by Cd Hussey
It couldn't, plain and simple. And that's exactly why I should enjoy it now.
The weight that lifted earlier becomes weightless.
"How'd she handle it?" D asks.
I know I shouldn't eavesdrop, but it'd be a little awkward if I just popped around the corner now so I hang back and listen.
"Like a champ. I couldn't have asked for a better charge. She stayed calm, did everything I asked, really…perfect."
Pride swells in my belly.
"So, she's not just a pretty face."
"Not at all. She has a great head on her shoulders."
"Wait, are you tapping that?"
The pride gets sucked into a pit. I'm not sure how I feel about Trey discussing our tapping.
"Do you ever stop to think before you open your mouth?" Trey wonders, sounding rather disgusted. "I'm not sure you could be more inappropriate or unprofessional."
The pit vanishes.
"Hey, it's not like I meant anything bad by it. I'd tap it." I can practically hear the shrug in D's tone.
"You'd tap anything," another voice pipes in. I'm pretty sure it's Two Bit.
"No," D argues. "Well, not anything. Besides, it isn't like she's hard to look at."
As crude as his statement is, I won't deny a little pride comes back. I should probably be horribly offended, but it's nice to hear I'm tappable and it isn't like D being interested in sharing my bed is a surprise.
Which Two Bit points out. "Ha, well you got denied!"
"Can't fault a guy for trying."
"Did you hit on Andrea?" It's Trey this time, again sounding disgusted.
"There's no rule against it." Good to know. "Besides, she turned me down. So, no harm, no foul."
Trey's sigh is audible even from where I'm standing. I decide it's probably time for me to quit eavesdropping.
Wearing a simple summer dress over my swimsuit, I don't actually need to change, but I go ahead and slip into the changing room and out of my dress. It goes into a locker and I decide to take the opportunity to slather a little more sunscreen on my body. The more time I can buy the better.
I emerge a few minutes later with a sarong tied around my waist, my pool bag over my shoulder, and a smile on my face.
I don't even need to play it cool, or attempt to approach the group without being obvious, because the minute I step into the pool area, Double D exclaims, "Holy shit, it's Hermit Crab!"
I don't resist the eye-roll. "How's it going, D?"
Trey watches me the entire time as I approach the trio, a nearly imperceptible grin on his lips. The unspoken implication of my coming here is reflected in his gaze, and he devours me with it. Heat shoots straight to my core and I'd be surprised if my arousal isn't visible.
D leans against the bar and looks me up and down. "I'm good. How you doin'?"
"Enough," Trey growls.
Ignoring D seems the best recourse, so I turn my attention to Two Bit, greet him, and then turn to Trey. His hungry gaze returns with fervor. It's so intense I'm actually waiting for him to take me into the changing room and well, take me.
"Hey," I say, my voice a tad breathless. I clear my throat.
"Ah, shit," D groans. "I knew it. You're a goddamn hypocrite," he says to Trey and then slaps him on the back. "I sure as hell ain't mad at ya, though."
Trey also seems to think D should be ignored. "You ready for a drink?" he asks, putting his body between me and D as he guides me to the bar.
"Oh yeah."
D peers around Trey's massive torso. "I think we need shots. You wanna shot, H.C.? Trey's buying."
I can't help but laugh. The entire situation is ridiculous. "Why not."
The shot kicks off one of the most entertaining afternoons of my adult life. After figuring out that Trey is the tapper and I am the tappee, D completely changes his tune. He's still a flirt, but I'm pretty sure that's his M.O. Like the billiards night, I feel like I'm part of some weird fraternity, a tried and true member of the boy's club. I also feel like I'm in Cancun and not Afghanistan. I definitely get as drunk.
We even eat dinner poolside. By the time the sun is setting, I feel completely relaxed, I've totally forgotten about the warzone that was Site J, and I've managed a decent tan and buzz.
Trey rises from the lounge next to mine and offers me his hand. "Ready to blow this joint?"
"Absolutely." My hand slides into his and he pulls me to my feet. "Let me just grab my stuff from the locker." I glance at the other members of our party. Two-bit is passed out on a lounger, and D weaves unsteadily in his chair, staring at a spot on the table. "G'night, D."
His wrist flops toward me. I glance at Trey. "Tomorrow should be fun for them," I say.
"I'm gettin' them up early too."
"You're a sadist."
He winks. "Sometimes."
The image of me tied up with Trey spanking me pops into my head. A scenario I must admit I've always found intriguing. Jim never wanted to experiment sexually, something I highly doubt can be said for Trey. Adventure might as well be his middle name.
"Have you ever been to New Orleans?" I ask out of the blue as we're walking back to my room.
"Of course."
"Did you go down Bourbon?"
"I stayed in a hotel right off Bourbon. My room had a balcony overlooking the street."
"Did you like it?"
"Is it possible not to like it? You've been, right?"
"Yeah…" We've arrived at my door. "Didn't make it to Bourbon, though."
"We'll have to remedy that," he says as I push open the door.
I know I'm not supposed to fantasize about an unforeseeable future, but that sounds nice. Standing with the door open wide and my bottom lip between my teeth, I ask, "You coming?"
"Not yet. But that'll soon be remedied as well."
The moment the door shuts, he grabs me and steals my breath with a heady kiss.
"I've been waiting all afternoon to do that."
"I've been waiting all afternoon for you to do it."
"I'm so glad you changed your mind."
"After I had a moment to think, I realized you're right. Time is short and I'm tired of letting Jim's problems ruin my life. I really enjoy your company too, and I definitely enjoy the sex."
"Mmm." He kisses my neck. "I am here to serve you." His fingers dance down my back. When he reaches the hem of my dress, he pulls it over my head and tosses it aside. "I live to serve you."
"I can't tell if you're mocking or not."
He falls to his knees. "Does this look like I'm mocking?" One hand cups the small of my back while the other peels down the edge of my bikini bottoms and his tongue traces the tip of my hip bone. His gaze flashes up to me. "I'd never joke about something so serious as bringing you pleasure."
Oh. God.
The bikini bottoms get yanked down. I start to kick them off but he stops me. "Leave them there. I like them around your ankles."
That definitely confirms my earlier suspicions. I have no doubt spanking is within his sexual repertoire.
With the fingers of one hand, he peels back my flesh, revealing my swollen, aching clit. The other hand grips my ass and pulls my hips forward and my sex to his mouth. His tongue works over my clit, diving, swooping, dipping, and lapping until my body shakes uncontrollably with pleasure and tension.
I need…something…to hold…onto.
As the orgasm rockets through my body, I clutch his shoulder, maybe even digging my nails into his skin. I'm not sure my legs will support me, but luckily, Trey holds me steady.
"Now, that's the kind of service I can get into," he says as he rises from his knees.
I can only pant as I devour him with my gaze. My hand slides to his cock straining against his swim trunks.
"Told you," he says.
"I think we need to take care of that."
"I'm not going to argue."
I start to lower down, ready to swallow every inch of him, but once again he stops me.
"No t
ime for that," he tells me when I glance at him in question. "I need you to fuck me."
"Anytime."
He walks backward toward the bed, managing to slide off his trunks mid-stride. Kicking out of the bikini bottoms still pooled at my ankles, I follow. As he sits on the mattress, I untie my top and remove it burlesque style.
"That's what I'm talking about." He moves until his back is pressed to the headboard, and I climb onto the bed, swing a leg over his lap, and slide onto his cock. "That's definitely what I'm talking about," he moans, gripping my hips firmly in each hand.
Bracing my hands on the headboard on either side of his broad shoulders, I proceed to ride him. I don't hold anything back—fast, hard, slow, with a little rock of my hips…anything I can to keep that look of bliss on his gorgeous face.
Arching back, I reach behind me to cup his balls. It takes a small act of contortion, but I'm able to fully engulf them in one hand and begin gently stroking.
His hips buck beneath me. "Holy fu—" He slams into me, holding my hips still as his orgasm pumps into me.
God, I love the expression on his face—brow furrowed, mouth slightly open, that beautiful mix of pain and pleasure…
When he opens his eyes I don't pretend I wasn't watching him come. And he doesn't seem the least bit perturbed by it. In fact, he grins mischeviously.
Taking his face in my hands, I kiss him softly, gently.
"Mmm," he murmurs into my lips. "That is nice."
"It is." I pull back, my gaze lingering on him. His fingers brush delicately across my cheek and then my lower lip. His eyes meet mine and then it happens. This…emotion passes between us. It's so strong I can taste it.
"Hold on," Trey says out of the blue. He wraps an arm tightly around my body and catapults from a sitting position to flat on his back in a bounding feat of acrobatics, taking me along for the ride.
I let out a startled scream that quickly morphs into laughter.
Once the bed quits protesting and my laughter relaxes, I ease onto the bed beside him, nestling into place.
The spot where his arm meets his chest is possibly my favorite place on earth. It cradles my head perfectly. Pressed into his torso, my leg drapes over one of his thighs, his arm wraps around me like a cocoon. His skin glistens in the pale light from the courtyard bleeding through the mini-blinds. The room smells like sex and heaven.
If it's possible to feel more satiated I don't believe it.
His fingers run through strands of my hair, the light way he strokes feels better than any head massage. "I know the circumstances that brought you here suck," he says after a bout of silence. "But I'm not going to lie, if I could thank your prick of an ex-husband for delivering you to me, I would."
And if I could melt deeper into him I would. "Me too." And I believe it. For the first time, I'm glad Jim cheated on me. I'm glad he knocked up Courtney. Because it brought me here, to Trey, to this magnificent man. And even if this moment, this…place, is all we ever have, Trey has given me back something I thought I lost when Jim left me: myself.
~
The next five days pass in a blur of blissful happiness. Giddy would be a good way to describe my state of mind. Trey spends every night with me, and though discrete about the state of our affair in public, every non-working moment as well. I love it. It's more than just the amazing sex—though I won't pretend that isn't phenomenal—but we have such a great time together. Every. Time. I even miss him when he's not around, which worries me a little but I push it away. Work flies by and I don't even mind all the questions and forms and general hassle about the events at Site J.
I am careful about what I tell HR, my boss, and anyone else who asks though, leaving out the part where Trey gave me the gun and any of the shooting details, claiming to be in a shocked daze. The last thing I want to do is get him in trouble, and although he doesn't seem concerned about it, I figure it's best to let him decide what to tell them.
I have yet to see the camp doctor, since he happens to be on vacation. And since my appointment isn't until a week after we get back, I'm not even sure why it's necessary. Obviously any injuries I might have sustained would have either killed me, gotten horribly infected, or healed.
We've just finished a rather rigorous round of lovemaking and I'm still tying to feel my toes when Trey announces, "I'll be away from the compound for a few days."
My head rests on his chest and I lift it to look at him. One arm tucked behind his neck, his expression is casual. "Everything okay?" I ask.
"Yeah, they just need me to testify about Site J." He describes it like it's some boring business trip. I suppose for him, it is.
"Sounds serious."
"Nothing to worry about. In fact, once Hughes & Ralston pays the blood money, they're planning on relocating Kaihan and his family."
"Oh good. I was worried about him."
Releasing the arm, he wraps it around my shoulders and gives me a squeeze. "I know." He kisses my hair. "You have nothing to worry about. He'll be fine. And I will be back in a week or so and we can pick right back up where we left off." He gives me another squeeze, a little more sexual this time and less playful.
"I do like the sound of that." And I love that Kaihan will be safe. And I definitely love that Trey seems just as eager to get back to me as I surely will be to have him back.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Manila folder in hand, Dr. Mishra sits on the edge of the exam room counter. Not surprisingly for Merritec, the room is tiny, with barely enough space for the exam table, let alone a chair for the doctor to consult from. "Well," he says, sifting through the folder. "Everything looks in order."
"As I expected."
"Except…" His thick black brows push together as he skims the test results.
What the hell could he have found? Knowing my luck, I have cancer or Yellow Fever or something.
His dark gaze lifts to me. Dark, nearly black eyes framed by lashes almost as thick as the moustache threatening to take over his face. "Did you know you are pregnant?"
It takes a second for the words to register. And then a few more seconds for them to sink in. "Uh, no. That has to be a mistake."
He glances back down at the paper. "It says right here…"
"Perhaps, but it has to be wrong." My increasing heartbeat works its way up to my throat and I swallow against it. I don't have time for that nonsense.
He looks at me again. "Have you recently had unprotected sex?"
His accent when he says, "unprotected sex", reminds me of Apu from The Simpsons. It must be the ridiculousness of the situation, because I nearly choke on the giggle that tries to burst from my lips. Seriously, how racist can I get?
"Yes, but…" A giggle still manages to leak through. Dr. Mishra looks incredibly confused. I clear my throat. "Yes, but it's still impossible."
"That is usually how these things happen."
"I know." God, his accent. I'm having a hard time keeping it together. "But I'm infertile."
"You appear to be a healthy women, certainly still of age to bear children."
Well, that manages to squash my warped sense of humor. "In theory, yes."
He glances at the test results. "In reality, yes."
I really don't feel like explaining my prognosis to him. "That test can't possibly be right. If," I make sure to emphasize the word as I look him squarely in the eyes, "I were pregnant, I would have had to conceive just over a week ago. I haven't even missed my period yet."
He is completely nonplussed. "The pregnancy hormone can be detected as early as 6 days after implantation."
That would mean I probably conceived at Site J. I don't buy it, opening my mouth to protest.
"We can retest if you like," he interrupts.
My arms cross tightly over my chest. "Please."
It's a grueling thirty minutes before Dr. Mishra returns with the Manila folder. I've been through the whole gambit of emotions, from trepidation to excitement, to scorning myself for getting excited. Hopefu
lness led to fear and then to denial. I can't begin to hope the test results might be correct because I can't face that disappointment.
But if they are? If Trey—?
I'm in the middle of chastising myself a second time when the doctor's appearance forces me to stare at that folder.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
"Well?" My voice trembles.
"Still pregnant."
I don't know how to react. I can't react. I mean, how can I? I simply stare at Dr. Mishra with a wide-eyed, holy shit, what is that big metal thing with the bright lights barreling straight for me, expression.
"If you would like a third opinion, I recommend you order a home pregnancy test. They are very accurate these days. In the meantime, you should begin taking some prenatal vitamins. You can order them with the pregnancy test."
"But…my ex-hus—…but…we tried…the doctor said…"
"Perhaps you were just with the wrong man," he interrupts my stuttering and closes the Manila folder. Clasping my shoulder, he smiles warmly. "Congratulations, Ms. Ellis. Do not forget those prenatal vitamins."
Someone else makes the command to nod, and then rise from the exam table. And someone else shakes Dr. Mishra's hand before crossing the out-of-place lawn courtyard to my room.
I don't even recall unlocking the door or sitting on my bed, but here I am.
Pregnant? Really? No, really, really?
I can't be. I just…can't.
What did Dr. Cooper say? Something about deformed ovaries and fallopian tubes and too much scar tissue. I don't know. I barely heard him the first time. Trying to recall via memory is like trying to find a quarter at the bottom of a murky lake. Especially right now.
Powering on my laptop, I find an online pharmacy, order two pregnancy tests and a bottle of prenatals, pay the thirty dollars it takes to expedite shipping and then just…sit.
I stare blankly at the wall for a while, trying to piece together some sort of logic. My mind simply races for the most part, jumping between the same emotional hoops I did cartwheels through in Merritec's makeshift doctor's office. Finally, after I've exhausted my mental loop-de-loops, I take a deep breath and try to think things through rationally.