Indulgence

by Liz Crowe

  “Daisy, honey. I have to take that call.”

  “But Captain Cock, I think a few minutes wouldn’t hurt. Just put it in a little and then we’ll stop.” Her lilting voice sounded so logical. “Or, I can babysit it while you talk in your cop voice. I love your cop voice.”

  Yes. He knew all about that.

  Of course, he would just put the head of his penis inside her wet opening. And of course he wouldn’t be able to stop until he’d completely satisfied both of them. They both knew that.

  “Fuck it.”

  “Oh, exactly, Captain Cock.”

  Daisy’s props and costumes were folded and carefully stowed in her pink bunny bag. But she hadn’t bothered to put any clothes on, except for the Ranger Rick shirt with the ridiculous beaver character stitched onto the breast pocket, so of course he couldn’t concentrate, looking at the crescents of her enormous tits and tight little butt with the red handprint where he’d spanked her. His phone rang again, and this time, distracted or not, he was going to answer it. It wasn’t the call he was expecting, but he was satisfied enough to let duty call.

  “Riverton.”

  Daisy chose the opportunity to kneel before him as he sat on the edge of the bed. She found his withering cock and proceeded to give him his third oral of the day. Her teeth scraped along the underside of him and then she sucked in his balls, causing him to hiss into the phone.

  “Clark? You okay?” It was Detective Mayfield. Riverton could hear Mariachi music in the background. Mayfield had moved in with the attractive Señora Guzman.

  “I’m fine,” Riverton forced out between his teeth as Daisy pulled and sucked forcefully on his ball sac.

  Jeez. You’re gonna suck it right off of me, sweetheart.

  Riverton snuck a peek at the dimples of her derriere while her blonde head worked overtime in his lap. He nearly dropped the phone.

  Mayfield continued, “Listen, we got notified about an undercover operation going on. I’m kinda related to the party in question. It’s Mrs. Guzman’s daughter, Mia. I can’t involve myself, due to—well, you know how it is, Clark.”

  “I understand.” He laced his fingers through Daisy’s blond hair, squeezing the back of her neck as he ground deeper into her mouth. The woman was a master. She could get come out of a 90-year old, he thought. “Is there some kind of a problem?”

  “Thought perhaps we could talk it over, say, tomorrow sometime? Not over the phone.”

  “I—I understand.” It took everything he had to even respond coherently. Moaning into the phone was not an option, and, dammit, he’d nearly forgotten even that small courtesy.

  “Meet me at the Scupper around noon? I’m buying since I need a favor.”

  “Will do.”

  Riverton pressed the end call button, then examined it again to make sure. Once he hadn’t been careful enough and the squad room still occasionally played the message he’d inadvertently left, thinking he had hung up. He’d earned the nickname amongst the younger guys as “Sexy Grandpa,” though Riverton never thought of himself as old enough. He didn’t mind them thinking he had a healthy sex life.

  Daisy looked up at him, her lips wet and her lipstick smeared. One false eyelash had started to come off. On Daisy, it looked sexy as hell.

  “I fixed the plumbing problem, Captain Cock. Is there anything else you’d like me to do?” She stood demurely in front of him, the ridiculous shirt only covering half her breasts and not reaching her navel. Her hands were folded over her sex.

  “Get your hands off there,” he pointed.

  Daisy complied, extending her lovely arms and hands to the sides, then up to her chest. She leaned over, which made her double-D-cup breasts come pillowing out from behind the shirtfront and between her fingers. She presented them to his mouth.

  Before he could lock onto her she pulled back and squealed, “Wait!”

  Riverton stroked himself, reassuring his member that good times were shortly at hand as he watched her pull a tube out from her pink bag. That would be the cherry stuff she liked to use. He didn’t have the heart to tell her he hated that crap.

  But watching her rub it over her nipples, making them glisten and pucker, while he stroked and kept himself on the ready, he decided the cherry gel wasn’t all that bad. As she bent over and gave him a taste, he decided he actually could grow to like it. Maybe he could take her to one of those shops and they could pick out something more to his liking. But this, right now anyway, was working just fine.

  His tongue rolled over her left nipple and then he sucked her hard, making her scrunch up her brow and put her lips in that little O-shaped pout she did when she was coming. He could explode at any moment, just seeing her bending over and letting him have his way with her tits.

  He removed the tube of gel from her hand and ran a line of the pink liquid down his cock. “You’re a quick learner, Miss Daisy. Perhaps a little treat?”

  “I got something better than a treat,” she said as she straddled him. Then with one sensual stroke, she sat on his cock. His face was buried in her chest again, which was only the second best place it could be.

  Thank God he didn’t have to do anything until noon tomorrow, unless that damned FBI agent called him back.

  Mayfield had ordered a salad and was stuffing his face when Riverton showed up a whole five minutes late.

  “What happened to you?” Mayfield asked.

  At first a quick smile darted out, then Riverton reeled himself in and got serious. “Not sleeping well these days.”

  “You look like hell. We’re not young anymore, Clark. Gotta take care of yourself.”

  Riverton nodded. He noticed Mayfield had lost about twenty pounds. “The Mrs. got you on a diet?” he asked, pointing to the salad.

  This time it was Mayfield’s time to break out in a chuckle.

  This also amused Riverton. “I get it. She’s hot for gringos,” he teased, playing along with the fun.

  Mayfield sighed and stared down at his salad. “No, she’s just hot for me.” He wouldn’t make eye contact.

  “Must be nice. I’m glad to see you finally happy.”

  Mayfield’s head rose to attention. “I am. Truly. I am.”

  “Well, sir, that makes two of us, although mine isn’t full time.”

  They laughed in unison. The waitress took Riverton’s order for a green salad and a diet coke.

  “You’re a cheap date,” Mayfield snorted.

  “I’ve been told that a time or two. Money’s hard to come by these days. I’m thinking your little lady may be on to something. Maybe if I ate rabbit food I’d sleep better.” He presented a lopsided smile back to Mayfield.

  “Well, Clark. That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On who you’re sleeping with.”

  Riverton’s salad arrival broke up the laughter. He liked the big San Diego detective, who was fair and honest. The man was one of the last good guys on the force, and would be retiring soon, which was a damned shame. Riverton was also hoping to take early retirement and go into real estate with the savings he’d stashed over the years.

  “So, you got a call,” Riverton primed.

  “Yes. There’s an undercover operation going on involving Mia Guzman. My lady’s daughter. You know her son, Mia’s brother, Armando, one of the guys on SEAL Team 3?”

  “Okay, so that’s the connection. Yes, I remember him. Handsome sucker. They call him Armani, right?”

  “That’s him.”

  “So, what’s the problem?”

  “He’s trying to interfere with the operation. He’s very protective of his sister. We need him to butt out for a bit so the undercovers can do their job.”

  “You’re gonna tell him about the operation?”

  “Nope. I can’t.” Mayfield drilled a look that went all the way to the back of Riverton’s skull. “You are.”

  “And under whose authority? I could get in a shitload of trouble here.”

  “You didn’t hear this from
me. You overheard it from someone else on the force. You know Armando. You know he is a good guy, and you don’t want him involved in something that could jeopardize his career. Trust me, you’ll be doing him a favor.”

  “And what makes you think he’ll decide to stay away?”

  “First, he’s supposed to. He’s not to get involved in civilian things stateside. That’s hard for them to do when they come home. But if he got caught up in this operation, especially if he blew the operation, the Navy’d hear from my superiors, and people would demand action of some kind. You know how jealous regular law enforcements are of these SEALs.”

  “Yup. I’m well aware of that.” Riverton was thinking it over. “You have an address or phone number?”

  “I’d best not give you his number, but I have it if it’s an emergency. Just file that one away. I think it would be best if you act like you’ve run into him casually.” Mayfield pulled out a slip of white paper from his vest pocket. “And here’s his address. They hang out at Gunny’s, and the tattoo place—”

  “I know those places,” Riverton interrupted. Daisy’s tattoo parlor was where all the SEAL Team 3 men had theirs done. He thought about her slender pink fingers working over their flesh and he was jealous. But not jealous enough to keep from getting another hard-on just at the thought of her. Just like he’d gotten a hard-on this morning when he dried off with the towel she’d used before she left for work.

  “Okay, then. I’m off to some meetings. We good?” Mayfield asked.

  “Not promising I can get with him today or tomorrow, but I’ll work to get through to him soon. You got a deadline, has the operation started?”

  “Oh yes, been going on now for a few weeks, but the insertion team is in place as of a couple of weeks ago. It’s important.”

  “Gang task force?”

  “That’s right. Mia has some connected friends she can’t stay away from. That’s why Armando has been interfering.”

  “Protective.”

  “They all are. But if he knows we’re on the case, I think he’ll back away.”

  “Not if he thinks she’s in danger.”

  “She’s not.”

  “With a host of gang friends? You blowing smoke up my ass?”

  “Idea is to get the bad guys together and have a tea party for them in the Graybar hotel. Armando doesn’t have to duplicate what SDPD is already doing.”

  “Got it.”

  “Thanks. I owe you one.”

  “Nah, just doing the right thing,” Riverton answered.

  But inside he wondered if the SEAL would think of it that way. Or if he would be able to stop the man from doing something he felt was right. It was going to be a challenge getting through to Armando.

  He also had to be careful not to take calls in front of Daisy, since she knew them all. As Cooper’s ex-girlfriend, Riverton knew she’d always be loyal to the Brotherhood, no matter what it cost her in bed. That was saying a lot for the little lady most people underestimated. Though she was a little on the kinky side, which was just to Riverton’s liking, Daisy was a good girl through and through, and intensely loyal. He didn’t want to say or do anything to make her think less of him.

  This would be more complicated than he’d originally thought.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Armando sat at the rear coffee table, in the dark. It was where they always sat as a Team, when they had to plan something and didn’t want to be disturbed or overheard. Even in the dark everyone wore sunglasses. Just part of the uniform.

  Well, this was sort of a private meeting, too. Gina said she wanted to explain some things. Another story? The truth this time? Why didn’t it bother him more?

  Perhaps this is what I deserve. God knows he’d told his share of lies, especially to women. He never told them he loved them, though. But he told them all kinds of shit to make them feel better about themselves. Or at least, that’s how he justified it.

  Truth was, he didn’t feel like much of a catch. He recognized the signs of PTSD all right. Inappropriate behavior. Unwilling to let go of things that normally wouldn’t bother him. Having the need to intervene in other people’s lives. He’d been the Teflon SEAL, Mr. Armani, the slick Latin Lover who didn’t like drama and left women satisfied, but never called them again. Oh, no. Calling would have meant a relationship and a commitment. Hell, he didn’t know where he’d be in a few months. He was damned sure it was the wrong time for something more. Not until he healed. And he knew there were a fair number of his Teammates who never healed, going from wife to wife to girlfriend to wife, leaving a litter of kids all over the country, just like Gunny. Now, since the news that Gunny had asked Sanouk to stay and help him run the gym, Armando was feeling more alone than usual.

  That wasn’t what he wanted. He would never knowingly father a child out of wedlock, and hadn’t that he knew of. That wasn’t fair to a kid, or a woman either.

  He closed his eyes. Across his internal screen paraded the faces of women, children and the elderly, their lifeless death masks haunting him. He saw those faces of innocents killed by their own people every time he pulled the trigger to send some bad guy to hell for all of eternity. Some days he had as many as twenty kills. And he knew there were some days he just wished he could kill all night long, too, not even stopping for food or sleep.

  That’s what happened when your mind started to unwind, he thought. He’d worked on himself to be able to pull the trigger to take a life, convinced it was to save a life. He believed that with all his heart. The time to question that decision was never on the battlefield. The time to question it was in the training, or in the workup to deployment, or in the downtime after a bad run. But when he was suited up with all his gear, he became the man, the most feared sniper in his squad. The man who could do the impossible shots. He’d once blown the head off a tribal thug who threatened to kill his own child to avoid capture. The man got his wish. And the little boy ran to his mama afterwards, unharmed.

  He was glad he was trained, qualified expert sniper. So much easier creating death when you didn’t have to stand right next to it. He’d never killed with his bare hands before. Chances were, he’d have to do that before getting out. But he knew he would do it if called upon.

  Some young coeds were trying to catch his attention. Did they know about the blood and carnage parading through his head? Did they know how desperately he wanted them to never see anything but the insides of shopping malls and houses by the beach? To spare them the level of death and destruction some women their age endured overseas. He’d sacrifice his life to keep them from having to experience the things that lived in his head. It was sometimes what gave him strength to do what he did. Just so the folks at home could have a normal something.

  So he gave the girls a subtle, practiced wink and they tittered their way out the doorway into the sunlight. Young. Innocent. Oblivious to all the dark forces out there. All the hell on earth others had seen. So what the hell am I doing here? For an instant he forgot where he was. Then he remembered. Waiting for Gina.

  He’d even showed up a full ten minutes early. Now Kyle and Fredo would have some definite opinions about that.

  Sunday morning was usually a busy time at the Scupper. Of course the tourist crowd was totally different from their evening group. Parents of Navy recruits haunted its walls, remarking on the memorabilia, the pictures of the fallen heroes over the bar, the polaroid of Saddam Hussein in handcuffs, looking small and helpless after his capture.

  Armando couldn’t fault people for wanting to pay homage to his brothers in arms. But a part of him thought it got in the way. Too much hero worship could lead to blind spots. He knew all too well that there were living disasters in his community, walking time bombs. Their job was to do the things they were trained to do and then come home and have a normal life.

  What the hell is normal?

  He’d heard the stories about how some of his brothers couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t let a woman touch them. Couldn’t hold their kid
s. They’d seen things they shouldn’t have in their short twenty-something years on this earth. And just like the motto they lived by, “The Only Easy Day Was Yesterday,” it wouldn’t ever get better. Maybe some of the pain would fade in time. But one never forgets fallen comrades or the faces of the innocents caught in the crossfire.

  It was hard to admit he’d made some decisions he wrestled with late at night. He saw the face of one young wife of a terrorist who had attempted to protect her husband from Armando’s kill shot. He’d gotten them both with the same round, but hers was the face he remembered. Even though he’d seen more faces of pure evil, it was the women and children he couldn’t get out of his thoughts. They were the people he was supposed to protect, or at least try to spare if he could. Even when they chose the wrong side. They were supporting and defending their men in battle. And the children had no chance at all.

  His first tour had gone on like a party. He was a newbie SEAL, a fledgling. They wouldn’t trust him with the important stuff. His job was to get out of the way and let the varsity guys do what they knew how to do. His job was to observe, to learn, and try not to do something stupid to get them all killed.

  Somewhere along the line he became the guy who was giving instructions. There was no official rank change in his file. No difference in pay. No difference in the way he felt. But there was a subtle change, a new mantle he wore. It was now his responsibility to watch over others like he’d been watched over.

  He gazed at the young portrait of Lance Grissom, the kid from Indiana who wanted to be a doctor. When the young medic took the IED intended for him, Armando knew there would come a day when he could no longer do this job. But it wasn’t that day, and it wouldn’t be tomorrow. However, there was one thing that happened to every SEAL who ever served in this elite force: that day always came. He just hoped it came without too much blood and gore or collateral damage. That he could walk away with all his body parts in working order, and that he could leave knowing he’d done all he could to protect and defend his country. Maybe then it would be okay to just walk away.