by B. B. Hamel
Dad nodded thoughtfully. “So you have a plan.”
“Yes, sir. Get your daughter pregnant soon and then provide for my family.”
“Sounds good,” Dad said, grinning.
I was so embarrassed.
“So, Nash, tell us,” Mom said. “Is Selena just about the hardest person to live with?”
“Mom!” I said. “What the heck?”
She shrugged, smiling. “It’s true. You’re so messy.”
Nash laughed. “No, Tracey. She’s fine. I don’t cut her any slack. I’m trying to instill some military discipline into her.”
“Good man!” Dad exclaimed. “I like the sound of that.”
Nash grinned hugely. “That’s right. We drill every day. She’ll be very clean by the time I’m finished with her.”
I couldn’t believe him. There was no way my parents weren’t going to get the subtext of that comment. I was ready to stomp on his foot, but Mom just smiled and laughed.
“Well, if you can get her to clean up, it’ll be a miracle.”
“Great. Let’s just all pile up on me,” I grumbled.
“Sorry, honey,” Mom said. “You just don’t bring a lot of boyfriends around.”
“Really?” Nash asked. “How many before me?”
“Oh,” Dad said. “One, back in high school.”
“She doesn’t date much,” Mom said. “Well, didn’t at least.”
“Really?” Nash asked. “I would have pegged her for a girl with lots of boys.”
“That’s not true,” I said quickly. “I had boyfriends. I just never brought them around for obvious reasons.”
“I don’t know, honey,” Dad said. “You’ve always been more interested in studying hard than meeting boys.”
“Studying hard, huh?” Nash asked. “Sounds about right. Your daughter is a regular old bookworm.”
“She used to spend hours in her bedroom reading romance novels,” Mom said, laughing. “She was such a moody teenager.”
“Romance novels?” Nash grinned at me. “The steamy kind?”
“No!” I said quickly. “No. Just regular books. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
“They were steamy all right!” Dad said, and I turned bright red. “What? They were.”
Nash laughed loudly along with Dad, and Mom gave me a well, what can you do look.
The waitress came soon after with our meals. Without a doubt, so far it had been the weirdest dinner of my life. Nash was charming, clearly winning over my parents, and they seemed so willing to make jokes about my sex life, not to mention to air my embarrassing past life. As if anybody was cool when they were a teenager?
We ate for a few minutes, but about ten minutes after the meals came, Dad gave Mom a look. She nodded and turned back to us.
“What?” I asked her. “I saw that look.”
“Your father isn’t feeling well. We should get going.”
Nash frowned. “Are you sure? I’m having a great time.”
“Nash, it was good to meet you,” Dad said. “Sorry about this.” He stood up.
Mom stood too. “Honey, I’ll call you soon. Nash, lovely meeting you.”
“Same to you, Tracey, Chris. Please, we’ll do this again soon.”
“Of course.”
Mom smiled and they left quickly.
We sat back down and Nash looked at me. “Your dad okay?”
“Cancer,” I said.
“Shit,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“The chemo makes him sick. I guess he just hit his limit.”
I hated that the meal had ended like that. Nash and I sat there in silence, picking at our food, Nash finishing off his third whisky. For all their jokes, it had still felt really good to see my parents and to forget for one second that I was lying to them. Dad had looked pretty bad, and seeing him that way had only solidified my resolve to see this whole thing through.
“So that’s why you’re doing this,” Nash said. “I figured it was something like that.”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “I guess so. The money is for them.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything else. We finished our food, he paid, and we left.
We didn’t talk much in the car ride back to the hotel. I was distracted thinking about my parents, and I had no clue what was going on with him.
Seeing Dad had made everything real. Sure, Nash was an asshole, and getting involved with him was so clearly an awful idea. But my parents needed that money, and they loved me enough to fly out to Providence, even with Dad was so sick.
I was going to finish this. Regardless of what happened, I had to do it for my parents.
I caught Nash looking at me, and a thrill ran through me.
26
Nash
“This is hard.”
I looked at her and shrugged. “Never said it would be easy.
“Seriously, Nash,” she said, frowning. We were sitting back in our hotel room, sipping drinks from room service. Some crappy reality TV show was playing but we weren’t paying attention.
“You saw how sick my dad looked,” she said. “He couldn’t even make it through the meal.”
“He did look bad,” I said, frowning.
“I hate that I have to lie to him.” She stretched out, and I could tell she was a little drunk. “You know what I mean?”
“Sure,” I said, sipping my whisky.
“Ugh. This sucks.” She finished her drink. “Can I get another one of these?”
“Sure,” I said, grinning. I called up room service and asked for a bottle of gin, some tonic water, ice, and a glass. I also ordered another whisky for myself.
“You can be so nice sometimes,” Selena said. “When you’re not being a jerk.”
I grinned at her and sat down on the couch. She scooted closer to me. “You think I’m a jerk?”
“Uh, yeah, obviously,” she said. “You’re a huge ass.”
“Thanks,” I said. “You’re a princess.”
“Oh don’t be a big baby,” she said. “You’re an asshole with a nice cock.” She sat up and covered her mouth, giggling. “Did I just say that?”
“You’re drunker than I realized,” I said, laughing. “But thank you. I’m glad you like my cock.”
“It’s a great cock,” she said. “So hard. So big. I like to feel it in my mouth and in my pussy.”
Fuck. That great cock was suddenly rock hard. She was pretty drunk, which wasn’t the most attractive thing in the world, but I couldn’t help my physical responses. When a fucking sexy woman complimented my cock, it listened.
“You’re pretty wasted, aren’t you?”
She giggled again. “Just speaking the truth. I’m stressed and angry and sad about my dad, and you’re a big asshole most of the time, but your cock really helps with my stress.”
“I’m here to serve.”
She put her hand on my chest. “Good. I like when you serve me. Serve me that sex!”
I laughed at her. “Are you trying to seduce me?”
“Is it working?”
“Yes and no.”
“No?” She pouted. I wanted to kiss her lips, slip my dick into her mouth, fuck her rough. But she was just too drunk and it would feel wrong. “Why not?”
“You’re too drunk,” I said, smiling. “You know I want to fuck you until you can’t stand, but I’m pretty sure you’ll vomit on me.”
Just then, the room service came. Selena jumped up and intercepted me before I could send them away. She took the drinks inside and started to make herself another gin and tonic while I tipped the guy.
When he was gone, she looked at me, sipping her drink. “I am not too drunk to fuck,” she said.
I laughed, shaking my head. “Maybe not, but I’d rather not find out.”
“Why not?” She stepped closer to me, a little unsteady, staring into my eyes. “You don’t want to feel my pussy wrapped around that big dick?”
“You know I do,” I grunted, stepping back.<
br />
She took a huge sip and then put her glass down on a table. Without another word, she stripped her shirt off and stared at me.
I clenched my jaw. The girl had a fucking incredible body, and my cock was raging hard, but she was wasted. Every time she spoke it became clear how much drunker she was than I had realized. Seeing her dad that sick must have really pushed her limits.
Damn. She pouted again, trying to look sexy, pressing her breasts together. “Come on, Nash,” she said. “Give me what I want. Give me that big SEAL cock.”
I shook my head. “Put your clothes on,” I grunted.
“Why?” She stepped toward me and then stumbled. “Oh, I don’t feel good.”
“Shit,” I muttered. “That’s why.”
“I think I need to use the bathroom.”
“Come on,” I said, and helped her back through the bedroom. I put her down in front of the toilet and she instantly threw up.
And my erection instantly went away.
Nothing killed my fucking boner faster than puke.
“I’m sorry,” she groaned into the toilet, and I just laughed.
“You’re fine,” I said. “Just do your thing.”
I sat there and made sure she didn’t choke on her own puke as she emptied her stomach into the toilet. Poor girl had gotten fucking wasted because of all this. The least I could do was sit there and make sure she didn’t fucking die.
After a few minutes, she leaned back against the tub. “I think I’m okay,” she slurred.
“Good,” I said. “Pass out now. I’ll be in the other room. Just yell.”
She looked at me. “Nash?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
I looked at her for a second. “Yeah, me too.”
I turned and left. I left the bedroom door open so I could make sure I heard if she yelled, and then I collapsed onto the couch, sipping my drink.
I had not wanted to see her puke like that, but for some fucking weird reason I hadn’t been insanely repulsed by her. Any other slut in my life would have been tossed out so fast she could barely breathe, but for some reason I wasn’t sickened by that with Selena. Instead, I felt weirdly worried for her.
That was not fucking like me.
When had this fake marriage become something else? I couldn’t put my finger on it. Somewhere along the line I went from looking at her as a useful means to an end to looking at her as a person in my life.
She was supposed to be just a convenient tool to use. She was supposed to keep me in line long enough to get me back into active duty.
Instead, I was starting to give a shit about her. I cared about her damn family, I couldn’t get her out of my head, and I cared about how she felt.
That was not what I had signed up for.
I stood up and undressed. I hadn’t heard anything new from Selena in a few minutes, so I assumed she was passed out by the toilet. I turned off the TV and got into my little couch bed, still sipping my whisky.
I couldn’t get her body or her words out of my head. Fuck, if only she weren’t so drunk, I would have fucked her rough and deep, made her never forget my cock.
At least I had my whisky.
27
Selena
I woke up with a disgusting taste in my mouth.
It took me a minute or two before what had happened came back to me.
Oh my god I threw myself at him, I thought to myself, shocked. And he had turned me down.
I was mortified. The events of the night slowly came back to me. I remembered drinking too much wine at dinner but not saying anything to him. The stress of seeing my dad so sick must have pushed me over the edge, because when we got back to the hotel, I’d just kept drinking.
And then I got wasted, really wasted. And I said some really dirty things to him. Oh my god, I took off my shirt and threw myself at him.
And then he had watched me puke.
I curled up into a ball feeling like death, and mortified on top of that. I did not want to see him at all, couldn’t face him. I wanted to curl up and die or maybe just disappear.
The thing was, I meant what I had said last night. I loved his cock, his body. He was an asshole, but I was beginning to see past that exterior, beginning to understand him a little bit better. He was such a prick, but he was my prick.
Grunting, I got out of bed and went into the bathroom. My head was pounding and my stomach was a mess. I brushed my teeth and tried to make myself look halfway presentable, but that was a losing battle.
I went back out into the bedroom and opened the door. “Nash?” I called out.
It was time for some serious apologizing. I knew I was going to have to deal with his mocking jokes and cocky looks, but I probably deserved it. Maybe if I preempted him with some serious apologizing, he’d let me off lightly.
Probably not, though. Nash Bell did nothing halfway.
“Nash?” I called again, stepping out into the living room.
It was empty. His little sleeping nest on the couch was tidied up, and there was a note on the coffee table.
Went for a run. Order some breakfast. I’m still hard from your show last night. Nash.
I turned bright red at that last line.
God, what was I doing to myself? This whole thing was crazy, and I was just making it so much worse by throwing myself at him. I knew what he thought of me. I knew I was just a way for him to look good in public, a way for him to get back into the good graces of his superiors. He wanted to go back out into the desert and fight terrorists, and he thought I could help him achieve that goal.
I was nothing more to him than that. I needed to keep reminding myself of that, or else risk getting hurt when he finally did disappear.
I flopped down on the couch with a huge sigh. I grabbed the phone and ordered a quick breakfast, guessing that Nash would want some bacon and eggs when he got back. I hung up and absently stared at the television, flipping through the channels.
I felt like death. I hadn’t gotten that drunk in a long time, not since freshman year. I was hungover and embarrassed and confused and upset, and really just stewing in my own suck. In my mind, that morning couldn’t get any worse.
And then there was a knock at the door.
I stood up, feeling like crap, head pounding. The room service had come really fast, or maybe it was Livy. “Coming,” I called out.
I pulled the door open and stopped in my tracks. Standing there was a short man, about my height but very muscular. He was bald and was wearing camouflage cargo pants and a black button-down shirt. He smiled at me.
“Hi, Selena,” he said.
“Uh, hi,” I answered. “Do I know you?”
“I’m here to see Nash.”
“He’s not here. Who are you again?”
“Just a friend.” He looked inside. “Nash, are you in there?”
“I said he’s not here,” I said, getting annoyed.
“Liar.” Suddenly he pushed me back. I stumbled and nearly fell over, and he was quickly on top of me.
I tried to scream, but his hand was over my mouth. He kicked the door shut. “Don’t scream,” he said, “or this will get worse. Where is Nash?”
I tried to answer but couldn’t. I stopped struggling. “I’m going to move my hand,” he said.
He moved it slowly.
“Help!” I screamed, and instantly he clamped it back over my mouth.
“Dumb bitch,” he said. He dragged me back into the bedroom. He found a pair of my panties on the ground and grabbed them. He moved his hand and shoved the panties into my mouth, punching me in the gut.
I fell onto my knees and felt like I was going to throw up again. He was on me then, shoving me to the ground. He pulled some duct tape from one of the pockets in his pants and wrapped it around my face and then around my hands.
“There we go,” he said, standing back. My hands were taped behind my back and the panties were taped inside my mouth. “That’s better.”
>
He grabbed me roughly and dragged me back into the main room. He pushed me down onto a chair and taped my ankles together.
“Selena, Selena, Selena,” he said, smiling. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
I stared at him, confused. I didn’t recognize him, had never seen him before. He was acting like he knew Nash, but I couldn’t imagine that someone who knew Nash would do this to me. Nash had never mentioned any friends, anyway.
No, this man was someone else. I had no clue what he wanted, but I was terrified.
“Blink once if Nash is coming back soon, twice if you don’t know,” he asked.
I blinked twice.
He grunted. “Stupid fucking girl. I never understood what he saw in you. Nash, my man, was living the fucking life.” He looked around the room, rooting through Nash’s stuff.
“Look at this,” he said, finding the note. “Out for a run.” He grinned at me. “So our boy will be back soon then.”
He tossed the note aside and reached into another pocket. He pulled out a gun and I nearly fell off the chair, trying to scream.
“Calm down,” he said. “This isn’t for you. It’s for Nash.”
He sighed, admiring the weapon. “Nash is such a popular guy now. I loved him back before he was famous, you know? The guy is a fucking legend in the military world.” He walked over toward me and touched my face. I recoiled in terror and disgust.
“Most of the stuff in his book is a lie,” he said. “Did you know that? Well, not a lie, but all the details are made up. Nash was a pretty serious special ops kind of guy, and you can’t have that sort of information out in the public.” He began rooting through the stuff in the room.
“I can’t wait to see him,” the man said. “The last time I saw him was a few months ago, in Indianapolis. I didn’t say hi back then; I was way too shy. But now, now I’m going to say hello.” He pulled the clip from his gun and looked at it, smiling.
“Don’t worry, Selena,” he said. “You’re not in danger. I don’t care about you. I care about Nash. I want to prove that he’s not as amazing as everyone says he is. He’s just another washed-up military asshole pretending like he’s a badass.”