A Prince Among Men

by Johnson, Cat

“Yes, unfortunately.” Finally, his staff sergeant looked up from the paperwork in his hand. “We had a mail call.”

  With a flick of his wrist, Hawk sent an envelope flying in Ryan’s direction.

  While wondering why mail call was unfortunate in Hawk’s opinion, Ryan grabbed the sailing envelope in mid-air and glanced quickly down at the return address. It was from his pseudo-girlfriend back at the garrison in Germany. He’d read that later. He’d share his hut and his stuff, but Gretchen was the one thing Ryan was definitely not going to share with his roomies.

  Ryan turned his attention back to Hawk’s inexplicably unhappy face. “Yeah, I thought I heard Lou’s helo coming in with the mail while I was out on patrol.”

  Lou’s sporadic mail deliveries from Bagram were usually cause for excitement, so why was Hawk frowning? Ryan debated whether he should risk asking.

  “Oh yeah, you heard Lou’s helo, alright. Take a look at what Emily sent me,” Hawk grumbled.

  A magazine came flying in Ryan’s direction and he had to use both hands to catch it and not rip the glossy colored pages. Ryan turned it right side up and frowned at the cover. It looked innocent enough, nothing for Hawk to look so pissed about.

  “Open it to the place she marked.” Hawk scowled as he watched Ryan flip through the pages.

  Though he tried not to, Ryan started laughing the moment he found the page in question. It was one of the Army recruiting ads that Hawk had recently been photographed for, much to the unwilling model’s embarrassment. This one was a full-page advertisement for the U.S. Army. Hawk’s head was nearly life sized, and in living color to boot.

  The opportunity to tease his roomy was too good to pass up. “I don’t know what your problem is, Hawk. You’re a natural. In fact, you look very sexy.” Holding the page up to face toward Hawk, Ryan waggled his eyebrows, his smile so wide his face would start to hurt soon if he didn’t control himself.

  “Yeah, yeah. Get it all out of your system now, Pettit, because I don’t want to hear a word about it again after this.”

  With a final chuckle, Ryan took one last look and shut the magazine, handing it back to his leader. “Are you going to show it to Wally, too?” Ryan pushed Hawk’s patience one step further, just for fun.

  “No!”

  He watched Hawk shove the magazine under his bedding. Normal men hid their contraband porn under the mattress. Hawk hid his modeling photos. Go figure.

  “And that’s not even the worst of what happened while you were gone,” Hawk continued, his features still screwed up into an unhappy scowl. Ryan raised a brow as he considered that. Something that was worse, in Hawk’s opinion, than his magazine ads. What the hell could that be? Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

  Hawk finally ended the suspense. “I’ve got to go to frigging KAF again.”

  “Again? Why?”

  “Same damn reason as before. I have to pick up some Afghanis from Finance.”

  It wasn’t Afghani people Hawk would be transporting from the Finance Department located at Kandahar Air Field, but rather Afghani dollars. The money would purchase from the locals things they needed at base but couldn’t easily get from the States, mainly building supplies and labor, but more importantly, it would stimulate the still struggling Afghanistan economy.

  Hawk had done this journey for the same purpose before. Transportation delays had left him cooling his heels way too much for a man of Hawk’s take charge demeanor, which meant Ryan’s leader was an extremely unhappy camper by the time he finally returned. And when Hawk wasn’t happy, no one was happy.

  “You going alone again like last time?” Ryan asked.

  “Yeah, which is good, actually. Wasting one man’s time is better than wasting two. There’s too much to be done here to have more than one of us gone for that length of time.”

  In Ryan’s humble opinion, this was another case of what the hell? Having Hawk travel alone all the way from Kandahar while carrying hundreds of thousands of Afghani dollars. Sure, the exchange rate was like fifty Afghanis to one American dollar, but still…

  But it wasn’t for Ryan to question. What was that line from that famous poem? Something to the effect of theirs was not to wonder why, theirs was but to do and die… That author was definitely in the Army.

  “When do you leave?”

  Hawk snorted out a laugh. “Whenever transport arrives.”

  Ryan let out a laugh of his own. Where they were, the ETA of a transport could encompass anywhere from five minutes to five days. “You wanna brief me now on anything in particular you want done while you’re gone?”

  Ryan would rather eat, shower and read his letter from Gretchen, but he had to at least ask his leader if he needed him.

  “Nah. I’ve got to talk to a few of the higher ups first. I’ll catch up with you later.” Hawk rose from his bunk, grabbed his helmet and headed for the door.

  “Okay. Later.”

  Although Hawk’s leaving would help the crowding situation a bit, there was still Wally’s presence to contend with, so Ryan tore into the envelope from Gretchen while he had a chance to do so in private.

  Then after reading his mail, Ryan could maybe relieve in the shower some of the built-up pressure caused by his online flirtations with Vicki V. Sounded like a damn good plan to him.

  Sitting on his own thin mattress, Ryan unfolded the carefully creased pages. A bit disappointed there were no photos, he was still looking forward to what she had to say. English may be her second language, but when it came to the “language of love”, so to speak, Gretchen did all right for herself.

  Dear Ryan,

  I do not know how I am to tell you this but…

  He stopped reading as the words uh oh careened into his brain.

  It wasn’t like they were in love. Hell, they weren’t even really dating. They’d only hooked up for a bit before he left Germany and then they had exchanged a few letters and emails in the months he’d been in Afghanistan. But still, no man wanted to get a Dear John letter while deployed, no matter how casual the relationship. It sucked. Big time. He knew that now firsthand.

  Forcing himself to read the rest, he was still scowling when Wally walked through the door of the hut.

  “Hey, Ryan. Damn! I’m so hungry, my stomach’s eating my backbone.” Wally looked a bit closer at him as he reached up to the shelf that held the goodies sent to the squad from various troop support sites. “What’s wrong with you?”

  You have shitty timing, that’s what, Ryan thought silently. Aloud he said, “Nothing.”

  Wally grabbed a bag of beef jerky and tore into it, eyes still on Ryan. Apparently, Ryan’s poker face wasn’t working so good because, still watching him, Wally said, “It don’t look like nothing. You look like someone just ran over your favorite hound dog. You a’ight?”

  Wally was born and raised in Alabama…enough said.

  Ryan shrugged. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Letting out a huge whoosh of air, he held up the letter. “Remember Gretchen? She’s getting married.”

  He glanced down at the date on the envelope’s postmark. Actually, by now, she already was married. The letter had taken a few weeks to get to him.

  Chewing on a stick of jerky, Wally frowned. “Gretchen was that really built local filly you hooked up with a few times at the Ratskeller, right?”

  Really built. That was one way of describing Gretchen’s many assets. Ryan nodded. “Yeah. Looks like she ‘hooked up’ with another American serviceman from the garrison after I left.”

  Wally waved a hand, as if to dismiss Gretchen. “Good riddance. You’re lucky you didn’t end up married to her yourself. She was probably fixin’ to find a free pass into the States.”

  Ryan had always thought it was his charm and good looks that had gotten him into Gretchen’s bed, not his ability to get her a green card. Either way, he wasn’t in the mood to discuss it any further with Wally, or anyone for that matter.

  Crumpling the letter into a tight paper ball, Ryan made a perfect sho
t into the garbage can and then rose from his bed to grab the stuff he needed for his shower.

  Sidling through the tight space, he brushed past Wally to get to the door. He really needed to push the guys to get that new building for the replacement living quarters completed. It couldn’t get finished fast enough, in his opinion. Three beds in a cozy mud hut built for two, sucked.

  Ryan reached for the doorknob. “Catch you later, Wally. I’m going to shower.”

  He was so depressed now, it wouldn’t be as fun a shower as he had previously planned, but it would be better than sitting and stewing over Gretchen while listening to Wally’s philosophies on love and life. Though, actually, on second thought, maybe he would indulge in a bit of solo fun in the shower, anyway. Hell, he didn’t need Gretchen for that. He’d been doing that on his own for many years now.

  “Wanna grab chow when you’re done showering?” Wally asked through a mouthful of processed beef product.

  Ryan frowned back at him. “You just ate half a bag of jerky.”

  “Shit, that don’t matter. I’m still as hungry as a hostage.”

  Ryan shook his head at Wally’s legendary eating abilities. “Alright. I’ll meet you in the War Room in ten.” Then he reconsidered, calculating the time needed for his plans for the shower. “Actually, make it fifteen.”

  “Sho ‘nuff. See ya there.” Still chewing, Wally waved the rapidly emptying bag of jerky at him while Ryan, having a new purpose and a determination to have fun even if it killed him, headed for the shower trailer.

  Ten minutes later, eyes closed and one hand braced against the shower wall, Ryan let his mind wander to Vicki V while his soapy hand wandered down to his hard-as-nails erection.

  Vicki, his online flirtation. What color was her hair? Blonde? No. Gretchen had been blonde. Vicki would be a sultry brunette. Yes, that suited the personality he’d seen in her online comments perfectly.

  Was she small or tall? Either way, he hoped she was shapely with an ass that was more than a handful, breasts more than a mouthful, and hips shaped for holding on tight for a wild ride.

  Ryan’s hand made long hard strokes up and down his length as he imagined his hands on her hips while his cock was buried deep inside of her.

  Was she loud or quiet? Mmm, perhaps she’d start out quiet, making those tiny noises women sometimes did when they first started getting worked up. Then, when he had her in the throes of one hell of an orgasm, she’d be loud. Very loud. Raking her nails down his back, asking him to fuck her harder until he couldn’t hold back any longer.

  With that image, Ryan couldn’t hold back as he had one hell of a toe-curling, lip-biting, much needed release of tension, right there in the shower trailer.

  Chapter Four

  “Mmm.” Vicki’s low groan grew into a larger, “Ahh” as his fingers worked the muscles of her naked back. The scratchy blanket felt rough against her cheek as she lay face down in her bunk, but she didn’t care. The bliss of feeling his touch on her skin far outweighed the discomfort of the bed.

  So strong. So big. She loved big strong hands.

  His work-roughened palms slid down further, onto the bare globes of her butt. Her heart beat faster. These hands, the hands of a soldier, may be used to handling a gun, but they were no stranger at handling a woman, either.

  His hands left her briefly. In a moment, she knew why, as his camouflage pants hit the ground next to the bed, followed by a pair of very male underwear.

  She swallowed hard, her heart beating stronger in anticipation.

  The bed shifted and Vicki knew he’d climbed onto it with her. She felt his leg, the soft hairs tickling the sensitive skin between her thighs and he used his knee to nudge them further apart.

  He hadn’t even touched her most intimate place yet, but she could already feel it throbbing, wet and weeping with need. It had been far too long since she’d been touched there, loved, taken. It wouldn’t be much longer now.

  The roughness of his leg was soon replaced by silky smooth skin. Hard steel covered in soft velvet.

  And all mine, she thought as he pressed the tip against her, rubbing, moving agonizingly slowly, but not touching the one place she wanted him.

  She groaned in frustration and heard a small chuckle behind her in response. Then, thankfully, she was given some satisfaction. He slid forward and let his length, slick from her own juices, divide her, finally reaching her most sensitive spot. She groaned again, in pleasure this time. He echoed the sound.

  So close. Just a bit more.

  He wasn’t even inside of her as her walls began to contract. Her hips bucked against the mattress, her breath came in gasps and she cried out with the intensity of the orgasm.

  And woke up.

  It was a dream. A full-blown, bed-rocking, orgasmic dream, but still, just a dream.

  Vicki sat up and buried her face in her hands, rubbing them briskly up and down. She’d been in Kandahar for nearly two weeks now and hadn’t gotten anywhere on her story. And, considering she was napping in the middle of the day for lack of anything better to do, she had a feeling she wasn’t going to get any further on the story anytime soon.

  Maybe requesting the assignment had been a mistake, made out of ignorance on her part. She should have researched the region more or actually had that drink or whatever with Mel and picked his brain more.

  Mel had been correct on some things. Yes, there were reports and evidence of old landmines and new IEDs hidden everywhere outside the fences, which made it dangerous for reporters to travel with the convoys that went out into the surrounding area. Even though the landmines were old, planted there way back during the Cold War by the Soviets, their age made them no less deadly. The soldiers didn’t want to be responsible for her getting hurt, so they simply refused to take her with them into the countryside.

  Mel had mentioned warlords. He was correct there, too. Though they were under much more control than in the past few years, mainly because they were happily being paid off to behave, there were still warlords in power in the region. And, being warlords, they could be on your side one day and against you the next, depending on who offered the largest bribe, so that made the area unpredictably dangerous as well.

  And even inside the safety of the fences there were sometimes surprise attacks. She’d heard, but hadn’t experienced it yet, that rockets and mortars occasionally hit within KAF. It happened often enough so that she was issued her very own body armor upon arrival. Talk about heavy and constricting, she’d never complain about her underwire bra being uncomfortable again after experiencing body armor firsthand.

  On top of it all, she was so horny she thought she might die. Being surrounded all damn day by hundreds, no, probably thousands of healthy young men in uniform did not help to ease the ache of not having had sex for the past year. Not to mention the online mating dance she and Groundpounder had been doing now for weeks. If she read his tantalizing responses to her one more time, she’d wear off the buttons on her laptop. This latest dream, and yes, even unconscious she knew it was Groundpounder teasing her body in her sleep, was just the culmination of her sexual frustration caused by him. At least she’d gotten one incredible orgasm out of it.

  Vicki sighed and got up, realizing she’d napped so long she was hungry.

  That was another thing Mel had never mentioned—Kandahar Air Field looked more like Fast Food Alley, USA than Afghanistan. This meant a side effect of Vicki’s entrapment within the safely of the fences of KAF was that she was gaining weight when she’d never been lacking in that department to begin with. It was like first semester freshman year at college all over again, too much fast food and nothing for a bored lonely girl to do but eat.

  And as she sat down in the on-base Pizza Hut and bit into a slice of an overpriced personal pan pizza, she realized the future didn’t look much better.

  She sighed, not for the first time since her time there, and looked up just as a pair of muscular, camouflage-covered thighs walked into her line of sight. Th
e first thought to fly into her head was the memory of her dream about Groundpounder.

  “There are no tables available. Is this seat taken?”

  This guy’s voice dripped with the sheer amount of testosterone oozing from him. Shocked he’d come up and spoken to her, she thought she managed to shake her head, because soon, his ass was no longer directly next to her face, but instead planted firmly in the chair across from her.

  Alpha male didn’t come close to describing this guy, who wasn’t bad looking, if you liked the scary, warrior type. Vicki tended to like her men a bit less caveman and more poet, but in light of her dry spell, she may have to rethink that.

  She really needed to buy herself a vibrator or something to get her over the self-imposed draught in her sex life, because she could not keep having wet dreams about Groundpounder or continue to consider the sexual potential of strange men in the Pizza Hut.

  She snuck one more look at him as he single-mindedly dug into his slice of double stuffed crust pizza with pepperoni. It looked much greasier, and tastier, than her own broccoli, light on the cheese one, but he sure didn’t look like he had to worry about getting fat the way she did.

  Then, a feeling of familiarity struck her as something niggled deep in the back of her brain. She struggled to bring it forward. Frowning with the effort, she finally got up her nerve to approach scary guy. “You look familiar. Do I know you?”

  Without even looking up from his plate, the man grunted, “No.”

  Hmm. It may sound like a pick-up line, and she wasn’t discounting the fact that it may be her brain playing tricks on her, but she really did think she’d seen this man before. “But I’m sure you look familiar. I think I’ve…”

  “You don’t know me,” he rudely interrupted her.

  Vicki frowned at his abrupt attitude. Weren’t soldiers supposed to be polite? She’d never met Groundpounder, a fine example of a soldier in her opinion, but he never failed to be polite in his correspondence to her. More than polite, actually. Hmmphing with indignation, Vicki patted her mouth with her food service paper napkin and then reached into her bag, trying to locate her lip balm beneath notebooks, various magazines and small electronics. And then it hit her like a lightening bolt. Her eyes flew open wide the moment she realized why he looked familiar and she pawed through her stuffed tote until she found the particular item she was looking for.