“I work over at the VA,” she continued. “All the guys are always talking about this place. Besides, I’m a military brat, places like this remind me of home. Where did you serve?”
He paused just for a moment, taking a swallow of his drink. “Still serve,” he corrected. “I’m on leave, but I serve in Afghanistan. But when I’m over there, I miss places like this most of all.”
“Really?” Cecily asked, a smile coming over her face, “This place? I mean, it’s OK. But I think you can do better than this. At least somewhere a little less smoky.”
A smile broke on his face and he said, “Yeah, alright. There are places I miss more than this. But I do miss this place.”
“What else do you miss?” she asked.
“My bike,” he said.
“I’m guessing we’re not talking about a bicycle?”
“Definitely not. Come and check it out.” He threw down three twenties and waved once at the bartender. Cecily grabbed her jacket and followed him out. She felt a little tipsy on her feet and hoped that no one noticed.
The night air was cool, and Cecily slipped into her jacket. Gravel crunched under their feet as cars zoomed by on the highway. He stopped at a shiny motorcycle leaning to the side. It was nice, a Harley Switchback, twin-cam engine. A few dings on the side, but not too bad.
“Although that one’s nice, too,” he said. “I wouldn’t mind riding that for a few hours.”
Cecily couldn't stop the smile that spread over her face, “2016 Victory Octane,” she said, watching as he turned to look at her in confusion. “Cast aluminum frame, 4 valve heads, dual overhead cams and liquid cooling. It’s mine.”
“Damn,” he said, taking her by the hips and pulling her close. “That was the hottest thing you could have said.”
She smiled as he kissed her. His arms came around her waist and she let herself fall towards him. She opened her lips and his tongue slid over hers. He held her tightly, and she could feel his bulge pressing against his jeans.
He kissed her deeply, relentlessly. She was trapped in his arms and she liked it. There was a wall behind them and he nudged her back until she was up against it. Their hands were all over each other. He grabbed her hips and ass and breasts, squeezing and stroking her seemingly everywhere at once.
He pinned her wrists to either side of her head and then attacked her neck. A shudder ran up and down her back as he bit, licked and sucked her sensitive skin. Her breath hitched in his ear as she whispered ‘yes’ and writhed against him. He let out a low growl and then he was on her again, kissing her, pushing himself against her.
He let go of her hands and then he was sliding his hands up her thighs. Her cold skin grew warmer as his hand moved up and up, gathering the material of her skirt and pushing it aside. Her pulse raced from his touch. His fingers were at her panties. He found the waistband and suddenly he was pulling them down.
She giggled as they got caught up in her shoes and he bent down to grab them. He came up smiling, her black thong in his hand. He smirked as he slipped it into his pocket.
A car roared past, and Cecily grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him out of the glow of the streetlight. It was a moonless night and within a few steps they were in the pitch black. She reached out for him, she could hear his heavy breathing and it matched her own.
He spun her around and kissed the back of her neck as his hands came around and grabbed and squeezed her breasts. She strained underneath him as her nipples formed hard peaks.
She could hear him unbuckling his belt.
“Condom,” she whispered, turning around. He nodded and reached into his wallet, pulling out a foil-wrapped packet. She smiled up at him as he unzipped his pants. She opened the packet with her teeth and then slid the condom over him.
He spun her around and grabbed her hips as she leaned forward over the motorcycle. She gasped as he entered her. Her breath came in short bursts as he slid all the way in. She threw her head back and moaned loudly as his fingers dug into the flesh of her hips.
“Yes,” she moaned loudly, as he began to thrust into her.
Cecily was almost surprised at how wet she was. But her body had been ready for Becket. She moved with him, she was in the perfect position. As he thrust into her and slid out, his cock stroked along her g-spot. Bolts of electricity shot through her as she pushed back against him.
“Yes, yes, yes.” She couldn't think straight. The only thing that mattered was this, the two of them right now. Her body flushed with pleasure and she grabbed at his motorcycle. She was so close. He thrust in again and again and then suddenly it was all too much. Her body tensed and then her orgasm rushed over, and she moaned loudly as her body spasmed and shook. With a few final thrusts, she felt Beckett finish and then they were nothing more than a sweaty heap gasping for breath.
“Wow,” Beckett said, as he pulled himself away from her. “That was....wow.”
Cecily stood and ran a hand through her messy hair, feeling sleepy and full of adrenaline all at the same time.
“Yeah, I should probably get going. Early shift tomorrow,” Cecily said, as she stretched her arms over her head. She always felt so sated after sex. It was like having her batteries recharged. She loved sex; it was relationships she had trouble with.
“So, can I get your name at least?” Beckett asked.
She smiled at him as she reached for her helmet. “Sorry, Dr. Jones, no time for love,” she said, as she threw a leg over her bike. She was aware that he still had her panties in his pocket, but she considered it a parting gift, and with one last smile she revved up her bike and headed home.
Chapter Three
Beckett woke to a pounding headache. A steady throb had settled right behind his right eye. He forced himself to sit up and reach for the aspirin bottle he kept on his nightstand. He dry swallowed three pills and then chugged from a water bottle. It had been sitting there a long time and the water was brackish and warm, but it felt good on his parched throat.
He still couldn’t quite believe what happened last night. Had he really met and hooked up with a beautiful woman in the parking lot of O’Neils? It seemed impossible but, in addition to his hangover, he still felt that pleasant full-body calmness that came after sex.
Finding a woman like that in the dusty little town of Halmos, New Mexico was almost impossible. The town had been named after some mathematician from the fifties, but there wasn't a lot of math happening anymore. Thanks to the military base, the town was eighty percent men. It was famed for its army base and small but well-staffed VA hospital.
The entire town revolved around the base. On any given day there were hundreds of off-duty soldiers walking around the town, drinking in the dive bars and smoking on street corners. Beckett was one of those guys on leave. He hadn’t thought that getting a hook up would be quite so easy. Normally he had to travel two towns over to find a quality woman, but last night one had literally fallen into his lap.
Not that Beckett had ever struggled with the ladies. He was in good shape and he knew that civilian ladies liked a soldier with a motorcycle. The only men they usually dealt with were their fellow office drones: accountants and clerks. Paper-pushers who wouldn’t last two minutes in a fight.
The women Beckett encountered, like the hottie from last night, were tired of all of those thin-necked, weak men. They wanted a real man, and Beckett was happy to provide. He never let them get too close, though.
Beckett knew what would happen if he got serious with a girl. He would be shipped off and, with a teary goodbye, they would promise to make it work. At first they would talk every day. She would listen to him as he talked about the horrors and monotony of war. But after a while she would start missing calls. There would be a new guy at work and, even though she would promise that they were just friends, she would smile and blush when she mentioned him. Then, slowly, she would talk about the new guy more and more, she would miss more calls and then eventually it would happen. She would tell him that she just couldn't
do it anymore, she was sorry, but it was over.
How many times had Beckett watched one of his brothers get his heart ripped out by some broad back home? Too many to count. It happened the same way every time. Maybe it was the long distance part, maybe it was the war. Whatever it was, his life and relationships didn’t work and he was perfectly happy with that.
He did regret not getting the hottie’s number, or at least her name. She was hot, and had curves that he could have stared at all day. He only knew her by the tattoo on her inner arm. Plus, it wasn’t any woman that would screw him on his motorcycle in the parking lot of a bar. That girl wasn't wife material, but Beckett didn’t want a wife. He just wanted some fun and she had been the most fun he had ever had.
His phone chimed and, with a sigh, Beckett forced himself to get up and get into the shower. He washed and dressed and hopped on his bike, then headed down to the VA hospital downtown.
Halmos, New Mexico was a sad looking town. The streets were lined with pawn shops, cash for gold, chicken wing joints and not much else. Tired, broken men smoked outside of bar doors waiting for them to open. Beckett seriously thought about joining them. He could pull his bike over and wait with the rest of them. It was almost nine o’clock; the bars would be open soon.
No. He shook his head. He wasn’t that desperate, not yet. Besides, he wasn’t done being a soldier. He wasn’t finished with the fight and he wasn’t going to let his brothers die in the war while he drowned his sorrows.
“Hair of the dog, brother.” He could still hear Andy’s voice in his ear. “Technically, weed is the best thing for a hangover, but since whiskey is the best we can do, bottoms up!”
When had that been, three months ago, four? It had been the week of the attack, Beckett remembered that well enough. Andy had been drinking a lot by that time. Too much. But Beckett hadn’t done anything about it then, and now it was far too late.
The VA hospital. His stomach dropped as he pulled into the parking garage. He took his time parking his bike and walking to the elevator. He stepped in and saw there were two people on it already, a man in a wheelchair and a woman wearing what looked like a permanent grimace.
He got off at the floor marked for physical therapy and sighed when he saw the folding chairs lined up and down in the room under the harsh fluorescent light. Men sat in the chairs, some hunched over and grumbling, others flipping through their phones. Beckett wasn’t ready to join them yet. He wasn't one of them. He wasn't broken. He was still a fighter.
Instead, he thought about the hottie from the other night. Didn’t she say she was a doctor? In the harsh light of day, he had a hard time believing that. What kind of doctor went to a dive bar and screwed strangers in the parking lot? She was probably a waitress playing pretend on the weekends.
The Ten Signs of Depression.
Finding the Right Counselor For You.
PSTD - It’s Not A Life Sentence!
The brochures featured men and women blandly smiling into the camera. They were in fields or living rooms, but the pictures were too perfect. It was nothing like real life. Real life wasn’t perfectly photoshopped pictures of people in perfect fields and spotless Pottery Barn living rooms. Real life was messy and complicated and busy. None of these brochures were for him.
“Can I help you with something?” The receptionist was a perky girl who looked to be no older than fifteen. He could tell by her badge that she was a volunteer. Poor girl, she was probably trying to do the right thing and help people, but the doctors and nurses had taken advantage of her kindness and thrown her here with the unfixable.
“Yeah, I have an appointment with Dr. Williams,” Beckett said, shoving his hands in his pocket. His voice seemed to echo all around him in the cold, clinical room.
“What’s the nature of your visit?” she asked.
“Physical therapy for my shoulder,” he answered gruffly. It was aching at that very moment. But he had got used to the pain. It wasn’t so bad anymore. It was only bad in the rain, and it rarely rained in Afghanistan.
“The doctor will be right out.” His mind pinged at the mention of the doctor. Maybe he would go back to O'Neil’s tonight. Maybe she would be there.
He could still remember the feel of her hips under his hands, and the feel of her warm body all around him. The moans that had been torn from her throat. The way her entire body quivered from his touch. For a moment, Beckett lost himself in thought. His eyes glazed over and he saw past the linoleum floor and cheap paintings to the parking lot of O'Neil’s and her gasping breath.
“Beckett Mitchell?” A voice called out.
“Here,” Beckett said, feeling like he was back in grade school.
“You can follow me to the doctor,” a male nurse said, and Beckett followed him out of the waiting room and through the surprisingly modern physical therapy facility. Because this was the doctor’s office he was led to a small exam room where he waited for another ten minutes.
He sat up on the exam table and waited. Finally, the doorknob turned and he sat up a little straighter. The door opened and his mouth fell open as the hottie from the other night came into the room. She was staring at a chart in her hands. She was wearing a pair of green scrubs; her hair was tied up in a bouncy ponytail.
“Beckett Mitchell,” she said, and then she finally looked up and they stared at each other in shock.
Chapter Four
She almost dropped the chart when she saw him. The guy from the other night, her one-time mistake, was here in her office. He was her new patient.
“Uh...um....uh...” she sounded like an idiot, but this was impossible. This was not how these things worked. What were the chances? What were the odds that the two of them would ever see each other again? “Sorry,” Cecily said, shaking her head. “I just, um...”
“Need a minute?” he offered.
“I need to make sure this is appropriate,” she said, walking over to a counter and putting the chart town. She leaned against the counter and tried to calm her heart. She was shaking, her heart was pounding and she would be too embarrassed if Beckett saw.
“How are you feeling this morning?” he asked. He leaned back on the exam table, crossing his arms and smirking at her.
“We’re not here to talk about me, we’re here to talk about you. This is your appointment.” His position changed. Some of his cockiness fell away and was replaced with a bitterness she hadn’t expected.
“It is unethical and illegal for me to have a personal relationship with one of my patients,” Cecily explained slowly. “Maybe it would be best if we found a different doctor to treat you.”
“I don’t think we need to do that,” he said, with a shake of his head. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. Last night was a one-time thing.”
“You think?” she asked, cocking her head. “We banged in a parking lot. That’s as far from a serious relationship as a person can get. I didn’t think you were looking for anything serious and I thought it would be obvious I wasn’t either. I’m focused on my career right now.”
“So am I,” he said. “I don’t want to have to go through the hassle of getting a new doctor. I’m just here to get a rubber stamp so I can go back to the field.”
She looked up at him and made a note on his chart. “You want to go back?” she asked. “Most people I deal with are looking for any excuse to stay.”
“I’m not most people,” he replied. “And I don’t care if my doctor is also my one night stand. I just want to get this over with.”
“By this, you mean your physical therapy?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he grunted.
“Alright,” she said, switching back to her professional persona. “Why don’t you head out and start some stretches and get warmed up. I’ll take a look at your chart and we can put a plan together to get back into fighting shape.”
He nodded and hopped off the table, but stopped when he was at the door. “So, you being my doctor means no more back alley hookups? Are you su
re about that? There're no loopholes we can exploit? What if we don’t tell anyone?” He was wearing this mischievous grin and Cecily had to fight the smile that was threatening to emerge.
“We’re going to need to keep this professional,” she said.
“Whatever lets me see that ass on the regular is fine with me,” he said, and then he shut the door behind him. Cecily’s cheeks were flushed. He was good at getting a reaction out of her, that was for sure. But this would be a good opportunity for her. This would be good training. Beckett Mitchell wouldn’t be the only horny soldier she had to deal with, although hopefully he would be the only one she would hook up with in a bar’s parking lot.
Beckett had changed by the time she followed him into the other room. He was wearing a pair of baggy shorts and a sleeveless shirt while he stretched on the mats. He was unfairly hot, square-jawed and serious, with arms that looked like they could lift a car. She tore her eyes from him and focused on his chart.
Beckett Mitchell, male, thirty-two years old, blood type: A-. He had served four tours in Afghanistan and had racked up a decent amount of injuries to show for it. His shoulder was the most pressing issue. There was a lot of damage there. He had broken his collarbone, torn the joint and separated the shoulder.
She opened the file and read the report, her eyes growing wider with every word. There had been a fight in Kabul. Beckett’s group had been working through a series of burned-out buildings when they had been ambushed. Beckett had been the only one to survive.
She looked out at him again. One of the physical therapists was stretching his legs out. Her first instincts about Beckett had been right: he was tough. But there was no doubt he was hurting inside. He wasn’t a robot, and he hid them well, but he had feelings. She couldn’t imagine getting out of bed every morning after living through that.
Cecily walked out to the padded mats where Beckett was stretching and dismissed the physical therapist who was there with him.
ROMANCE: Older Man Younger Woman Romance: Daddy’s Business Friend (First Time Virgin Pregnancy Taboo Romance) (Alpha Male Contemporary Romance Short Stories) Page 16