The Enforcer

by Marliss Melton

  “Should I leave?” she asked.

  “Hell, no.” He jerked down the zipper of his bed roll and tossed back the corner. “Come on in.”

  The contrast of her cool, silky skin as she squirmed in next to him brought a groan to his lips.

  “You sure about this?” A vision of her curled up in the dollhouse flitted through his mind. Was he preying on her vulnerability?

  “I’m sure.” Full breasts pillowed his chest as she looped an arm over his shoulders.

  “What happened to forbidding me to kiss you ever again or even speak to you without company present?”

  “I figured we broke half of those rules last night; might as well break the other half.”

  He grinned at her logic. “Works for me.”

  Her sweet breath touched his face before she pressed her lips fervently to his, communicating her explicit desire that he take everything she had to offer. Not only did it silence his doubts for good, but sent blood roaring past his eardrums. Conceding to her unspoken orders, he stroked his tongue deep into her mouth and kissed her thoroughly.

  The impulse to ravish her rode him like a world-class bull rider. He’d wanted her for so long now; it would be so easy to plunge ahead. But while she wasn’t exactly virginal, his instincts assured him that her sexual experience was limited. And considering the certainty that one day, soon, she would regret having given herself to him, the least he could do was show her as much consideration as he could muster.

  Tearing his lips from her sweet, untutored mouth, he nuzzled the shell of her ear. He lathed the hollow behind it with his tongue, scraped his teeth lightly down the swan-like length of her neck toward her collar bone. Levering himself up and over her, he invited her to scoot into the center of the bedroll, where moonlight fell across her breasts like a sheer, silvery scarf, illuminating the pale globes and the rosy tips of her puckered nipples. Fucking beautiful.

  He bent his head, nuzzling her impossibly soft skin. His day-old bristles made her gasp and catch his face in her hands. Circling her nipples with his tongue, he delighted in their velvety texture and the way they puckered and extended as he blew cool air across the moist peaks.

  Dylan’s spine arched. With a soft moan, she spread her thighs, opening up to him like an evening primrose. He dragged his mouth over the curve of her ribs, across the plane of her belly to her naval, pausing to foreshadow his intent by swirling his tongue around it.

  She squirmed, her skin already hot to the touch. Digging her nails into his shoulders, her body language conveyed both trepidation and excitement.

  “It’s all right,” he whispered. “Just relax, sweetheart.”

  With a shuddering exhalation, she released the tension in her body. As her thighs went lax, he settled between them, sweeping his palms up her runner’s legs, from her ankles to her inner thighs. He took his time familiarizing himself with her contours, brushing his stubbly jaw through the crisp curls of her woman’s hair. Her fresh-linen scent could not disguise the perfume of her arousal.

  “Tobias!” she gasped.

  He speared his tongue between the plump swells determined to wring every ounce of pleasure possible from her. Her hips jerked upward. Cupping her tight buns in his hands, he circled her silken folds with his tongue then centered his assault on the knot there until she whimpered softly. On target, he thought with an inward smile.

  Dylan fought to keep her moans of pleasure from carrying through the floorboards to the rooms below. Never, never in her entire life had she experienced the sensations Tobias was unleashing. Goosebumps ridged every inch of her skin. She was certain he could feel them against his palms which cradled her cheeks, lifting her against his hot, wicked mouth as if she were a feast and he a king, determined to enjoy a full-course meal.

  He stabbed his tongue into her opening, and her inner muscles convulsed, greedy for more. He flicked the nub of her clitoris and the world spun off its axis. Any second now, she would climax helplessly, but that wasn’t what she wanted.

  “Stop,” she cried, grateful when he actually paused to raise his dark head.

  “Take me now,” she commanded, her heart pounding with the enormity of her request. “Now,” she repeated, sinking her fingers into his short hair and tugging his resisting body up and over hers.

  His larger form loomed over her, and the moonlight frosted his chiseled features and powerful upper body. Trepidation trickled through her. Could she do this? If she wanted a memory to carry with her into the future, then yes, she could.

  Delving her hands beneath the waistband of his boxer-briefs, she encircled his erection with a shaking hand. “It’s been years,” she heard herself admit.

  He nodded, seemingly incapable of speech as she slid her hand lower to cup the soft sac below.

  “I’m not on the pill or anything,” she tacked on, appalled that she hadn’t considered that earlier.

  Her words seemed to shake him from a trance. “I have a condom.” He groped for his duffel bag and pulled one out. Tearing into it, he sat back to cover himself while she watched, expectant but somewhat apprehensive.

  When he once more covered her body, his sex hung hot and heavy against her thigh. Their breaths merged. Dylan braced herself to receive him as he fitted his powerful frame against her softer one, guiding himself to her opening. He kissed her, pressing gently into her tightness. Suddenly, he drew back to send her a thoughtful look.

  “What?” Was there something wrong with her?

  “Let’s do this a different way,” he suggested. “You on top.”

  “Me?” Doubt shot through her.

  “That way you’ll be in charge.” He eased off her, rolling to one side as they traded places.

  Worried she’d make a fool of herself, Dylan settled over him, straddling his hips. He pulled her to him, flinging the sleeping bag back over them to cloak them in warmth. She could feel his heart thudding swift and strong beneath her breasts. Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her leisurely. The seductive dance of his tongue rekindled her mindless yearning. With gentle hands, he urged her to sink slowly down on his tumescence.

  Dylan’s senses clamored as she took him, one inch at a time until—just as she doubted her capacity to take anymore—their hips collided. Now, they were completely joined. She shuddered in amazement and with fulfillment. Tobias is a part of me now.

  Through heavy-lidded eyes, she studied his reaction. A sheen of sweat glistened on the thickly muscled contours of his torso. His eyelids looked heavy, his jaw tight. An impulse to drive them both to madness had her rocking her hips frantically now, in a feverish mission to burn up into a bright ball of flame.

  “Please,” she gasped, wanting more, though she couldn’t possibly handle it.

  But then his clever thumb sought and found the center of her pleasure, and there it was, the treasure she was looking for. All it took was the barest friction to send her flying over the precipice.

  Biting back her cry of rapture, she rode his bucking hips through a soul-shattering climax. Tobias gave a growl of repletion and bowed beneath. As he slowly stilled, she collapsed against him, every muscle in her body spent.

  A minute passed as they caught their breaths, as their heartbeats slowed to a more restful tempo. Tobias recovered first, tucking in his chin to study her face in the dark. Dylan rested her head on her forearms and absorbed the satisfaction glimmering in the ocean depths of his irises.

  “You okay?” he asked. His obvious satisfaction gave way to uncertainty—she’d never seen him look uncertain.

  She queried the languorous warmth spreading through her. “I’m good.” She would have to be a poet or an artist to describe the fulfillment she’d just experienced, and she was neither.

  His small smile held just enough wickedness in it to assure her that he was good, too. “Next time, I’m on top,” he promised.

  The implication that he intended and expected to have her again—at his mercy next time—wasn’t lost on her. Her pulse quickened at the s
ensual warning.

  “I’m up for that,” she retorted breezily.

  “I’m sure you are, but I won’t be for a while. Besides, it’s late, and you need all the rest you can get.”

  His practical words prompted a pang of rejection. “Are you kicking me out of your bedroll?” she asked in disbelief.

  “It’s for your own good,” he assured her. “If you stay here, neither one of us is going to get a lick of sleep, I can promise you that. Tomorrow’s the CPX. You need your rest.”

  She didn’t want to think about the CPX and all the drilling that was still required to ensure that Thursday’s operation went according to plan. If anything, she suffered an impulsive urge to scrap her plans for Hendrix entirely, but, of course, she couldn’t. She had set events into motion, and now she had to see them through.

  “Fine,” she grumbled, her annoyed tone bringing out a chuckle.

  Scrounging for willpower, she separated their still-joined bodies, and felt immediately empty.

  “Dylan.” He clamped a gentle hand on her thigh as she reached for her robe. “If it makes you feel better, next time we do this, it’ll be in your bed, and you can throw me out.”

  The thought of him in her bed, taking her every which way to Sunday, made her shiver with anticipation. “If you behave, I might actually invite you,” she quipped with a saucy smile.

  His answering grin flashed in the dark. “You know I have a hard time behaving.”

  “Uh-huh.” Threading her arms through the sleeves of her robe, she tied it primly around her waist. Then she dropped a lingering kiss on his lips, before pushing to her feet. Tobias obviously didn’t realize that endorphins were still spilling into every cell of her body, making her anything but tired. She could make love to him all night, but he had obviously not picked up on that.

  “Goodnight,” she whispered, turning toward the stairs. A smile tugged at her mouth as she returned to her room.

  Now, that was an experience she would never forget or regret.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Indian Summer continued into the next day, making the CPX a warm and sultry one. The exercise unfolded as it always did—first the inspection, then the march, then shooting practice. Halfway through it, the NCOs took turns up at the house training the volunteers on mission-specific tasks. Training on site would have been preferable to the mock-up in the yard with John’s trucks and Chet Lee’s car serving as Hendrix’s car. But activity of this sort on Rigby Road on a Saturday morning would certainly have drawn attention.

  Shading her eyes against the sun, Dylan watched Tobias work with the assault group. The smell of trampled grass and dry leaves surrounded her as she watched the soldiers exit the van and truck and descend on what was supposed to be Hendrix’s vehicle. Tobias ordered them to move faster. He was timing them.

  A light breeze ruffled the leaves of the large elm tree. The fluttering sound made her recall what Tobias had told her about John Denver’s music. You can hear it in the breeze. She really could. Back in her youth, she’d spent much of her time outdoors, feeling at-one with nature. The war had robbed her of that satisfaction, but now it seemed to be back. After months of feeling, tasting, and seeing nothing, her senses seemed to have come awake overnight. Thanks to Tobias and the magic they had shared last night.

  Focus, Dylan. If the mission on Thursday went awry, she’d never forgive herself. But try as she might, plotting Hendrix’s humiliation brought far less satisfaction than pondering when and where she and Tobias would find time alone together. His broad shoulders, his encouraging voice and the heat that flared in his eyes whenever their eyes met kept her in the moment, and more alive than she’d been in months.

  At noon, the civilian soldiers packed up their possessions and their lunches and departed, leaving the compound strangely quiet but littered with napkins and wrappings. Dylan and her NCOs tidied up the yard together.

  She had just chased down a napkin that was blowing across the grass when she looked up to find Terrence limping toward her. “Let’s take the rest of the day off,” he suggested.

  Dylan’s mouth dropped open. The garbage sack in her left hand hit the ground. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say those words,” she marveled.

  He nodded and thinned his lips. “Time’s running out for me. I’ve got a bucket list.”

  Guilt banded her rib cage. “Of course.” Here, she was so preoccupied with her own desires that she’d pushed Terrence’s imminent demise to the farthest recesses of her mind. “What would you like to do? Just name it. Parasailing? Swimming with the dolphins?”

  “Bowling,” he said, loudly enough for the others to hear.

  They glanced over, their faces alight with the prospect of doing something new.

  “Bowling,” Dylan repeated, dubiously

  “I used to be a championship bowler,” Terrence confessed. “There’s a bowling alley right in town.”

  Dylan saw Tobias glance at his watch. “The sooner the better, so we can beat the evening crowd,” he called out.

  Sensing a conspiracy, Dylan looked back at her XO. He’d gotten through the CPX without appearing fatigued or in pain. “Are you sure you’re up to it, Terrence?”

  “I’m sure,” he said.

  Dylan sighed. “Very well, but we’re taking two cars in case you need to come back early. Can you drive your car, Sergeant Lee? That way June can join us.”

  He beamed at her. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Dylan swept an eye over the yard. Only one napkin still lay amidst the fallen leaves. Her doubts over the impending operation were forgotten as a tingle of enthusiasm buoyed her spirits. She crossed to the trash bin and tossed the bag inside. “What are we waiting for?”

  An hour later, they were lacing up their bowling shoes and testing out bowling balls. The scent of pizza and beer wafted from the refreshment counter. A few zealous bowlers had beaten them to the alley. Balls rumbled down lanes and scattered pins with loud crashes.

  Tobias leaned toward her ear to shout, “Who says you have to go to a shooting range to hear loud noises?”

  She searched his inscrutable expression. Was this the new therapy for her PTSD?

  In the middle of the first game, he asked permission to buy a pitcher of beer. “For all of us,” he explained.

  Dylan glanced at the hopeful looks on her leaders’ faces. “Just one pitcher,” she allowed.

  Tobias dismissed himself briefly then poured drinks all around. They each drank half a glass as they finished the first game. Tobias proved a formidable bowler. Only Terrence led him consistently by several points. “You’re really good, Terrence,” Dylan told her XO.

  “Used to be excellent,” he replied, collapsing in a chair and rubbing the spot where his prosthesis attached to his leg.

  Dylan emerged from the first game with a moderate score and a strained wrist from using too heavy of a ball. “I don’t know if I can play again,” she demurred as they prepared to start a second game.

  “I’m out, too,” Terrence called on a note of defeat.

  Dylan swiveled toward him. Reading pain in the set of his jaw, she kicked herself for not noticing earlier. “I’ll take you home,” she offered ignoring the others’ disappointment.

  “We just started,” Ackerman whined.

  After a brief protest, Terrence gave in to her insistence. While he struggled to put on his own shoes, she went to return their bowling equipment. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Terrence start to stand, saw the blood drain from his face. With a cry of alarm, she rushed toward him, but Tobias was already there, catching him from falling and bolstering him up.

  Dylan reached them in under a second.

  “I’m fine,” Terrence insisted. Beads of sweat glimmered on his brow. “Just worn out is all.”

  “Can you walk?”

  His dark eyes slid from her worried face to Tobias’s grim one. “I don’t know,” he muttered with humiliation.

  “I’ll go back with you,” Tobias offered. H
e shot Dylan a challenging look even as he toed off his bowling shoes.

  Ten minutes later, they were back in the Suburban returning to the farmhouse. Terrence mumbled an apology and Dylan tersely cut him off. An odd tension charged the interior of the SUV as she sped toward home. Mixed emotions roiled in her.

  Had she really thought she could enjoy a carefree evening, like she wasn’t any different from anyone else her age? She’d forgotten how to relax, how to have fun. And soon she would lose the one person who’d been to hell and back with her, who understood the trauma she’d endured because he’d been by her side through it all. How was she supposed to get on with her life when the past continually dragged her down?

  She wished Tobias could just sweep her away from it all—the way he’d swept away her nightmares by giving her Milly to sleep with. If anyone could teach her how to play, how to have fun again, Tobias could.

  Milly greeted them at the door as they entered, Tobias on one side of Terrence and Dylan on the other. Together, they helped him up to the bathroom and then to his bed. To Dylan’s surprise, he promptly kicked her out.

  “I told you, I’m just tired. I’m taking my pills and going to sleep.”

  Tobias had already left the house to walk Milly. Dylan closed Terrence’s door and crossed through the quiet upper level to her bathroom, where she showered and washed her hair.

  Brushing her teeth minutes later, she assessed her wide-eyed reflection in the mirror.

  Who am I?

  The militia leader who had looked back at her for six months looked different, somehow. She pictured herself as someone else—the owner of an apple orchard.

  The house seemed so quiet without the other NCOs around. Was Tobias back yet? She strained her ears for the sound of him up in the attic. Hanging up her damp towel, she slipped on her nightshirt and left the bathroom intending to read in bed. The sight of him half-sitting, half-lying across her bed, shirtless and shoeless, his hands clasped behind his head in a posture of supreme male confidence, drew her up short.

  “Took you long enough,” he drawled as she stood there gaping at him.