Commander in Briefs

by Kristy Marie

  “We’ll look this over and get back to you,” says the teenager with a pencil between his teeth.

  Well, you can’t fix stupid. I know a dead-end when I see it and this kid is not going to do anything for us. We’ll have to find another way.

  I get up, nodding my head in defeat at Pimples, when Cade shocks the hell out of me by standing abruptly, his chair sliding back into the wall behind us. With calculated steps, he crowds the teen, those bulging muscles bent over the dinky metal desk, looking like the freaking Hulk gone rogue.

  “See that you do, or I’ll be back to discuss it with you personally.” He slams a meaty fist down on the desk, causing everything on the surface to jump in terror—even the bobblehead on the bookshelf behind Pimples starts nodding his head.

  Holy mother of fucks! My Cade is a total badass!

  Holding back a smug-ass look that clearly says, booya, I do a slight victory sway at the smarmy shit who’s nodding his agreement with a vengeance. My work here is done. My Cade has finally stood up for himself. He’s no longer the meek, I-don’t-deserve-to-live guy. The Major has fucking returned!

  I’m excited when we leave, bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet. We aren’t out the door two minutes before I turn, a huge-ass grin on my face. “What the fuck was that in there, Betty Badass?”

  Cade rolls his eyes, ignoring my little happy dance as we make our way to the car. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you fucking do! That was some badassery in there. I thought you were going to grab that little prick and give him a swirly in the nearest toilet.”

  His raspy laugh has me doubling over, tears pricking my eyes, in sheer happiness. My Cade. My fucking Cade is getting better.

  “I was going to do no such thing. Just drop it. Get in the car.”

  He tosses me the keys before folding himself into the SUV, his sour expression effectively halting any further comments. That’s okay, I will let it go for now but only because I know he’s on the mend and I’m sure this won’t be the last we see of Badass Cade.

  The farmhouse is quiet when we arrive that evening. Cade and I stopped by the bank, pleading our case for new renovations to house more guys. They were more willing to discuss than the Veteran’s Association, informing us of government programs and private donors that could help. The experience boosted our spirits so much that we stopped for lunch, me prattling on about my big ideas and the future I have planned for me, Cade and the guys. We even procured a little surprise for the guys. After finishing up the day at the grocery store, we’re fucking beat. Apart from the VA, today was a good day.

  “Where is everyone,” I wonder out loud, noticing no lights are on save one upstairs.

  Not a soul comes to assist us with the groceries. These guys are like flies on shit when it’s grocery day. With all the food they consume on a daily basis, grocery days usually come with a welcome committee.

  “Did they go out?” I question Cade, who’s looking just as confused as I am.

  It’s not like I ban them from leaving the property. This isn’t a prison, but usually they tell me where they’re off to.

  “They were supposed to be finishing up the painting on the barn today. Hayes didn’t mention them going out tonight.”

  “Huh. Okay, well, looks like it’s just you and me lugging all these groceries in.”

  Cade groans but quickly begins to pile bag after bag onto his arms, causing the veins to protrude ever so slightly. It’s extremely distracting. “Are you going to grab some bags or just stare at me at all night?”

  Have you ever? This motherfucker has jokes.

  “Funny. I bet you get all the ladies with that chivalry. What happened to men doing all the heavy lifting?”

  Cade’s eyebrows pull together as he mulls over my words. Good gracious, it was a joke! Cade, a gentleman through and through, actually feels bad.

  “I’m joking. Get that fine ass moving so we aren’t here all night.”

  He hesitates, wanting to argue but after a little swat to the butt he gets moving, never uttering another word.

  We’ve unloaded and put away ten tons of groceries and are kicked back on the sofa when Hayes bursts through the door, his eyes blazing with something I can’t place.

  “Commander, we need you down at the pond. Mason dove in and hit something. He’s hurt.”

  Cade and I spring from the sofa, our bodies in motion before Hayes can say more.

  “Major!” Hayes reaches out for Cade, stopping him.

  I don’t wait around. I rush through the patio door, my eyes scanning for Mason. The dew on the grass causes me to slip as I race to the pond.

  I hope it’s not his neck. I can fix anything except for a spinal injury. Images of Mason gasping for breath, waiting for me, push me faster. When I crest the hill, I immediately draw to a halt.

  In front of me, thousands of white lights are braided through the trees, creating a shimmering fantasy of stars. The old wooden gazebo is adorned with candles and beautiful calla lilies.

  “Madam.” I’m startled by Mason’s outstretched hand.

  “You jerk! I should beat your ass!” I swat at him, not sure if I’m more surprised or pissed.

  “I’m sorry, Commander. Just following orders.”

  My eyes narrow as I try to figure out just what the hell is going on here. And whose orders is he following?

  He fists his fingers and stretches them out again, reminding me that I’ve yet to take his hand. Hesitantly, I reach out, securing my hand in his rough, much larger one.

  Mason leads me down the hill slowly, mindful of the dew, right to the gazebo where a small two-person table has been placed in the center with two metal chairs. The small café-style table is covered in white linens, a glass vase of calla lilies centered in the middle, matching ones strategically placed throughout the gazebo, accentuating the rustic structure. Beautiful doesn’t even cover it. It’s magical.

  “Ma’am.” Mason pulls out a chair for me.

  I sit, sliding my hands under my butt to keep my them from shaking with nerves. Now, sitting under the magic of the lights, my leggings and Theo’s throwback college tee seem underwhelming.

  Mason excuses himself with a secret smile as Tim approaches with one of my baking sheets, using it as a serving tray. I almost laugh at their improvisation but don’t when I hear Tim’s uneven tone as he struggles to pronounce his question.

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  Taking his hand in mine, squeezing softly, I answer, “I would love a water, thank you.”

  He nods, turns and heads for the house. I’m looking around, taking in the fairy land that my backyard has become, when the rustling of footsteps capture my attention.

  “I see you found the place.” Theo’s cocky smile makes my heart squeeze with sappy love. He’s dressed casually in jeans, a snug t-shirt clinging to his sculpted chest. He looks delicious. And he’s all mine.

  “I see you’re late as usual.” I break the intense moment with some shitty humor. I’m not this prim and proper girl who expects to be wined and dined under a canopy of stars. Don’t get me wrong, I love the beauty of it. The whole charade makes me feel small and girly. But I’m more of a beer and quick romp under the moonlight kind of girl. Especially with Theo.

  He chuckles awkwardly, wiping his hands on his thighs. “You know I like to make an entrance.”

  I agree, twisting my fingers in knots underneath the tablecloth so he doesn’t see how nervous I really am. He pulls out the remaining chair, making himself comfortable as only he can do. His posture is slouchy as he stretches his legs, knocking them into mine.

  “So, what’s good here?”

  A laugh bursts from my lips as his quip breaks up the nervousness churning in my stomach, not unlike indigestion. I relax further in the chair, my eyes cutting to his amused face. “What are you doing, Von Bremen?”

  Those midnight blues glow under the ambiance of the lights, making him seem ethereal.
Laid back, arms folded across his chest, jaw strong and flexing as that boyish dimple plays peekaboo, he looks like my own avenging angel. He flashes me his trademark smile before his tongue sweeps out, moistening that plump bottom lip that’s just begging for me to bite it.

  “I need extra innings,” he confesses with a nervous twitch of his mouth, his finger already slipping in between his lips.

  Not sure what he means, I ask again, pulling his hand from his mouth. “Extra innings?”

  Tim returns before he can answer, placing a water along with a bottle of expensive wine in front of us. I scoot closer, pouring us a glass to help ease the nerves about whatever he needs to say. Theo frowns at the glass I’m pouring and then almost like a bomb, he explodes from the table, and is pacing in the small space between the railing of the gazebo. I can’t help the stupid smile that forms on my face. This is the Theo I know.

  “I’m an asshole.” His hands are already in his hair, pulling in frustration.

  I rise from the table, too, wanting to comfort him, to ease the burden he feels in confessing this.

  He stops me with his hand at my chest. “I need to get this out.”

  I raise my hands in mock surrender, sitting down, giving him the space he’s requested.

  “I’m an asshole. I know this. And, I know you have always tolerated this in me, and for that, I’m grateful. But, Ans…”

  His steps increase, his pacing faster, as though he wants to run.

  “It can’t end this way. I can’t lose you.” His apprehension shows as he takes a deep breath and exhales slowly.

  “Theo, I don’t understand. What’s ending?”

  He hesitates and then nods once as if he’s made up his mind, moves in front of me and kneels. “I wanna date you, McCallister. I’m ready to blow this friendship to hell. I’m asking for another shot.”

  Tiny pinpricks stab my eyes as the realization of what he’s saying sinks in. He wants me. He wants to date me. Not to be my friend or even friends with benefits. He wants to date me.

  He’s waiting patiently for an answer. Before I speak, I clear the sudden lump from my throat. No one wants to sound like a demented frog when giving such a precious answer. I’m ecstatic he’s finally taking this step after all these years, but I’m scared, too. Having him as a friend is better than nothing. Do I really want to lose him on the off chance he changes his mind or finds someone else?

  “Theo, what if it doesn’t work out?”

  He’s in my face, pulling me to my feet. “What if it does? Come on, Ans. Nobody puts up with my shit better than you.”

  Is that meant to be a compliment? That I’m the idiot who deals with his bullshit? Yeah, I guess I am. I love his bullshit. I’m in love with his crazy.

  I tug him close, burying my face in his chest. “I can’t lose you.”

  He squeezes me tight, comforting me in his strong arms. “You won’t.”

  Opening and closing, my mouth can’t decide if I should argue my concerns or kiss the breath from him, when sweeps me over his shoulder fireman-style, swatting my ass playfully.

  “Time’s up, McCallister. We’re doing this. I’m issuing an order, Commander. Do you dare defy me?”

  He called me Commander.

  I’m giggling as he steps carefully out of the gazebo.

  “Where are we going? I’m hungry!”

  “Oh, we’re going to eat. I just have a taste for something different now.”

  “I’m serious. I need food!” I’m only half joking though and am actually more interested in where he’s taking me and what he’s going to do when he gets there.

  “Shut up, McCallister. You’ll get your damn tacos.”

  I’m grinning like a fool, knowing that he stuck to our thing and didn’t try to be someone he’s not. I don’t need fancy shit. I just need him.

  I can’t see much hanging upside down, but can tell he’s taking us closer to the pond. My fingers roam the waistband of his jeans looking for an opening to slide my hand through.

  Before I can find my mark—aka that phenomenal ass—he swats mine, stinging my legging-covered behind. “Behave!”

  I pull back, bracing my hands against his lower back, kneading the muscles that makeup the fabulous v-line, pointing to the holy land. He comes to a stop and kneels before unceremoniously depositing me onto a quilt spread across the grass.

  I take a minute, righting my shirt from its location over my shoulders. The blanket looks familiar. I realize after a moment, it’s the blanket. The one from our first time.

  “Where did you get this?” I question on a gasp, my fingers tracing the delicate seams of the precious memento.

  I swear, I threw it in the dumpster that night, after he left for Vanessa’s. I was hurt and that red stain mocked me so much that I couldn’t bear to look at those tiny blue flowers ever again. I hated that blanket, it reminded me of a time when I allowed myself to be vulnerable.

  “I found it. Can you believe someone threw it in the dumpster outside our apartment?” He gives me a look. “Saw it when I took out the trash the next day. It was the damnedest thing.”

  I keep quiet, giving nothing away.

  He crowds me, pushing into me gently. “I want redemption. Let me love you the way you deserved that night.”

  His confession clouds every ounce of reasoning I have. Are we doing this? Are we changing our entire relationship into something different? Do I want this? After all these years, do I want this with Theo? His hand brushes along my cheek, my eyes closing at the sweet gesture.

  “Ok, Von Bremen. Let’s fuck up this friendship.”

  Hands that have hurled ninety-nine-mile-an-hour fastballs grip my hips, pulling me down on the blanket beneath him. This time it’s not awkward when he lifts my shirt, easing it over my head. My leggings are peeled down to my ankles in one motion as he pins my hands to my stomach in one of his.

  “Let me this time.”

  I tilt my head in acceptance, watching as his draws up on his knees, lifts his shirt slowly, allowing me the liberty of counting each pack of muscle on his abs. He knows how I like it.

  “Lay back.”

  It’s not Thursday, but I’ll let him have this one demand. In slow compliance, I ease off my elbows just as he hastily pushes me back onto the blanket.

  I obey, lying still against the cool fabric of the blanket. Massaging, he starts at my toes, moving to the arch of my foot, working his way up to my calf. His tongue sweeps out, readying his lips.

  “I love the way you taste, McCallister. Every damn inch of you tastes like my very own piña colada.”

  I snicker, recognizing that he’s talking about my coconut oil.

  He bends, kissing then sucking the inner part of my thighs. My body flushes, relaxing into his touch while his hands and lips creep farther up my leg until his face is inches from my bare pussy.

  “Mmm…just what I was craving.”

  I chuckle at his theatrical comment until the heat of his mouth closes over my clit, rendering me completely mute. A long, leisurely suck has my back bowing off the ground in pleasure. “More,” I beg, grasping his shoulders, almost as if I am trying to pull his face inside of me.

  He fulfills my request, sliding in a long finger as his tongue worships my bundle of nerves in a hypnotic circular motion. I’m on fire as my hands move to his head, pressing him down, smothering him in my juices.

  “You taste so good,” he moans, not giving a shit that I’ve immobilized his head to my pussy. The vibration of his voice sends tingles throughout my body, causing my legs to tremble.

  “I need you.” I’m on the cusp of begging. I can’t take anymore, I need to feel all of him.

  Shushing me with a bite, he works me over like a new glove. Over and over, stretching and moistening until my body is tight, trembling with the need for release.

  When he has me at his mercy, he pulls up, his face glistening with my arousal. We turn rabid, fumbling with the button of his jeans, shoving them down far enough to free
his erection.

  “See what you do to me?”

  I ease my hand between us, teasing the planes along his abdomen until I reach his swollen tip dripping his desire for me. Swiping the pre-cum that’s beaded up in anticipation with my finger, I bring it to my lips, holding his eager eyes, and suck off exactly what I did to him.

  He groans, tortured, his eyes closing. “I can’t wait any longer.”

  Thank goodness. I take him in my hand, not needing to be told twice, and guide his hardened length to my awaiting entrance.

  No cicadas are out like the first time. Instead, our gasps and moans are the only sounds that echo in the open air when he pushes into me. This time he’s slow, with leisurely strokes, not because he’s scared to hurt me, but because he’s savoring the moment. This time, his thrusts are smooth and unhurried. This time, he’s making love to me under these stars.

  He thrusts in gently, deep, pressing up against the rippled flesh that holds the key to my explosive orgasm. My whimpers fill the air, encouraging him to a more hurried pace until we are back to our normal hard, punishing rhythm.

  “I’m so sorry. I wanted to go slow but this pussy…”

  Another hard push steals my breath as he slings my knee over his flexing shoulder. My back is screaming as it takes grueling hits on the ground.

  “This pussy… fucking owns me.”

  Sometimes, ladies, this is as good as you’re going to get with the compliments from your man. Don’t take it personally. He means well. And if you really think about it, he’s saying I own him—or my pussy does. But that bitch belongs to me. I own his ass at this moment, and if that doesn’t make you feel all sorts of powerful I don’t know what will.

  I grip his hips and try to flip him. He’s stronger than me but realizes what I need and rolls over to his back, giving me control. Straddling his hips, I spear myself onto him as I pound the air from his lungs.

  “Damn right, I do,” I agree, taking my ownership a step further.

  I am going to ride this man like he’s the last train to Hogwarts.

  “Tell me, Von Bremen, do you like to scream?”