Irresistible

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

  Each time he thrust, she moaned. Her body no longer knew whether it felt pain or exquisite pleasure, and her brain didn’t care. All that mattered was Reyn, holding her, fucking her.

  He reached between her legs and squeezed her breasts, watching her face for her reaction. She cried out and lifted her hips, trying to fuck him harder, though in this position she had very little freedom to move as she wanted. Eyes gleaming, he took her hint and increased his pace.

  Another explosion began to build in her core, and she reached for the orgasm as he continued to manhandle her breasts. The excitement of seeing his hands on her, of being treated so roughly, added fuel to her lust, and her entire consciousness focused between her legs, on the spot where their bodies joined.

  His grip on her ankles tightened, and he closed his eyes. With a loud grunt, he spasmed inside her. Knowing he’d come triggered another orgasm in her, and she bucked against him.

  Several times, he twitched and thrust into her, moaning. Her own climax ripped through her, taking away her breath again. She shuddered and cried out as wave after wave hit her.

  No pain any longer. Only pleasure.

  Finally, he let her go and dropped onto his back, panting. Trying to settle her own breathing, she curled against him, her head on his chest. He put his arm around her. “Remember this,” he urged. He closed his eyes for a moment. “Next time you play with yourself, remember this.”

  “How could I forget?” she murmured. Her pussy ached from his use of it, and her leg muscles complained loudly about the position he’d held her in.

  Oh, yes, she would remember. This would become one of her favorite fantasies. And hopefully she’d persuade him to repeat it sometime soon.

  WARRIOR

  Kate Pearce

  What the fuck just happened?

  Ava wanted to laugh at her own stupid question. This was a war zone; stuff like this happened all the time, but not to her—never to her. One minute she was yakking to Private Brandon about the crappy food at the base, and the next she was in the sand, her skin scorched and abraded by an unexpected skid across the dunes—on her face. Fierce heat blossomed behind her and she was afraid to turn her head to see what had become of the armored vehicle she and five others had been traveling in.

  “Brandon, move!”

  She grabbed hold of the lanky figure next to her and half dragged, half carried him over the next sand dune. No mean feat when his IOTV (Improved Outer Tactical Vest) weighed almost thirty pounds. She dumped him unceremoniously on his ass and waited until he finished coughing.

  “You okay, Brandon?”

  “Yeah, Lieutenant—you?”

  Ava managed to simultaneously nod and spit sand out of her mouth. “I’m good. Where’s everyone else?”

  “Wilkinson’s gone back to check.”

  Ava scrambled to her feet. “He can’t do that by himself. Let’s go. Did someone call for help?”

  Hell, she didn’t want to go anywhere near the choking black smoke and flames that engulfed their vehicle, but she was in command and had no choice. No one was going to survive in there for long. She covered her mouth and ran around to the other side of the vehicle, her legs trembling, and her breath coming out in gasps. Wilkinson had already dragged two of the guys out and was struggling with a third.

  Ava went to help him and staggered under the dead weight of Hernandez, the driver, whose head was not only bleeding but smashed in like an eggshell. There didn’t seem to be any sign of the enemy, but then there rarely was. She could only pray help would get to them before they attracted the wrong kind of attention.

  Wilkinson grabbed her arm and pointed skyward where the reassuring sound of an approaching helicopter cut through the roar of the fire and the swirling sand. She nodded and pointed back the way they’d come.

  “Let’s get everyone away from the vehicle before it blows.”

  Four hours later, Ava, Wilkinson and Brandon had been cleared by the medics and were returning to their base. The three other guys remained in the hospital. From what Ava could tell from the debriefing, their vehicle had set off an IED and been thrown up in the air. She’d been sitting on the opposite side to the driver and had fallen out along with Wilkinson and Brandon. She shivered as the gates slowly opened into the small compound and she contemplated the blazing lights. If she’d sat in her usual seat, she’d be in the hospital now.

  She unobtrusively hoisted the still-shaken Brandon out of the vehicle and they made their way into the ramshackle single-story building that retained the institutional air of an unused school or clinic. She blinked at the sudden brightness and made out the figures of two men waiting for them. The taller of the two men fell in behind her commanding officer, his expression grim.

  Shit.

  Why was she surprised he was here? Even though they weren’t serving in the same unit, they still inhabited the same space. She bit down on her already blistered lip. It wasn’t as though she was expecting him to break ranks and give her a bear hug, but some reaction would’ve been nice.

  Ava stared straight at Major Ross, who studied the three of them in return. “I’ve got most of the details, Lieutenant. Get a good night’s rest, and report to me in the morning.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Ava saluted as he turned and left.

  Wilkinson squeezed her shoulder. “You okay?”

  “I’m good,” Ava murmured, trying to ignore the figure looming in front of her.

  “Lieutenant, can you spare me a moment?”

  She raised her voice. “Yes, Captain.” With a resigned shrug, she followed the man toward the sleeping quarters at the rear of the building.

  He waited at the end of the hall and held the door open for her. She glanced briefly up at his face, but could see no trace of emotion.

  “Thanks, Captain,” she murmured, as he followed her through and maneuvered her toward another door with a piece of paper stuck to it that read FEMALE SHOWERS. He came into the room and shut the door behind him. Luckily, it was deserted, with just a hint of steam lingering and glistening on the hastily painted walls.

  She blinked as he cupped her chin and stared down into her eyes.

  “You okay?”

  “Mike…”

  He caught her raised hand as she brought it up to his cheek. “Go shower. I’ll turn the water on for you.”

  She watched him walk away and heard the hiss of the shower, but he didn’t return. After a long moment, she stripped off her combat uniform, wincing at the ache in her muscles. Despite the force of the blast, the only thing she’d really hurt was her face and her pride. She swallowed as she recalled the acrid smell of burning motor fuel. It reminded her of one of the crazy, out-of-control backyard barbecues her dad used to throw. Her throat started to ache and she thought longingly of the shower and of somewhere to hide. She grabbed a towel from the stack by the lockers and walked through the ghostly trail of steam into the shower stall.

  At least the water was hot and plentiful. Ava stood under the stream with her eyes closed and just let it flow over her. After a while, she turned to find some soap and bumped up against a hard naked chest. Two strong hands came to rest on her shoulders. She couldn’t bear to look up.

  Mike reached past her for the soap and she stayed passively leaning against him, her forehead against his chest. His hands touched her everywhere, looking for injuries, checking her reaction to every touch of his fingers, which felt as impersonal as those of the medic in the hospital. Ava swallowed hard and let her tears fall down his chest. She shivered as his hand curved around the nape of her neck.

  “Ava…”

  “Touch me, Mike.”

  She still couldn’t look at him. His hands became more possessive, cruder and more intimate, as if he wanted her to react to him. But god, she liked it, liked him owning her, making her feel something, anything, even if it was as uncomplicated as lust. She pressed against him and felt the hardness of his cock rise against her soft belly. He groaned and his hands slid down to cup her ass and t
hen delved lower until he found her sex.

  Ava raised her head, focused on his mouth and drew herself up on tiptoe to kiss him. His response was as direct and raw as his touch. He nipped at her already swollen lower lip, making her shudder. He drew back with a curse and smoothed his thumb over her ragged lip.

  “Shit, sorry, I didn’t…”

  But she didn’t want that, didn’t want his sympathy because… She bit down on his soapy thumb and then sucked it into her mouth, and felt his cock kick up against her stomach as she drew on him.

  He wrapped her in his arms and held her tight, his breathing labored and his shaft an impatient rod of heat against her skin. She deliberately undulated her hips against his and he went still. Ava held her breath, terrified that he was going to let her go, because if he did, what was she? Who was she? She slid a hand between them and tried to grab his cock.

  “Ava…”

  “Fuck me, Mike.” She tried to pull his hair but it was too short so she settled for digging her nails into his scalp. “Don’t stop, please…”

  He picked her up, his hands hard on her thighs and hips as he positioned her against the cold white tile of the shower and angled his body between her legs. She cried out as he penetrated her in one swift lunge and then started to move, his hips slamming into her as she struggled to accommodate his cock. Ava wrapped her legs around him and held on, her eyes closed as he fucked her, each jarring advance and retreat the perfect reminder that she lived and breathed and felt…

  His breathing changed and he groaned with each hard stroke. Pleasure built inside her and she teetered on the brink of embracing it. Did she want that? Did she deserve it when others were dying and suffering around her? She gasped as he grabbed her chin and made her look into his narrowed brown eyes.

  “Come for me. Fucking do it.”

  She tried to shake her head, but his hand slid down between their wet bodies and he fingered her clit. She climaxed with a scream into his mouth and he followed her over, his come hot and deep inside her. Ava buried her face against his shoulder and just stayed put. He shut off the water, and, still holding her, stepped out of the shower. He picked up a couple of towels and kept going toward his quarters. Ava didn’t have the energy to protest that it wasn’t okay for her to be with him. After the events of the day, she wondered if anyone would have the nerve or the heart to stop Mike and tell him. Somehow she doubted it.

  He laid her in the middle of his narrow bed and dried her off. The towel was rough and only exacerbated her already sensitive skin, but she didn’t care. His short black hair was drying in spikes. He didn’t seem aware of the water dripping off him. But then why would he care? He looked like every woman’s fantasy. A muscled six foot two, a soldier, and a lover who knew how to draw every bit of pleasure out of her and then make her beg for more.

  He leaned over her, his big hands placed on the bed on either side of her hips, and kissed her smooth belly. She trembled as his stubbled skin brushed her flesh, trembled even more as he bent his head and licked a long lascivious line from her clit to her ass and back again. His tongue flicked over her and swirled around, probing her and making her wet again. She reached down to cradle the back of his head as he made her climax, pressing him against her needy sex and enjoying his groan.

  Before she even finished coming, he crawled up her and slid his tongue into her mouth, his cock inside her, and took her again, hard, fast and needy so that she couldn’t think of anything but being with him, being fucked by him, being possessed by him. She wrapped her legs high around his hips and held on until he lost his smooth rhythm and simply drove into her in short sharp strokes and climaxed, bringing her over with him.

  He fell forward, his face buried against her shoulder, and stayed there. Ava didn’t care. She needed to feel alive and if that meant bearing his weight, she was happy to do it. Exhaustion swept over her and she closed her eyes.

  Much later she disengaged herself from his arms and went to sit by the small window. Even though it was secured, she could still make out the moon and a black strip of the night sky. Even that small glimpse seemed precious now. Everything did.

  “You okay?”

  She turned toward the rumpled bed where Mike lay looking back at her. She tried to smile at him and rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

  “I could’ve died today.”

  “Yeah. I got that.” He walked across to her, his expression carefully neutral, and crouched down at her feet. “You having nightmares?”

  “Not really, I’m just…” She couldn’t go on. His hand came up and closed over her knee.

  “You’re just wondering how you escaped with barely a scratch and others in your patrol didn’t.”

  Ava swallowed hard. “Yeah. It seems so random.”

  He sighed. “I don’t know what to say to you. Some guys take solace in their religion; some find other things to believe in.” He squeezed her knee. “Come back to bed.”

  She reached down to him and he picked her up. She touched his face. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For being here.”

  “I had no choice about that. I’m stationed here just like you are.”

  She kissed his cheek. “For fucking me then.”

  He frowned. “I wanted to do that.”

  “No, you wanted to hold me and protect me.”

  “Sure, but I understood what you needed. I’ve been there myself, you know.” He kissed her nose, her forehead and her mouth. “I’d rather it was me.” His sigh was ragged. “Waiting to hear if you were okay was…” He cleared his throat. “I thought about telling you to get a desk job, or fucking you until I got you pregnant—about anything I could do to keep you away from this. And then I realized you wouldn’t be the woman I loved if I tried to change you or could control you like that.”

  “As if I’d let you.”

  She kissed him until he drew her down onto the bed and slowly entered her. She watched his face as he thrust into her, his total concentration and the faint lines of strain he couldn’t conceal. When he came, he curled himself around her and whispered in her ear.

  “Don’t die. Don’t you ever fucking die on me.”

  Ava closed her eyes against the anguish in his voice, knew enough not to say anything as this most private of men spilled his guts to her. She felt the same way, would die for him if given the chance. But all she could do for now was wrap herself around him and just hold him tight.

  HYPOCRITES

  Alyssa Turner

  It’s come from far away but is still audible among the hushed murmers in the crowd. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

  Behind the podium, I see Jacob’s hands trembling as they dangle at his side. The rest of him is sturdy as a brick, like always, exuding the kind of confidence that got him where he is today. Well, not exactly today. There won’t be any more inspirational speeches to thousands of eager voters. Today my husband eats crow, and with a sickened stomach, I will have to watch.

  I want to reach out and slip my arms around his tailored waist, feed him my unwavering support intravenously and let him find strength in my embrace, but a pinky finger lurking secretly next to his will have to do.

  His eyes flickering amber in the late afternoon sun remind me of the persistent guy collecting signatures on a busy street corner. First impressions of Jacob proved lasting. Success was written on his face like a road map for overachievers—steely concentration rounded out by a warm heart. Like me, he had a feverish obsession with changing what was wrong with the world. Only second-year students in the myopic confines of a liberal college town could have that kind of delusional life’s goal. Together we reveled in our optimism and every cause we undertook energized us for the next.

  Jacob took the fight seriously, as seriously as he took himself. Still, he was dragged into spontaneity by my artistic whims, landing us in trouble with the dean for stacking one hundred cans of lard in the entrance of the cafeteria. The stunt cost our parents a healt
hy fine and sliced away a bit of Jacob’s dignity, but after that, they started using canola oil, making it all worth it. By our third year, he called me his secret weapon and his closest friend. When we began to finish each other’s sentences, it was time to see if we were just as in sync in the fucking department.

  And so things got interesting.

  Jacob wasn’t exactly shy; I wouldn’t say that about him. Nobody that shows up at your dorm room at two in the morning could be mistaken for bashful. But Jacob seemed to restrain himself every time we were together, as if something was on the tip of his tongue, reaching from within the silence of his open mouth on mine. It confounded me the way he kept me at arm’s length, grasping my shoulders, then plundered me with stolen kisses, both needing and holding me back at the same time.

  He’d let his fingers fall slowly down my arms, meandering among my goose bumps until finally guiding my hands to my vagina, coaxing my legs apart with a hopeful invitation to play.

  From across the bed, biting absently on his lip, he would watch me for longer than I thought any twenty-year-old could bear, studying every movement of my busy fingers slinking over creamy folds splayed before him. His patience seemed endless. And me, the star of my very own one-woman show, learning to enjoy the subtle glint in his eyes and the soft squint of focus that creased the corners.

  “Don’t rush it,” Jacob scolded when I went too fast. I thought I was teasing him, curling my legs into the air, giving him a full-frontal view. But Jacob was teasing me, sadistically making me dangle on the verge of satisfaction, swollen with arousal and needful of more.

  Never soon enough, his sweet calm, set on slow simmer, would erupt with jaw muscles about to explode and his eyes narrowed on me like a spear. The restraint he wore so easily was cast aside, traded suddenly for tossing me roughly onto my knees and diving into the river he watched me create. Oh fuck, he fits me perfectly.