Say It Ain't So (SWAT Generation 2.0 Book 9)

by Lani Lynn Vale

“Jesus, Sammy,” she whispered, her hands still clenching in my hair. “Why does this feel so good?”

  Honestly, I had no clue.

  Maybe it was because I was bare inside of her. Maybe it was because we were so new. Hell, maybe, in the end, it was just because we were having sex with each other and not anybody else. We were good with each other.

  Or, hell, for me, maybe it was because I knew that she was my one. She was the one that would be it for me forever and always.

  Whatever the reason, she was right. It felt amazing, and I didn’t think that you could duplicate something like this.

  We had it when we were together. And the sex we were having in that moment proved it.

  I groaned and leaned up onto an elbow, planting my fist in the bed beside her shoulder. The other I used to hike her leg up high.

  The new angle pushed me even deeper, causing a cry to leave her lips.

  I stilled, worried that I’d hurt her, but she growled and tugged on my hair—which she’d never let go of.

  “I’m fucking coming!” she growled. “Move! Son of a tarantula tit!”

  I would’ve laughed had I had the strength.

  Instead, I fucked her harder and deeper, causing the orgasm I’d almost stolen away from her to burst free.

  Her free leg locked around my hips. Her hands fell from my hair and buried in the pillow that was underneath her head, her fingers clenching so hard on the fabric that her fingernails turned white.

  And she screamed.

  Right. In my. Ear.

  I was suffering from hearing loss when my own orgasm slammed into me.

  I gasped, my balls drawing up so high that I might fear they’d never come down had I been caring about anything other than how Hastings’ pussy felt in that moment.

  “Ohh, fuck yes,” I growled, grunting with the release of my seed inside of her.

  My cock jerked as I emptied myself into her willing pussy. Once. Twice. Three times.

  When I opened my eyes once again, it was to find Hastings gazing at me with something that I’d never seen on another woman’s face besides my mom’s.

  Love.

  I swallowed hard and looked back at her, letting her know without words that I was feeling much the same.

  It was too early.

  We didn’t know each other that well.

  But the seeds had rooted. We both knew the other’s feelings.

  And our new life would grow into something beautiful. I could feel it.

  Chapter 17

  Would you look at the time. It’s fuck this shit o’clock.

  -Hastings’ secret thoughts

  Hastings

  Sammy came over and then never left.

  It’d been eleven days now since he’d entered my house after breaking his arm, and other than going to work and grabbing clothes, the rest of the time he’d spent with me.

  It honestly felt like we were on a mini-vacation.

  We didn’t go out to eat. We didn’t do anything but stay at home, be lazy together, and get to know one another.

  He went to work, I wrote, and when he got home we’d park ourselves in front of the television and make use of ‘Netflix and Chill.’

  Seriously, we’d practically be next to the words ‘Netflix and Chill’ in urban dictionary at this point.

  Sammy’s phone pinged at my side, and I looked at it with surprise.

  Other than a phone call or two from my sister, his sisters, parents, or Suzanne, everyone left us alone.

  Then again, after talking to my sister, I’d begged her to stall for time when it came to my parents. I’d canceled lunch with my family.

  I just wasn’t ready to deal with Patman and them yet.

  Though, I knew that I should.

  Especially when I kept seeing him at the grocery store when I made my daily run for dinner just before Sammy got home. Not that I told Sammy that.

  She’d agreed and had said that she would tell them that I was working on a deadline.

  Which, I guessed I kind of was.

  The same went for Sammy.

  He’d put off me meeting the rest of his family. Not because he was embarrassed of me, or because he didn’t want me to meet them, but because he wanted the time with just me.

  And I couldn’t argue with that, because I felt that it was sweet that he wanted to get to know me first before sharing me.

  “You got a text,” I said as I fell into the couch next to Sammy. “It’s finger lickin’ good.”

  We both ignored that.

  “What does it say?” he asked, not bothering to lift his hand to reach for his phone.

  I snuggled in deeper and picked it up, holding the phone in front of his face for a few seconds, but he never looked down to unlock it.

  “You gotta look down,” I said as I rolled my eyes.

  “Just type in the password,” he said, not taking his eyes away from the screen. “7373.”

  I felt something in my throat get lodged there.

  “You trust me with your password?” I teased.

  He looked down at me. “I trust you with my kid.”

  For emphasis, he curled his arm tighter around me and placed his hand over my barely-there belly.

  “That’s true,” I teased as I typed in the code and read the message.

  “It’s from Sierra,” I said. “She said, ‘Mayday, Supermarket Sweep is on Amazon Prime.’”

  “Text her back asking what episode she’s on,” he said as he backed out of the YouTube video he was watching to go into Amazon Prime.

  From there he started going through the shows until he found Supermarket Sweep.

  Then he proceeded to queue up the first video.

  His phone pinged again, and I said, “This one is from Louis.”

  “What does it say?” he asked in disinterest.

  “It says that he wants to go tubing down the river.” I paused. “This weekend. And he wants you to come.”

  Sammy frowned, scrunching up his nose.

  When he didn’t answer, I thought that was the end of it, and went back to the laptop that was in my lap.

  I was on the last couple thousand words in my book, and at the part where the man would finally win back his woman.

  I was so engrossed in writing that at first I didn’t notice Sammy looking at me.

  “Would you like to go tubing with us?” he asked.

  I looked over, blinking slightly as I tried to refocus on him and not my current work in progress.

  “I’m sorry, but what?” I asked, batting my eyes.

  He grinned. “I asked if you wanted to go tubing with us.”

  I frowned, my eyebrows pinching together slightly. “Who’s us?”

  “A couple of the guys, their wives/girlfriends, I think maybe my sister and a few random friends belonging to the ladies,” he said. “This weekend is supposed to be in the nineties. It’s the last really good weekend before shit starts to get cold. And, bonus, people aren’t going to be out floating the river because they think it’s too cold.”

  “Is it too cold?” I asked curiously.

  He shrugged. “If you get cold, you can sit with me.”

  My mouth twisted into a smile. “How long does it take to get there, and will you care if I read on my Kindle while we float? I have some edits I have to make, but I really would like to go with you.”

  It honestly sounded like a lot of fun. And I was always up for a new adventure that I could put in my books.

  And spend some time with his friends and get to know them as more than the ‘woman Samuel Adams knocked up and is seeing now.’

  Not that they’d say that to my face.

  But I’d heard quite a bit about it the day that I’d gone to the police station a couple of days before when I’d needed to research the inside of a police station for a new book I was working on.

  Oh, and the fact that my man was there wasn’t something that hu
rt, either.

  “Sure.” He paused. “But is a Kindle waterproof?”

  I shrugged. “It is. I got the one that they say is waterproof, anyway.”

  He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “I think you’ll have fun. Have you ever been tubing before?”

  I shook my head. “No. I don’t even know where you go tubing at. The closest I’ve ever been to it is at the lazy river when Six Flags used to be known as Hurricane Harbor.”

  Hurricane Harbor/Six Flags was a water park in Arlington, Texas. Which was about two hours away from us.

  We’d gone there a lot when we were kids.

  Aurora and I had some damn good times in that lazy river hanging off of my dad’s tube.

  “Canyon Lake,” he said. “The Brazos River to be specific.”

  That meant nothing to me, but I was getting excited now.

  “I’ll have to ask my boss if I can take some time off,” I teased.

  He rolled over on the couch and pinned me underneath of him, causing my heart to race.

  Having him pinning me to the couch with his big body on top of mine? It was making my heart race and other things start to pulse with anticipation.

  He let the heaviness of his lower body weigh me down as he stared in my eyes, keeping his hands planted on either side of my body.

  With his eyes on mine, he slowly ground his always-hard cock into my pussy, his smile devious.

  “Your boss better give you some time off or I’ll find a way to get it for you using alternate means of persuasion.” He growled, his mouth only inches away from my face.

  I leaned up the last few inches and ran my lips along the length of his jaw, stopping next to one of those stupidly sexy dimples and dipping my tongue into it.

  His breath hitched as he pressed down harder into me, letting me know without words that he liked what I was doing.

  I pulled back so that I could see into his eyes.

  “I hope that our baby has your dimples,” I murmured. “I hope that he has your smile. I hope that he has your heart and your sense of humor.” I paused as I thought about the short amount of time that we’d had together. Thought about how badly I wanted to make it go on forever and ever. Then decided that though it was early, it was right. “I love you.”

  His entire body froze as he stared at me with such intentness that it made me want to squirm.

  “You what?” he asked carefully.

  “I love you,” I said. “I think I’ve loved you since the moment we first met in that Walgreens. When you accepted me for me later that night in my bed. I’ve never had anyone do that before. Never had anyone that cared enough to try. And these dimples? They’re just… yum. What’s not to love?”

  His mouth slammed down onto mine so fast and hard that at first I was startled.

  My breath escaped me in a rush, and I had no other choice but to wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold on while he ravaged me with his mouth.

  His kiss felt desperate, as if he was fighting something inside of him and losing quickly.

  I moaned into his kiss, my legs going around his waist as my clearly forgotten laptop finally slid to the floor.

  He pulled back only long enough to strip the t-shirt from my body.

  His eyes went hot at the sight of me nearly naked underneath. The only thing I was wearing was a tiny pair of boy shorts underwear. They covered me from my hips to the top of my thighs.

  “Have I told you lately how much I love these?” he asked, running his finger down the length of my belly, coming to a stop just underneath the hem of my underwear.

  He’d told me every single time he saw me in them—which was often.

  I didn’t get dressed all that often.

  I didn’t have to.

  It was more likely that I’d be half-naked writing than I would be dressed.

  So he saw me in my underwear quite a bit.

  “Like a hundred times,” I said playfully.

  He growled and ripped them from my body.

  They ripped with a sharp sound, causing me to gasp.

  “I don’t… what… why?” I burst out, surprised that the underwear would rip that easily.

  I’d paid twenty dollars for those!

  “I’ll buy you more,” he murmured. “Lots more. Because I want to do that again.”

  Then he was shoving down his own waistband and freeing his cock. In the next breath, he had his cock poised at my entrance and he was pushing inside my willing body.

  The next five minutes showed just how desperately we wanted each other.

  I came with ten strokes, and he came within twenty. His cock took me hard and fast, and that was all that I needed.

  I exploded all around him, causing him to curse. His thrusts went choppy, and soon he was following me over the edge.

  When we came back to ourselves, I looked down at my laptop screen that was lit up and waiting for me.

  “That’s totally going into a book.”

  Let me just tell you one thing, people. Samuel Adams’ laughter should be bottled up and sold as an instant smile. Because he had the power to bring one to my face even when I couldn’t find the energy to lift my head.

  Chapter 18

  For the third time this week, I’m buying booze for the next two weeks.

  -Text from Suzanne to Hastings

  Hastings

  “I need your help with something.” I bit my lip as I felt the nervousness rocket through me.

  He looked over from his plate of chips. “With what?”

  I went into detail about the scene I was working on.

  “Do you know anyone that has automatic weapons? I really want to shoot one,” I said.

  Sammy blinked at me. “So your heroine goes with her Army man to the base and they just let her shoot them? Honey, that would never happen.”

  I sighed. “It’s fiction, Sammy. I write fiction. Sometimes my characters do things that wouldn’t always happen in real life.”

  “But a woman whose man is Army would know that it would never happen,” he pointed out.

  I shrugged. “I realize that it likely wouldn’t happen. But that’s the beauty of fiction. I can make shit up and give it a little spin that likely would never happen in real life.”

  He winked. “So are you asking me if I can find you someone to help you shoot automatic weapons? Or are you asking me what it’s like to shoot them?”

  “If you can find someone to let me shoot one…” I paused. “That’s what I want. If you can’t, or don’t know anybody, then the second.”

  He winked. “Let me see what I can do.” He paused. “But it’s going to take some time. This isn’t the kind of thing you just get to do when you’re a civilian. And it might never happen.”

  I was just about to tell him that would be perfect, and I would be patient, when we rounded the corner of the bread aisle and ran smack dab into Patman.

  “You.”

  That was when my gaze was caught by the woman at his side.

  An older woman in her mid-sixties.

  She looked like she could be sweet, but the scowl on her face aimed at me was ferocious.

  “You’re the woman that got my husband fired,” she continued as if we weren’t in the middle of the store where quite a few people were very much paying attention. “And don’t think I don’t know who you are!”

  I felt Sammy put his hand at my back as he sidled up beside me, placing himself slightly more in front of me than beside.

  His scowl was ferocious as he stared at the woman.

  “I’m not sure this is the place to be doing this,” he said as he gathered my hand into his and started to tug me around the couple.

  We were nearly at the exit when the woman caught up to us.

  She was spry for her age.

  “You don’t think that now’s not the perfect time?” the woman hissed. “I allowed it to be let go before. But not anymore!”
>
  Sammy’s hand on mine tightened and he continued to pull me behind him.

  I would’ve kept going.

  Really, I would have.

  But just as I was stepping through the door that would lead outside, the old lady commented again.

  “I guess you’re a whore just like your mother! My husband told me that you came onto him! When will you whore Hughes women learn that my man is not a pawn!” the woman screeched.

  I froze and turned, my blood all of a sudden boiling.

  People could say all that they wanted about my dad. About my sister. About me.

  But I drew the line when it came to my mother.

  My mother was the sweetest, most loyal and giving woman I’d ever met.

  She was the backbone of our family, and I would do absolutely anything for her.

  Anything.

  And she was not, under any circumstances, a whore.

  She never had been, and never would be.

  “I know you’re not talking to my daughter like that,” I heard the familiar voice say from the other side of us.

  The sweet, never ever raised her voice to us once even when I’d snuck out of the house when I was sixteen, voice.

  There was a long pause as the woman who’d been doing the screaming turned to stare at my mother.

  “You.” She gasped in outrage, her voice even more acidic than before.

  “Me,” my mother confirmed. “Now, what was it that you were saying about my daughter?”

  “Apparently, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” the woman growled, her hands on her ample hips. “Joseph didn’t want you when we were in high school, and now your daughter is trying to get the same thing from him!”

  My mother threw her head back and laughed.

  She laughed so hard that the lemons she was holding fell to the floor.

  “Do not laugh at me, Adrianna. I won him, okay! He’s mine. Now tell your whore daughter that she needs to stay away!” Mrs. Patman ordered harshly.

  She wiped her eyes and righted herself when the woman’s voice went positively nuclear.

  “Trust me, Taryn. I know” —my mother looked from me to Sammy and back— “that she has a really great guy. They’re expecting a baby. She doesn’t need your man. Not that she would’ve wanted him and his wrinkled balls and his Vienna sausage weenie anyway. You can keep that snack-sized appendage all to yourself. I didn’t want it in high school, and I didn’t want it in college. My daughter certainly doesn’t want it thirty years later. Trust me when I say, you can have Patman’s gropy hands all to yourself. Please inform him to keep them away from my daughter.” She paused. “And, now that we’re on that subject, if I ever hear that your husband put his hands on my daughter again, even to help her out of the path of a bus, I will personally filet him alive. And if anybody can do it, I can.”