A Force of Nature

by Kara Liane

  I think she really heard the words. She could see into my soul, see what I was so desperately trying to proclaim. I nodded my head without her even having to ask the question, though. For the first time, I saw the woman I loved actually cry. A small tear fell from the corner, and she hastily wiped it away. We were opening each other up the more time we spent together, and it was truly a beautiful thing. The words needed to be out there, projected far and wide. I swallowed hard. I was part nerves, part overwhelmed with love, lust, and an earth-shattering, all-consuming passion for the woman.

  “I love you, Everly. You are the most amazing woman I have ever met. I know we haven’t known each other long, but it doesn’t matter. As long as neither you nor I care about that, then fuck anyone who’d judge us,” I said.

  A delicate shiver worked over her body, apparently due to my words. I was hoping she had needed and wanted to hear them. Saying them was a salve to my fragile psyche. I didn’t realize how badly I had needed to get the feelings off my chest. She annihilated me, and she didn’t even know it. I had never been so totally and completely affected like this by any woman, and, of course, never would be again. She surprised me when she placed each of her soft hands on my face and cupped my cheeks affectionately. She was so close to my mouth that her breath puffed out onto my lips.

  “I love you too, Brent. So very much. I agree. Fuck anyone who judges us. Your sister seems to think we can make it, and by all accounts I’m inclined to believe in that and trust in it. I never had a family, so being accepted into the fold of yours is also something that terrifies me. You truly are a hero, though. You need to know that and believe it,” she explained.

  I wanted to disagree with her on the last point, but she shushed my lips by pecking at them with tiny kisses.

  “Don’t argue with me and ruin this. You may paint yourself in a different light, but don’t discount the way we all view you. If it’s hard to accept on your end, then that’s just tough shit. You’re the one out there doing what you do every day. I don’t know how you do it or why you do it, but I want to learn. Whatever or whenever you want to tell me and are willing to share, I’ll be all ears, in every way,” she explained as she bit down on her juicy, perfectly pink bottom lip.

  I knew our conversation was far from over, but I couldn’t help grabbing her and hugging her to me again with an iron grip. She had just made me the happiest man in the world by returning my profession of love and affection. I had never been in love, never expected to be in love—I was going to have to work at it. I had never wanted something, or someone, so much before in my life. I could not fail her. I wanted to be the man she needed.

  I had plenty of friends who had successful marriages, as well as lots of friends who didn’t. Military careers made for a hard life, but I suppose any occupation that entails long hours, risky work, constant movement, and unpredictable conditions would make things difficult for all involved. Christ, I couldn’t even think about what it would mean regarding children, especially with four years left to go in my career before retirement. Yeah, that conversation will have to wait for another time.

  She held on to me just as intensely, and we stayed like that for a little bit. But I felt like I had to finish my story in order for her to get the full picture. She and I always seemed to be on the same page, so it was no surprise that because of her newsiness—yeah, not nosiness, though there was that too, but I was trying to be witty, even if it was just in my own head—I knew she would want to have the whole story. That was just her way, and I understood it. I never wanted to be old news to her or ultimately be put out to pasture. I needed to be front-page news, the lead story in her life.

  “I appreciate you sharing these things. It’s just, I want to understand you even more. I want to know about you. I want to know everything. Like, why did you join? Why have you stayed?” my inquisitive girl asked.

  “Hmm, you don’t ask the hard questions, do you?” I teased.

  Her face fell a little. I knew this rattled her as much as it did me. She probably felt bad for asking, but she had every right to.

  “I’m just playing,” I explained.

  She relaxed, marginally. I slid her onto my lap and readjusted us both so we were sitting back, comfortably positioned against the couch. She tucked her head under my chin, and I was happy I didn’t have to look in her eyes; it would make it easier for me to begin story time. I stroked her back. We just sat there for a few minutes, breathing rhythmically. I said to myself I am not going to lose my shit when I start recounting the past one more time. Okay, here goes.

  “So I’m going to end up kinda starting backward. With that beautiful brain of yours, I know you’ll be able to keep up and make sense of this shit. So . . . I had surgery last year, and I forced myself to recover quickly by doing physical therapy and whatnot. I doubt Caylan has told you this, but she was attacked last summer by a deranged stalker. The short version is that he kidnapped her, but Alexi and I came to her rescue. The son of a bitch died at the scene. Before I scare the crap out of you, I’ll just say we didn’t kill him. I wanted to, but he ended up drowning. It’s a long fucking story, and maybe one I’ll tell you another time. But for now, it’s part of my story, I guess. I can’t help but thank God that I worked so hard at recovering quickly and doing physical therapy. I was only two months post-op at that point,” I stated.

  Ev popped her head up. Shock was written on her face, and she covered her mouth to stifle a gasp. “Oh shit. I had no idea,” she said sadly as she shook her head back and forth in disbelief.

  I moved her back to where she had been tucked under my chin. Yup, I was an asshole for making her look away again, but I needed to focus on the wall to keep forging ahead with this craziness.

  “Yeah, it was a pretty fucked-up situation. Clearly, she’s okay now. She probably didn’t tell you this other part either, but that’s actually how she and Alexi met. At the hospital, I mean. You see, at the time, I was recovering from surgery at the hospital where Alexi was working. When Caylan came to visit me, she met him in the break room. As they say, the rest is history,” I conveyed.

  “Jesus. Why did you need surgery?” she questioned.

  “I was injured. My left leg had little bits of shrapnel in it that still needed to be removed because another civilian doctor had screwed up the previous surgery. I think that was my third or fourth surgery, actually. I don’t know. I can’t remember, and it doesn’t matter. Anyway, Alexi’s hospital was the best around, so I went ahead and had them correct everything. Luckily, I’m a quick healer, so it’s all good now. Like I said, focusing on getting my strength back served me well the day of Caylan’s attack,” I recalled.

  “Caylan always acted like my injury was a lot worse than it was. Believe me, it was bad, but obviously I am fine now. She’s just a worrywart, but I adore her for it. Lots of physical therapy ensued, but it was well worth it. That’s why I was able to go on this last deployment, because I had finally been cleared to do so,” I clarified.

  I ran my hand along her back again, comforting both of us. I could feel her spine through the fabric of her shirt. It reminded me of how fragile she was. Sure, she was strong in other ways, but physically, she was delicate. I loved that about her. I rolled my eyes at myself because I realized I was getting off topic once again, fucking trying to distract myself. It would only prolong this shit. No, best to get it all out and in the open. And, of course, I was leaving out the detail that I had volunteered for my last deployment. That was one piece of information that I would forever keep to myself. Really, no one would benefit from or understand my reasoning, and you couldn’t convince me otherwise.

  I licked my dry lips and went on. “So now to the gruesome part. I told you what my job entails when we went to the bar that day. Normally it’s an easy job, no big deal. But when we’re deployed, we’re usually in harm’s way because we’re sitting ducks out on the flight line. So in 2014, I was deployed to Afghanistan.”

  I stopped for a beat to let that sin
k in before moving on. “I just happened to be walking back to my tent with a couple of guys who I didn’t really know. They were walking a little ways ahead of me. Poor bastards stepped on an IED, and the damn thing went off. The explosion was instantaneous. The craziest shit I had ever seen. I was close enough to get hit in the leg by shrapnel, but lucky to be far enough away not to get killed. The other guys were blown to pieces. Fuck, it was horrifying. I was concussed, so I don’t remember much, but obviously I remember enough. I was in and out of it for a few days. I just mostly remember waking up in Germany, in recovery after the first surgery, where they had apparently medevaced me.”

  After my slight pause, I went on. “Christ, no one likes to talk about this shit. I know it may seem like I’m a pussy for being so messed up over a leg injury, but it was terrifying, Ev. To watch those guys die right in front of me . . . it was enough to make me not want to close my eyes at night because it kept replaying on a loop in my mind,” I said without even realizing I had my eyes squeezed shut. I was wincing—the images were still replaying in my head.

  I stopped rubbing her back for a minute and rubbed my head instead—habit, of course. I opened my eyes and took a deep breath. “Fuck. I probably shouldn’t tell you all this terrible shit. You don’t need to be burdened by it or need it swimming around in your brain. But if you want to hear it, I’ll tell it.” I was hoping she would say she wouldn’t want to hear it, but knowing her, I figured she probably did.

  She caressed my thigh, trying to infuse me with courage, and said, “You need to tell it.”

  Damn! Okay. I resigned myself. “Being hit with that shrapnel was like . . . unimaginable pain. It’s hard to describe. I’ve never talked to any combat vets about it, or really anyone for that matter. So I don’t know if it’s normal, what I felt. Not even the doctors talked about it with me; they just wanted to know my pain on a scale of one to ten so they could manage it. Going back to actually thinking about it is entirely different. Fuck, I don’t know. It was like blunt trauma to my leg . . . as if there was heat radiating in that spot. Like someone took a bat and hit me repeatedly in the same area. There was no escaping. Even without the concussion, I think I would have passed out from the pain. I’m probably not making sense. I don’t know how to articulate something of this nature.”

  I blew out a frustrated breath. I hope she understood my reluctance to talk about the topic and could understand that it was hard to put into words. But I was proud of myself for not going into a tailspin of panic and hysteria while recounting the details. I had mentioned before that I thought she brought the flashbacks out in me. But once again, it was reaffirmed that she also soothed me unlike anything else ever could. I didn’t want to be this weak, though, and I needed someone, or something, to heal me. But Ev was truly my other half in life. I think I knew that all along. I think I knew that when I went over there in March. Half of my heart was back with her the whole time. The vast ocean that existed between us was symbolic of everything we had to wade through in order to reunite, so we could be one.

  I hadn’t finished the story, and I suddenly realized that. “So to answer your other questions . . . Why did I join? I joined because it’s a calling. It’s in my blood, despite all this horrible, screwed-up shit that it entails. Why did I stay? Because somebody has to do it, and I’d rather it be me out there protecting everyone than someone else I don’t know or trust.”

  “I see it in you. I see it’s something you need to do. I know trust is earned and not automatically gained in your book, Brent,” she explained.

  She had the uncanny ability to say things I was thinking, and that was also a revelation in itself. As if she was seeking comfort from me or trying her damnedest to bandage me up, she turned her face into my chest and hugged my midsection so fiercely, it was like she was trying to squeeze the breath out of me. She wasn’t the most physically affectionate person, and I knew that. Fuck, she was a tigress in bed, but when it came to being romantic, affectionate, warm, and expressive, she didn’t make sense. So this was an unbelievable gift she was giving me in showing me yet another facet of herself. I always knew she was perfectly capable of showcasing these types of emotions and actions, but until I heard her story, I hadn’t quite understood where the hesitancy stemmed from.

  Who had held her as a child? The stark clarity of having to accept that no one held her was heart-wrenching. No one taught her how to give affection. But nevertheless, she made the gesture on her own, for me. I kept thinking of how we were both changing each other more and more—and it was for the better.

  She pulled away slightly from my chest so her response wouldn’t be muffled. “You know me . . . I’m not one to be at a loss for words, but sometimes, you do that to me. I’m humbled by the fact you’ve shared all this with me. I’m so proud of you. I’m sorry about what happened to you, and I don’t know what else to say—except that I hope I am worthy of being good enough for you,” she admitted.

  I was taken aback by her comments. For a second, I was almost pissed. How could she ever think she wasn’t good enough for me? It was a punch to the gut, but I would remedy that. She was my warrior, my confident woman, my no-holds-barred, unattainable mountain. However, I was sure that all this talk of pasts and hurts and nightmares riddled her mind with insecurities and let them plague her again. That’s why I often sensed that she needed protection—from herself. I could feel it all along. Underneath the surface simmered a demon of self-doubt and harshness, just waiting to rip out Ev’s throat. That’s why I knew she needed to keep the demon at bay. Each time it was given an inch, it wanted a bloody mile. It was capable of shredding her from the inside out.

  I could almost taste the salt of her unshed tears. I was so hyperaware of her every move, and both the verbal and nonverbal judgments she was making about herself. I could tell she was also contemplating my confession.

  I didn’t want to be a bastard and take advantage of a situation where she was vulnerable, but I think we both needed a release—and that could only come in the form of being physical and intimate with our bodies. When we joined, it was like our souls crying out to each other. I needed it then, and I sensed she did too. We had said all we needed to say anyway, by that point.

  The truth I knew was this: she loved me, and I loved her. I knew we’d navigate the shoal that was just teasing us below the surface, but that hadn’t quite broken the water yet. We weren’t at that stage as a couple, but we had started a journey together. I’d begin it by worshiping her body like I promised.

  Chapter 22: A Game of Dog and Cat

  Everly

  Brent swept me up in his arms and carried me into my bedroom, then set me down on shaky legs. I was so grateful that we didn’t need to say anything else. Words were overrated and probably dangerous to my system at the moment. I would feel him, and only him, without words.

  He undressed me quickly and gently laid me down on the bed. Then he undressed himself. I was a wet mess already. My pussy was quivering and greedy; I needed him more than I needed air. He settled his massive, sexy body on top of me. It was the best feeling, taking his full weight and having him up against me. He smelled divine. The sweat and soap scents on his skin mixed together, giving off a powerful aroma that I could almost sink my teeth into.

  I was happy he wasn’t trying to do the intimacy thing. It would always be intimate with him anyway, because I loved him. But just then, I wanted to use him to fuck. I just needed to fuck. Maybe some people can’t understand that, but it doesn’t matter; it was about my wants and needs at the moment. I would analyze later, in private, Brent’s impassioned speech about why he did what he did for the country and for his family. I would also examine what we were to each other another time. I could only say it was stronger than even love . . . but what to call it, I didn’t know.

  We didn’t do the whole foreplay thing, thankfully, because it wasn’t necessary. He plunged to the hilt in one swift action, and I screamed so loud I worried for a moment that I blew out my own eardrum
. This was what I was craving, though: raw, gritty, dirty, frenzied fucking. Ladies, if you haven’t ever truly been fucked, I mean really fucked, then you don’t know the uninhibited, liberating and freeing experience it can be. It washes over you in a fierce tidal wave. When Brent came unhinged, it signaled that he knew a side of me I didn’t know another human could touch or reach. I needed the wild side. I needed the wicked side. I. Needed. Brent.

  He cupped my ass cheeks and used his lower torso to press harder against my pelvic area, forcing my legs to open wider. He grunted, and I moaned in return. But it didn’t seem good enough for him. He pulled out suddenly, and I mourned the loss of him so deep inside me. I didn’t have time to think, pout, or protest, though, because he picked me up again and held me in the air. I couldn’t believe he could hold my weight—he didn’t even need the wall for leverage. No, that strong man could do anything. And he did. I was impaled on his cock at lightning speed. I held on with my arms tightly wrapped around his neck, and I heard myself breathing harshly in his ear.

  I was clinging to him like I couldn’t get close enough. Next, he moved us over to a chair in the corner of my room. He sat down on it, lodged inside me the entire time. The new angle caused him to go even farther into my tight, wet clasp. Even though I was so lost in the moment, I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself in my head. I knew the joke that other branches of service called Air Force members the “Chair Force.” It was sad that the stigma still existed, but I knew he was a hero—a far cry from any stereotype. Now, though, he was giving “Chair Force” a whole new meaning!