Tank (Moonshine Task Force Book 2)
Page 4
She looks like she wants to say no, but she doesn’t. Instead she gets rid of everything but the scrap of panties she prefers to wear and crawls in next to me.
“I don’t know how you stand just a sheet,” she shivers as she arranges herself beside me, thankfully on the opposite side of my bum leg.
“C’mere, I’ll warm you up.”
Using my arm, I pull her closer, resting her head on my shoulder, cheek on my pec. Her arm goes around my waist, caressing the bruises that are now starting to change color.
“Do these still hurt? We can ice them if you need to.”
“No,” I trap her hand in mine, entwining our fingers together before bringing them up to my lips for a kiss. “You’ve taken excellent care of me, and I love you for it.”
The deep sigh she makes every time I tell her I love her makes me feel like a bastard. I didn’t know what I had before. Obviously I didn’t know what the fuck I was giving up.
My eyes are getting heavy and I can feel the effects of the medication as I try to fight against it. I don’t want to lose more days in a drug-induced fog, but I also don’t want to increase my downtime, which I know I’m in danger of doing if I don’t get my shit together.
“Go to sleep,” she kisses my jawline, snuggling in deeper, and then I don’t remember anything as blessed darkness takes over.
Blaze
I can tell the second Trevor succumbs to the drug-induced sleep. His body, which has been tense for days finally relaxes and goes completely loose. His jaw, which has been clenched, releases and his breathing evens out. It’s not the quick pants of someone trying to measure breaths to keep from hurting themselves either. It’s long, easy breaths of someone who’s sleeping deeply.
The tension lines in his face are gone, making him look all of eighteen years old. The only thing proving he’s older is the leanness of his face, the dense muscle packed onto his frame, and the maturity of his beard.
I try to keep the yawn I feel coming on from cracking my jaw, but it does and I realize quickly just how tired I am. Part of me has been scared to death since we came home, and the other part wants to make things as perfect for him as they can be. In the end, I’ve all but run myself ragged. Not because he’s asked me to, but because I’ve wanted to.
And that’s the most honest I’ve been with myself in a long time.
* * *
I’m not sure what time it is when I open my eyes again. It takes me a minute to adjust to the darkness of the room and I wonder how long Trevor and I have slept. I can see him slightly in the waning light, so it must be close to evening.
Beside me, he’s lightly snoring, his face turned toward me, mouth slightly open. He was right about only needing a sheet, the amount of body heat he’s throwing off is enough to keep us warm in a snow storm. Light sweat has broken out on his chest and I take a moment to lazily map the skin with the tips of my fingers.
Trevor Trumbolt has always been the hottest man I’ve ever seen. The first thing that attracted me to him were his eyes, then it was the sensual curve of his mouth. Those almost too-red lips always look like he’s spent a lot of time kissing a woman senseless. Moving my eyes from his mouth, I take in the rest of what he has to offer. Earlier I couldn’t peruse my fill without him seeing. Now his body is a visual buffet and the motherfucker is all you can eat.
Like most of the guys our age, he’s got tattoos. In fact he’s got an impressive chest piece of an eagle. One night when he’d been drunk, he’d admitted he got it right before he went to war. Something they could identify him by if things went tits up. I’d wanted to tell him that’s what his dog tags were for, but he’d been so serious about it, I didn’t want to break his heart.
Not to say that I don’t like it. It’s one of the hottest things about him. The way he wears it like a badge of honor. When he’s shirtless, like he is now, like he has been for days, I want to lick it and claim it as mine.
Down girl, I caution myself, but it’s hard to be good when the one man who can rock your world six ways to Sunday is right at your fingertips with two pairs of underwear as the only things separating you.
Sex has always been the one thing Trevor and I have done well. It’s been six long, dry months since we decided to indulge in that favorite past time. Maybe I’m the one who took the drugs, or needs to take a pill to calm myself down, but right now I want to touch him. I want to make him feel good, forget all the shit he’s been through, everything I’ve been through.
Trailing my hand down his stomach, I can feel his muscles clench. Looking back up at his face, I can see he’s still asleep, although his breaths are coming a little faster and more frequent than they had been before.
Resuming my path down his happy trail, I encounter the elastic waistband of his boxers and wonder if I want to sneak attack inside, or see if he’s ready for this yet. But God I’m ready for it. My nipples, which have been against his bare skin since we laid down have peaked, rubbing against his flesh to get a little bit of relief. I can’t wait until his mouth wraps around them, tugging on the barbell each one has through the middle. The only person who knows I have pierced nipples is the man in bed with me.
My hand continues to skate down, bypassing the band for now, and moving with conviction over the bulge in his boxers. He’s rock hard against the palm of my hand. Encouraged, I lift my hand up to the waistband, pushing it down slightly, before I stick my fingers in between cloth and flesh. I know the minute he wakes up, because I hear his sharp intake of air as I grab his length.
CHAPTER SIX
Tank
Goddamn, I’m having the best dream ever. Blaze’s hand is on my boxers, cupping my dick with her small hand. It hasn’t seen action since the last time she and I were together six months ago, so it’s got a mind of its own.
Not to say I haven’t jerked it. I have, but there’s no one who can get me off the way she does. Blaze isn’t one of those let’s do it in the dark with the lights off on days that start in T kind of women. She’s very sexually aware and knows exactly what she wants. No playing coy with her, she’d much rather grab you by the balls and stick her finger up your ass to make sure you get off hard.
Which is why, when I realize this isn’t a dream and her hand is actually down my boxers wrapped around my cock, I have to put my own hand down there and grip the base to keep from coming.
“Holy shit,” the oath is ripped from my throat as I groan, forcing my eyes open against the lingering effects of the painkillers. “Blaze, I’m gonna come,” I grit my teeth against the need to explode all over the both of us.
I’ve been on edge too long, wound way too fuckin’ tight, trying to figure out what the hell is going on in my life for far too long.
She laughs, deep and throaty. The sound goes straight to my dick, making it throb. “Only thing stopping you from coming is yourself, Trevor.”
“How long have you been touching me?” I inhale deeply, turning my head toward her, catching the scent that’s always hers. Coconut and ocean water. This girl belongs on a beach all day, every day. “Please tell me it was longer than five minutes.”
“Probably seven,” she gives me a saucy smile. “Let me finish,” she slides her hand down to where mine is gripping and then back up, collecting the fluid at the tip to lubricate her way.
I close my eyes, rolling my head around on the pillow. I’m not the type of guy that blows seven minutes into a fucking hand job.
“It’s the medicine,” she whispers in my ear. “It makes some people incredibly horny and puts them on a hair trigger. If it feels good,” she licks my ear with the tip of her tongue and goosebumps appear along my arms. “Let it go.”
I reluctantly let my hand stop gripping the base of my cock, but instead I bury my fingers in her hair, bringing her mouth to mine. “Finish me then, but know while it feels good for a second, it’s nothing like when I go balls deep inside you. I wanna fuck you,” I catch her lips with mine, thrusting my tongue into her mouth, owning it as much as I
can from my prone position.
“I know you don’t like giving me the upper hand, but let me take care of you.”
She’s right, I don’t like to let her pleasure me without reciprocating. It’s so empty. With her, I love to be in the moment, thrusting hard and deep. I love to see her eyes light up, the green turn hazel, and the way her lips quirk into the sexiest fucking grin as she’s about to come. I love to hear the cry of ecstasy that she always tries to hold back, and I ache to feel the rake of her nails down my back.
“Let it go, Trev,” she sucks my lobe into her mouth, yanking tightly on it as she uses her hand to move up and down my length.
“Oh fuck,” I moan, I can feel it gathering at the base of my spine, my entire body tightens as she increases her speed. “I want to come inside you so bad,” I grasp her hair tightly in between my fingers, shoving her mouth into my neck. “Own me, Blaze, fucking own me,” I beg her.
Her teeth bite into the side of my throat and her hand increases speed, pumping me so fast I can hear her beating against my stomach. Hard strokes designed to get me off. Using my free hand, I reach down, cupping my balls, groaning at how tightly they’ve pulled against my body. “Yes,” I groan as I feel myself break the wall. Stabbing my head into the pillow, I close my eyes, throwing my head back. “Yes, oh God, yes. Fuck,” I grasp her hand in mine, jacking my cock together, increasing the speed as I feel her bite my neck again. “Goddamn,” letting go of her hair, I reach up, grasping the metal rail of the headboard as I feel the evidence of my release spill over our entwined hands and onto my stomach.
I’m shaking, panting, praying to God I will always know what this feels like and hoping my pounding heart doesn’t mean a heart attack is imminent.
“Jesus Christ,” I try to regulate my breathing. “I haven’t come that hard from a hand job since I was fourteen years old.”
She giggles beside me, burying her head in my neck. “At least you’re not as tense as you were. Maybe you’ll be more agreeable from now on.”
I make a non-committal sound in my throat, because if this woman thinks she’s going to blow my mind like this and not feel the same kind of pleasure, especially when she’s in my bed, then she’s all kinds of mistaken.
Broken leg be damned. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s problem solve. This is a problem I definitely don’t mind solving.
Blaze
I’m clamping my thighs together, trying to ease the clenching ache after the hottest hand job session I’ve ever participated in, in my life. Running my hands along my stomach, I let out what I hope is a calming breath, trying to bring my arousal down from its roaring high.
Newsflash. It’s not. Trevor Trumbolt burns me up with how hot he is. There aren’t many men who’ve been able to handle me. I know what I want in bed, and I’m not scared to say it. If it’s about my pleasure, I’m vocal. Trevor is one of the only men I’ve ever been with who doesn’t try to suppress it. His manhood isn’t wrapped up in being the dominant one in the bedroom. We share and alternate that privilege.
“I think my brain shot through my dick,” he’s panting, wincing when he inhales a little too deeply.
“You okay?”
The question is a reaction I can’t temper. My whole life is spent making sure people are okay.
“Blaze, if I wasn’t, I would tell you. But hand to God, if you don’t come straddle my face right now, you’re gonna be sorry.”
His blue eyes are on the verge of black, tumultuous with the onslaught of emotion and arousal shining there.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I shake my head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re not gonna hurt me. Trust me enough to tell you if you do, but right now I’m hungry,” his nose nuzzles my cheek and even that touch is enough to make my nipples harden further. “Hungry for my face to be between those luscious thighs of yours. C’mon Blaze, I can fucking smell you,” he scores my jaw with his teeth. “Have some fun.”
“Bad idea,” I moan, before he surprises me by latching his hand onto my thigh, denting my skin with his fingers, and physically lifts me up onto his face. I have no other option than to straddle him.
His voice is deep as he noses my clit. “Hang onto the headboard, baby. I’m about to rock your world.”
Everything he does rocks my world, but I don’t like for him to get too cocky. A gasp of air is all I’m able to suck into my lungs when I feel his tongue flick against my needy clit. Twining my fingers around the metal bars of Trevor’s head board, I moan. “Don’t ease in, Trev. Give it to me, you know how I like it.”
When he closes his lips around my clit and sucks, I realize he does know exactly how I like it. He doesn’t let up as I feel him bring his arms up behind my thighs, then I feel his palms slap against the skin of my ass.
“Fuck!” My head falls against my hands resting on the metal, I close my eyes, and let myself feel.
Trevor’s always been able to push me over the edge faster than any man I’ve ever been with. It’s like he has a step-by-step instructional booklet and he’s a straight-A student.
I lose every bit of resolve I have to make sure he’s okay when I feel the fingers from one hand sneak from behind and thrust into me, working in tandem with his tongue and mouth.
“Oh God,” I cry out, throwing my head back.
He goes after me hard, not letting up when I try to flex my thighs to put some space between us. He slaps my ass again and shoves me further down on his face.
That’s all it takes as I undulate my hips against him, riding the tip of his tongue, riding this orgasm I’ve wanted since I felt him come against my hand. “Shit,” I let my head tilt, feel my long hair brushing the edges of my back, and give myself over to the emotions of release.
No other man has ever made me feel the way Trevor does, and I vow never to take that for granted again. I almost lost it once, I won’t make that same mistake more than once.
I pull my legs from around his face and snuggle next to him. He grabs my hand in his, his thumb caressing my palm in a slow soft stroke. Eventually I hear the even sound of his breathing, letting it lull me back to sleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tank
“How are you really doing?”
I fight not to roll my eyes at my older sister. She’s my second mother, has been since the day I was born. I remember her dressing me up and showing me off to her friends when I was little. I’m glad there aren’t any pictures because I looked like a horrible Cabbage Patch Doll reject if I recall correctly. It never bothered me, but sometimes her need to mother me is suffocating, especially as I got older and started living my own life. It’s never cool to have two moms breathing down your neck, and that’s exactly what I have some days.
“Save all your motherly concerns for my niece. She should be here very soon,” I give her a slight grin, adjusting my leg on the couch in the den. I hope the grin softens the blow of my tone. I’m not in the mood for it today. If I’m honest, I’m not even in the mood for my own company. Given carte blanche, I’d probably tell them all to get out.
I hate sitting here, almost like I’m holding court. Blaze sits in the recliner, while Whitney and Renegade sit on the love seat opposite me while we watch some garbage on TV. I do my best not to pay attention when my best friend caresses my sister’s stomach and they share a sickening sweet look with one another.
It’s still a little shocking they’re going to have a child together. It’s taken us all a little time to wrap our heads around it. “Dude, stop fondling my sister.”
“Stop being a dick,” he fires back at me.
That’s a fair assessment. I’m not in the greatest of moods today. I have my first round of physical therapy this afternoon and I’m not looking forward to it. The unknown is driving me nuts, and if this was a few weeks ago, I’d go for a run to get rid of the anxiety I have coursing through me right now. But this isn’t a few weeks ago, and I’m dealing with the hand I’ve been dealt.
“Sorry, I’m a little on edge today. I start my physical therapy this afternoon.”
I hope my explanation is enough, because I don’t want to look too deeply into why I’m being an ass.
Whitney lets out a little noise from where she sits. “Trev, it’s going to be fine. Do you want me to come with you?”
“I’m going,” Blaze speaks up, not moving her eyes from the TV screen. “So I know what he has to do daily, even when he doesn’t have an appointment.”
I smile, showing my teeth to her. “She can be my warden.”
“So we can get you better,” she retorts, not taking my shit. It’s one of the things I love about her, but also one of the things that’s pissing me off today.
“I want something to drink,” Whitney stands up, caressing her stomach when she does so. “Blaze, wanna come?”
She stands up as well. “Sure, there’s a lot of hot air in this room.”
I fight not to flip her back off as she leaves. God, I’m in a mood today. The only person willing to put up with me is Ryan, who’s seen me through the absolute worst times of my life. When I drag my gaze over to him, I see that he’s in complete Renegade mode and he’s ready to do battle.
“What the fuck do you want?” I snarl. Fuck I want to run, pound a bag, do anything rather than sit here and deal with this anger.
“To know why you’re being an ass to the people who care about you. What the fuck’s going on in that head of yours?”
If there’s one person I can be completely honest with, it’s him. He and I have seen and done things together that we’ll take to our graves, things we’ll never speak of again that got us out of really shitty situations in the war zone in Iraq. If anyone understands, it’s him, and if I know Whitney and Blaze, they’re giving us a chance to talk.