Operation Get Her Back

by Claire Kingsley

“Explain what? That you’ve been lying to me about your son?”

  “He’s not my son.”

  Emma stops and meets my eyes. “What?”

  “He’s not my son,” I say. “I don’t have a child.”

  Her eyebrows draw together in confusion. “Then who is Isaac?”

  “His father was Major Anthony Lynch,” I say. “I served with him. Anthony’s girlfriend Mary died when Isaac was born, and Anthony’s mother took care of Isaac when Anthony was deployed.” I pause, taking a deep breath. “Anthony didn’t come home from his last deployment. Before he died, I promised him if something ever happened, I’d look after his son.”

  Emma puts a hand to her mouth and stares at me.

  I rub the back of my neck. “I see Isaac about once a week, if I can. Sometimes I take him overnight. His grandma, Elaine, has a lot of health problems, so I do what I can to help them out. I probably should have told you about him before now. I just wasn’t sure what to say.”

  “Why? Why didn’t you just tell me?”

  “I wanted to, but I know you’re not ready for anything serious,” I say. “Even though he’s not mine, he’s a big part of my life. Sharing that with you felt like a big deal.”

  “Oh god, Hunter, I…” She trails off, looking away. “I’m so sorry. I drove by your house and saw you get him out of the car. I assumed he was yours, and you didn’t want me to know for some reason.”

  I walk into the kitchen and slip my hands around Emma’s waist. “It was stupid of me not to tell you. I was just … worried that it would freak you out.”

  She leans her head on my chest. “You’re such a good man.”

  I smile and kiss the top of her head. “Tell you what ... do you want to meet him?”

  She looks up at me. “Really?”

  “Of course,” I say. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it out there tomorrow, but we can at least take him to get ice cream or something.”

  She hesitates, looking away, and I can tell she’s thinking it over. Finally, she looks up at me. “Sure, I’d love to.”

  We pull up in front of Elaine’s house Saturday afternoon, and Isaac is out the door before I can turn off the truck. I jump out and circle around so he won’t run into the road, and scoop him up in my arms.

  “Hey, buddy.” I ruffle his hair. “How’s my favorite kindergartner?”

  “Good,” he says. “But I got in trouble by my teacher.”

  “Uh oh,” I say. “What happened?”

  His lower lip sticks out a little and he looks down. “I threw some crayons.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “I was mad.”

  “Aw, buddy.” My throat tightens. If anyone understands what it’s like to be a mad kid, it’s me. “Did you apologize?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s good,” I say. “You know, it’s okay to feel mad. We all feel mad or angry once in a while. But it’s not okay to throw things.”

  “I know,” he says. “I had to stay inside at recess.”

  “Yeah, well, sometimes we have to take our punishment, right?” I say. “Were you a big man about it?”

  “Yes,” he says. “I helped my teacher instead of playing.”

  “You’re a good boy, Isaac,” I say. “I’m proud of you.”

  Emma steps out of the truck and Isaac’s eyes widen. “Who is that?”

  “This is my friend, Emma,” I say. I almost introduce her as my girlfriend, but I stop myself at the last second. She needs to be the first one to say it.

  “Hi, Isaac,” Emma says.

  Isaac buries his face in my shoulder.

  “It’s okay, buddy, you can talk to her,” I say. “I know she’s really pretty. She makes me feel shy, too.”

  Emma laughs, but Isaac doesn’t look up.

  “I have an idea,” I say. “I think Emma might like some ice cream. Do you think we should take her to get some?”

  Isaac pops up with a smile. “Can I come, too?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “That’s a great idea. Let’s get your shoes on and ask your grandma if it’s okay.”

  We take Isaac out for ice cream. He sits between Emma and me in the booth—he insists he wants to sit next to both of us, so we squeeze in on one side. He licks his scoop of chocolate, getting it on his chin. It starts to melt, running down his arm. We go through a lot of napkins trying to keep him clean.

  Isaac warms up to Emma so quickly, I’m amazed. He’s usually very shy around people he doesn’t know, but he tells her all about his new school and his favorite cartoons. He looks like he might cry when we drop him off, but he glances up at Emma and holds back his tears. I give him a big hug and kiss the top of his head, promising I’ll see him again in a week. He holds his arms out to Emma, wanting a hug, and it’s all I can do not to get choked up.

  After we say our goodbyes, I drive us back to Jetty Beach, the sun setting as we head down the highway.

  “Isaac is a great kid,” Emma says.

  I smile. “He really is. He’s amazing.”

  “Can I tell you something?” she asks.

  I glance at her and she looks at me shyly. “Sure.”

  “Seeing you with him was really sexy,” she says. “I don’t want to go home. Can I stay at your place tonight?”

  I grin at her. “Baby, the answer to that is always yes.”

  21

  Emma

  I feel like I owe Hunter a bigger apology than I can give with words. As soon as we’re back at his place, I rip off his pants and give him the best fucking blowjob I know how to give. I wasn’t kidding when I said seeing him with Isaac was sexy. There’s something about that man, with those big strong arms, turning to putty for a little five-year-old kid. I melted a little when I saw them together.

  Okay, I melted a lot.

  I was relieved to find out Hunter wasn’t hiding a child from me, and I can understand why he didn’t tell me about Isaac. I’ve been the one keeping my distance, being hesitant with Hunter. I feel like I’m justified, but I also can’t blame him for being unsure of how much to share with me. We’re taking this slow, as we should be.

  We have a late dinner and curl up on the couch together to watch TV for a while. I doze off with my head in his lap. I don’t know what time it is when he carries me to bed. He sets me down gently and gets in bed with me, and I relax against his warm body, comfortable and content.

  A noise wakes me from a dead sleep. My eyes fly open; my heart races. I pull the sheet up over my chest and look around the dark room, blinking hard. Was I dreaming? Did I really hear something? I glance over to see if whatever it was woke Hunter.

  He’s not there.

  I’m still half asleep and my brain struggles to catch up. A sliver of soft light leaks in through a crack in the curtains, and I see Hunter sitting on the edge of the bed. He’s leaning down with his head in his hands.

  “Hunter?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  I sit up and scoot across the bed, getting closer to him. He’s breathing hard, his shoulders and back flexing with every breath. I lift a hand to caress his skin, but I’m suddenly afraid to touch him. He’s so tense.

  “Hunter, are you all right?” I ask, my voice quiet.

  “No,” he says, clutching his chest. “Can’t breathe.”

  My hands tremble, but something tells me I need to be the one to stay calm. I carefully place a hand on his shoulder. He flinches, but I get closer, running my hand along his back.

  “You’re okay,” I say.

  He shakes his head, buries it in his hands again. “Fuck. I can’t.”

  He starts to stand up, but I grab his arm and gently hold onto his wrist. I might be doing the wrong thing, but I don’t want him to walk away from me. He sits down, but his entire body is wound up tight. This is what he was talking about—losing control. Panicking. I’ve never seen him like this, and fear rolls through me, but I desperately want to help.

  I get on my knees so I can press myself closer to
him and put an arm around his shoulders. I lean in to speak softly into his ear.

  “Hunter, listen to me. You’re okay.” I rub my hand across his bare back. He’s breathing too fast, his body shaking. “I’m here. You’re okay. Baby, you’re safe.”

  He looks at me, his forehead furrowed, a deep groove between his eyebrows. I put my hand to his cheek and touch my forehead to his.

  “You’re safe,” I whisper.

  He pulls me into his lap and I wrap my legs around his waist. He puts his arms around me, holding me close, and buries his face in my neck. I run my hands through his hair and across his shoulders. His thick arms are so strong. I whisper into his ear, hoping my words will reassure him. His breathing slows to a more normal pace and his grip on me loosens.

  “I’m sorry,” he says into my neck, his voice muffled.

  I hold him tighter. “Don’t be sorry. Were you dreaming?”

  “I think so.”

  I stroke the back of his neck. “You’re okay, now. You’re here with me.”

  His arms tighten around me again. I feel his lips on my skin, kissing my shoulder. He moves up my neck and I lean my head to the side. His cock hardens against me and I tilt my hips, rubbing against him through my panties.

  He makes a low noise in his throat and grabs my hips, his grip firm. He twists, flipping me onto my back. His mouth takes mine, his tongue hard and aggressive. He pushes my panties to the side and pulls out his cock. He rams into me, hard, but I’m already so wet he slips in easily.

  He pulls back to look at me, his eyes steely. His face is so intense. He holds himself up with one hand, his other grabbing my hip, and thrusts himself in, over and over, fucking me with fury. I lose myself in his onslaught, digging my fingers into his back, calling out with every thrust.

  My head spins; the whole world falls away. I open my legs so he can go deeper, so he can sink every bit of himself into me. I want him to feel nothing but my pussy. I want to fuck the fear and pain right out of him.

  He leans down, kissing my neck, growling. I feel his tight control slipping, and I want him to keep going. I want him to unleash.

  I want him to know he can.

  Without warning, he stops, his cock buried in my pussy. He breathes hard against my neck. His back is slick with sweat.

  “Don’t stop,” I say.

  He takes a few more breaths. I rock back and forth, squeezing him as hard as I can. God, he feels so good. His hand grips my ass and he groans. “I need to be careful with you,” he says.

  “No you don’t,” I say. “Give it all to me, Hunter. I want it.”

  He pulls out and manhandles me onto my knees, then drives his cock in deep from behind, holding tight to my hips.

  “Yes, harder,” I say, my voice nothing more than a whimper.

  He fucks me like a storm breaking, his thrusts hard and intense. I used to hate being on my knees, but with Hunter it feels good—a dirty kind of good that I want to let out. I want to be this woman with him, uninhibited and raw.

  “Oh, god, Hunter, fuck me harder.”

  I reach down to rub my clit while he pounds me. I’ve never touched myself like this in front of someone, but I do it without hesitation. It makes my pussy heat up fast, wet and burning around his cock.

  “Fuck, Emma.”

  He pulls out and turns me onto my back again. He pushes my legs up so my knees are to my shoulders, and slides his cock back in. This new angle is divine; his body grinds against my clit with every thrust. I feel so vulnerable, so open. So alive.

  Hunter’s cock throbs inside me. He goes in so deep, bottoming out, filling me completely. My head swims as my climax builds. He takes me to the edge, fucking me madly, unleashing his aggression.

  Then I lose control, spinning with lust, calling his name into the night. His body stiffens and he groans, spilling himself into me. I think I’m finished, but his orgasm heats me up again, and my pussy clenches, throbs, tightens. The pulses come from deep inside, my core muscles contracting around him over and over.

  When we both finish, he stops and pulls out, gently lowering my legs to the bed. He blinks at me hard, like he’s waking from a dream. His chest moves fast with his breathing, his rippling abs tight.

  “Fuck, Emma,” he says. He lies down next to me and scoops me into his arms, kissing me gently. He leans his forehead against mine. “Are you okay?”

  “That was amazing,” I say. I can still feel him inside me, and I know it will be a while before that feeling goes away.

  He’s silent for a long moment, staring at me as he caresses my cheek. “Thank you for helping me calm down.”

  “I’m glad I could,” I say. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” he says. “It was probably a dream, but I don’t remember. I woke up feeling like there was a weight on my chest. I couldn’t get enough air.”

  I tilt my face closer and brush a kiss against his lips.

  “I don’t like being out of control,” he says.

  “If that’s what you do to me when you’re out of control, don’t fight it so hard,” I say.

  “I’m afraid to push you too far.”

  I snuggle into his arms and he pulls me against him. “Don’t be.”

  Sleepiness overtakes me and I relax into his warmth. He holds me tight, and I feel the soft rhythm of his breathing as I go to sleep in his arms.

  22

  Emma

  I drive over to Hunter’s house after I finish work. He’s been working hard all week, so we have plans for a low key evening—dinner and a movie. I know he’s pretty worn out, but I think I’ll be able to convince him to have some dessert after we get back to his place—and I don’t mean cake.

  Hunter answers the door, pulling me in for a kiss. I relax against him, parting my lips for his tongue. His hands hold my waist, his kiss deep. I love the way he kisses me. He takes my breath away.

  “Wow,” I breathe when he pulls away. I feel a little dizzy.

  He rubs his nose against mine. “It’s good to see you, Ems.”

  “You too.”

  He gives me another quick kiss, then drops his hands. “What sounds good? I’m starving.”

  I notice he’s limping more than usual as he walks to get his keys off the kitchen counter.

  “I’m good with whatever,” I say. “Are you okay?”

  He winces. “Yeah. I overdid it and I’m paying for it today. But I don’t have any sessions scheduled for the next week, so I’ll be fine.”

  When he comes close, I rub my hand along his hip and around to his ass. “Maybe I can make you feel better later.”

  He smiles. “I’m sure you can.”

  We go outside and get in his truck.

  “Something simple like burgers sounds good,” he says as he pulls out of his driveway. “What do you think?”

  I smile at him. “Great.”

  His phone rings and his eyebrows draw in as he looks at the screen. “I don’t recognize this number, but I’ll just take it real quick.”

  “Sure.”

  “Hello.” Hunter listens for a moment, his expression darkening. “Yes, I’m Hunter Evans. Yes. I do. What hospital? No, no, do not do that. No, I’ll be there. Please, don’t do that. Keep him there, I’m on my way right now.”

  He hangs up and his face is tense. “Elaine was just rushed to the hospital and they’re going to put Isaac in a foster home if I don’t pick him up.”

  “Oh, no,” I say, my breath catching.

  Hunter turns, taking us toward the highway.

  It’s a forty-five minute drive to the hospital. Hunter is silent the entire trip, gripping the steering wheel, veins standing out on his forearms beneath his tattoos. I wish I could say something to make him feel better, but I know there’s nothing I can do.

  We park outside the emergency room and go inside. Hunter hurries to the desk.

  “I’m Hunter Evans,” he says. “Elaine Lynch was brought in earlier. I’m here to pick up her grandson, Isaac.”
/>   The man at the desk nods and picks up his phone. Hunter opens and closes his fists. I can see the tension in his back and shoulders.

  We wait in the lobby for about five minutes before someone comes to bring us back. Hunter’s back is stiff and straight, and his limp fades to almost nothing as he strides down the hall. I have to hurry to keep up.

  The nurse leads us to another waiting room. Isaac is there, sitting in a chair, hugging his knees to his chest. A middle-aged woman in a button-down shirt and slacks is sitting next to him.

  “Uncle Hunter!” Isaac jumps out of his chair and runs toward us. Hunter crouches down to one knee and scoops Isaac up in his arms. The woman approaches, and I hesitate next to Hunter. I suddenly feel out of place, like I shouldn’t be here.

  Isaac looks so small in Hunter’s big arms.

  “Hi, buddy,” Hunter says. “Are you okay?”

  Isaac nods, not letting go of Hunter’s neck.

  “I’m sorry you had to wait for me,” Hunter says.

  “Mr. Evans?” the woman says.

  Hunter stands, picking up Isaac effortlessly and shifting him to one arm. “Yes.”

  “I’m Erin Strauss with Social Services,” she says. She hands Hunter Isaac’s blue backpack. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Of course,” Hunter says. He puts the backpack at his feet and shakes hands with her.

  “I’m sorry we didn’t call you sooner,” Erin says. “There was some confusion as to what was to be done with Isaac in case of an emergency.”

  “How long has he been here?” Hunter asks. He rubs his hand across Isaac’s back.

  “A few hours,” she says.

  Hunter’s eyes widen. “Hours?” He clamps his mouth shut, as if he’s biting back his words.

  “I’ll need to see some I.D. before I can let you take Isaac,” she says.

  “Sure.” He pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and opens it for her. Isaac keeps his face buried in Hunter’s neck. “Where’s Elaine?”

  “She’s in ICU,” Erin says. “But she’s conscious. She’d like to see you before you go, but children aren’t allowed.”