Her Survivor: A Black Eagle Ops Novel

by Vonnie Davis

  Her friend laid her chubby hand over her ample cleavage. “Oh, how romantic. Where is he taking you?”

  “Someplace called Marcel V’s. We’ll be dancing and I’ll look like a bag lady in what’s hanging in my closet upstairs. I saw a little black dress, with a beaded halter top, in the window of Lacie’s Lovelies the other day. If I give you the money, could you go buy it for me?”

  “Oh, hon, you know I’d do anything for you. I love Marcel V’s. We go every year on our anniversary. Things must be getting serious if Dustin is taking you there.” Her voice had taken on that singsong quality again and she winked.

  “Bite your tongue.” Kelcee looked at her friend’s frown. “He’s on medical leave, Fran. He’ll only be in our area for a short time. Yes, we’re attracted.” The heat of a blush slapped her cheeks as she recalled the five climaxes he’d given her throughout the night. She cleared her throat. “Very attracted. We’ve decided to enjoy our time together and when it ends, it ends.” God, that sounds lame, even to me.

  Fran and her chins nodded. “Uh-huh. This is me you’re talking to. I watched how you two looked at each other at Sandoval’s last night. Now, what size dress do you need, Ms. When-it-ends-it-ends?”

  Kelcee stuck her tongue out at her before she pulled some money from her wallet and told her the size she wore. Two customers came in and Fran whizzed out, obviously thrilled with her shopping errand.

  Linda Cobbs watched Fran’s retreating form and elbowed her daughter. “That is exactly why I’m so strict about what you eat. Her ass looks like two boys wrestling under a blanket.”

  “Oh, totally,” teenaged Olivia agreed.

  Kelcee wasn’t about to let these two disrespect her dearest friend. “I struggle with my weight, too. It’s not easy. People get so fixated on your outward appearance, they forget you might have great beauty inside.” She sighed for effect. “Fran’s a beautiful woman. She’s my best friend and I love her just the way she is.”

  —

  Kelcee and Patty Flemming were deep in conversation over books about plants, comparing two volumes, when Fran returned. She carried a large bag. “Got it! I’ll take it upstairs and hang it up so it doesn’t wrinkle. I don’t know how it would iron, so it really needs to be hung.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Fran.” Patty asked Kelcee a question and Fran’s heavy footfalls were sounding on the stairway before Kelcee had a chance to look at the dress up close or feel the fabric.

  Once Fran came back down, Kelcee excused herself from the ever-talkative Patty and hugged her dear friend. “You’re a lifesaver. I was frantic about tonight until you came in earlier.” She kissed her cheek. “Thanks again.”

  Fran smiled wide and waved an open hand. “It was a blast. Land sakes, it felt so good buying a smaller size.”

  “I’m not small and you know it.”

  “Well, you’re much smaller than I am. The styles are a lot prettier for thinner women, that’s for sure. I might have to go on a diet. Wouldn’t Silver Stud be shocked at that? Have a ball tonight. I’m off to buy groceries.” She pursed her lips. “Don’t think I’ll buy any chocolate, though. Or potato chips or cookies. Guess I better leave the donuts alone, too. It’ll be a sacrifice, I tell you.” Fran bid both Kelcee and Patty goodbye and bustled off.

  Twenty minutes before six and Kelcee exerted her power as store owner, flipped the sign on her door to “Closed,” and turned out the main lights. She couldn’t wait to see her new black dress up close and try it on. Thank goodness it had been a busy day, not just for her bottom line, but to keep her mind off her date tonight. She was going to be out of her element at some upscale place. Still, she’d be with Dustin and he always had a way of making her feel special.

  She ran up the steps, back the hall to her bedroom, and skidded to a stop. On her bedspread sat a pair of silver open-heeled stilettoes with a sequin-covered bow, a tiny silver purse, and a pair of shimmery lace-topped thigh-highs. She hadn’t given Fran enough money to buy these plus the dress. What the hell? Then she spied emerald green chandelier earrings and a green lacy thong. She did a quick pivot to her open closet. All her clothes were pushed back to reveal a strapless emerald cocktail dress with a band of green sequins across the top, except for the middle where a cord of matching fabric laced a revealing opening. The dress’s hem was longer on one side than the other. Thank goodness the material was stretchy because she had a sneaky feeling it would fit her like a second skin.

  A note hung from the hanger. “I know this isn’t what you had your heart set on. While I was telling Lacie I wanted the black dress in the window for you, that bitch Wanda grabbed Lacie’s salesgirl, Phoebe, and told her she wanted it. Can you believe she had the nerve to buy it right out from under me? We exchanged words and, land sakes, before I knew it, the poor woman ran right into my fist. Clint will kill me when he finds out. But at least her eye will match the dress she stole from you. And she did it out of pure meanness, too. Wear this, baby, and strut your stuff, as the young girls say. Fran”

  Oh man, Kelcee would have given anything to have been there when Fran unleashed her wrath on Wanda, the wicked witch of Warrior Falls. Fran must have gotten so pissed she bought out half the store. Where was the receipt so she could calculate how much more she owed Fran? She looked, but didn’t see one. Slipping her cell from her pocket, she dialed.

  “Fran, I love what you bought me, but how much more do I owe you? I don’t see the bill of sale.”

  “I probably shoved it in my purse. Don’t worry about it. My treat. And it kept Lacie from calling the cops.” She cleared her throat. “I may have knocked over a round display of handbags and jewelry when Wanda ran into my fist.”

  “Jesus Christ, woman!” Clint’s voice boomed in the background.

  “How mad is he?”

  “Land sakes, you’d think I tried to scalp her or something. He ordered me to call Wanda and apologize. I told him I’d sooner take an ass whooping. And he said that could be arranged pretty damned easy.”

  “You got that right, Sugar Loaf. You’ve got ten minutes to make that call, or else.”

  Kelcee grinned and sat on the edge of her bed. “You’re going for the ass beating, aren’t you?”

  “You bet your sweet bippy. Have fun tonight. I’m glad the dress I found will be a suitable substitute. Bye, darlin’.”

  Kelcee wasn’t worried about her best friend. Clint’s bark was worse than his bite. She would pay her back, though. One day soon, she’d stop in at Lacie’s store and ask how much Fran had spent, explain how she hated owing anyone, especially a good friend.

  A hot bubble bath eased some tender muscles from Dustin’s putting her in various positions last night. He certainly knew how to satisfy her. It was as if he knew all her hot spots, as if they’d always been lovers.

  After drying and curling her hair, she applied her jasmine lotion and put on her lingerie, thankful Fran had opted for a longer length of thigh-highs. The shoes were half a size too big, but adjustable. She took the dress off the hanger and noticed the built-in shelf cups. She slipped it on and looked in her full-length mirror. Oh yeah, this dress qualified as skintight. The tops of her boobs puffed out and up, the lacings appeared strained against the cleavage of her full breasts, and her nipples looked like M&M’s stuffed inside her dress for a future snack.

  Don’t even go there, girlfriend. Crap! I can’t help myself. Melts in his mouth, not in his hands. Well, that’s a lie. He can get them to melt in his hands, too.

  One side of the pointy hemline tickled the top of her calf while the other kissed her mid-thigh. She was almost afraid to see the back, fearful her teacup ass would resemble a spaghetti pot. A slow pivot made her groan. Well, she was the way she was. No use putting herself down.

  She added the dangly earrings and lipstick. Then took in the full effect. The green dress accentuated her eyes. The shimmery hose was a nice effect. Now, Dustin better appreciate this because the butterflies were back in her stomach, practicing dive-bombing and loop-d
e-loops.

  Earlier she’d texted him to come up the back steps to her balcony since she’d locked up the bookstore. She placed some essentials in her little purse, knowing he ought to be here any minute. Slow and steady footfalls sounded on the outside wooden steps. Kelcee pressed her hand to her middle to help settle her nerves. What would Dustin think about the way she looked? He rapped on the glass and she hurried to let him inside.

  The sight of him in a black suit took her breath away. He stepped inside and dropped his duffel bag. She couldn’t speak; her mouth had gone dry.

  His dark brunette hair was gelled and mussed as if she’d just run her fingers through it. He’d made no attempt to hide his facial scars with a hat worn low, and she was proud of him for that measure of self-acceptance. Those cobalt eyes she adored were focused on her as if she were the first female he’d ever seen. The black suit did nothing to hide his muscles and broad shoulders narrowing to a trim waist, and the white shirt showed off the Texan tan he’d been accumulating the last couple weeks. His turquoise necktie was outlined in black diamond shapes.

  “You…you look very handsome, big guy.”

  He sauntered toward her. “I can’t find words to tell you how exquisite you look, Kelcee.” He trailed warm fingertips down her cheek and cupped her neck. “So damn beautiful,” he groaned. “The dress brings out the green of your eyes. They’re like jewels, your eyes. Precious jewels.” She swallowed at the sincerity of his compliment, hoping it didn’t echo in her living room the way it did in her head. “And that jasmine fragrance you wear drives me freaking wild. It’s getting harder and harder to keep my hands off of you.”

  His fingertips continued their slow, sensual journey over her collarbone and the exposed tops of her breasts. He slowly circled her, his limp barely noticeable, as he drew his fingers across her back. Hot tremors shook her body as though he were branding her to his touch. Marking her as his. And, at this particular moment, she never wanted another man to touch her, but him—Dustin, only Dustin.

  His slow journey of inspection or admiration finally completed, he stood in front of her, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, thigh to thigh, splayed his fingers into her hair, and covered her lips with his. The kiss was so powerful, so commanding, Kelcee’s knees buckled. His arm banded around her bottom and he eased away from her lips enough to whisper, “I got you, baby. You’re mine, and I’ve got you.” Then the potency of his kiss increased and she was lost in him.

  Chapter 12

  Kelcee balked at the carved wooden hostess’s stand in Marcel V’s. String music played softly around whispered conversations. The scent of fresh roses wafted through air that flickered with candlelight. A champagne cork popped. “Dustin…I don’t know that I belong here. This looks very high class.”

  His wide hand went to the small of her back and he inclined his head to her ear. “My lady is very high class. We both belong here. You taught me my scars don’t matter. We’ll enjoy our evening together. Warning: If it gets too bad for me, I’ll be out in the parking lot. But I need to face my demons. I need to make some progress with this PTSD thing, no matter how long it takes me.”

  She nodded, and they followed the hostess to their table. Dustin was right. They did belong wherever they wanted to go. She had to step out of her safe zone of Warrior Falls from time to time. Whereas, he’d bled for his country and deserved respect of Americans here at home, regardless of his scars.

  Just as the hostess went to pull out a chair for Kelcee, Dustin extended a hand. “No need, ma’am. I’ll take care of my woman.” He held the chair for her.

  The hostess smiled at Kelcee. “Lucky lady.”

  She reached back and covered Dustin’s hand with hers. “Yes, I am. Very.”

  Over dinner and candlelight, they talked about their families. There were questions Dustin asked that she answered vaguely. In response, his eyebrows furrowed. “Are your parents still living?”

  Were they? She had no way of knowing. No one she could safely call to find out. She’d been ordered not to contact anyone from her former life. Tears filled her eyes and she tried her best to blink them away. In the dark of night in her aloneness, she often thought of never seeing or speaking to her parents or younger sister ever again. The pain always crushed her chest and made her cry. She couldn’t experience the same depth of emotion here in public with Dustin.

  He took her hand, his thumb stroking her fingers. “Kitten, what is it?”

  She wanted to tell him, wanted to in the worst kind of way, but she was under orders not to reveal her past. She swiped falling tears from her cheeks and lifted her wineglass. After a few sips, she grasped his hand. “There’s no one I trust more than you. Keeping my secrets from you is becoming harder and harder, but—” She locked her gaze with his. “I’m under a form of legal restriction, just as SEALs don’t talk about most of their missions.”

  A slow tune started and Dustin stood. “Let’s dance. You need to be held and I need to see if I can keep off your feet.” He took her hand, strong and sure, and led her to the small dance floor.

  Her arms swept up to his shoulders and around to the back of his neck. He held her close and made small steps, swaying back and forth. “Look at us. Dancing. Kind of.”

  “You’re doing fabulous. I wish I could tell you everything.”

  He leaned and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I understand. I won’t pry. I trust you, too, Kitten. Everything between us is fine. More than fine.” His hold on her tightened. “I wasn’t looking for someone when I came to stay with ZQ.” His lips trailed down the side of her face. “Then I walked into your bookstore.”

  In Dustin’s limited way, they danced for three slow songs within the sensual cocoon woven by their emotions. It was the most romantic evening she’d ever spent in her life.

  —

  Once they got back to her apartment, making their way along the walkway lit by low solar-powered lights, and up to the balcony, Dustin examined the lock on the sliding glass doors. Not that any lock would provide her much protection from whoever she was hiding from; he or they would just break the glass doors. Dustin would have to talk to her about an expandable wire gated door like many stores used. Not tonight, though. Tonight was for romance—for them.

  He scooped his duffel bag from the living room floor and carried it into the bedroom. His gaze was focused on Kelcee’s teacup ass in that tight skirt. “Woman, you do realize you’re wearing the sexiest dress I’ve ever seen and you fill it out better than any other woman could.”

  “You have Fran to thank for that. She shopped for me today while I worked here in the store. She gave Wanda a black eye. Clint threatened to beat Sugar Loaf’s ass.”

  The bag dropped from Dustin’s hand onto the bed and he sat beside it. “Oh, I think I’m going to need more details on this story.”

  Kelcee propped her hands on her hips. “And they say women like to gossip.” She gave him all the details while he laughed and damn near went into hysterics.

  “So you think she went for the ass beating?”

  “I know she did. Fran’s a sweetheart, but once you piss her off, she’s all about revenge. There’s no way she’ll call Wanda and apologize. No way in hell.”

  “Clint has his hands full with Fran, doesn’t he?” He laughed, opened the zipper on his bag, and pulled out two boxes of condoms. “Where do you want these?” Her eyebrows rose to her bangs. He removed three foil packs and tossed them on the nightstand. “I brought enough to hold us for a while.”

  She pulled open the drawer of her stand and moved some things to make room. Spreading his knees, he pointed to the empty space between his legs. “Now get that sexy, sweet body over here.”

  The aroma of jasmine grew stronger as she approached. God, he loved how she smelled. He banded his arms around her hips and dipped his tongue between the ties of material that created the décolletage he’d tried hard not to stare at all through dinner. His one hand moved to sweep up the back of her thigh where it met a band of
lace.

  “Undress, Kitten, except for your thigh-highs and panties. I got sidetracked last night. Tonight, I’m tasting every inch of you. I’m going to devour you like an expensive dessert until the feel of my lips and tongue is embedded in every cell of your body. Until I wipe all the sadness from your mind and all that remains is me and how only I can make you feel.”

  Once they were both naked and his prosthesis removed, kisses, whispers, and moans from sensual touches filled the room. He began kissing her forehead and worked his way down, paying a lot of attention to her breasts. She clasped her fingers in his hair and held his head where she wanted his mouth to stay.

  “Work your magic, big guy,” she gasped on a ragged breath.

  He lifted her legs over his shoulders to nip and kiss his way down her torso. Meanwhile his fingers plucked and caressed her nipples. The smell of her aroused sex filled his nostrils, exciting him. He ran his tongue over the crotch of her thong and she whimpered. “I’ll buy you new ones, baby.” The sound of lace being ripped filled the room. So did her screams when his tongue lapped at her clit. She bucked and he slid an arm under her to hold her in place. “I got you. Let go. Come for me again. You’re so beautiful when you come.”

  He slipped a finger inside her and ran his tongue in circles around her clit, closer and closer. To increase her pleasure, he inserted a second finger and pumped them before sucking gently on her bud. Her second climax slammed into her and she wailed his name over and over. He laved his tongue up and down her slit, tasting her as she trembled and cried in his arms.

  Slipping her legs from his shoulders, he fumbled for a foil packet on the nightstand and quickly sheathed himself. With one quick push of his hips, he entered her. Being inside this woman was like coming home. She raised her hips to meet his thrusts. Her fingernails scored his back.