Finding Life

by Tiffani Lynn

  He’s living in an apartment with two other guys who are both 21 and have no problem buying me beer. Knox was not as supportive as I hoped he’d be about my career choice, but he didn’t kick me out either. Now we’re about a 12-pack of beer into the conversation and he’s trying to convince me not to do it. If I hadn’t had so much to drink already, I’d grab a hotel room for the night so I didn’t have to hear him yapping.

  I know they are all afraid for me, but this is what I want to do. I want to fight for my country, I want to see the world, I want to see the worst of things so I can appreciate the most beautiful things too. I decided a long time ago I want to be a man that other men look up to. I want to be like Uncle Victor.

  My brothers and I have spent a lot of time with Victor over the years. In fact, I don’t remember a time in my life that he wasn’t around. He’s always given us his time and his wisdom, and most of the things that have interested me and stuck with me have been things he learned while he was in the Army.

  There’s a knock on the door and Knox gets up and answers it. I down the rest of my beer and get up to get another when Knox returns with Uncle Victor in tow. He tilts his head to the side and lifts an eyebrow. The man never has to say a word with those crazy hazel eyes. They seem to burrow into you and ask whatever questions he has for him. Sometimes it’s freaky.

  I set the empty beer can on the counter and shove my hands in my pockets, a little embarrassed to be caught half-drunk by him. Knox looks between us and mumbles about doing something in his room and disappears. Fuck. I don’t think he’s here to celebrate the family knowing about my enlistment.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Really? That’s what you’re going to ask?”

  I shrug. “Come on, have a seat. Want a beer?”

  He shakes his head. “Nah, man. I have to drive home tonight. Your Aunt Colby and your mom sent me here to talk to you. I didn’t tell them that you came to me earlier about all of this, but I figure we’d better have a conversation about this one last time. I need to know why you are doing this. Your family is freaked way the hell out.”

  I look at him for a few long moments and decide to lay it out for him. “I love my dad and he’s been a good role model for me and my brothers. He’s strong, reliable, hard-working and has always taken care of us, but he never served his country. For whatever reason that means something to me and I want my own kids to be able to look at me with pride, the way I look at you, and know that I not only take care of my family but I also served my country.”

  “Me?” His eyes widen and his mouth opens like he’s going to say something, but he can’t. Maybe I said too much. Maybe it was wrong to tell him that. He wanted the reason, the truth behind the decision, so he’s getting it. Victor stands up and walks over to the sliding back door that leads to a miniature balcony that overlooks the parking lot and the street below. I follow him out and lean my elbows on the rail like he’s doing. He’s quiet, but I learned a long time ago that Uncle Victor processes things quietly, so I wait.

  After what feels like an eternity he finally says, “You and your brothers have been my little buddies almost since the first time I saw you guys. I’ve grown to love you all like you are my own blood, so what you’ve just said to me has me partly flattered and partly terrified beyond belief.

  “You’ve grown up to be an honorable young man and a guy I will enjoy a friendship with as an adult. I already respect you for having the courage to go your own way—even if it’s the hard way—and be your own man. But the part of me that loves you more than you’ll ever know is terrified that you’ll experience what I did or worse, what Judson did or some of my buddies who never made it home. The thought that you could get sent to some godforsaken place and not come home the same person or worse, not come home at all, makes me want to do something crazy and irrational like tie you up and keep you in my basement so you can’t leave. So I know you’re safe.

  “You get that what you’re about to do is the hardest thing you’ll ever do and that it’s probably not at all what you think it’s going to be like, right? Was I clear about that when we talked? Please tell me that I didn’t glorify Army life and make you think it’s like the movies.”

  “Uncle Vic, stop. Nothing you told me when we talked sounded glorious. It sounded hard, it sounded lonely at times, it sounded hot and dusty and it sounded brave. I get it. I’m not doing this for any reason other than I have an overwhelming desire to serve our country and follow in the footsteps of a man I respect more than almost any other. You.”

  “If something happens to you, the guilt I will feel…” He swallows hard and looks away so I can’t see his face.

  “If something happens to me, then you will know better than anyone that I’m doing what I think is right. I’m living my life the way I want to live it. I’m hoping you will support me because you understand better than any of them.”

  He stands up straight and turns toward me and I’m not sure what he will say or what he will do so I hold my breath waiting.

  He reaches out and pulls me into the tightest hug I’ve probably ever had. “I love you, kid. I’m proud of you already, but what will make me most proud is having you come back home when it’s all said and done. Make sure that happens, okay?” I can hear the overwhelming emotion in his voice and I swallow hard, trying not to lose it. He pats my back twice a little harder than is necessary, pulls away and strides back through the apartment. I follow quickly.

  “Uncle Vic!” I call to him. He stops but doesn’t turn around. “I promise I’ll come back.”

  He glances back to me and tears are sitting on his eyelids. “I’m counting on it, Wyatt.” The look on his face tells me he believes that I will do my best, but he’s scared. I don’t get a chance to say more because he’s out the door too quickly, and for the first time since I made the decision, I’m a little nervous I won’t be able to keep that promise.

  The End

  If you are interested in contacting or reading more stories by Tiffani Lynn please visit www.tiffanilynn.com

  The End

  A Taste of Summer is the hot short story prequel to Saving Summer. Here’s the first chapter. You can get the rest of the story for free by using the link on my website www.tiffanilynn.com. I hope you enjoy!

  A Taste of Summer: A Prequel

  Chapter One

  The warmth of Mike’s hand on the bare skin of my thigh wakes me. My short, flippy rayon skirt has hiked up and is higher than is polite on an airplane. It must have ridden up while I was asleep, so I reach to pull it down and he stills my hand. What? I look up from where my head is resting on his shoulder.

  “Are you cold?” he asks, and it’s then that I notice his eyes burning with something unfamiliar.

  “A little,” I confess. He reaches over to the empty seat on my right and grabs the lap blanket, spreading it out over both our legs. Then he moves his hand underneath the blanket and back to the same location on my thigh. In the 34 years I’ve known him, he’s never touched me so…intimately. I rest my head on his shoulder again and close my eyes, trying to figure out why his hand is there and why I’m enjoying it so much. The light swirling patterns his fingers are making cause chills to race down my legs and up my arms. I shiver a little and without thought spread my legs some to give better access as he continues to move a little higher. His body heaves with the breath he sucks in at my reaction to his touch.

  For the remaining 30 minutes of our flight he brings a slow burn to my core as he works all the way up my thigh, just shy of my panty line. By the time the plane comes to a stop at the gate I’m so hot and bothered I could mount and ride him all the way to my happy place in front of everyone on this plane. Have I ever been this turned on? Especially when there’s no making out or heavy petting? At 42 years old, it seems sad that my answer is no, I’ve never been this turned on by such a small gesture.

  Mike and I have been friends—best friends—for years, but he’s never touched me like he has since I wo
ke up from my first half of flight nap. I’ve also never been as aware of him as I am now. Well, that may not be true, but this is the first time I can tell he’s feeling the same thing and for once, neither of us is hiding it. What brought this on?

  As we exit the plane, Mike places his hand on the small of my back and doesn’t remove it until we reach the busy main portion of the airport. Maybe he’s just looking for comfort after we left his sister—our other best friend—Valerie, crying at the gate in Colorado Springs. It was a dramatic scene; in fact, the whole week was rough as we helped her get settled after her husband left, taking their 11-year-old daughter with him.

  In all the years of my friendship with Mike I’ve tried to bury the crazy attraction I’ve had to him, an effort that right now seems stupid. I have my reasons and they still make sense to me, but tonight I don’t want to pretend I don’t feel the desire for him. In fact, I’m about half a second from asking him to come back to my place. It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone and probably forever since I was with a man who could actually light my fire without effort.

  At this stage in life, I don’t have interest in sexual encounters with men who don’t turn me on. I’d rather grab my BOB and take care of business myself than fake a reaction I don’t feel. The problem, though, is I learned a long time ago to stay away from the men who really turn you on because they always break your heart in the worst ways and I can’t deal with that. My mother and father are good examples of this. She fell for him hook, line and sinker. They burned hot and they burned bright just long enough to conceive me and then he left her high and dry with a newborn and a severely broken heart. I’m pretty certain she never quite recovered from it.

  We stop by baggage claim and grab our suitcases. The reminder of broken hearts has me ready to ignore my reaction to him on the airplane and say goodbye when he says, “Summer, come on. I’m taking you home.”

  “It’s okay, my place is out of your way and I’m sure you have work tomorrow. I’m already pulling up Uber.”

  “Don’t argue and no, I don’t have work tomorrow. It wouldn’t matter if I did, though. Wait here so I can bring my truck around. I’m on the top level and you’ll get soaked the way this rain is coming down.”

  “I’ve never melted before. I’ll be fine.” He’s hilarious. There’s nothing high-maintenance about me. I’m not the kind of girl to worry about messing up my hair or getting my clothes a little wet and he knows this better than anyone. He starts to argue with me, but I ignore it and cross the covered walkway, wheeling my suitcase behind me. The elevator ride up is quiet and tense, a completely new feeling between us.

  When the elevator door opens on the top level I look out to find that it’s no longer raining; it’s now coming down like a waterfall in sheets of water. Shit. I unzip the top of my suitcase and shove my purse down inside—not wanting to get my phone or personal items wet—then turn to him and say, “I’ll follow you.” He glances down at my white tank top and back at my face and grins. Sometimes he reminds me of the teenager he used to be, playful and flirty. God, I love this side of him, always have. Something about his youthful reaction sends a jolt of fire to my nipples and they harden beneath my shirt.

  “Damn,” I mutter, realizing that I’m about to be on full display in my white tank top, but unwilling to back down now. I’ll never hear the end of it if I do.

  As he darts out into the rain, I follow him down three aisles, in and out of a few cars, and back up to the back side of the first row we passed. That joker took us the long way on purpose. He drops the tailgate on his truck and shoves both of our bags into the covered bed. I turn to hurry around to the front passenger side when he grabs me and pulls me to him. I blink away the water in my eyes as the rain continues to pour. When he spins me to face him, I crane my neck back because he’s a good foot taller than me. His eyes are heated in a way I’ve never seen aimed at me. My breath catches as he lowers his mouth to mine and slides his arms around my waist, pulling me tight against his body.

  When our lips connect, it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Desire unfurls in my belly, sending tingles throughout my body and blocking any rational thought. My sex throbs between my legs and I have the sudden desire to slip my hand between us and relieve the ache that he started on the plane. Between the long emotional week, his touch on the plane, and the fantasy-like quality of this whole scene, the kiss turns wild quicker than it normally would and I can feel his cock harden against my stomach. Holy hell.

  With my palms on both sides of his face I hold him to me and I’m not sure why. It’s almost as if I can’t get close enough, like I’m trying to climb inside him or meld us together. Our kiss keeps changing direction, our mouths moving with and against each other like it’s brand new, but at the same time like we’ve been doing this forever. I can’t explain it.

  Without hesitation, his hand moves up under my shirt while his fingers find my nipple through my flimsy bra. He circles the peak roughly before he pinches and rolls it. I break the kiss, moaning, “Mike…” I can’t help but shiver a little and he steps back.

  “Cold?” he asks.

  I shake my head and say, “More,” loud enough to be heard over the pounding of the rain. His eyes burn into me like he’s trying to figure out if this is real. My tongue snakes out and slides across my bottom lip as he contemplates. His grin from a few minutes ago returns and he grabs my hand, pulling me to the passenger side of his truck. He opens the door, slides the seat back and climbs in. Task completed, he leans over to tug me inside, onto his lap. I pull the door shut and I find myself in the position I wanted to be in on the plane—center-to-center, chest-to-chest and face-to-face. My skirt is pushed up near my hips, exposing a sliver of my white lace panties. I’m dripping all over his truck and it’s obvious he could not care less that we’re ruining his leather seats. Before things can get awkward he grabs the hem of my blouse, whipping it over my head, and with equal efficiency he pops the front clasp of my bra, allowing my breasts to break free. Quickly, he slips the straps off my shoulders and cups both breasts in his hands. The look in his eyes is hungry, feeding the growing fire within me.

  He’s so damn handsome. Just the width and obvious strength of his shoulders is hot and that doesn’t account for the perfectly muscled pecs and abs I’ve been admiring since he was 17 years old and working out every day. The look on his face is probably similar to mine and instead of feeling self-conscious I feel sexy and free.

  “I’ve dreamt of what these would look like for years and now I can’t get enough,” he whispers, tracing the underside curve of my breast with his fingertips. “Every time you came out to the pool or the lake wearing a bikini I’d get hard thinking about what your nipples looked like behind those tiny triangles of fabric.”

  “Mike,” I say, my voice quiet and breathy. He groans as he lifts my breast in his palm, swiping his tongue across the sensitive nipple as another pulse of heat sweeps through me, ending at my pussy. I rock a little against him while he takes one of my nipples into his mouth, lightly scraping it with his teeth and finishing with a suckle of pure pleasure. He repeats the process on the other nipple and I can’t take the wait any longer. I need some relief now, so I slip my hand between us, into my panties, and find my clit. As soon as I make contact I gasp. He drops his gaze from mine to watch what my fingers are doing and he groans.

  “Slip a finger inside. I want to watch,” he says. Then he hooks the front of my panties, holding them down so he can watch as I bury my finger in my pussy, as deep as it can go in this position. My head falls back as I slide it in and out slowly. This feels so good and it’s hot as hell because he’s watching. With a firm grip on my wrist he pulls my hand away and up to his mouth. Before I can react, he closes his lips around the wet digit and sucks it clean. I lean forward and roll my hips a little, doing my best to find friction against his pants. He releases my hand and cups both of my breasts, pinching and teasing the nipples, driving me to the brink of insanity. I can�
��t take it. I need to feel him inside me, I need to ride this feeling all the way through. I need… I need… I need him. Now.

  “Fuck me,” he groans.

  “Yes, yes, now,” I beg. He doesn’t waste any time digging for his wallet while I go back to fingering myself in front of him.

  “Hold on, M, you’ve got to lift up,” he tells me. The use of the nickname he gave me as a kid reminds me of how well I know him, but how little I know him like this, as a virile, sexy man capable of making me beg for sex in an airport parking lot. I brace myself on the seat, one hand on each side of his head, and lift my body so he can shove his wet shorts down his legs to the floor. The most magnificent cock I’ve ever seen juts between us, leaning slightly to the left, proud and hard. The dark nest of curls at the base is matted down against his skin from the damp fabric that was pressed against it. I know I’ve never been with anyone as big as he is and I’m dying to know how it feels to be stretched that far, for him to be buried deep.

  Once he has the condom on, I lower myself onto his thick cock while he takes my nipple into his mouth again. I must be moving too slowly because he grips my hips and pulls me down hard, causing us both to cry out. I can’t help the flutter of my pussy around him. I was already so close and the fullness of him is almost more than I can handle. The windows are fully fogged now and the truck is sweltering with our hormonal heat. I tug on his shirt, getting him to pull it over his head and drop it to the floorboard. His muscled chest is damp, yet warm, as I lean in against him, seeking more contact.

  “M, your pussy is so fucking tight. Squeeze me, move on me, do something; I can’t take it, you feel so fucking good.” His naughty words urge me on further. I rise and fall on him, my muscles aching with the effort in this cramped position, but I’m unable to stop. Forced forward by lust and desire, in a mixture more potent than I’ve ever experienced. He traps one of my breasts as it bounces in front of him and takes it with his teeth. He tests my pain tolerance by biting down slowly and the harder he goes, the more my pussy contracts. I love a little pain with my pleasure. Of course, none of the men I’ve been with have been willing to take it far enough.