid his hand down the front of my skirt. As we bobbed to the beat, he cradled my clit between his fore- and middle-fingers, getting my juices flowing.

  Eventually, as the band really settled into their set, playing covers that most of the crowd knew, he raised me onto his shoulders. Towering over the crowd, I ground my crotch against his wide, strong neck. The thought crossed my mind that if Mike was an Ox, I was his yoke, but my little personal joke didn’t distract me from getting my rocks off against his neck.

  He must have known what I was doing because he anchored both of my knees with one arm as he moved the other hand to my ass, squeezing in rhythm to the music and bouncing a little more deliberately.

  As the band played its last song, an apparent crowd favorite, Mike unhooked my bra, and, giving my caution to the night and to my new identity, I let my happy tits free in the cool air of the stars, much to the approval of the nearby crowd, who hooted and hollered.

  By the end of the night, my apprehension about Mike’s friends, his lifestyle, and my relationship was nearly dissolved. Everyone I met, even those who were intoxicated on alcohol or drugs or some combination of the two, was friendly and warm, welcoming me in as one of their own.

  We were saying our goodbyes, and I was entertaining the idea of getting a small tattoo to really commemorate my stepping away from my mundane upbringing. Right as I was narrowing down some mental-pictures of what I’d like and where, we heard a sudden commotion.

  In the parking lot, where everyone had parked their bikes, a group of other bikers with very different symbols adorning their jackets and vests were standing ominously, shouting insults and epithets. I hadn’t been around long enough to understand the inter-gang politics of the local motorcycle groups, but I didn’t have to know much to see that these people were looking for trouble.

  Holding Mike’s hand, I felt him tense. I had never seen him look anxious or afraid before, and I realized he was afraid for my sake. Before I could look to him for reassurance, he pulled me to the side and made a b-line around the side of the building.

  Getting caught up in a major altercation would violate his parole. If he hurt someone, or killed someone, he would be going back to prison, and probably for a long time. Fortunately, we had arrived late and parked near the rear of the lot.

  As we approached his bike, we heard yelling and the sound of glass breaking coming from our previous location. Things seemed quiet, and we were nearly on the bike when we heard a voice from the darkness.

  “That bitch has got a sweet ass, Ox.” The voice was whiskey-soaked, and smoke-ruined.

  “Watch your mouth, Blotto.” Mike’s voice was calm, but I could see veins pulsing in his neck, and I could feel him squeezing my hand, keeping me close.

  “Word is you’re cleaning up your act, Ox. Pretty sure I can say whatever I want. She wearin’ panties under that skirt?”

  “I said ‘watch your fucking mouth.’” Mike’s shoulders were tensing and his chest was puffing. He wasn’t the type to show off; he was preparing himself.

  Blotto came out of the shadows. He was smaller than Mike, but still a big man. I was surprised to see that the symbols he wore were not of a rival gang, but of an ally.

  “I saw you around the party, girly. I really enjoyed the show.” He reached his gnarled hands out before him, groping for my breasts.

  I pulled back into Mike’s body, but he let go and stood in front of me. He was standing taller than I’d ever seen him, his posture resembling that of a bear more than of an ox.

  “Back the fuck off, Blotto. You don’t want this. You’ve had too much to dr
ink.”

  “C’mon, Ox. Where’s your party-spirit? You know what they say, man: Bros before hoes! Any bitch of yours is a bitch of mi-“Before he was able to close his teeth, they were knocked out of his mouth. With one cannonball of a punch, Mike leveled Blotto, dislocating his jaw and leaving him senseless, mumbling in the mud.

  “We’ve got to roll, Lauren. Now.” Getting on his bike, he handed me the helmet and pulled me onto the seat. He revved the engine, and we took off, my arms shaking from adrenaline and the cold night air.

  Chapter 6

  During the ride, as the initial shock of the fight wore off, I finished scolding myself for coming to the party in the first place. I was overtaken by immense gratitude, and not only for Mike’s having saved me. I was grateful for his bringing me into this world, for proving to me that I was not a simple, boring girl, destined for a plain life.

  I fit in at the party, and I was excited by the prospect of exploring this side of myself, this dormant rebelliousness that, until now, had found no release. I had found a man who I could trust, and who inspired me to trust in myself as well.

  I knew Mike couldn’t hear me over the engine, and I knew my voice would waver with emotion if I tried to speak. Instead, I kissed his neck and arms.

  I wore his leather jacket, to protect me from the cold, but I could tell from his goose-bumps that he was not too strong to feel the chill. I rubbed my hands along both of his arms to warm them as I dotted his shoulder with what was left of my lipstick.

  I could see that he was speaking, so I removed the helmet and put my ear near his mouth.

  “I have to leave town,” he said. “I know that dirt-bag will press charges, and that’ll put me away. I can’t believe, after I’ve done so much to make better choices, it takes one asshole to ruin everything.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said into his ear, the wind whipping my hair. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have had to fight him.”

  “Don’t say that,” he said, nearly taking his eyes off the road. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t see how good my life could be without all the illegal stuff. The night I met you, I was deciding whether to make a pretty major drug deal, one that could make a lot of my friends a lot of money.