Set In Stone

by Rachel Robinson

  He laughs a quick, throaty noise as he moves the solitary finger in and out. “That’s right, baby. Take it.” I moan again, new uncontrollable sensations soaking into my awareness. I want to touch him, to grab his cock and take possession of him because I want him to know how badly I want this, but my mind goes black with desire as he works me in this new delicious way.

  Without another word, he plunges his erection into my sex, all the way to the hilt in one thrust. The pain and pleasure balance each other perfectly. I glance up to find him watching our reflection jut and bounce. I’ve never been so full. His face is victorious as he hammers into me, his sweat dripping down onto my body. I arch my back and call out his name loudly. His smirk turns into cocky laughter as he slams into me, filling me over and over again, his body coming in and out of view as the shadows flit around him as he moves. I can’t even press back against him; he has full control over my entire body.

  He spanks the side of my ass with his free hand as he claims me, and this time he hits me harder. I love it—the feeling of being owned by Steven Warner is unlike anything else in the world. I scream out unintelligibly as I come around him, new unfamiliar waves of pleasure actually causing my body to shake as my orgasm takes me over. Wave after wave, Steven keeps his furious pace and I feel the intensity building again. Our eyes lock in the mirror and the passion between us ignites. I want his kiss.

  As if reading my mind he says, “On your back.” Gently he pulls all the way out of me as I roll onto the mat. Looking up at him as he looms over me, I open my knees and he sinks into me. Steven kisses me in rhythm matching the pace of his thrusts. Although his cock is punishing, his lips are cherishing.

  Wrapping my legs around his waist, I slide my fingers into his hair, across his face and neck, enjoying every inch of his body. I feel the fire in my core building and I know I’ll come again. Steven buries his face in my neck, his kisses by my ear seem more sensual. His pace slows and he draws back to look at my face.

  I open my eyes to meet his gaze. “I love you,” I confess.

  He smiles. “I fucking love you more.”

  My hands slide over his slippery back and down to his ass as he continues making love to me. We come together, his hot breaths slipping into my mouth in between kisses.

  “Violence of action,” he says leaning his forehead against mine. He closes his eyes and neither of us can wipe the stupid smiles from our faces for hours.

  The next day he leaves for six months.

  Steven

  I fucking miss her. Every single fucking second I’m gone, I miss her. It’s how I know my feelings for her aren’t half assed, nor a long survived victory. Never before did I feel this way about another person during deployment or a long separation. In the past, I missed sex, but I didn’t miss Chloe, or Cass, or Sasha. Now, I do my work and I look forward to her e-mail and video chats. I eat dinner and I wonder what she’s doing.

  Falling asleep at night, I toss and turn as I imagine her in bed by herself. I drive myself insane with scenarios that put her in harm’s way…or with another man while I’m gone. I’m jealous, I’m obsessed, and I understand exactly why men get all up-fucked about their women while they’re away. I’m checking every box in the in love category and hating every second of it.

  Try as I might, the pit in my stomach doesn’t go away. It’s almost a false confidence I rely on because of the extent of our history. That has to count for something, doesn’t it? If it doesn’t, I’m merely a rebound or plaything until she realizes she does want something different. The insecurities I feel are bastards that I’ve never, not once in my life, felt before.

  Morganna refuses to get the police involved with anything, assuming that the person stalking her is “as harmless as a fly.” She assures me and anyone who will listen it’s nothing—that it’s a figment of her imagination and there are enough security measures in play that no one needs to worry. It’s exactly what you’d say if you were worried. I know her too well. Maverick does, too. I keep in contact with Phillipe and a few of the guys on another team that aren’t deployed with us. They check in on her and she’s to let them know if she needs anything. It puts my mind at ease for the meantime, until I can get home and stand watch like a super hero guardian—except with guns and terror. Hell, maybe I’ll even wear a cape…and nothing else when I go off duty.

  Maverick taps me on the shoulder. I’m scrolling through my iPad looking at a racing website, waiting for Morganna to get online to chat. We’re in Africa—well, we’re on the waters adjacent to Africa, on a big, fucking ship. Ships suck. I prefer the dessert shanties over a rocking bed and tight quarters with nowhere to escape. The adjustment period is always a little longer. “You done looking at porn man?” Maverick asks, thwacking me on the back of my ear.

  I laugh. “I want to race this course when we get back.” I hold up the iPad so he can get a better look at it.

  Grabbing it from me, he sits on the bottom bunk and is immediately engrossed. He mumbles his affirmation before clicking links to watch videos.

  “We’ll make a guys’ weekend of it or something. Whatdya’ think?”

  Maverick has so much money that he doesn’t even need to rent one of these cars. He has one—a beautiful, fucking machine that makes my cock hard and my mouth water. One day, when I’ve saved the world from itself, I might have one of my own too. Racing by itself, without even owning the fine ass car, is an expensive hobby. I’ll sink my money there for now and play with Mav’s when he’s in a charitable mood.

  “Fuck yeah,” he says, narrowing his eyes in concentration as he watches a Ferrari roar around a slim track.

  It gets my heart pumping watching the videos, too. Danger. Speed. Adrenaline. All unavoidable characteristics we need to breathe. I shift things around on my desk and try not to think about the pending mission we have the next night. It’s why we’ve been floating around here for the past month, collecting new intelligence, watching people who don’t know we’re watching, and preparing to kick ass. It’s what we’ve focused on for months back in Virginia Beach. It’s our one job during this deployment. We can’t fuck it up. We won’t fuck it up.

  If I think about it prematurely, I’ll get wound up and my mind won’t clear. Sleep won’t come, my appetite will leave, my drive to do anything other than focus on the task will dwindle down to nothing. I’m not ready to be there quite yet. I thrive on order and plans. Don’t tip the tower, or rock the boat, or put the shoe before the foot. All policies I subscribe to.

  A mobile phone symbol pops up next to Morganna’s name on my laptop. It alerts me that she’s now available, if only by cell phone to message. Glancing at the time, I tap out a quick message.

  I’ve been waiting for you all day! It’s true. Sad and true.

  She responds quickly. I have a life, Steven. How was your day? I miss you a ton.

  She’s been distant since I left. I only picked up on it because her brevity became even briefer in her e-mails and messages after I left. Sometimes she’s so busy we go days without speaking. I’ll send an e-mail on those days and she’ll usually reply with a quick response. She always gives me just enough—drone-like, words she thinks she’s supposed to say. Between her distance and my physical location, it contributes to the why I miss her so much.

  Realizing this could turn into a fight I don’t want, I decide to head a different route. You were in my dreams last night doing naughty things. How flexible are you in real life? I grin.

  Depends. Where were my feet?

  Maverick is leaning over my shoulder. I swat at him without taking my eyes from the screen. When he stays silent I turn, eyeing him down, ready to rumble.

  He shoots me the dimple-popping smile. “This is where I’ll take my leave. I’m excited for tomorrow night,” Mav admits, his eyes sparking with excitement.

  I nod once. “I can’t wait.” He shimmies out of the door of my room sideways because he can’t fit walking normally.

  Feet were on my shoulders. Busy sched
ule tomorrow? I won’t be able to talk tomorrow night. Slipping in my absence with a sex position was intentional.

  Oh. Yes, busy tomorrow. Lots of new cases coming in. Tis the season for divorces it seems. She ignores tomorrow night completely.

  Such a depressing job. Are you sure you don’t want to stay home barefoot and pregnant instead? You’d be so happy. I try to lighten the mood. She’s ignoring it for a reason.

  I let out a sigh.

  You know I’ll be okay, right? I type.

  Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I’m over empty promises. I’m over a lot of things actually.

  Ouch. I’ll be home before you know it. Damage control. Panic. Panic. Panic.

  I’m sick of pausing my life because of a man. I’m sick of being the woman who waits. I don’t even grant myself that much leeway with patience. I’m sick of it. Is it so wrong for me to want something tangible, someone who is around all the time? Someone who waits for me instead?

  I need to see her face. She needs to see me. It’s imperative. Where are you? We need to video chat. Don’t talk like this.

  The guys told me this happens. They said it’s just part of the job. I never believed them because Morganna is different. But is she really? She’s has every reason to distrust the situation we’re in right now. M has every reason to walk away and not look back.

  I thought we were over this hump? That you were committed to making this work?

  I can’t anymore.

  I press the connect button three times for good measure. Her face pops up on the screen about thirty seconds later. It’s blotchy because of the connection, but I can tell it’s red and that she’s upset.

  “Don’t make this any harder on me, Steven. Please don’t.” She wipes under her eyes and fusses with her hair. She’s so fucking beautiful—stunning even in distress. I shake my head.

  I must look like a complete tool, all silent, mouth agape, trying to formulate something to say. “Don’t you dare do this while I’m gone. It’s wrong and you damn well know it.”

  Her eyes dart to the side. Her mind is already made up. Changing her mind will be impossible.

  “You said you missed me!” I hang on to the only positive thing she’s said today. “You told me you loved me!” Now I’m screaming. My emotions are boiling to the surface, uncontrollable and fierce. “Was that fuck-all bullshit?” My chest is rising and falling at a rapid pace.

  Pulling her bottom lip into her mouth, she averts her eyes down. I see her home office in the background and I realize she’s in her nightclothes. “The possibilities are all too vague for me. I can’t commit to possibilities. I need more. You need more than I can give. Don’t act like this is one sided.”

  I grab the screen, like maybe I can grab her face. “It is fucking one-sided, you crazy woman! I changed for you. I wanted to change for you! Our relationship is the first and only real quality thing I’ve had in my life except for work, ever. Either everything you’ve told me this entire time is bullshit or you’re lying. Which is it?” I despise conversations over video chat. I hate that I feel so much and I can’t hide behind well-chosen words.

  “Just let me go!”

  I bang a fist on my desk. “I never had you to begin with.”

  “Of course you did. You do. I just can’t repeat the same mistake twice, Steven. Have you heard the saying, fool me—once shame on you, fool me twice—shame on me? That’s where I’m at.”

  “I am not Stone Sterns,” I yell out, voice low and commanding. “We aren’t the same mistake. I’m a different mistake. Let’s make that distinction crystal clear.”

  “You aren’t a mistake,” she says, shaking her head, black hair cascading over her shoulders. I exhale. “You are…” she stutters. “You are too much of a good thing and I don’t want to be around when the good thing comes crashing down around me. I’ve tried to be strong, because that’s who I am, but you know what? I’ve found out I’m not that strong. I’m weak when you’re not here. I depend on you to make me happy—to make me complete. Do you understand how this is the greatest disability possible? Do you understand that I’m letting you go because I can’t bear to lose you? I’m not strong enough, Steven. I can’t be the woman you love anymore because I’m not sure who that is. Being with you is the easiest and yet the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. Who I am with you is who I really am. It’s terrifying. You strip me of what protects me.”

  The truth is out. This is why she’s been distant. Instead of talking to me about her feelings, she’s bottled it up until the point of explosion. It’s unlike her. Now she’s breaking up with me for my own good. My chest aches because I knew this would happen—knew it couldn’t end well. I’m a fucking idiot. The strongest woman I’ve ever known is buckling before me in a fashion I never would have guessed in a million years.

  I watch her fuzzy face for a few silent seconds. I should talk her out of this, but I’m not that kind of man. My pride won’t let me. Pride is what kept me from taking the first chance I had with her, and ultimately it’s what will destroy our last scrap of hope.

  “That’s it, then. Am I to take it we’re to go back to being friends after this?” I swallow down the bile in my throat. If she says yes, I’ll throw my laptop against the fucking wall. But don’t I want that? Don’t I want her in my life in any capacity? Isn’t that what got me in this situation to begin with?

  I see her trying to right her face, trying to pretend this is a business transaction instead of love, and I cringe at the selfishness it takes to descend that low. Fuck. Her. She surprises me by shaking her head.

  “I know that’s not possible. I want you too badly and I’m not one to dangle temptation in front of myself. You’re my weakness. Just stay away from me, Steven. A clean break from everything…including friendship. It will be better this way for both of us.”

  Better this way? I’m shocked. Unable to move, speak, or form any coherent thoughts about what she’s said. My heart sinks to my feet and the room spins—my world sliding onto a different axis. Everything gone. Friendship gone. Morganna gone. And I can’t do a single thing about it. A fool would think otherwise.

  “Thank you for our time together. If only so I understand what I could have had if I were a stronger person. Please be safe tomorrow night. Don’t…don’t do anything stupid. I’m going to find stability, Steven. Please understand.” Her face is unreadable behind the mask she wears so well. Inside she’s splintering into a trillion pieces that won’t ever go back the same again, I’m sure of it.

  I blow out a long breath. Every negative emotion I have to my name is fighting for the spotlight. I push them all down. I need to be civil—truthful, in control.

  “I don’t know what to say. I can’t say this is unexpected. Everyone talks about this happening during deployment. How most women can’t take the pressure…the distance, and the toll it takes on a relationship. But I didn’t expect it from you, M. You know the risks and you also know that the risks are more than worth it. I don’t want to be your regret because you think you’re not strong enough. Give the blame to me. I owe you that as my parting gift. Let me be the person who wasn’t strong enough to fix you—to save you. Let me be that person, because otherwise I don’t see how any of this was worth it. I’ve lost the only girl I’ve ever loved and you’re not giving me an option to keep you in any capacity. Do you know what this will do to me? How ruined I’ll be? I put myself out there for you.” I take off my hat and run a hand through my matted, tangled hair. I look at the scratched, metal ceiling in an attempt to see anything except Morganna and our memories. She sniffles. It draws my attention back to the screen.

  “It’s horrible timing, but I had no idea. Please be safe,” she stammers. Then she clicks off the chat, leaving me confused, sad, but most of all defeated…oh, and fucking pissed.

  Our sleek black boats tracked the pirates’ ship for a couple hours. The trifecta of Steven destruction has taken effect—the scent of gasoline, rough wake, and an empty stomach. A
ny combination of those two things make me gag. Even thinking about those things makes me squeamish. I swallow down a mouth full of bile.

  Cody is navigating in the middle seat up front, communicating back to base on a radio. The cold water splashes over the sides of our boat, splashing water in Maverick’s face. My stomach swims up my throat. The sensation isn’t something I ever get used to. I just deal with it.

  The silence on the water at night brings peace even with the understanding of what we’re about to do. The pirates have two hostages on the ship. They’re American journalists kidnapped from their camp. One may argue that civilians shouldn’t be in a place of such turmoil. Others might say that it’s the only way to spread the message, for news to reach the larger countries that can make a difference. I try to stay neutral. These same pirates might try to do something more egregious in the future. Dealing with them now is a plus. Saving the hostages should be easy.

  Glancing at Maverick, I see he’s all business from the back, shoulders tall, stance wide. All the other guys stand, holding onto the side of the boat, taking the blows of the waves as they come, their frames dipping down when we hit the larger wake. We deployed the boats from our large ship, where they’re stored, and since we pushed back I haven’t let myself think of her.

  A mere thought would hit my system like venom and cause feelings I can’t afford to feel right now. Part of me was waiting for her to tell me she was joking, because that’s how much her callous words shocked me. Now, that the pirate’s ship comes into view in the distance, she seeps in like a virus seeking healthy cells. Mostly it’s just certain attributes. Her petite hands, her pouty mouth smiling around her straight teeth, the sweet scent of her hair blowing in my face. I try not to group them together to form the person. Just perfect features of a non-existent, heartless human. It’s how I compartmentalize Morganna from the rest of the world—from the lucid part of my mind that wants to be on this boat. What if I’d prefer to be somewhere else? What type of SEAL would that make me? What type of man would that make me? I’m embarrassing myself.