Pussycat Death Squad

by Holcomb, Roslyn Hardy

  Lelia looked up to meet his narrowed gaze; his eyes were so dark, there was no hint of green or gold left in them. His lips were full and ruddy while his jaw was clenched tightly. She wondered that he was still holding back. Then she felt his cock pressing against her pussy again and couldn't think of anything else. Unexpected pain surprised a gasp out of her as he slowly eased his cock into her depths.

  “You okay?” he gritted out between tightly clenched teeth, the two words so guttural as to barely be discernible.

  Lelia nodded as he moved even more slowly. Time telescoped, stretching out endlessly. It seemed to take forever as he slid inexorably deeper inside her. The pain gradually eased away and she could think of nothing but the unbearable pleasure of being so totally filled. It seemed that every cell of her body was stretched beyond bearing, but instead of pain, pleasure engulfed her body. Her head arched back as she keened her fulfillment, her hips moving reflexively to pull him deeper, trying to grind her clit against the base of his cock.

  She reached up to spread her hands over Patrick's chest when, with a roar, he raised her legs over his arms and pulled back, only to plunge back inside her as if he couldn't bear even that brief departure. He continued on and on, his body slamming into hers in a fever of frantic movement. Just when she didn't think she could take another moment, he flattened his torso against hers, immobilizing her as he ground his cock into her with each downstroke. He grabbed her arms, pinning them above her head as he captured her mouth in a savage kiss. His smoky, salty scent engulfed her, surrounding her with pure dominant male aggression as he left little doubt that she belonged to him totally. Again and again his mouth ravaged hers until he gave a guttural cry as his back arched and he slammed into her one last time.

  * * *

  Patrick moved from atop Lelia and collapsed on the bed beside her. He glanced over at her. She seemed as drained as he was. Was she okay? Jesus, man, what were you thinking? You fucked her like an animal. And that dominance shit. He'd always liked to be dominant in bed. It turned him on to totally control his partner while he focused on her pleasure, but what had possessed him to try that with a virgin? He was amazed she hadn't run screaming into the night. He still couldn't believe he'd lost it like that. Everything had been okay. He'd been in total control until he'd seen the way her white panties contrasted with her dark skin. It had been the fulfillment of every fantasy he'd had since the first time he laid eyes on her, and he'd totally lost it. He studied the way the light sheen of perspiration on her body glistened in the moonlight from the open window. He reached down, taking her hand in his and raising it to his mouth. As an apology it wasn't much, but then as he looked into her eyes, he realized that she didn't need one.

  “You okay, baby?” he whispered, propping his head up as he looked down at her.

  A slow smile spread over her face as she nodded, then whispered back, “Wow, is it always like that?”

  Patrick grinned, sliding his palm over her abdomen, up to her breasts. “I dunno. Want to try again and find out?”

  She slapped his hands away. “Are you kidding me? You're such an animal. I seriously doubt I'll ever walk again.”

  Patrick's face immediately dropped the smile. “Are you okay? I know I was too rough. I don't know. I've never lost it like that, and you were a virgin.”

  “Of course I'm okay. I'm twenty-eight years old. I expect there was very little virginity left in the first place. I was just teasing you.”

  “Well, in that case.” He slid off the bed, then reached down to pull her up beside him. “I think a nice soak in a whirlpool tub is in order. After that, who knows?”

  Chapter Six

  The chow hall was humming with activity, and Lelia lowered her head as she entered. Lelia, who'd practically grown up in the military and was accustomed to the ceaseless hubbub, was still disconcerted by the sheer number of marines served their meals there. Camp Lejeune was a training base, and the number of troops stationed there was overwhelming. Lelia's hopes that the Guard be overlooked had been shattered the first day when the whole room fell silent as they entered. Whether it was owed to better manners or loss of novelty, Lelia was delighted that it didn't happen anymore. But they still drew undue attention when they gathered their trays and tried to find a corner to seat themselves.

  Today was media day and they'd had photographers around all morning shooting pictures of them running the corps' PT test. All her soldiers had exceeded standards, but she hated having them on display like that. Fortunately, she was the only one who had to sit through an interview. She'd caught Patrick's grin when she agreed with the reporter that none of the Amazonian Guard spoke English. Of course, he and all the other marines knew better.

  Other than that brief interaction, she'd had a reprieve from seeing him again for two days, as Patrick had been detailed elsewhere on the base. Obviously she couldn't avoid the man forever, and she couldn't really say why she was trying to. As she saw him drinking coffee with other marines, she could only manage a cursory hello before scurrying over to stand in line. She willed him to stay seated, even as she felt him immediately rise to follow her.

  “Sorry I haven't been able to see you. I hope you aren't mad at me,” he said, standing behind her in the chow line.

  Lelia glanced up at him over her shoulder, then quickly lowered her eyes. “I got your messages. I understand about obligations.”

  “Then why won't you look at me?”

  Lelia turned, raising her head to meet his eyes. She stepped out of line; they weren't moving forward anyway. “I'm trying not to draw attention to us. Your friends are watching, and my soldiers are too,” she said softly in an attempt to keep others from overhearing their conversation.

  “Everybody knows we're together. What's the big deal? Are you embarrassed? You're not trying to keep me a secret, are you?”

  “No, I'm not embarrassed. Just trying to maintain professionalism,” she lied, waiting for him to call her on it.

  Patrick took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak. After a brief pause, he shook his head as though he'd changed his mind. He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his closely cropped hair. “Look, I know you'll be leaving soon. I haven't seen you nearly enough. I thought we'd check out a little island south of here, very casual and laid-back. We can walk around barefoot in cutoffs and eat ice cream.

  “Cutoffs?”

  “Shorts.”

  “Oh. I don't own any.”

  “We can buy you some. It's not like they're a requirement. The only thing you really need at Topsail is a swimsuit, unless of course, you'd prefer au naturel?” He raised his brows suggestively.

  She couldn't stop herself from punching his arm, and she didn't care who saw it. “Yeah, right.”

  She shivered as his hand pressed briefly against her lower back. The touch wasn't enough for either of them, and they knew it. His voice lowered. “Please, baby, say you'll come.”

  Her eyes were drawn to his like a lodestone, and she couldn't help but respond to the tenderness she saw in their depths. In that moment she knew not only was she in love but that he loved her as well. She couldn't imagine anything more wonderful than going away for the weekend with him. Nearly overwhelmed by the urge to jump into his arms and give him the kiss his eyes begged for, Lelia nodded. “You know I will.” She moved away before they drew even more attention to themselves.

  She joined Sarai and Astaria at their table, steeling herself for their snide comments.

  “You know, Sergeant, you'd draw a lot less attention to yourself if you didn't turn into a blushing twelve-year-old every time you see the man,” Astaria said in a derisive tone.

  “Besides, everyone already knows, so what are you trying to hide?” Sarai asked.

  “I'm not trying to hide anything. I'd like to maintain professional boundaries. And certainly, as your superior officer, it's not appropriate for me to discuss this with either of you,” Lelia said.

  Lelia knew exactly what she'd revealed with that comment. Sh
e hardly ever pulled rank, especially not with her two closest friends. Fortunately for her they chose to let her get away with it and changed the subject. As she sipped her barely potable coffee, she watched as Patrick and the other marines exited the chow hall, both relieved and disappointed that he wouldn't be joining them for further training. On the other hand, she was almost breathless with anticipation of their weekend together.

  The rest of the week went essentially the same way, with Lelia catching only occasional glimpses of Patrick. As they wound down their joint training session, he was frequently called off to other assignments. The time drew on endlessly as she anticipated their getaway, even as she reminded herself that their time left together could be measured in days.

  * * *

  Lelia ducked, brought suddenly out of her reverie by the explosive sound of the firearm discharging over her head. She paused, her ears ringing from the concussion. She started again when Sarai, her partner in this house-clearing exercise, grabbed her shoulders.

  “What's going on, Sergeant? I could've killed you!” Sarai yelled, her turquoise eyes blazing against her umber-hued skin.

  Lelia waved a dismissive hand. “It's not live ammunition.” She nodded toward the modified Beretta handgun Sarai was holding. “You know it's all done with lasers…” She stopped at Sarai's glare. “You're right,” she conceded. “All weapons are loaded and lethal until proven otherwise.” She quoted from the handbook she'd written. “I'm sorry.” She wiped her damp hands over her thighs. “I wasn't paying attention. My timing has been off all day.” House clearing, going room to room in a dwelling—usually in pursuit of an assailant—was one of the most dangerous operations they did. Death lurked around every corner when they pursued someone into an unfamiliar house. This was hardly a good time to be distracted, even if it was only an exercise with laser tags and spring-loaded targets that varied from benign to exceptionally dangerous. Depending on the lethality of their target, they had to decide with split-second timing whether to shoot to kill or hold their fire. Even before Sarai's near miss, Lelia had been missing her targets all morning. More than once she'd taken out an innocent civilian while totally missing a deadly assassin. Quite embarrassing considering that they were here to prove their lethality to the world. Praises be to Allah, that most of the reporters had moved on.

  Sarai slouched against the wall beside her. “You've been distracted a lot this past week. Astaria said you almost started cleaning your weapon the other day before checking for ammunition.” She gave Lelia an arch look. “Wonder if it has anything to do with your weekend plans? Or more precisely, with the delectable marine you're planning to go away with.”

  Lelia sighed. Sarai was one of her closest friends, but she could be a pill at times. She hadn't discussed her plans with either of her friends. They both knew what was going on, but until now neither had forced the issue. She was grateful for their restraint, and she knew it had to have been difficult for them. This was especially true of Sarai, who was a notorious gossip.

  “I don't know what's going on with Patrick and me,” she continued in a rush when Sarai raised an inquiring brow. “I mean, other than the obvious, that is.”

  “Really? Come on, give over.”

  “Not very likely. Not unless I want everyone in the entire Guard to know.”

  Sarai chuckled, then clicked the safety into place before sliding her weapon into the holster on her web belt. “Oh, you think they don't know already? What they don't know they'll just make up. And we all have very healthy imaginations,” she said with a knowing smile. “So what is going on with you two?” she asked when Lelia didn't respond to the previous provocation. “Why have you been so preoccupied all week? Or is that obvious as well?”

  “No, it's not obvious. He says we're falling in love.”

  “What?” Sarai pushed herself upright from the wall, totally shaken out of her provocative mood. “You can't fall in love. It's against the rules.”

  Lelia pulled out a hairpin that held her long braids in their regulation chignon. Somehow it didn't help the headache that was brewing in the back of her skull. “Technically, there is no rule against falling in love. Only against acting on it.” Sarai gave her an arch look, so she continued, resigned to her fate. “We've pretty much burned that bridge, have we not?”

  “What are you going to do? You can't tell the Colonel.”

  “Of course I'll tell the Colonel. It's the honorable thing to do.” She looked around the modestly decorated home that was set up for training. Despite the marines' best efforts, the exercise couldn't produce the sense of foreboding and suppressed panic that such an operation usually engendered in the field.

  “Honor will do you a fat lot of good when you don't have a head,” Sarai muttered under her breath. “You can't do this. We all thought you were just having a little fling while we were here in America.” She shrugged. “You wouldn't be the first.”

  “What? What are you talking about?” Lelia started at her friend with a sudden premonition that she really didn't want to hear the answer to her question.

  “Lelia, do you really think we're all stupid? Several of the girls have had lovers, or at least boyfriends.” She shrugged her elegant shoulders. “I haven't, but certainly some of them have. I thought as long as we were discreet it would be of no consequence.”

  Lelia rubbed her forehead hard, scarcely willing to believe this level of duplicity had been going on under her nose. What else had she missed? “Who—” She broke off in midsentence. She didn't want Sarai to tell her. Truth to tell, she didn't want anyone to tell her, but of course, it couldn't be avoided now. “They will tell me themselves.”

  Sarai's eyes widened. “Oh no. Sergeant, I thought you already knew. That's the only reason I mentioned it.”

  Lelia whirled on her. “You thought I would be complicit in this?”

  “Well, aren't you? What was this past weekend about?”

  “I told you. I have every intention of telling the Colonel what happened as soon as we return.” She looked up as one of her soldiers rushed into the house.

  “Mura, you know better than to run into a house we're clearing,” she scolded sharply.

  Mura immediately halted and came to attention. It was then that Lelia noticed her reddened eyes and the tears flowing down her pale cheeks. She walked over to her. “What on earth is going on?”

  “There's been a coup attempt,” the soldier whispered.

  Lelia paused to get her bearings as the enormity of what had happened swept over her. “Oh my God. Is the Colonel all right?”

  Mura nodded. “Yes, he's fine. He's barricaded in the Palladium Palace, but”—she swallowed—“all the Guard members we left in Laritrea are dead.”

  “What?” Lelia struggled to remain standing. Her knees seemed to have lost the ability to support her. “All of them?” Mura nodded. “They were just girls. And Karida?”

  Mura nodded again.

  “Why were they involved? The Colonel was supposed to be guarded by his regular troops in our absence.” She stopped talking when she realized that Mura knew nothing more. “How did you hear about this?” she asked, hoping against hope that some mistake had been made. Wanting to wail out against the agony of her loss; instead, she gathered herself. Fortunately, she had duty and responsibility. Otherwise she wasn't sure she could have remained upright.

  “It's on the news in our recreation area. Everyone else is just standing around crying. I thought it best to find you.”

  Lelia nodded and started walking toward the recreation building. Mura and Sarai immediately fell into step on either side of her. They were halfway across the running track that stood between the training field and recreation area when Patrick rushed up to them.

  “I heard about what happened. I'm so sorry,” he said, obviously making an effort to maintain his professionalism, though his eyes told her everything she needed to know. This man wanted to take her into his arms and shelter her for as long as she needed it. The knowledge th
at she needed it desperately shook her to her core.

  Lelia nodded. “Thank you, Gunnery Sergeant.” She nodded curtly, then took a step to continue on her way.

  “Wait a minute. What are you going to do?” he asked.

  “I'm going to assess the situation; then I'm going to get myself and the rest of my soldiers on the first airplane back to Laritrea.”

  Just like that, all pretense of professionalism evaporated like water on a salt flat. “Have you lost your mind, woman? You do realize there's a war going on in your country?” he yelled.

  “And just where the hell else do you think I should be?” she yelled back. “It's a war. I'm a warrior. Any questions?”

  “Yeah,” he snarled back. “I've got plenty. What about the fact that you're my woman? Don't I have any say in this?”