Navy SEAL Bad Boy

by Cleveland, Eddie

  My mind blurs out the monotony of listening to person after person explain their biggest dreams and aspirations. The sheer volume of people who put down “getting clean” as their “truth” tells me, again, how little I have in common with these people.

  Finally, the scowling counselor makes her way to our table, collecting each egg in her basket like a reverse Easter bunny. When she asks Holly what her truth is, my hearing finally kicks back in. My focus lasers in on her as she explains the little puppy dog that she’s drawn on the side of her egg.

  “I, well, I guess even in my darkest times, and I mean the absolute worst moments I’ve ever lived, I’ve always felt a deep connection with animals.” She speaks to a room of nodding heads. “So, I guess, my truth is that I want to do something to help animals as much as they’ve helped me,” she answers, placing her egg in the basket.

  “Perfect,” the counselor gives her a flash of a smile and then turns her attention to me. “And what is this?” She points to my design.

  “That’s me,” I explain the little boy I’ve painted on the side of my egg.

  “What are you doing?” She looks at the rough artwork quizzically.

  “I’m smashing your basket of eggs,” I point to the cracked shells and exposed yolks spread around my egg in a mess.

  “What? Why? How is this your ‘truth’?” Her voice raises with anger.

  “Because, I truthfully think this activity is a stupid waste of time. If I was a little boy, and you sent me a basket of your Easter eggs of sadness, then I’d smash the shit out of them. And,” I pause with a smile, “that’s the truth.”

  Laughter erupts around me, but the only person I can really hear is Holly. Her quiet chuckle is, by far, the loudest in the room to me. I don’t care about the angry lines forming in the counselor’s face, or whether or not I’m going to have to sit in Ms. Morehouse’s office again today, the only thing I care about, the only thing that matters, is the moment of happiness I’ve managed to bring to Holly. No matter how fleeting it is, it was worth it all.

  14

  Jake

  The desert wind swirls around me, the sand attacking my exposed skin like a million, tiny hailstones. That’s how I think of it anyway, even after living in Virginia Beach for years, it still reminds me of the brutal Colorado winters I grew up with.

  Why am I here?

  I don’t have time to ponder, my hands are suddenly weighed down by my Colt M4A1, and my tactical gear adds gravity to my body. I need to move.

  My feet grit against the grainy dirt as I quietly enter the dark building. It’s eerily calm. They know we’re here. It won’t do them any good though, we’ve got them surrounded.

  With my night vision goggles, I can see the blurry details of the house. The first floor is clear. I sweep each room, my gun held out at the ready, as I search for our target through a filter of green. The night vision makes it feel like a video game.

  I throw up the hand signal and make my way up the stairs. We’ve been briefed that this building has at least four floors. We have to sweep them all. We have to take out our target. No exceptions.

  I quietly creep down the hall, into the first bedroom. My partner is on my heels, ready to cover me from anyone stupid enough to try to attack us from behind.

  Empty.

  Next room is the same. As I inch toward the last door on this floor, I hear a woman say “Shhh!” They’re hiding in this room. But is he? I can hear them cowering. His family. I hope he’s not using them as a human shield. It wouldn’t surprise me though, you don’t get to be the head of the most powerful terrorist organization in the world living by a strict moral code.

  I open the door, I can see the women and children huddled against the back wall. The mothers are using their bodies to shelter their babies. I don’t care about them. I’m not here for them. I sweep the room, he’s not here.

  Suddenly, I’m blinded. I can’t see anything! I rip off my night vision goggles to see that a bright light has been turned on in the room, making them useless. There’s no time for my eyes to adjust to the light, because standing two feet from me is a boy, maybe eight years old. There’s a burning rage in his eyes and a snarl on his face as he points the gun in his hands at my face.

  BANG!

  Chaos erupts. Children and their mothers scream. They try to rush the door, but they can’t. My guys have them covered. One of the mothers crawls across the floor, wailing. She makes her way over to the body on the floor. The lifeless boy, who only a second ago was ready to kill me. Dead. His body floods the floor with blood. The blood of a child. Her screams grow louder and louder as the blood pools around him.

  “Fuck!”

  My heart is jackhammering in my chest as I shoot up in bed. Cold sweat trails down my face and my panting fills the night air.

  “It was a dream. A dream.” I repeat the phrase like a mantra. However, I know different. I know that this time it was a dream, but that’s because I already lived the nightmare.

  I swing my feet over the edge of my bed, letting them rest on the cool tile floor as I regain my senses. My heart rate begins to slow to a normal pace. I wipe the sweat from my face with the back of my hand and stand up. Giving my arms a shake, I try to push the thoughts back down.

  The clock on the end table says it’s a little after three in the morning. I don’t even need to check it to know that. It’s always the same. The dream is the same. The time I wake up is the same. The reality is the same.

  I know I’m not getting anymore sleep tonight. Normally, I would take a shower, maybe do some reading to kill time before the daily grind starts back up. Tonight, I feel trapped in this tiny room. I’ve never wanted coke this much. I need a distraction, and cocaine has been perfect for that. The endless rush of energy it’s given me has made these three-hour power naps I’ve been calling ‘a night’s sleep’ bearable. A little white powder can numb these thoughts haunting me every night. It isn’t the coke I’m addicted to, really, it’s the escape.

  I pull on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and step into my shoes with my bare feet.

  A walk will do me good. I just need to get outside these four walls. I need to give myself something to do.

  I make my way down the empty hallway. It’s weird to see this place so dead. All day long, there’s always a couple hundred patients milling around. There’s no escape from the shuffling bodies, clogging the halls as they make their way to lectures or therapy sessions like zombies on the Walking Dead.

  Tonight, there’s none of that. It’s just me. For a moment, I consider taking a little jog up the empty hallway. However, I know they have a night person who roams around here to make sure all the addicts stay nestled in their beds. I remember how Mabel, the old lady from my group therapy sessions, told me that they frown upon people doing exercise. That they think it gives you a mini-high.

  No. I won’t jog. When I run into the night guard, I’m sure I’ll already have explaining to do for being out of my room, I don’t need to add another layer by getting into trouble for doing some minor cardio too.

  I push my hands into my pockets and shake my head, annoyed at the stupidity of some of these rules. Before I know it, I realize that I’m approaching Holly’s room. I stop in my tracks. I shouldn’t be here.

  But I am.

  My heart rate quickens again, but this time it’s not from fear. From the crack under her door I can see light spilling out across the hall floor. A rush of adrenaline shoots through me.

  She’s awake.

  At least, I assume so. I look down the hall behind me. Should I? I slowly close the distance between her door and my body. I shouldn’t, right? I should keep walking. Talk to her in the morning. I know this, yet I still approach her room. I don’t remember my feet stopping, or making a fist, but my knuckles lightly rap on her door somehow. I tilt my head and listen.

  Nothing.

  Damn. I guess she is sleeping. The air feels like it’s deflating from my lungs as I start to move away. It’s for
the best. I don’t need to get in the kind of trouble that going into her room in the middle of the night will surely bring. And, I’m not talking about getting my knuckles rapped by the Director either.

  “Who is it?” Her voice is little more than a whisper, but I’m sure I heard it.

  I stand up taller and walk back to her door. “It’s Jake,” I whisper back.

  15

  Jake

  I can hear her feet hit the floor and pad over the tile as she makes her way to the door. When she opens it, the bright light casts down from the ceiling, glowing around her like a vision from heaven. She looks like an angel. My eyes slowly travel over the formfitting t-shirt she’s wearing as a pajama top. Her perky, little tits are pressed up against the fabric as her rock hard nipples are begging to be freed. She tugs the shirt down over her creamy thighs, but it barely covers the glimpse of her sexy underwear. She’s an angel alright. She looks like one of those Victoria’s Secret models.

  “What are you doing here?” She looks nervously over my shoulder into the hallway.

  “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t mean to come here, but then I saw your light on,” I whisper back.

  She bites her lip. Her perfect, plump, pink lip and my cock stirs. God, the dirty thoughts I’ve already had about that pretty mouth of hers.

  “Ok, come in,” she holds the door open and I walk in. I hear the distinctive click of the door closing behind us. I can only go by my hearing because Holly turned off the bedroom light. We’re both standing in darkness. I can hear her breathing quicken and my cock begins to get hard.

  “What are you doing?” I murmur.

  “Just a sec,” I hear her walk past me.

  Click! A subdued light casts across the space as she turns on the small lamp on her bedside table.

  “If you came here because you saw my light, then the night patrolman might do the same. I can’t risk getting caught with you in here,” she explains.

  Makes sense.

  I nod, silently, as my eyes trail over every inch of her like my tongue longs to. “Good idea,” I finally manage the words.

  “Why are you here? Is something wrong?” I can’t pry my eyes off of her. She’s perfection. The way her shirt rides up as she takes a breath, exposing her silky legs. Legs I’ve already imagined wrapped around my waist, or my head. Holly looks down and pink flushes over her cheeks as she seems to remember, for the first time, what she’s wearing. She hops into her bed and pulls her blanket over her. She casts her eyes down at her buried legs, like she’s studying the comforter’s pattern with deep interest.

  “Sorry,” I look away, a pang of guilt hits me in the gut for making her feel self-conscious. “I swear,” I hold up my hands, “I didn’t come here for that,” I try to explain.

  “No?” Her blue eyes meet mine.

  “No.”

  “Then what did you come here for?” She raises her chin and looks me straight on, sticking out her bottom lip like I’ve insulted her somehow.

  “I… I don’t know. I couldn’t sleep, so I guess I just really wanted to see you. Being around you, talking to you, seeing you, it makes me feel better.”

  “You can sit over here,” she pats the space on the bed next to her. I don’t need more than that. The mattress sinks under my weight as I sit beside her.

  “I couldn’t sleep either,” she confesses. “I have a lot of bad dreams.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “Really?” I can feel her scrutinizing my face, but I can’t look at her. I can’t tell her about the image that haunts me every night. Instead, I swallow hard and try to bury it inside.

  “You know, when I was younger I had a friend that told me something kinda interesting,” she changes the subject.

  I look back at her and she gazes up at me from under her eyelashes.

  “What’s that?” God, she smells amazing. The way she’s looking at me right now, it’s astonishing that I haven’t kissed her.

  “She told me that it’s impossible to be afraid and horny at the same time,” she smiles slyly at me and my cock throbs against my jeans.

  “Is that a fact?” My voice grows thick and I move closer to her.

  “It is.” She breathes.

  “I think I’m going to have to test that out,” I wrap my hand around the back of her head and crush my lips against hers. She parts her mouth eagerly and our tongues collide. She tastes sweet. Like there’s still some innocence behind her wall of pain; innocence that I’d like to claim.

  Her hands quickly slide over my shoulders and down my back. Her movements are frantic, desperate, like she needs this as much as I do. Maybe even more.

  My fingers trail down to the edge of her shirt and I pull it up, breaking our kiss when I reach her chin, then I tug it off her sexy body. I throw back the blanket she tried to hide under and shamelessly soak in every inch of her almost naked frame.

  “Take yours off,” her voice is hoarse with desire. I quickly rip off my own shirt and toss it to the floor beside hers. She drinks me in and I move over to the edge of the bed, leaning my back against the wall, I pull her on top of me so she’s straddling my rigid cock, still bound by my jeans.

  I lick down the side of her neck and trail my tongue down over her collarbone and over her chest. When I pull her rosy nipple into my mouth, she throws her head back and grinds down against me, driving me wild. I want to make her mine. To feel her sweet pussy clench around me as I fuck all of her fears, her sadness and her pain away. I want to make her forget everything that came before me, to make her feel like a virgin again, as her walls stretch around me, letting me take what’s mine.

  I push my fingers under the flimsy fabric of her underwear and part her lips with my finger as I suck her nipple into my mouth. Holly groans and presses herself down onto my hand. I can feel her excitement, she’s wet. However, I know from experience that she’s needs to be soaked if she’s going to enjoy every inch of what I have to give her.

  I free her nipple from my mouth and look in her beautiful eyes, “Stand up,” I growl.

  “What?” She looks puzzled, but I guide her to her feet and she complies. She stands in front of me, looking unsure of herself.

  “Lean your arms on the wall,” I instruct her. As she does, her sweet pussy moves less than an inch from my face. I can smell her sweet juices and I salivate.

  “Don’t move,” I order her and pull her panties over her plump ass, tugging them down to just above her knees.

  I don’t waste any time, cupping her ass with both hands, I pull her toward my needy mouth and dive my tongue into her neatly-trimmed pussy.

  “Ahhh,” she squirms in my hands and I pinch my hands into her flesh and I hold her in place.

  I lick her from her center to her sensitive little nub, holding her tight while she wriggles in my hands. Flickering my tongue against her, I feel her thighs quiver on either side of my face as I eat her out. I keep licking her clit, relentlessly in pursuit of her orgasm until I no longer need to press her into my mouth. Instead, she starts grinding her hips, pressing her pussy deep against my face, chasing her pleasure from my tongue.

  I look up the length of her body above me. I watch as her perky tits bounce a little each time she thrusts her hips forward. I flatten my tongue against her clit and slide it over her until she’s trembling against me. Her breathing is ragged and she drops her head to the wall supporting her and squeezes her eyes shut while she lets me rack her body with ecstasy.

  “Ooohhh, fuck!” She whimpers, her sweet nectar floods her pussy and I lap it up as she shakes with bliss.

  Suddenly, her knees buckle and she unexpectedly crumples into my lap. “Are you ok?” I whisper, pulling her toward me.

  “More than ok. That was fucking amazing,” she breathes.

  “I’m glad,” I smirk.

  “No, I mean,” she looks up at me shyly, “no one has ever done that for me before,” deep red burns across her cheeks at her confession.

  I raise an eyebrow, “Really?�
��

  “It’s true,” she mumbles.

  I knew I would make her mine. “Now, how about I do something for you?” Her nimble fingers quickly pry open my jeans and she reaches in, wrapping her hand around my ready cock.

  I stifle my laugh as I watch her eyes grow wide, “Are you serious?” Her hand explores my thick dick and her eyes drop down to soak it in, like she can’t believe her sense of touch alone.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll go slowly,” I smirk.

  “Oh my god!” Her blue eyes grow even bigger as she examines the ten inches I’m going to stuff inside her.

  Holly shuffles back on the bed, hovering her mouth over my ready cock. I can feel the heat of her breath on my skin, teasing me. I groan as she slowly licks her lips in anticipation. She lowers her mouth, her lips surround the head of my dick.

  Squeak, thunk, squeak thunk.

  “Shit! What was that?” Holly’s eyes are still opened wide, but this time in sheer terror. I heard it too. The distinctive sound of squeaky sneakers making their way up the hall. It’s the staff doing the nighttime rounds.

  We’re fucked.

  I jump from the bed with Holly in my arms and lie her back down against the mattress, throwing the blanket over her naked body. Quickly, I pick up my shirt, flick off the lamp on the table next to her, and hop across the room silently. I snugly slide into the little closet at the end of the room just as there’s a rap at the door.

  “Hello?” Holly answers too loudly and too full of emotion for someone who’s supposed to be sleeping.

  I hear the door open and a female voice is muffled but I can still make her out, “Everything ok in here?”

  “Yeah, why?” Holly sounds guilty.

  “I saw a light from your room and thought I heard some noise. Are you ok?” The woman persists.

  “Yeah, I just went to the bathroom, no biggie,” Holly laughs nervously.

  “If you’re sure?”

  “I am.”