Men In Uniform Anthology Read online

  “Definitely,” she whispered back.

  “I’ve been kicking myself since that night.” The sheets rustled again as he carefully eased over her.

  “Do tell.” She slid her arms about his middle, tracing her fingernails along his back.

  He shivered against her. “You don’t believe me?”

  “No, actually, I don’t. I’m sure there are a million girls who caught your eye since August.”

  “You’d be surprised,” he replied drily.

  “You’re right. I would be. You’re a great-looking guy, Steve. They must line up for your attention.”

  A hint of irritation flashed in his eyes, but then he blinked, and it was gone so fast, she wondered if she imagined it. He brushed her lips with his and whispered, “As I said, you’d be surprised.”

  He kissed her again. And again. A few minutes later, her retort died on her lips, and she lost herself in him once again.

  Chapter Three

  Morning came far too quickly for Steve’s liking.

  One minute he was on his back, the most beautiful woman he’d ever been with riding him slowly until he thought he’d go crazy with the need to come. The next? That same woman was sprawled out beside him, snoring softly into her pillow.

  He smiled, rising onto one elbow to peer down at her as she drew in a breath. Definitely snoring. Soft and almost inaudible, but snores just the same.

  The pale early morning sunlight spilled through the sheers, almost gray in appearance. Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he reached for his watch on the nightstand with the other. Six forty. Twelve hours from now, he’d be on a plane to Oregon and to a new beginning at a different air station.

  It was almost funny, that last night should’ve happened. The transfer to Oregon had been his idea. He needed to get away from the northeast. The loss of one man or woman was a loss for the entire Guard, but this loss hit him much too close to home. He’d never lost someone as close to him as Mark had been, and he needed to get away from the Cape. Maybe then he’d finally be able to get some sort of closure.

  He winced as the image flashed through his mind yet again. High, rough seas. A foundering sailboat. He’d hit the water wrong, spraining his right ankle, partially tearing the medial ligament in the process, as he’d later learned, but he’d forced the pain to the furthest recesses of his mind when he reached the first of the two women in distress, shouting, “Good evening! I’m Steve, and that’s Mark, and we’ll be your guides to safety this evening!”

  The woman responded by promptly doing her best to drown him. But since that was a standard response, he was ready for it and managed to calm her enough to get a firm grip on her and begin back to the helicopter.

  She was the first of the seven bodies aboard the foundering sailboat. He and Mark were going back for the last two—a man and the second woman—when things went downhill as they swam back. The storm gained fury, and the ocean did its best to match that fury. Water splashed over his mask to make seeing damn near impossible. It seemed with every stroke that drew him closer, a wave tugged at him to drag him twice as far away.

  He was already exhausted from battling high winds, monster waves, and panicking amateur sailors, and as the pain in his leg grew hotter and hotter, it was all he could do to focus and grab each person.

  He and Mark reached the last victims at the same time, and neither victim panicked quite as badly as their sailing companions had. Despite his exhaustion, Steve managed to shout, “Ready to head in, sir?” over the howling wind.

  His question went ignored. The man panicked, tried to go back to his lost boat, now on its side and out of reach, while the woman frantically tried to grab him instead. Mark shouted to him, “You get her back and in the basket! I’ll get him!”

  “You sure?”

  “Go!”

  “Okay!” Steve looped his arm about the woman. “You’re gonna be just fine, ma’am. Scout’s honor!”

  She splurted out a mouthful of saltwater. “I don’t want to die.”

  “You won’t. Trust me, I’m a professional.” He managed to smile. “So let’s head in, shall we?”

  She nodded, coughing and spluttering as the sea washed over them, determined to yank her from his grasp. Instinctively, he tightened his arm about her. The wind howled around them. The water threw them this way and that, and neither of them ever saw the monstrous wave heading for them. It hit. Washed over them. And when Steve—his arm still locked about the stunned woman—resurfaced, Mark and the last man were nowhere to be found.

  He couldn’t stop, had to fight to get to where the copter and basket waited. He secured the woman, and when the basket began its ascent, he turned back to where he’d last seen Mark. Water roiled in all directions, it seemed, but there was no sign of Mark or his victim. None.

  Now just the cable lowered. He hesitated. Mark was still out there. The last victim was still out there. He couldn’t leave them. Not without at least trying to get to them.

  But to get to them, he had to know where they’d been swept, and all he saw was angry black water determined to have its way with all of them. Conditions worsened with each passing second. If he waited any longer, he’d put everyone else in danger.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  He clipped himself to the cable, his lungs burning, his muscles burning, exhaustion rendering even his ankle numb, and managed the thumbs up to Brody, who operated the winch. He twisted toward the water and caught sight of Mark’s SOLAS light in the distance but couldn’t see much beyond that flashing beacon. Rain drove harder. The wind swung him about with enough force his stomach momentarily twisted into a tight knot, and his grip tightened on the cable.

  Then he was in the copter. “McKuen’s still out there.”

  “We’re low on fuel, and Mother Nature is beyond pissed off.”

  He leaned over to peer into the growing blackness. Mark’s SOLAS vanished. No sign of him at all. No sign of his rescue. His gut twisted. Pain thrummed through his lower leg.

  The Jayhawk H-60 rose farther from the ocean, and Steve swallowed the curse, leaned his head back against the vibrating bird, and closed his eyes, whispering, “Son of a bitch.”

  “You saved me.”

  The woman he’d retrieved touched his knee. He forced his eyes open and turned his head to look at her. Although wrapped in a blanket, she still shivered, and her teeth chattered even as she offered up a tired smile. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He didn’t know if she heard him over the rotor, but he was too worn out to raise his voice. Instead, he forced himself to return her smile.

  “You get her back and in the basket!” Mark’s last words. He’d looked just as exhausted as Steve, and that was his last memory of Mark. Lost at sea. Missing, presumed dead. Over the next ten days, they searched the grid for Rescue Swimmer McKuen and the missing boater. All in vain. There was no sign of either man. From his bed in Medical, back on base, Steve stared at the ceiling, numb and heartsick at the same time.

  He spent six weeks rehabbing, on restricted duty. He saw a shrink. Day after day, the numbness continued. He didn’t give a damn about anything other than work. Where he and Mark once spent off hours enjoying all the spoils that came with being bachelors in uniform, Steve even lost interest in that.

  The only bright spots were the occasional texts he’d received from Lauren. When he caught Steve kissing her in the parking lot that night, Mark teased his sister, told her she could do better. But once he and Steve returned to their station, Mark became serious, saying, “You hurt her, and I’ll kill you,” and then, in a more offhanded way, added, “You should marry her, Steve. She’d be good for you. Also, then I won’t have to hurt you for trying to get her naked.”

  He’d laughed at the time, but it didn’t strike him as all that funny now.

  Not that it mattered. He never got the chance to approach her again.

  He texted her a few times before the night Mark died, with each text a little flirtier than the last. She
said she looked forward to seeing him the next time Mark came home. He found himself looking forward to it as well.

  Then Mark died, and everything went to hell. Why would she want to see him now? He didn’t go back for Mark. He’d left him at the mercy of the ocean and the elements.

  You have to go out, but you don’t have to come back.

  She snorted softly and rolled onto her stomach. In the pale light of dawn, she was beautiful, her thick hair spread beneath her, lips softly slack in sleep. Damn, he wanted her with a fire that burned as brightly as it had the night before. As it had since that sultry night in August, when he pinned her against the cool steel of a pickup truck and kissed her as if his life had depended on it.

  He let his fingers trail over her upper back, along sculpted muscle that came from years of dedication in the gym. Her skin was pale and silken smooth, and just touching her was enough to create a fresh stirring in his groin. Christ, he wanted her again. Somehow, he didn’t think there was such a thing as getting enough of her.

  With that, he shifted, easing over her, biting back a sigh as his cock nestled perfectly in the cleft of her ass. His body began a low hum as his blood shifted, warmed, and flowed south. He leaned over, pressed his lips against her shoulder blade as he eased one hand beneath her to flatten against her belly.

  She sighed in her sleep, her hips rising ever so slightly to meet him, but that was it. How sound a sleeper could she possibly be?

  He slid the hand on her belly upward, found her soft nipple, and caught it between his thumb and forefinger. Her breath hitched as he rolled it, tugged it gently until it beaded into a hard nub.

  “Mmmmm…” Her airy whisper floated up to tease his ears, to make him harder still. Her back arched, her breast thrust into his palm now. Christ, she had fantastic tits. Not too big. Not too small. Nipples that were the size of quarters when at rest but tightened into a stack of dimes when erect. And no silicone, either. Hers were the real deal, and he tweaked that now-hard nipple once more.

  “Steve…”

  He smiled, pressing a kiss into the nape of her neck. He released her breast, that hand caressing down along her belly to venture into the fluff of blonde hair between her legs. Those curls were damp already. He slipped his fingers into that wet heat, slid through it, eased back. She sighed again, and although her eyes remained closed, a smile played at her lips, which made him smile.

  As he made a second pass, her hips moved, but she remained still otherwise. He found the satiny nub still somewhat buried and brushed the pad of his fingertip over it. He did it again, and this time, she breathed, “Oh…yes…”

  “Oh yes, what?” His fingers wandered farther, slid through the growing wetness to her opening. He slid one finger inside her, crooked it to stroke as she rocked against his hand. “What are you thinking about, Ren?”

  “Not a damn thing,” came her breathless response.

  Her hips arched to meet him again, grinding up against his aching cock. Christ, he was hard enough to fuck her right then, and she sure as shit was ready for him, but he didn’t want to rush. Not when her pussy tightened about his finger, not when he slid a second one inside her and she moaned softly into her pillow.

  He slid his free hand beneath her now, capturing her right tit. Her nipple was hard already, and she bit down on her bottom lip as he gently pulled. She rocked against him, rode his hand as he moved those fingers faster now. She was on the brink of coming; he felt in the hum of her pussy, in the way her breath came in short, sharp gasps.

  “How about now?” he whispered.

  “Don’t stop…” She writhed against him. "That feels good…"

  “It’s supposed to, honey.”

  “I know, but…oh…God…Steve…”

  She shuddered against him, then let out a moan as he slipped out of her. He rose just enough for her to roll onto her back, then he came back down against her, capturing her sigh in his mouth as his cock slid between her thighs. Her legs wrapped about his hips, pulling him into her.

  He wanted to wrap his hand about his cock and push his way inside her, but he wasn’t finished with her just yet. He kissed his way along the curve of her neck, down over the rise of her left breast. He took that nipple in his mouth, swirled his tongue around it as her arms slid about his midsection and her fingernails raked along his back. The sting was as much pleasure as pain, and she did it again when he gently nipped that nub, arching her back as she let out a throaty, “Oh…”

  He continued his onslaught, trailing the tip of his tongue down the middle of her belly. Her fingernails grazed his skin up toward his shoulders, along his neck, as he kissed his way to that fluff of hair. He nuzzled it, savored her scent, let it wash over him, and then gently parted her lower lips.

  She was hot and wet and slick, tasting sweeter than any candy on the planet. Her fingers plunged into his hair, twisted, held on, as he slowly licked from clit to slit and back. She shivered beneath him as he swirled about her opening, arched to meet him as he caressed the sensitive flesh cradling her clit. And when he passed directly over that pleasure bead, her thighs pressed against either side of his head and her fingers tightened in his hair.

  “There…” she breathed, rocking to meet his strokes, her voice a harsh whisper. “Oh, please, God…right there…”

  He shifted, the tip of his tongue flicking against her clit. She throbbed beneath him, her pussy slicker still. Holy shit, she had no idea how hot she made him, how his cock practically begged him to just come up over her and fuck her senseless. He had to force the urge into the farthest recess of his mind as she shuddered, as he thrust that finger back inside her to shove her over the edge.

  She squeezed him, her back arched, her voice breaking as she went over the edge and pulsed beneath his tongue, around his finger. Her cry bounced off the walls as he licked harder still to make sure he wrung every last drop of pleasure from her perfect, beautiful body.

  Her fingers loosened their grip on his hair. She went limp to sink back against the bed, fighting to breathe, her hands dropping onto the mattress on either side of her. “Oh, holy fucking shit,” she finally whispered, her eyes opening as he stretched out beside her. “That was…oh, fuck…”

  He couldn’t help but smile. “You’re welcome.”

  She let out a soft laugh. “You look like the cat that ate the canary.”

  “Because you look like you’ve enjoyed yourself.”

  “It’s not a bad way to wake up.” She sat up, then leaned into him to push him down onto his back.

  “Yeah? It doesn’t seem like a bad way.”

  “You mean no one has ever woken you up that way?” As she spoke, she eased over him, smiling as she aligned perfectly with him and his cock slid into her damp curls. When he shook his head, she bent to brush his lips with a kiss and whispered, “Poor baby…”

  “I’m a deprived man,” he managed as she kissed down over his chest, meeting his eyes as she flicked her tongue against his left nipple. She did it again, never breaking eye contact as she teased him.

  His eyelids grew heavy as she kissed down to his hip, along his inner right thigh, back up. She held his gaze as she traced the very tip of her tongue along the side of his cock, and every muscle in his body tensed. She teased him on first one side, then the other, then the underside and then…

  “Oh shit…” he breathed as her lips closed about him, and he watched himself slide into her mouth. She sucked him deep, her tongue flicking upward and down, swirling about him in slow strokes, as if he were an ice cream cone come to life, and his orgasm took hold right then. His balls contracted, his body tensed, and he desperately tried to distract himself.

  The New York Yankees trailing the Red Sox by three in the bottom of the ninth. Bases loaded. Two outs. Aaron Judge coming to the plate—

  Holy fuck, I’m gonna come…

  No. Not yet.

  Think about puppies.

  Kittens.

  Roadkill.

  Sweet Jesus, what is sh
e doing?

  Oh, fuck, that feels amazing.

  Shit, I have to come…

  Christ, she’s so fucking beautiful… I want to fuck her so bad, it hurts. I want to eat her pussy until she creams all over my tongue. I want to make babies with her…

  Wait? What?

  “Oh…God!” That distraction was all it took as he sank his hands into her hair, thrust hard, and came in a hot spurt that left him moaning her name as the second spasm rocketed through him. Then a third. He shuddered, every muscle clenching as he blew the last of his load.

  Her fingers grazed his thighs as she drew back, and despite his spinning head, he managed to grit, “Christ, Lauren, I didn’t mean to just—”

  “Shhh.” She leaned into him, capturing his lips in a soft kiss that had him catching her in his arms and tugging her into his lap. She melted against him, shifting to sit astride him, and when she pulled back, she met his eyes and smiled. “Good morning.”

  He gave her a gentle squeeze, his fingers grazing along either side of her spine. She felt so perfect in his arms. Everything felt right when she was there, and he didn’t want it to end. Ever. “You can say that again.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost seven. I hope your pop isn’t too worried.”

  “I think I’m safe with you. And he thinks so, as well.”

  With lazy fingers, he traced along the curve of her left breast, smiling as she shivered. “So he won’t want me dead for doing all kinds of unspeakable things to you and letting you do them to me?”

  She smiled, arching into his touch. “I doubt it, since I’m not going to tell him about those unspeakable things. Do I look crazy?”

  He grinned. “What are you planning on telling him?”

  “That you were a perfect gentleman who slept in his car.”

  For the first time in months, Steve’s laugh was genuine. “I plowed his girl like a field last night, and she rode me like a horse, and I regret nothing.”

  “That sounds about right.” She smiled. “And I regret nothing as well.”