by June Gray
RETREAT is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, and events is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2012 by June Gray. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from either the author or the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote a brief passage in a review.
First Edition. Cover design by June Gray.
DEDICATION
To my husband. You are the best man I know.
1 | REVEILLE
I was calm during the four-hour flight but the moment the plane touched down at the Monterey Airport that drizzly Thursday night, my insides immediately turned to mush.
I’d flown to California many times before, but this time, Henry had no clue I was coming. I had managed to get some time off work to spend the last three of his eighteen days of therapy with him, and was planning to surprise him tonight.
My stomach trembled at the thought of showing up unannounced. A voice niggled at the back of my mind, wondering if Henry would be happy to see me. I didn’t even know which version I would be faced with: the one that left for Afghanistan or the one who came back.
As I made my way off the plane, I gave myself a pep talk. It didn’t matter which version of Henry greeted me tonight. I loved him regardless.
All of my jitters disappeared when I saw my dad at baggage claim, looking a little rounder around the middle, but still the same man with hazel eyes and light brown hair. He was standing against the wall, his back straight, his arms folded across his chest looking very much like he’s about to start handing out orders.
His rigid demeanor melted the moment he saw me.
“Hi, Dad,” I said, greeting him with a hug and kiss on the cheek.
“Sweetheart,” he said, gathering me in his arms for a bear hug. “It’s good to see you.”
I pulled away and looked around. “Where’s Mom?”
“She’s at home, making sure the entire house is clean and that your room is just as you remembered it,” he said with a hint of sarcasm.
I laughed. “You mean you haven’t turned it into a workout room or something? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when your kids move out?”
“I’ve been trying to turn it into a man cave, but she won’t let me,” Dad said. “She wants to keep it as is until you have children of your own, then she’s planning on turning it into a kid’s room.”
“That’s…”
“Crazy?” he asked with a shake of the head. The smile melted off his face and he turned to me with a sort of panicked expression. “She doesn’t know something that I don’t, right? You’re not pregnant, are you?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” I said with a snort.
He sighed in relief, wiping imaginary sweat off his forehead. “Okay then. Let’s go get your luggage, my sweet girl.”
My dad was an AWACS pilot in the Air Force and, when he was still a major, he had taken a fifteen-month-long program at the Naval Postgraduate School in Monterey, California. He and Mom had liked the area so much that they’d decided to live there after he separated from the military four years later. They had taken their savings and bought a house in Monterey, not far from the famed 17-Mile Drive. The blue two-story Craftsman house was only five minutes from the beach, but most importantly, was a mere three houses down from the Logans.
After the ten-minute drive from the airport, I found myself standing in front of the house, fighting against the overwhelming sense of nostalgia and sadness. How could I look at that house and not see Jason and me sitting on the porch steps or playing basketball in the driveway?
Dad must have noticed because he squeezed my shoulder as he walked past, with my luggage rolling behind him. “Take your time,” he said.
If I stood out there too long, I ran the risk of Henry seeing me, so I sucked it up and went inside.
“Elsie!” my mother called from somewhere within the house. A few minutes later, she rounded the corner from the kitchen with a huge smile on her face. She wrapped me in her embrace and I closed my eyes, just enjoying her Mom scent of lavender and vanilla.
We followed my dad as he placed my luggage in my room. I was perfectly capable of taking it there myself—it was, after all, right off the living room on the first floor—but the golden rule was that guests did absolutely no work. I guess that meant I was a guest now.
“So what are your plans for tonight?” Dad asked, standing in the doorway.
I looked at my watch and realized it was already seven at night even though it was still fairly light out. “I was thinking of dinner with you guys then catch up with Henry after you go to bed,” I said. “What time do you go to bed?”
Dad snorted. “Honey, we’re retired. We go to bed in an hour.”
Mom laughed, smacking my dad on the arm. “He’s kidding. We go to sleep around nine or ten then we get up early and take a walk at the beach to watch the sunrise.”
I sighed, suddenly struck with the wish that my married life with Henry turn out to be just as sweet and romantic as my parents’. I blushed, wondering where the hell the thought had come from.
Dinner was a chatty affair as Mom and Dad asked me about life in Oklahoma, but it was hard to talk without Henry’s name being peppered into the conversation. Even harder still was trying to remain nonchalant when speaking his name, as if my tone of voice would reveal our secrets. I could have told them right then, but Henry had wanted to wait until we could get all of our parents in one room before we told them.
After dinner, we watched some television and then Dad challenged me to a game of Scrabble. I was eager to see Henry but I had sorely missed our epic Scrabble games. It was our special little thing since I was a little girl, when I learned to sharpen my competitive edge. Scrabble with Dad taught me patience, creativity, and the art of losing—or winning—with grace.
It was past midnight by the time we finished. I pulled out a narrow victory with the word Retire and Dad vowed a rematch tomorrow night.
“I’m not retiring from this conflict,” he said as he started towards their bedroom, raising a fist in the air. “I am merely postponing my victory for another night.”
“Sure Dad, whatever will help you sleep at night,” I said, putting away the wooden tiles.
“Where are you off to?” Mom asked when she saw me pulling on my boots and grabbing the front door keys.
“I’m just going to say hi to Henry. Don’t wait up.”
Mom flashed a knowing smile and shuffled upstairs, leaving me to wonder if she had psychic abilities.
Even in the dark, I was able to retrace the steps to Henry’s house as if I were a teenager again. We had spent a fair amount of time at that place, as the lure of an unsupervised house was just too much for three teens to refuse. We’d played video games, tried cooking different things in the kitchen, looked through his parents closet. I might have even tried on his mom’s shoes once or twice. Allegedly.
My mom, however, put an end to it. She wanted us at our house, where she could keep an eye on us. Now that I’m an adult, I can’t say that I blame her.
The side gate to the Logans’ backyard gave a little squeak when I pushed it open, but it wasn’t as loud as it used to be, thank goodness. I crept to his bedroom window and peered inside. The curtains were drawn but the glass was cracked open. All that stood between me and Henry was a screen and I wasn’t about to let that deter me. I pulled a quarter out of my pocket and popped the screen up off the frame and, as quietly as I could, slid open the window further and hoisted myself up.
For a momen
t, I sat on the window ledge and watched Henry sleep on the queen-sized bed, his limbs flung out in all directions while a thin blue sheet covered the lower half of his body. My heart thudded in my chest, the very sight of him sending tingles up and down my body.
I pulled my boots off and landed with a soft thud on the wood floor. I walked by a gym bag, a pair of running shoes, and a haphazardly thrown towel on the floor, still damp from a recent shower, before reaching the bed. I stood over him and my eyes traced the contours of his square jaw, landing on the high cupid’s bow of his lips.
I was relieved to see that he was sleeping peacefully, no frowns or worry lines on his forehead, and almost regretted carrying out my plan. But I had flown all the way to California to see him, and see him I would.
As quietly as I could manage, I stripped my clothes then crouched over him. I lifted the corner of the sheet and carefully peeled it away from his body, thrilled down to my panties when I saw that he was completely naked underneath. I paused for a moment to stare at his body, from his expansive chest to his six pack, to the V indent at his hips, and finally to his muscular thighs. And smack dab in the center of all of that ripped landscape was his impressive penis, already hard, laying on his stomach.
I crawled on the bed, heady with anticipation, and touched my tongue to the soft skin at the base of his erection, running it slowly upwards until I reached the head.
He moaned but remained asleep.
I repeated the movement, this time going even slower, licking more of him as I moved up. His hand moved to my head, tangling his fingers in my hair as he continued to groan. My lips covered the head of his penis then I slowly sucked him in inch by inch, my tongue swirling circles around his shaft. His hips began to roll, pumping into my mouth gently as his breathing quickened.
Then he was pulling me upwards, my naked body sliding along his as he kissed me. “Elsie,” he whispered against my mouth, his hands running down my neck, over my shoulders. “I’ve missed you so much.” He palmed my butt and gripped it tight as he positioned himself at my entrance, but instead of sliding in, he paused.
“What is it?” I asked.
He fixed his sleepy eyes on me and flashed a cocky smile. “I want you to beg me.”
Even in his half-conscious state, Henry was a bossy guy. I could feel his tip and ached to feel him inside me. Hell, I could beg for one night. “Please, Henry.”
“Please what?” he asked, fisting my hair.
I looked him in the eye and said, “Please fuck me. Now.”
His teeth flashed in the darkness. He plunged into me to the hilt, pausing for a heartbeat with his eyes closed while I squeezed him.
“Fuuuck,” he sighed, his palms caressing my sides. “You feel so good.” He craned up and kissed my neck, rasping his teeth against my jaw then gently biting at my earlobes.
I sat up and ground my hips into him, throwing my head back so that the ends of my hair were brushing his thighs. He held my hips and guided me, his big hands urging me to go faster, harder, but I held steady, focused on moving at my own pace. I’d waited ten days to do this; it was going to last more than five minutes for crying out loud.
I grabbed his wrist and guided his hand down to my freshly waxed crotch. His eyes widened when his fingers found my bare skin. “Holy shit,” he said and sat up, kissing me with wild abandon.
A second later, he flipped me over so that I was lying on the bed and he was in the dominant position. I groaned when he pulled out, but his mouth was on me a second later, his tongue swirling around my depilated folds with feverish speed. He slipped two fingers inside me as his tongue flicked at my clit and I raced towards the orgasm that I’d been trying to put off.
“Stop,” I breathed, pushing his head away. He looked confused, so I quickly added, “I want to come around you.”
He didn’t need me to ask him twice. He crawled over me, grabbed the sides of my head and kissed me breathless before pushing back into me in one clean stroke. He picked up speed, our skin slapping against each other as he pounded into me with fervor.
I came shuddering around him, his mouth covering mine to keep me from crying out. A few strokes later, he was grunting in my ear, continuing to stroke me until he had completely finished.
He didn’t pull out when he fell onto his side, merely gathered me in his arms and twisted me around to face him. I wrapped my leg around his thigh as he brushed the hair off my face and kissed me tenderly.
He sighed in contentment. “Best dream ever,” he murmured before he pulled the thick quilt over us and we both fell asleep.
2 | BACK IN THE WORLD
I couldn’t tell if I was caught in a dream, but it felt real enough when Henry’s penis nudged at me from behind. One hand gripped my thigh and opened me up further so he could slip inside. He rocked gently behind me, one arm under my neck and the other over my waist, as his hands roamed around, kneading and pinching at a leisurely pace. If this was a dream, then I wanted to wake up immediately so that I could make it a reality.
“So do you think they’re together then?” I heard my mother say.
If this was a dream, then it was a seriously sick one.
Henry’s movements stopped but he remained completely seated in me.
Henry’s mom, Helen, spoke next. “Did Elsie tell you anything?” she asked.
“No. She just said she was popping over here to say hi to Henry.”
“Well,” Helen said with a chuckle. “She said hi alright.”
“Should we tell them we’re awake?” Henry whispered in my ear and that’s when I finally realized that this was reality. Our mothers were actually standing over the bed, while Henry and I were lying naked under the covers, his penis still throbbing inside me. I could only hope that the quilt was thick enough to conceal what we’d been doing a few seconds earlier.
I felt my face go up in flames and knew that my blush would be the instant giveaway. The jig was up.
I opened my eyes and peered up at our mothers, who were standing at the doorway with a cup of coffee and a bewildered expression each. “Morning,” I croaked, trying to appear casual even though I was dying inside.
Mom raised an eyebrow at me then turned to Helen. “We should give them a few minutes to gather their wits then come out to the living room to explain.”
Helen nodded and they closed the door behind them.
As soon as the door latched shut, Henry’s arms tightened around me and he began the delicious rocking once again. “I wasn’t sure if last night was real,” he said, biting my earlobe.
I twisted my head around to smile at him. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“You can surprise me like that any time,” he said and kissed my neck.
I sighed, from pleasure and worry. “We can’t, Henry. You heard my mo—” My breath hitched in my throat when he thrust in roughly, making my muscles involuntarily clench. “Oh…”
Henry reached down between my legs and began to massage my clit in circles. “I just need a few minutes,” he said. “Then we can be relaxed when we face the firing squad.”
I wanted to disagree, but those crafty fingers and that damn cock had me under a spell, and his gravelly voice whispering naughty things was only pulling me deeper, so I had no other choice but to dive in and enjoy the sensations of Henry.
“Come for me,” he rasped against my ear and moved his fingers faster. “I want to feel your pussy convulsing around me.”
I twisted around and grabbed the back of his head, bringing his mouth to mine as the orgasm filled and filled and burst with white-hot intensity inside my body.
“Elsie,” he groaned and climaxed as well, grasping my hips tight against his as he dug in as far as he could go.
We emerged from Henry’s room five minutes later, me dressed in yesterday’s clothes and Henry dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, looking very much like two people who’d just had sex. It was bad enough that we were walking out there to face our mothers, but one glance in the dining room showed t
hat situation was actually worse: our fathers were also in attendance.
I could feel the weight of everyone’s stares as we made our way into the dining room. Henry had offered to walk in first to bear the brunt of the glares, but I’d held his hand and said we needed to do this together. Now I wish I’d taken him up on his offer.
My dad was the first one I dared to look at and I immediately wished I hadn’t. His lips were pursed and his thick eyebrows were furrowed. He was disappointed in me; that much was clear.
Henry and I stood at the head of the table, our fingers still entwined. He cleared his throat. “I guess Elsie and I have some news…”
“No shit, Sherlock,” his dad, Trent, said. The man had always had a colorful vocabulary.
“How long has this been going on?” my mother asked. I met her eyes, feeling like a willful teenager again. Then it struck me that Henry and I were two consenting adults and I had nothing to be ashamed of.
I stood straighter and said, “Right before he left for deployment in March.”
“That long?” Helen asked, her eyes flicking back to her son. “And you didn’t think to tell us?”
“We weren’t ready yet,” Henry said.
“When were you going to be ready?”
“Now, I guess,” I said. “We wanted to have you all together before we made the announcement.”
“Speaking of getting ready…” Henry looked down at the watch on his wrist. He turned to me. “I’m sorry, but I have to leave.”
“What?” I tugged him down to hiss in his ear, “You’re going to leave me to face the inquisition by myself?”
“I have my therapy session in forty minutes.”
“Take me with you.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t.” He grinned, looking anything but sorry. “I’ll be done in an hour.”
My dad stood up then and my heart stopped. Every cell in my body stood at attention in anticipation of his words. He approached us with an expressionless face, stopping in front of Henry.