Tumble Creek

by Louise Forster

  Hand over her mouth, Sofie gasped. ‘Your scars,’ she whispered.

  ‘Yeah … didn’t feel it. Woke up against a concrete security wall. I couldn’t have been out long; dust, foul smoke all around—but the worst—people screaming, crying out. I was dazed and tried to see through the grit in my eyes. I remember colourful fabrics, bright red, and blues and yellows floating down, blown up from market stalls, it was fucked up, but at the same time pretty. Weird, but I see those bits of fabric in my mind as if it happened yesterday.’

  Swallowing back her tears, Sofie shook her head. ‘It’s not weird. What happened next? Being so close, it would’ve caused …’ she stopped, unable to go on.

  ‘Blood oozed out of my ringing ears. I hauled my arse off the ground. Dead and injured everywhere. I ran across the street to where I last saw Susanna—found her under a pile of rubble.’ Brock covered his face.

  Sofie imagined him ripping through smashed and splintered timber, bricks and glass from ancient shops, all manner of market wares, with his bare hands, desperate to get to Susanna. She wanted to hold him, but perhaps now wasn’t the time, he didn’t need sympathy, he needed her to be with him and simply listen.

  ‘I got her out, she was unconscious, her vibrant, beautiful eyes closed. I tore off what was left of my shirts. Stuffed the T-shirt into her side to staunch the blood, tied my shirt around her, tight, but …’ Brock trailed off shaking his head, anguished, reliving the nightmare. ‘Her life just oozed straight through. I couldn’t stop it.’ Then Brock repeated the agony of it, whispering to himself, ‘Couldn’t stop it.’ Tormented eyes locked with hers. It broke Sofie’s heart to see him suffering like this. ‘She wasn’t alone.’ His mouth trembled and wetness shimmered in his eyes. ‘A kid, about four, in her arms. I can only assume she was about to talk to the kid, then the blast hit. She lunged for him, covered him with her body.’ As if trying to erase the horror, Brock pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

  Sofie choked down a sob, but there was no stopping the tears running down her face to gather and drip off her chin.

  Brock scrubbed at his face, took another deep breath and continued. ‘He was unconscious, probably the blast … don’t know … surface injuries, a bump on the back of his head. I roared for help. I have no idea how long it took, seconds, minutes …’ He shrugged. ‘Medics arrived. I remember hands all over the kid and Susanna. I wanted to hold her to me, but they pulled my arms away, she was gone, so was the kid. Then fast hands all over me, checking me out. Behind me familiar, muffled voices talking to the guys with their hands on me, they left, army mates hauled me out of the dust and dragged me out of the way. A medic treated me, they took me to the nearest field hospital. They stitched the cuts on my back, told me I was a bit concussed, my injuries weren’t bad enough to send me home. Anyway, I was fine in a few days. I asked about the woman and the kid I was with, they shrugged, shook their heads. They had no information, no one did. Once I was back on my feet I only had two days to search, and ask around. The army medevacs badly injured to Germany as quickly as possible, and that was my next line of enquiries. But four of us were sent on a mission. When we came back, I asked all sorts of people questions just in case they knew something. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Susanna’s injuries, her beautiful face, the kid, limp in her arms.’

  Sofie laced her fingers, clasping them until her knuckles went white. ‘But you found her, right?’

  He examined his open hands, palms up; he flexed his fingers and shook his head, as if saying his hands weren’t enough. And what he said next confirmed Sofie was correct. ‘Not enough.’ He shoved his hands under his arms and looked up, eyes struggling with reliving the horror. ‘Too much blood, her life seeping through my fingers, soaking me, pooling on the dirt … Susanna died in my arms.’ Brock’s throat worked, the columns of his neck straining as he got himself back under control.

  Sofie had to know, and the sooner the better, which was selfish, but hey … ‘What happened to the boy?’

  ‘Don’t know anything about him either.’ Guilt heavy in his eyes.

  It seemed a long time before she could move her body. When she did, she flung her arms around his neck and sobbed, partly for Brock, but mostly for the boy and Susanna Adumari; Brock’s first love when they were both so very young, when having each other was the only thing that mattered in their world.

  ‘Sofe?’ Brock whispered in her ear. ‘It’s okay. Flashbacks happen. Your messed up swollen face was more than enough to trigger it.’ He took her hands in his and brought them to his soft mouth; he kissed her knuckles, then turned her hands over and kissed her palms, sweetly, lightly. ‘My apologies, Babe, when you most needed me, I almost failed you. That’s what really got me just now.’

  ‘But you didn’t, Brock, you didn’t.’ Sofie leaned back to hold his eyes with hers; only a ghost of what he’d been through remained, and thinking back, that ghost was always there. The trauma and his training made him the man he was, always alert. But unless she was seriously mistaken, his family home was one place he could truly relax. And she’d do her utmost to make him smile and laugh, often.

  ‘At the risk of hurting you further, prior to connecting with me, have you had other flashbacks?’

  ‘Let me get you straight, not everyone gets PTSD. The armed forces say that about two percent of soldiers who’ve had operational service develop post-traumatic stress disorder. US studies would show that it’s more like twenty-five to thirty per cent.’ He shrugged, his expression wry. ‘I can wake up in a cold sweat and out of breath, and I’ve had the occasional flashback while I’m asleep, happens if something’s triggered it during the day. I sorted through that shit a long time ago. Right now my nights are calm.’ He didn’t say anything for a while, just let that information sink in with a hint of a wicked smile. Then added, ‘Tells me a lot.’

  She held onto his T-shirt, desperate to know. ‘What does it tell you?’

  Without hesitation, he said, ‘I took a while to get out of your house because I imagined you, or Claud, under the rubble. My heart thumped, it was a cold day, but sweat broke out all over me. I had to keep reminding myself that I was in Tumble Creek, not Kandahar, you weren’t under the rubble. It took effort to stop myself from searching through it all to look for you or Claud. There’s no one but you for me, Sofe … no one!’ He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm, and then it became more: eyes closed, his lips toyed over the cushions of her hand, nipping, licking, sucking, until Sofie’s girlie parts quivered with need.

  He placed her hand around his neck and gave her an achingly gentle smile. His beautiful brown eyes studied her face then he stretched out on the couch, taking her with him. With his back against the cushions, he tucked Sofie into his front, and arm around her waist, he spooned her. Wriggling her bottom, she snuggled into him, resting her head on his bicep.

  ‘Are you okay, Brock?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m good, just want to lie here safe with my girl, drink wine and gaze at the fire.’

  An hour later, comfortable and warm, a big glass of red gone, Sofie’s eyelids drooped and she didn’t fight it. When he was ready, Brock would do whatever needed doing according to Brock’s world. She smiled and drifted off to sleep.

  ***

  Sofie woke to something stiff nudging between the cheeks of her bottom. She opened her eyes to the grey light of dawn and Brock nuzzling her neck. Moaning with pleasure, she stretched her limbs and smiled.

  ‘Babe, you awake?’

  ‘Hell no,’ she giggled, and peering at her surroundings she discovered they were still snuggled on the couch. ‘You got something to wake me up?’

  ‘Yeah sure do.’

  ‘Well, don’t tease me,’ she purred.

  Brock’s deep chuckle made her body jiggle and her girlie parts were fully awake now.

  ‘I want and need to make love to you,’ Brock whispered and kissed the corner of her mouth. ‘Feel alive, connected. Your skin on mine.’ He kissed hi
s way to her ear, sucked the lobe, while his hand dipped between her thighs, cupped her sex and lightly massaged her there, slowly back and forth. His thumb found her centre, barely covered by her fine undies and leggings. Hot breath in her ear, he whispered, ‘I want to kiss you, lick you,’ he stopped caressing and gently pushed his big hand against her sex to make a point, ‘make you cry out and call my name. Then slip deep inside you and feel your silken heat surround me.’

  ‘Oh my God, Brock,’ Sofie’s voice a rough whisper as she rocked her hips against his hand. She twisted around, flung a leg over his thigh, grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him with all the passion he’d aroused inside her.

  Brock stood with her in his arms, walked to the bedroom and laid her down on the bed.

  ‘Babe … let go of my neck … want to strip you.’ The rough, husky way he sounded almost tipped her over the edge. She did as he asked and started tugging at her clothes. Brock took her hands, raised them above her head and said, ‘I’m doing the stripping. Hold onto the bedhead and don’t let go.’

  ‘Okay,’ Sofie whispered on a breath, as delectable, anticipation shivered through her.

  His masculine hands slid up her legs to the top of her leggings. His fingers dipped into the waistband, hooking it, then he took his painstaking time to peel her pants down, kissing his way along her body as he went. Once he was at her ankles, everything was whipped off and tossed aside. She gasped, loving it that Brock was taking pleasure in claiming control. Hands splayed, he slid back up, mouth and tongue kissing the delicate skin at the hollow where her inner thigh met her vulva.

  Sofie moaned and, planting her feet on the mattress, raised her hips to get more of his mouth. And then he moved, but he was right where she wanted him, at her folds, his tongue sliding over her wet, silky skin and slicking over her erect clit.

  ‘Brock!’ Sofie cried out in her ecstasy.

  He lifted his head and ordered, ‘Don’t let go of the bed.’

  ‘But … but.’ She squeezed her thighs, which meant she squeezed his head. Brock chuckled against her skin. ‘Damn it, that felt good!’

  He moaned and the vibrations against her skin made her open her legs wide.

  ‘Oh my …’ Sofie whimpered.

  Brock moved away and started kissing his way up her stomach.

  ‘No-no-no! Don’t stop. You can’t stop!’ She let go of the bedhead and hands on the top of his head, tried to force him back down. Like that was going to work.

  Forearms taking most of his weight, Brock’s grin sinful as he murmured, ‘Babe, not stopping.’ He raised himself up on his knees and Sofie’s eyes immediately went straight to his raging hard-on. ‘Take my hand.’

  ‘Your hand? But I’d rather take that,’ she said, fingers twinkling as she tried to reach him.

  ‘Later,’ he smiled down at her. Brock took her fingers and pulled her up to sit. He gathered her jumper, hauled it up and off and then her bra was gone as well.

  ‘No, not later. My turn,’ Sofie said, licking her lips, and she pushed at his chest.

  Brock didn’t fight her and lay back on the bed. One hand around his shaft, she straddled his knees, bent down and slowly slid her tongue over the tip of his cock, then down the length of his shaft and up again, hungry to take him in her mouth. Gripping her hair, Brock cried out. A satisfied smile played on her lips. Fingers tight around his shaft, Sofie sucked while moving up and down, tongue playing over the tip. He started to rock his hips, pushing the head into her mouth. She moaned, enjoying the power she had over this big man.

  ‘Fuck, Babe!’ Brock growled, arching his back and neck; arms out wide, he grabbed the sheet, bunching it in his fists.

  In a blink, his hands were under her arms, Sofie gave a tiny squeal, and she was on her back, his hungry mouth on hers. Then he softly ordered, ‘Open your eyes, Sofe. I want to see you.’

  She did as asked, and so glad otherwise she would’ve missed this hot, sexed–up, masculine man riding her, his passion fierce. Sofie loved seeing all his emotions open to her, making her feel that she was the only person in the world for her ex-SAS soldier, Brock Stewart.

  Slowly, he took her to another level of sensual excitement: hard cock in his hand, he played the tip over her clit then slid back to her entrance allowing only the head inside. Enjoying the tease, his expression changed and became a wicked grin. Sofie grabbed his hips and pulled him down, but the moment her fingers dug in, his butt muscles tensed, he was ready and didn’t budge. His face barely an inch away from hers, his playful teasing continued.

  ‘Hmm,’ his deep rumble penetrated her chest. ‘I want to be inside you … I’m addicted to everything about you.’

  Then he dipped inside her again … and his teasing was gone, replaced with unrestrained, masculine heat. Watching Sofie closely for reactions, Brock edged further inside her, then, without warning, plunged in deep. Sofie gasped and flung her arms around his neck and her legs across his back. He drove in again and again, harder faster, not ever losing eye contact.

  ‘Brock,’ her plea breathy.

  ‘Babe, close?’

  ‘Oh—my—God yes—yes.’

  Brock’s hand moved between them, the pad of his thumb found her wet sweet spot, and swirled around the swollen nub until Sofie soared, losing sight of everything and only feeling wave upon wave pulsing through her core, so strong it made her thighs tremble. She arched her back, pushing her hips into him, she gripped his biceps and her muscles clutched around his shaft, again and again. Brock thrust deep inside her, and he came, pulsating through her orgasm that lingered on.

  Brock slumped, taking his weight on an elbow. A low satisfied growl rumbled near her ear.

  ‘You okay?’ Sofie asked, knowing full well he was better than okay.

  ‘You’re a wildcat, and I love it,’ he said, voice muffled from within her neck.

  She smiled into his shoulder, then giggled, lost her breath and giggled harder.

  Brock pushed himself up and lazily gazed down at her. ‘What’s so funny? You need to share otherwise I’ll start thinking weird shit, like I didn’t give you as good as I got. Maybe I should start all over again, you know, get it right this time.’ He grinned.

  Puzzled, Sofie shook her head. ‘I’m … I’m a wildcat,’ she stammered through her giggles, then burst out laughing.

  ‘Yeah, and we’re going to explore that a hell of a lot further, often.’ Brock chuckled.

  A thrill rippled through Sofie, and she gave a little tremble, which wasn’t missed and now Brock laughed. ‘Come on, let’s clean up and get ready in case Dad brings Mum over.’

  ‘Oh shit!’ Sofie scrambled across the big bed, dropped her feet over the side and, bare bum jiggling, hurried to the bathroom, with Brock in hot pursuit.

  ***

  Later that night Brock took pleasure in Sofie’s soft, naked body snuggled in his arms. She hummed under her breath, and he smiled; knowing he could give her this simple pleasure took his breath away. They’d had a relaxing day, another batch of pancakes with his parents, and dinner by the fire while watching a movie. Lucky for him, she was getting used to sci-fi and weird-looking aliens. Now and then, she added her own commentary, some of it quite outrageous, hair-raising, and bloodthirsty, which had made him quietly chuckle, or laugh out loud. He loved it, he loved Sofie, and like the hero in the movie, he’d protect her with his life.

  Even though it was only slight, Brock didn’t miss the tension running through Sofie. Voice already sleepy-croaky, he asked, ‘What’s up?’

  ‘It’s okay, you’re nearly off to la-la land.’

  ‘La-la land?’ Brock asked, sounding amused. Sofie shrugged, so he went on. ‘Well, I may have been, but I’m wide awake now.’ Hands under her arms, he hauled her up. Her startled eyes locked with his as she suddenly found herself face down on top of him. ‘C’mon, give,’ he said.

  ‘But I have a list, wouldn’t you rather talk about it over breakfast?’

  ‘No.’ The only light in the room
came from a three-quarter moon shining through the windows casting a pale silvery light over her curly hair and face. Enough light to make out her crinkled worried brow.

  He shot her an are-you-for-real questioning look.

  ‘Oh, all right then.’ She took a deep breath, and as she did, her chest pushed down as his rose, and her pebbled, perky nipples scraped against his skin, which, judging by the smile on his face, he found more than a little interesting. At this rate she’d never get her questions answered and they’d never get to sleep. She started to push off, but Brock had other ideas and clasped his arms around her waist, then ab-curled taking Sofie with him onto his lap. Comfortably settled, he said, ‘Ask away, Babe.’

  ‘Okay, well first, is Jett still in town, and was he involved with the truck that demolished my house?’

  ‘Don’t worry, he’s not in town. We asked him to cooperate and allow us to fingerprint him. He refused. We could’ve made it difficult for him, but really, it was an experiment to see what his reaction would be. We had plenty of his prints lifted from the cottage he was staying at. We’re waiting on a match with the truck, which is still impounded. Armidale forensics are on it, we should have results soon.’

  ‘That’s good to know.’

  ‘Babe,’ he stroked the silky skin of her back all the way down to her hips and delectable round arse, his body enjoying the sensation of her wriggling on top of him, supposedly making herself comfy. Brock cleared his throat and started again. ‘Babe, anything new that comes up and has to do with you, I’ll let you know immediately, okay?’

  ‘Thank you.’ The tip of her tongue slowly slid across her lips, wetting them. She dipped her head, eyeing his nipples, then lifting her face again, she caught his easy-going smile; he was just itching for her to lick and toy with him.