Maximum Force: A Career Soldier Military Romance

by Tawdra Kandle

  Rounding the car, I took the shotgun position and closed the door behind me. Samantha started up the car, sighing a little in pleasure at the smooth turnover, and began backing down the driveway.

  “What was all that about?” Her tone was curious and a tad bit amused.

  “Eh.” I waved my hand. “Nothing. They were just being guys.” Guys whom I’m pretty damn sure just sabotaged my car so they could push me into driving home with you. I pointed to the corner. “We’ll need to take a right here.”

  “Okay.” We rode in silence for a few minutes, broken only when I had to give her directions to my house.

  “Do you like Garth Brooks?” The question was abrupt and came out of the blue, making me frown sharply at her.

  “Uh . . . yeah, I guess. I like his music. I’ve never been to a concert or anything, but sure. Why do you ask?”

  She flashed me a wry smile. “My parents . . . they’re not country music fans at all. They like folk music and some rock from the eighties, but I never heard country music growing up. The first time I ever heard a Garth Brooks song was my first day of college. My roommate loved him, and she’d play country all day long. I started to enjoy it, too. I thought at first my parents might disown me.” She laughed.

  “Ah.” I still didn’t see where she was going with this. Maybe she was making small talk until we got to my house, just to keep the awkward at bay.

  “My favorite song of his is The Dance. Do you know it?” When I nodded, she went on. “It’s from that bull rider movie. I’m pretty sure it’s a biopic. Anyway, I’ve always loved it. And something you said before reminded me of the lyrics.”

  “Really? What’s that?”

  “When I told you that you’d missed a lot of fun by playing it safe, you said that you’d missed a lot of pain, too. But you know, there’s that line in the song . . . where Garth says that he could have missed the pain, but he’d have had to have missed the dance, too.”

  I shifted in the seat. “I guess the question is whether or not the pleasure of the dance—or whatever it might bring—is worth the pain that might come along with it.”

  “There’s no way to know that ahead of time. The dance could bring us incredible joy.”

  “Mine is the third townhouse on the left. And if the pain is crushing?” I hadn’t realized I was clenching my jaw until I spoke.

  “I still think it would be worth it.” She slowed the car and turned into my drive. We were quiet as she shifted into park.

  “Life would be monotonous and boring if it were utterly safe. It’s the moments of pain—and the hours of joy—that make it . . .” She paused, thinking. “Beautiful.”

  I sat, unmoving, staring at her hand on the gearshift, willing myself to open the door, say thank you for the ride and good night, and then turn my back and go into my house. It would be the smart move. The best move.

  And it would be boring, and monotonous, and cowardly. Suddenly safe didn’t seem so appealing.

  Before I gave myself time to second-guess it, I laid my hand over hers, curling my fingers until they linked with Samantha’s.

  “Come inside with me.”

  She lifted startled blue eyes to mine. Surprise and then passion flared before, to my relief and terror, she nodded.

  “Okay.”

  Chapter Four

  Samantha

  I didn’t remember getting out of the car and closing the door behind me, but there I was, standing on Max Remington’s postage stamp-sized front porch as he unlocked the door to his townhouse. I noticed that his hand shook a little, and somehow, that made me feel better.

  He turned the knob, and the door swung open.

  “After you.” He didn’t touch me at all, but as I passed close to his body, I swore I felt heat coming from him. Distracted, I nearly tripped over the threshold.

  “Whoa there.” He caught my elbow and stepped inside behind me, shutting the door and turning the lock.

  “Sorry. First day on the new feet.” We’d come inside directly into a high-ceilinged great room, and I stopped, turning in a slow circle. “Wow. This is gorgeous.”

  “Thanks.” He jingled his keys in his hands and then dropped them into a wooden bowl on a long rough-hewn table. “I bought it as an investment when I was stationed here, but I have to say, I’m going to miss it when I’m rotated out.”

  The casual way with which he spoke of moving away squeezed at my heart, but I ignored that for the moment. “Did you decorate it yourself?”

  “I had some help from my mom and my sister, but the main ideas were mine.” He stuck his hands back into his pockets as I’d seen him do before. I wondered if that was his go-to move when he was nervous. Or maybe he wasn’t nervous. Maybe that was just me.

  “It’s really beautiful,” I repeated. “It looks like something from out of a magazine.”

  “Thanks. Do you, um, want a tour?” He stood a few feet away from me, leaning on the back of the sofa, looking so uncertain that suddenly my own jitters were washed away.

  “No.” I shook my head. “No, I really don’t.” I advanced on him, stepping closer until I could feel his breath warm on my face. “There’s only one thing I want to explore here.” I laid my hands flat on his chest, reveling when it rose quickly under my touch. Keeping my gaze steady on his, I slid my palms lower until they rested on his stomach. He inhaled sharply, and I wiggled my fingers just enough to feel the shape of the steel muscles under the soft cotton of his gray T-shirt. “You look different in regular clothes. Less official, and less . . . scary, I guess. But even yesterday, in whatever that camo suit you were wearing is called—”

  “BDUs.” His voice was rough. “Battle Dress Uniform. That’s what I was in yesterday.”

  “Right. BDUs. Even in that, I could see how built you are. I wanted to touch you here and see if I was right about how you’d feel under my hands.”

  “Samantha.” His fingers circled my wrists, not forcing me away but not allowing my hands to travel further, either. “If we . . . are you sure about this? You only met me yesterday. We could . . . I don’t know. Drink coffee. Watch a movie.” He swallowed hard.

  “I don’t want to drink coffee, and I don’t want to watch a movie.” I twisted my hands until they were resting within his. “I’m old enough to know my own mind, and you don’t have to worry. I won’t expect anything from you after. We’re both consenting adults who are attracted to each other. That’s all that matters.” I winked at him. “Besides, you only met me yesterday, too. Maybe I’m the one you should be worried about. Maybe I’m a witch who has you under my spell.”

  His eyes went dark and dangerous, and in a move too rapid for me to anticipate, he’d captured both of my hands in one of his. With his other hand on my hip, he walked me backward until we bumped into the wall behind me.

  “There’s definitely something magic going on,” he muttered, and then before I could take another breath, his mouth was on me. This was no gentle first kiss. His lips were aggressive on mine, seeking, tasting and taking. When I opened to him, moaning deep in my throat, his tongue teased the inside of my mouth, stroking me.

  Max moved the hand not holding my wrists, skimming it up from my waist to cup one of my breasts. His thumb circled the nipple, not quite touching the bud. I tried to shift to make him touch me there, but he only braced his legs against me more securely.

  “Ah, ah . . . no moving.” He pressed against me, and through the thin cotton of my skirt, I could feel his turgid cock beneath the zipper of his jeans. “Don’t move until . . . and unless . . .I tell you.”

  His hand tightened on my boob, and I closed my eyes, exhaling to keep from squirming with want. His thumb began to move again, still avoiding the part of me that was becoming desperate for his touch.

  “You’ve got such perfect tits.” He bent his head to nuzzle my cleavage. “They were driving me crazy yesterday and tonight. And last night, in bed, I kept imagining what they would look like if I did this.”

  He curled hi
s fingers around both the cup of my bra and the neckline of my shirt and tugged down until my boob was bared.

  “Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “Even better than what I’d pictured.” With one finger, he stroked the soft skin underneath. “Full and beautiful. Perfect in my hand. And this part right here—” He blew gently on the peak. “It seems to want something more.”

  “Yesssss.” I closed my eyes and arched my neck, willing him to touch me there.

  “What is it that it wants, Samantha?” Max lowered his head to murmur against my ear. “Tell me what to do. Tell me what makes you wild.”

  I panted. “Pinch my nipple. Suck on it hard. Don’t be soft. But touch me, goddammit.”

  He laughed, but praise all the singing angels, he did what I asked of him. His fingers closed over the aching point, rubbing it between them before he pinched it. I was just catching my breath from that pleasure when he took the same nipple into his mouth, sucking hard while his tongue pressed it against the roof of his mouth.

  It felt so damn good that my hips began to move restlessly, searching for more. But Max ignored that. Instead, he yanked down the other side of my shirt and gave that nipple the same excruciatingly wonderful treatment, sucking at me until I whimpered and begged.

  “God, Max. Please. Oh, God, please.” I was insane with needing more. He licked up the column of my neck, pausing just below the lobe of my left ear.

  “Please what, Samantha? What do you want now? I gave you what you asked for, didn’t I?”

  “Yes.” I wriggled. “Give me more. I need more of you. I want you, Max. I need you.”

  “Okay, baby.” He nipped at my ear. “I’m going to give you what you need. Eventually.”

  I almost wept. “I want to touch you.”

  “Not yet.” The tip of his tongue touched the shell of my ear. “Pull up your skirt, Samantha. Pull it up around your waist.”

  My hands were almost numb from being above my head, but I managed to lower them until I could get a grip on the material of my skirt. Gathering it handful by handful, I rucked it up around my middle, baring my legs and the tiny scrap of silk that passed for panties. I knew they were already wet with my arousal.

  Once I had the skirt in place, Max began trailing his lips down my neck, past my boobs, pausing at my stomach to trace my navel with his tongue and then kneeling in front of me. My legs shook a little with anticipation. With one quick jerk, he ripped my panties from my body.

  “Spread your legs, baby. Open for me.”

  I didn’t have any choice. I widened my stance, shivering when I heard Max’s hum of appreciation. His fingers parted me, exploring my slick folds, and then his mouth was on me.

  I cried out, angling my hips to push even closer to him. My fingers clutched at his short hair as though I could somehow keep him from moving away. Pleasure spiraled within me, building to a place where words no longer meant anything to me, where all that existed was his mouth on me. Every cell inside me was screaming toward completion, yearning for that crescendo of fulfillment—

  “Don’t come, Samantha. Not yet.” He didn’t move from between my legs, but I heard his voice loud and clear anyway. “Hold back. I want it to be spectacular.”

  “Trust me, it will be.” I clenched my teeth. “If you don’t want me to come, maybe you shouldn’t be sucking on my clit. But God, don’t stop.”

  He broke away from me. “Can’t have it both ways. But don’t worry. I’m not done with you.” Hopping to his feet with dexterity admirable in a guy so tall and built, he brushed my hands away from where I’d been clutching the skirt around my waist. “Let’s get all of this out of our way, shall we?”

  Max eased the skirt off me, and I stepped out of it. Rising to stand, he bent to kiss my lips again, while at the same time he stripped off my shirt, breaking the kiss to pull the top over my head.

  “One of us here is overdressed or underdressed.” I laid a hand on the waistband of his jeans. “I’d start getting you naked, but I don’t want to get in trouble.” I kept a teasing note in my voice so that he knew I was playing with him, just as he had with me.

  “Feel free.” His words sounded thick with lust and need, and I realized that at the moment, I had the upper hand.

  Slowly and intentionally, I tugged his shirt from where it was tucked into his jeans and then eased my hands underneath to trace his muscled abs. When my fingers brushed over his flat nipples, he hissed in a breath.

  “Take it off.” I plucked at the shirt. “Take it all off, and let me watch.”

  The tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and crossing his arms in front of him, he pulled it over his head in one fluid, drool-inducing movement.

  Yowza.

  Max tossed the shirt across the room before he unbuttoned his jeans and slid down the zipper. When he slid them down, his boxers went with them, leaving all of him completely bare to my eyes. For a good solid minute, I simply stared.

  I’d had a conservative number of lovers; although I wasn’t shy about sex, neither was I interested in jumping between the sheets with every man who caught my eye. When it came to naked males, I’d seen my share, and most of them had been decent specimens. But not one of them came close to Max Remington.

  His chest was the kind that inspired poetry in women who were more literary than me. It was broad, with perfectly shaped pecs, and dusted with light brown hair that led in the happiest of trails down the center of his abs to . . . oh, holy cats. That happy trail didn’t just lead to joy; I was fairly certain it led straight to nirvana, because the erect cock at the end was utter perfection.

  “Are you finished ogling me?” There was faint humor in his voice, tinged with a little self-deprecating. Not that he had anything to be deprecating about. Had I said yowza before? What was even higher than yowza on the wow chart?

  “Uh, not hardly.” I reached for him, but he caught my hand in his and raised it to his lips.

  “Not yet.” As he pressed a kiss to the knuckles, his eyes stayed glued to mine, smoldering. “I’m not done with you.”

  “I should hope not.” I meant it as a retort, but the sentence ended on a gasp as Max turned my hand over, dropped an open-mouthed kiss to my palm and then sucked my pointer finger between his lips.

  “Tell me, Samantha.” He paused to swirl his tongue around the next finger. “How do you like sex? Slow, with a lot of finesse, or fast and hard?”

  My heart thudded against my ribs. “It depends. Sometimes I want to be made love to . . . to have someone take his time and touch me for as long as it takes to get the job done. And other times, I want to be handled hard and taken fast. It’s a matter of mood.”

  “And what mood are you in tonight?”

  I smiled up at Max, slipped my hand from his and touched that intriguing dip above his upper lip. “I’m on fire. I’m dying for you to finish what you started. And I want it all fast and as hard as you can be.”

  He swallowed, his throat moving up and down, and when he spoke again, his voice was rough.

  “Turn around.”

  I began to step backwards, but before I could move away from him, Max caught my shoulders and maneuvered me around him until I was facing the high back of the sofa. He ran one hand down my spine, and I shivered as his fingers caressed my ass.

  “Bend over. Brace your hands here.” He guided me to grip the frame of the couch. “You have an amazing ass. Tonight, when you leaned down to talk to your roommate in the car, the material of your skirt clung to your backside, and I was dying to touch it. To touch you.”

  He stood close behind me, so near that I could feel his erection against my back. Excited anticipation made my pulse thrum faster as I waited for his first touch. When it came, it was his mouth again, between my legs.

  “You’re wet for me, flower child.” His voice was soft. “So fucking wet. My tongue just glides over you.” He licked me first, and then his lips found the small nub of my clit and began to suck.

  “Ahhhhh . . .” I dropped my fo
rehead to the padded sofa frame under me. “Oh, my God, Max.”

  “Mmm.” He kept working my clit and then slid a finger inside me, curling it so that it hit at my most sensitive spot. “I want you to come now, Samantha. Come for the first time here against my mouth.”

  I was so close. Panting, I ground down on Max’s face and fingers, needing to somehow be even closer.

  “That’s it, babe.” The vibration of his voice heightened the sensations. “That’s it. Feel my tongue on your sweet clit. And feel my finger inside you . . . God, you taste good, flower child. Like the sweetest honey. Come for me, baby, and then I’m going to stand up and fuck you from behind. I’m going to give it to you as hard as you can take it.”

  Whether it was the image his words painted or the idea of what he was going to do next, the orgasm roared over me. I arched my back, eyes screwed shut, and shrieked out his name, unable to stop even as the aftershocks rolled through my body.

  Before they’d ended, Max was on his feet. I heard the tear of paper and the crinkling of foil, telling me that he was suiting up. After a moment, his fingers kneaded into my hips and his dick slid between my legs, the head just nudging my opening.

  “You okay?” Max murmured into my ear. “You ready for me?”

  I nodded, still catching my breath. “So damn ready. I want you inside. I want you to take me so deep and hard that I can’t feel where I end and you begin.”

  “That can be arranged.” With a sound that I could only describe as a snarl, Max thrust forward into me, filling me with an unfamiliar sense of stretching. I moaned, shifting restlessly, wanting him to find his own pleasure and give me some, too.

  “So fucking tight, flower child. God, you’re perfect.” Max moved, finding the best rhythm for us. “Inside you is the most perfect kind of perfection I’ve ever known.” His fingers walking up my sides, lifting me up a little. “Stay like this so I can get to your boobs. I want to play with your nipples while I’m fucking you.”

  He matched his actions to his words, his fingers moving in tantalizing concert to pinch the aching peaks. As he rocked into me with agonizing slowness, his breath fanned over my throat, and I could feel the solidness of his chest at my back. I’d told him that I wanted fast and frenzied, but just now, I wasn’t going to complain.