Her Special Forces

by Sophia Roslyn

  “Mother publically abhorred the violence, but I think she secretly got a charge out of her man being the biggest, the boldest, and the best. I caught Mum, a time or two, hiding grins behind her hand when the gents partook in rounds of friendly fisticuffs. Heart of a lion, my Da, but as gentle as a lamb with us. One of our great-great-greats was actually a mate of John L. Sullivan.”

  Nathan turned to face her, eyes wide, a dishtowel hanging over his shoulder. “The John L. Sullivan?”

  She nodded. “The very same. The Boston Strong Boy. First Heavyweight Champion of gloved boxing from 1882 to 1892, probably the last heavyweight champion of bare-knuckle boxing here in the States under the London Prize Ring Rules. There were some wild and scandalous stories told over coffee, cigars, and glasses of port in the parlor, when little ears were supposed to be safely tucked into bed. We have photos in one of the bazillion albums in the library. His fight record lodged in my brain when I was a kid, but those memory cells are gone for good. I even won a history award in school for my John L. Sullivan report—everyone admitted it was a hell of a report.”

  A humph came from over Nathan’s shoulder as he returned to rinsing the dishes. “Our dad worked as an engineer, built bridges. Mom gave up her teaching job to care for us, the four ruffians. Seems like we had a much quieter childhood than you did, although our hijinks—her word, not ours—did seem lively at the time.”

  He dried his hands, leaned back against the counter. “So, you come by your stubbornness and hot temper honestly. It’s not only hereditary, it’s also learned. A double whammy.”

  “Hey now, I’m not stubborn, I’m simply tenacious. There’s a difference. It’s a necessary quality for a girl to survive in a man’s world.” She threw her best innocent look his way, but he didn’t seem impressed. Admittedly, it had been a weak attempt.

  “Uh huh. Oh, yeah.”

  She noticed the change in Nathan’s demeanor. Subtle at first, she heard it in the deeper tone of voice, saw the sudden tension in his lazy lion-like slouch, the sparkle in his honeyed hazel eyes. A curl of matching tawny hair unfurled onto his forehead, which caused the tip of her tongue to escape the corner of her mouth. A blond Hugh Jackman at his hottest, right in her own kitchen.

  Without willing it, her body picked up on the variations in his body posture in a microsecond. The aroma of bacon probably still overpowered the ether of pheromones dancing in the air, but her brain sifted and sorted until it reached the good stuff. He wanted her. Now. Her nipples, always the first defectors, perked with interest. She wrapped her arms over her chest, knowing her body’s reaction would be visible through the stretchy spandex running top.

  “Nathan, look, thanks for the meal, but I think you should leave now. It’s been a long day, and I really want to shower and hit the rack….” Even as the words petered out, she realized how he might interpret them. When he moved, she knew he’d done exactly that—put his own spin on her innocent comments.

  The image of a large, slinky jungle cat persisted, as he rose, then stalked her.

  Even his voice turned primal, growly. Incredibly sexy. “I can assist with the shower, help you settle for the evening. Preferably, settle for the entire night. Kace, I don’t need to report to my new job until a week from Monday, which gives us at least two days—and three nights—before your staff descends. So, point me in the right direction to shower and bed, or draw a map.”

  He stood behind her, placed his hands on her shoulders, pressed close against the chair back. Leaning over, his lips caressed top the top of her head. “C’mon, Marine. Let me spoil you. At least for the weekend.”

  Her body screamed yes, but her brain shut down. No-no-no, she couldn’t take the chance, couldn’t risk it, what if he saw—

  “Nathan, I’m sorry, but you really must go.” Go, and leave her in peace with her ogres.

  “Kace, baby, didn’t we have this conversation earlier? I’m sure you remember how that ended.” He massaged her shoulders, and her eyes closed of their own volition. “You know you want me to stay, admit it. No begging required. Just say the word.”

  In the end, she didn’t say the word. She didn’t say anything at all.

  …

  With Kacey wrapped in his arms again, Nathan followed her directions, tolerated a beautifully ornate-but-slow lift to the third floor, where many of the bedrooms appeared to be. Not a dark or dreary place like the castles of the old Irish hillsides, instead, the few doors that were opened revealed bright, airy rooms.

  She finally pointed to the last two lavish, eight-paneled doors on the right. They opened up into a spacious suite. Not girly pink—he knew better than that—the décor melded, merged, mixed creams and browns and golds, with touches of turquoise, in a rich weave of comfort and elegance.

  Knowing Kace only as a rough and tumble Marine attack helicopter pilot who fought well in the training arena, who ran or worked out like a maniac during her down time, who neither drank nor smoked, Nathan never really put much thought into how she lived as a civvy. Their rare times together, their intimate moments, had been too precious, too valuable, to waste on chatter—and she’d proven to be a pro at discussion avoidance. After making landfall in rustic Winterpine, he’d assumed she had a nice little cabin, maybe a modest cottage, at the edge of town. Timberwyck bypassed incredible and vaulted directly to awesome.

  “Y’know, you can put me down. I’m perfectly capable of walking on my own.”

  He did as she asked, but unashamedly, boldly enjoyed the feel of her body as he allowed her to slide from his arms.

  “You didn’t look so great when you answered the door. I thought I’d help.”

  Pulling and stretching her clothing into place, she gave him one of those harsh, raised eyebrow looks that he’d seen bring experienced, hard-core combat Marines to their knees.

  “You woke me from a nice nap, thank you very much, which is why I looked the way I did. Now that I’ve had another nap, and a ton of calorie-rich food, I’m fine. Can’t you tell?”

  “What I can tell is that you argue strictly for the sake of arguing. Plus, you skipped over the best part of the morning.”

  “Nathan, whether you like it or not, we need to discuss what you think is—”

  He retreated, then regrouped by way of the only strategy he knew would stop the diatribe. He pulled her to him and kissed her. Soundly. Full on the mouth. Catching her words before they could escape. Or, at least, such was his intent. She wasn’t exactly cooperative.

  “Nathan—”

  “Shh. Y’know, I never noticed you were this chatty while we were in camp.”

  She snorted at him. “That’s because I did my best to avoid you during the rare instances that you were in camp.”

  He nuzzled her neck. “You’re such a liar.” In the dark corners of the buildings and huts at Delaram base, behind the sand dunes, snuggled in the back of a parked transport vehicle, their private moments had been just as indispensable to her as they were to him, if her breathless responses and soft moans had been true barometers of their stolen times together.

  Afraid she’d rabbit and disappear into the endless warren of rooms, he gripped her wrist, pulled her along into her private bath, which had been done in the same color palette as her living quarters, with a touch more turquoise and deep antique gold. The ceramic tiles gleamed and the brass fittings were shined to a fare-thee-well.

  Slamming on the brakes in her stocking feet didn’t give Kacey any purchase whatsoever on the highly polished floors where there were no area rugs, so she slid into the room behind Nate.

  “Nathan, what the hell are you doin’? Why are you still dragging me?”

  “We could both use a shower, and I didn’t want you to escape.”

  At that, her jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m very serious. A battalion could play hide and seek in this oversized cottage of yours. So, if I let go, you could conceivably hide out for months.”

  Keeping her wrist imprisoned, h
e reached with his free hand to adjust the shower, waited until the water temperature was comfortably warm but not scalding. She snarled—which he ignored—as he stripped off her clothes and tossed them on the floor, until he pushed her under the triple shower heads. A mouthful of water and subsequent sputtering resulted in a quick, if temporary, cease fire.

  His own clothes were off in seconds, but since he didn’t have fresh clothing, he folded his carefully on the stool in front of the vanity.

  As if they showered together every day, he reached past her for the shampoo sitting in its tiled niche.

  “Soak your head.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I have the shampoo, so you need to soak your head.”

  Surprisingly, she did as he asked, turned her back to him and wet her hair. The red turned deeper, darker under the streaming water. He squeezed out a blob of sweet smelling shampoo, worked it through the strands, then rinsed out the suds. Being conscientious, he did the same with the conditioner, sans the suds. Her hair felt like a waterfall of satin in his fingers as he rinsed out the conditioner.

  “Mmm.”

  He wasn’t sure if he’d actually heard her sigh, but then she did it again.

  “You like?”

  “Yes. I like.”

  “Then you should love this. Place your hands on the wall.”

  “What?”

  “For once in your life, please just do it without arguing.”

  After she did as he asked, he squeezed jasmine-scented body wash on a cloth, soaped up her body. He began at the back of her neck, then worked his way down her torso. He spent extra time lathering the tattoo that covered her left shoulder blade, the Marine logo with its eagle, globe, and anchor, with the motto, Once a Marine, Always a Marine, circling the beautifully stylized artwork.

  He slid the washcloth across to her right shoulder, smoothing the soap over the superbly inked Firebird, its crest and feathers all done in golds and crimson. Even her tattoos were class acts.

  “Am I rubbing too hard?”

  “Uh uh. Feels nice.”

  As he reached the base of her spine, she dropped her head, moved her hands wider apart on the wall and spread her legs.

  Wow, hmm, he wondered if she knew how sexy that pose was. He decided she didn’t, or she would have avoided the enticing posture.

  He renewed enough soap to make a rich lather, continued with the cloth, but soon gave that up in favor of his hands. He worked over her hips, down her tight, perfect buttocks, to her strong thighs, finally, between her legs. He reached forward, sudsed her labia. Rather than waste the slickness, he took a chance, slid fingers inside of her.

  “Hey, fella, what do you think you’re…ahh, mmm, oh yeah baby…”

  He pushed his body up close, pressed his obvious arousal against her, growled in her ear. “Do you really want me to stop?”

  “Y-e-s-s. N-n-n-o.” She twisted her hips to force his fingers to delve deeper. “No, don’t stop.”

  “Good girl. Now, show me how much you want it.”

  “Nathan—”

  He nuzzled her, his mouth against her ear. “Show me.”

  She spread her legs wider, rocked her hips back.

  “That’s a girl. Let me make you feel good.”

  Reacting to her sensuality, he nipped the side of her neck, then licked the bite, let the water run over the pinkness. Her moan grew deeper.

  Using more soap, he ran his hands from her smooth shoulders, down her trim sides, to the bottom of her firm, round ass cheeks, reached once again between her smooth legs, fingered her tight sheath more deeply. His roused cock, ship’s mast tall and anchor hard, silently screamed for attention. He didn’t try to enter her, rather he worked his shaft up and down along the slippery crevice of her butt, enjoyed the slide. The soothing moisturizers in the body wash did a great job of smoothing his way, and the heady aroma of the jasmine shot his already cranked-up level of desire into orbit.

  It had not been Nathan’s intention to take advantage of Kacey in the shower, but when she responded by pushing back, when she twisted her hips to press his cock more tightly against her bottom, when she groaned at the contact—he lost it.

  Renewing the suds, he guided himself between her legs. When she felt him, she cocked her pelvis to present a better target. He went for the brass ring. Even soaped up, his size could hurt her if his aim was off, so he pushed into her carefully, slowly, until she breathed out a load groan and pressed backward. Reading her response as a go-ahead, he grabbed her by the hips. No longer the gentleman, he plowed into her.

  Buried deeply, he reached one hand around and under, found her slippery clit. More suds, then his fingers went to work.

  “Omigod, Nathan, sweet Jesus, oh fuck, whatever you’re doing, don’t stop, I’m right there, omigod.”

  Without a plan, caught up in the moment, he pressed the thumb of his free hand against the tightly furled and untried rosette of her ass. Further words were lost as she whimpered and writhed under him. The pulse of her flesh grasped his cock as she pushed against his thumb. Jacked up by her wild responses, thoughts of his own release became subservient to her burst of spasms.

  When he truly breached her virgin opening with his slippery digit, she sucked in her breath, but rode it out with him, twisting her hips to force him deeper.

  He felt pulses of orgasm after orgasm roll over her as he worked his thumb in and out, alternating with his pussy-buried shaft. He pulled out, added more slick suds, slipped into her again. Every time he pushed, twisted, then pushed his thumb again, she moaned and pushed back.

  Because their time together at the Delaram base had been so limited, anal sex was something that had never gotten past the discussion stage, those “what if” fantasies that only happened when they’d fondled and teased each other to the brink of insanity. Could he? Would she allow it?

  His balls threatened to explode if he didn’t come, and come soon.

  Pulling out, he lathered up his cock, pressed his straining, weeping crown against her nether opening, leaned forward, mouthed her shoulder, her neck, her ear, his whisper strained as he tried to maintain control. “Baby, I want you so bad, you’re making me crazy. Let me take you like this.”

  She raised her head, flung her soaked hair, spread her hands even wider on the tiled wall. “Yes, do it, for fuck sake! Do it now!”

  He dripped the body wash directly on his cock, eased the slippery head into her puckered flesh. At first, she pulled away, then she took him by surprise by slamming backward, pushing him halfway into her body as another orgasm grabbed her.

  Inflamed by her actions, he slid into her an inch at a time, pulled out, went deeper on each return thrust. Finally, when the sensation of the smooth, ultra-tight sheath was so intense he couldn’t hold off any longer, he drove deep. Kacey cried out as his dick hit bottom, then screamed his name as he came with the force of a water cannon, her channel pulsing around him again and again, milking him like the tightest fist imaginable. When his cock finally died a happy death and allowed him to slip out, he felt yet another pulse, another throb from her, about two seconds before her body went limp.

  Chapter Four

  Nate didn’t want to leave Kacey, but he needed clean clothes.

  In the shower, she had uttered one last groan before she collapsed into his arms, without ever turning to face him. He held her too-slender body upright while he rinsed off the soap, wrapped a towel around her, carried her out, then propped her on the bed like a weightless, boneless rag doll. He went back for a towel to dry himself, also grabbed one for her hair.

  Towel knotted around his waist, he sat behind her, pressed the water out of her hair, gently brushed out the strands. Her eyes were half opened, her expression blank. Not scary blank, but more like a soft, mellow, who-gives-a-shit, I-died-and-went-to-heaven blank.

  “Kacey, baby, can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, something cold? Maybe a snack?”

  She sighed. Words seemed to take too much effort, but sh
e managed to shake her head.

  At the height of summer’s long days, it was still light, but the sun had begun to fade. The heavy odor of honeysuckle at its peak invaded their space. The corner location of her room offered incredible views of superb lawns and landscaping, the sky and the woodlands, from morning until evening. Right now, she was missing a fantastic panorama—mountains in the distance tinted lavender as the sun began to set, white, mountainous clouds peaked like meringue reflected rich oranges and reds and pinks of a sinking sun, with a hint of purple edging. Red sky at night, sailor’s delight. Sunset would be breathtaking.

  Mmm. Breathtaking. Then again, since he’d first laid eyes on her, Kacey had affected him the same way, as breathtaking as the rising or setting sun, as breathtaking as nature at its finest. But Jonah had been right to call him. She most certainly wasn’t herself. Since his first glimpse of her in town—shit, had that only been this morning?—she’d been faking it, putting on a tough front, a brave front, acting all self-assured. But her spark had diminished, nearly vanished. He felt the transformation, and mourned the loss.

  He kissed her shoulder. “Kace, sweetheart, can you hear me?”

  “Mmph.”

  “Babe, was that a yes or a no?”

  “Mmph.”

  “Kace, baby, I need to go back to my hotel for clean clothes. I won’t be long. Will you be all right?”

  “Mmph.”

  A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. He’d already covered her pillow with a dry towel, so her hair wouldn’t soak the downy filling. He removed her damp towel, covered her now-dry body with a sheet and a light duvet. It was midsummer, but the huge house felt comfortably cool.

  House? Yeah, some house. More like a city of its own.

  Nate walked down the long driveway and hoofed it back to town, wishing he’d worn something other than his favorite Ferragamos. Then again, he hadn’t planned on going walkabout in the town of Winterpine when he started out.

  The crunch of the gravel reminded him of the first day he’d arrived at the USMC Forward Operating Base Delaram in Afghanistan.