With a roar and a moan, we climaxed together, our bodies arching against each other as the head of his cock nudged against my cervix, the muscles of my pussy convulsing around him to squeeze out every last drop. A final thrust and my orgasm undid me. I fell back with my arms above my head as my hips thrust harder against him, and then slowly relaxed to release him from my grasp. Our chests were slick with sweat, and when he slumped down on top of me, our lips met in a languorous kiss.
“I think I feel properly rescued now,” I whispered in his ear.
“You should survive the night,” he replied, pulling the blankets around us and enveloping me in his arms.
You may not believe it, but I had the best night’s sleep ever, half-naked on the side of mountain with a man I barely knew. But it’s true. I awoke, snuggled against his chest, to hear the whop-whop-whop of the returning chopper.
Jake sat bolt upright leaving me sprawling on the ground beside him.
“Quick, get dressed,” he said.
Minutes later, we were in the belly of the bird, being flown back to civilization. Jake gave me a pair of headphones to put on to cut out the noise of the rotors and allow us to talk to each other.
“Morning, Jake,” said the pilot’s voice in my ear. “Glad to have you back on board.”
“Morning, Sam,” said Jake, grinning at me as our eyes met.
“Just one thing,” said Sam. “I was wondering, but I couldn’t work it out; why did you tell me not to come back for you last night?”
“Yes, why was that, Jake?” I asked, smiling widely.
Funny thing, but Jake didn’t have an answer.
THE STAR
Tahira Iqbal
I’ve picked the wrong day to come to the cemetery. It is raining so hard my hair is wet within moments after the wind catches my umbrella and turns it inside out.
I miss a puddle, but not the next one, the water sloshing over my heels and dampening my toes as I quickly make my way over the sodden turf while fixing my umbrella. I didn’t have time to change out of my office clothes after leaving work early. I’d been keen to get out of London before the rush-hour traffic. But being chilled by the cold, the rain…it doesn’t matter. Nothing does anymore. He’s here, and I want to see him.
Carefully finding my way through the graves, I stoop down to pat the headstone, feeling how smooth it is, so very brand new, not aged like some of the markers deeper in the cemetery. The gold scroll of the words my parents and I had chosen is eloquent and heartfelt; the letters gleam against the sparkling black granite, the rainwater caught in the etching.
“Hello, Dean.”
I remove my cold hand to jam it into a pocket, and tears rise freely as I step back, looking at the patch of earth that now keeps my brother. I live over a hundred miles away; my parents had of course wanted Dean to be buried close to their village, so I am only able to visit him when I come to see them.
Six months. Six long, aching months since we’d received notification that their brave son, my brave brother in the Royal Air Force, had been killed in action. We’d tried to shelter my mother from the extent of his fatal injuries, but she had wanted to know everything, especially questioning why we couldn’t have an open casket.
Nightmares had given me twisted visuals of what had become of him. Awful hours where horrors occurred and showed me a sibling I didn’t recognize. I’d pleaded to the heavens, on my knees on hot desert sand, for him to be…restored.
Days would go by, and all I could think of was him: tall, broad, funny and serious at the same time. The coolest older brother, the utterly skilled pilot who delivered effective force where it was needed but never without great thought and planning for the innocents on the ground. I’d lost my brother, my best friend, but I was proud of him, and his decision to defend. That didn’t curb the ache inside, something I knew would stay with me forever.
I shiver now as the wind blows, creeping under the battered umbrella and the collar of my coat. Sunset is breaking the horizon apart. “I better go Dean, I’ll see you soon.” I lay the small bunch of flowers against the fresh bundle that my mother had left earlier in the week before heading to the car.
That’s when I see him. The stranger standing beside my car. My heart picks up speed as he begins to walk toward me. He’s dressed in dark clothes, perhaps denims and a jumper with an unzipped parka that’s now wet from the rain, like his hair.
The tall, handsome, blue-eyed man stops a few yards from me.
He looks past me, to the spot I’ve just stood on, then back at me, those intense eyes, lit like the brightest sky, sending a rare shot of warmth to cradle the hope that’s almost dead inside of me.
“I’m Calder.”
I nod with understanding. The man who had only appeared as short sharp descriptions in even shorter emails, had become like family to Dean. He had said that Calder was the best comrade from another country’s army anyone could have.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” His American accent is a rich vibration of power.
I nod again, my voice hidden in the depths of my surprise.
“I got home from my tour last week. Bought a ticket and here I am.”
I try for a smile. “I’m Estella.”
“I know who you are, ma’am.”
My eyes fill with tears; I brush them away quickly. “Um, I’m sure my parents would like to meet you. Do you have time to visit them?”
“Your mom and dad are on my list,” Calder says. “So are you.”
And that’s when I lose it. “I really wish I wasn’t…” I whisper, “then Dean would still be here.”
Calder looks at the grave again, his shoulders squaring. “Even if he was…I know that I’d want to meet you, the way your brother talked about you, the way he cared for you even though he was thousands of miles away.”
The offer to drive him to my parents’ home is declined for the moment. Instead, I take him to his hotel in the center of the village.
“I’ll be in touch,” Calder says before leaving the car with my phone number.
I don’t sleep well that night. I’ve been given my old room, and even though it has been cleared of all my childhood paraphernalia there are moments when I expect Dean to pop his head around the door frame, tease me about my latest experimental hairstyle or ask me a question (or ask me to do the sums) for his math homework.
Rising early, I find the house dim, quiet and warm. I stop at Dean’s room. He had his own place, a small apartment in a nearby town, but he’d left lots of his personal items here before shipping out.
I reach for a photo frame. Dean in his pristinely pressed uniform, smiling, giving me a comforting hug as we’d said good-bye for his first deployment. That had been nearly eight years ago.
He’d come home a different man after his first tour of duty. Quieter, but with an intensity that had created a force field around him I couldn’t quite break through. We might not have been kids anymore, but still we joked around, reverting to our silly teenage selves when we were with each other. But he’d been gone in certain respects; in his place was a razor-sharp soldier.
My cell trills in my room, so I head back. It’s Calder, checking whether tomorrow morning would be okay to visit my parents. I reply quickly, confirming the visit as I’ve already spoken to them the previous evening, and then curl up in bed thinking of the American.
Lieutenant Peter Calder, United States Air Force, Dean had written once, the man can cut paper just by looking at it.
It’s after eleven A.M. when I finally wake the following day, and I can hear Calder’s striking voice drifting upstairs. “Damn it.” I’m edgy and clammy as I’d been taken in by a nightmare that had held on so tight I’d been unable to fight it. I’d walked through a battlefield filled with bodies to where normally Dean would have stood.
But now it was Calder who was there, his hand open and waiting. Behind him in the distance, his F-16 billowed smoke from where its tail should have been. I extended my hand but everything had disap
peared into a booming cloud of pure white light and heat as something long and pointed arrived with a screech to crash and explode between our feet, throwing us apart. In pieces.
Washing quickly, I change and head downstairs. Calder rises out of his seat with a welcoming smile. “Good morning, Estella.” The good manners make me blush a little as I enter the room.
My terrible night’s sleep is forgotten.
The group is sitting with teacups and an assortment of baked goods my mother can’t quite stop making. Something about idle hands comes to mind and the ache returns again.
I try not to smile as Calder’s big fingers attempt to lift the delicate china cup. I heat inwardly as I imagine those fingers exploring other places.
My parents talk with Calder quietly as I go to refill the teapot. In the act of searching for a mug for him, I feel him walk into the room.
Furtively he says, eyes sparkling, “I’m looking for something larger than this thimble to drink the tea out of… Ah, great minds…”
I hold up the mug, offering it. Calder takes it, our fingers brushing. I’m electrified by the crush in my heart.
He smiles, and I know he doesn’t do it often because his handsome face is free of laughter lines. Something inside sharpens, and I have to blink back the despair, “Do you want to go for a walk?”
Wrapping up warm against the chilly morning, Calder and I set off on foot for the village, beside us nothing but fields covered in waist-high mist.
“Dean said you met at a U.K. versus U.S. football match on the base?”
“Yeah, he was the goalie, and I kicked him when I should have kicked the ball.”
“Ouch.” I laugh, comforted by Calder’s magnetic presence. I can see why Dean got on with him, although what I’m feeling is totally different.
“You should know that Americans aren’t really good at soccer. Give me any other sport, and I’ll kick your ass.”
“Yeah, he said they won, what, eight goals to one?” I say with a smile, checking the winding lane before crossing over to the path. I unhook the gate, letting Calder pass through before securing it again. “Now, that had to hurt.”
“Yeah, it kinda dented the unit’s pride, but we became friends after that.”
“Friendship was the least you could offer. I mean, you did kick him in the jewels.”
Calder laughs so deeply a cow grazing in the next field looks up at us.
The silence extends as we walk side by side, close enough I can feel his jacket brush mine.
“Were you there?”
“When it happened? No, I was flying in another part of the country with my own unit.”
I exhale deeply, eyes blurring, and come to a halt.
“Hey…” Calder’s hand goes to my shoulder as he faces me.
“If you say something like, it was quick and painless…” I draw myself away.
“I’m not going to say that…” he says darkly as we both know the awful truth. The casket had been sealed for a reason.
“Good, bullshit doesn’t help.” Tears sting the backs of my eyes as I try to walk away.
“Stop.” Calder turns me around, putting both his palms against my face. “You’re not sleeping are you?”
I lower my eyes
“Nightmares?”
“Calder…”
“You can tell me.”
“No,” I say shakily, “what you guys face is worse than whatever I’m going through.”
“Estella,” he says quietly, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones, the tears. “War zones are wherever you make them.”
We arrive at the village pub, and once I’ve introduced Calder to the landlord, I’m touched by the offer of free drinks: a coffee for Calder and a tea for me. We drink in silence. I’m affected by what he said in the field so I focus on the roaring and crackling fire we’re sitting beside.
“We better head back to your mom and dad’s,” Calder says reaching for his jacket once we’re done, his head nearly scraping the beams of the ancient building.
“That’s okay. Your hotel is right around the corner, I’d just be driving you back anyway…”
“I’m walking you home, Estella.” He reaches for my coat, and helps me into it, “Let’s go.”
Once we’re outside, he puts his hand into mine.
The hope inside…ignites.
We approach the house. “Why don’t you stay at my place?” The suggestion seems to throw him as he looks down at me with something in his eyes I can’t quite read. “Er… I mean…you’ve never been to London right? Why don’t you take some nice memories back home at least?”
“I’d like that.”
“I mean…you’ll be sleeping on the couch…maybe a hotel would be better?”
“Estella,” his fingers lightly squeeze mine, “the couch is fine.”
Three hours later, Calder and I arrive at my flat on the outskirts of London.
“So what do you want to do first?” I flip through my phone checking out some of the tourist information apps I’d downloaded when we’d returned to my parents house.
“This.”
He’s got me in his arms suddenly, his lips to mine. The hunger, the urgency steals my breath and puts a tingle in the backs of my knees.
“I wanted to do that all morning.” His palm, big and broad, presses into my back, rubbing softly. “Come with me.”
We find ourselves at my bedroom door.
Color heats my face, which Calder notices.
“Relax… I just want you to rest, sleep, okay?” He brushes the hair off my shoulders with such care I break down, bawling my eyes out. Calder holds me until I’ve composed myself enough to climb onto the bed with him. He takes me into his arms so that I can rest against his chest.
I don’t know how long I stare down at the length of his denim-clad legs, but when my eyes droop shut, I don’t fight it.
The nightmare attacks with its usual bite. This time I’ve made it through the body-strewn war zone, my hand reaching for Calder, the tension in my chest reaching the boiling point as I anticipate the arrival of the missile.
His fingers curve around mine, and the white light doesn’t come. He brings me up against the warmth of his body, his uniform rough against my clothes, a gun at his side, poised and ready to take down anything that will hurt me…or us.
“Hey.” Softness in the dark, a cool voice brings me home. I open my eyes. Calder. “You were dreaming?”
I swallow back the worry. “It was different this time.”
“How?” Calder traces a finger along my lips.
“You got to me in time.”
A victorious smile makes his lips part as he leans in for a kiss. Calder sighs against my mouth, his erection hard against my thigh.
“Estella…” he groans, “are you sure you don’t want me on the couch?”
I smile against his lips, laughing softly, “Maybe later.”
The soldier looks at me, eyes hot. “Done.”
My laughter ceases when his hand travels to my zipper. With an achingly languid and erotic pace, he slides it down before slipping his hand inside my panties to cup me.
I screw my eyes tight shut, vaulting into something sparkling and definite.
Slowly, with one fingertip, he rubs, drawing a cascading wetness within that heralds a complete shift of my senses.
He kisses my throat reverently. I uncurl my fists and reach between us, panting as I reach for the buttons of his shirt. He’s hard. All over. I run my hands over his torso, fingers falling into the dents and design of his muscles, especially the ridges of his abs. His groan of pleasure is a sound I know I’m going to be addicted to.
I push the shirt off his shoulders, before working his belt, followed by his button fly.
I push the material, but can’t get past midthigh.
“Here…” He sits up, swiveling his feet to the floor before standing. Quickly, he drags his denims and boxers off, revealing his erection.
Absorbed by his visually arresti
ng arousal, I quickly haul my shirt off; I reach around for my bra.
“No…” He kneels beside me. “Let me.”
Without breaking eye contact, he reaches for the clasp at the back, snaps it apart and slowly brings it down my arms. His inhale is broken once he lets his gaze travel down to my breasts. I sink back against the linens and he kisses each nipple before reaching down and tugging my panties off.
I trace the muscle of his shoulder with my lips, awed by his build. I close my eyes as he places soft, light kisses against my neck which make me part my legs. I feel his searching cock, which he guides into me. I watch fascinated as inch by inch he disappears inside of me.
His thrusts are slow, steady, creating a heat within that threatens to obliterate anything in its path. Including my grief. Tears push into my eyes and fall.
“Estella? What’s wrong? Jesus! Am I hurting you?”
I shake my head. “Just don’t stop… Calder, don’t stop.” I am astounded by the fit of him and the power of this sudden union.
Calder kisses my temple, reverently whispering my name. And that does it. My tears explode and something within breaks free. I drag his head down, opening his mouth with mine, pushing my tongue inside.
Calder’s thrusts get stronger, faster, deeper as the fury of emotion makes us both breathless.
I come first, grabbing his buttocks for support as I shake with a momentous curl of passion that finally shuts out the darkness I’ve been walking in.
“I’m close,” Calder whispers against my mouth.
My heartbeat breaks through into new territory, and I encourage his climax by squeezing my muscles around him, which makes him groan. I clutch at him, marveling at how hard he is, making sure he’s gaining what he needs from this moment.
High Octane Heroes Page 17