Military Romance Collection

by E Cleveland

  I step back, admiring her young, soft curves. The heavy cup of her breasts over her flat belly that flares out into her wide hips. They have to be wide for that big, beautiful ass of hers. It’s not hard to imagine how she’s made a living teasing people with pictures of her huge bubble butt. My eyes skim over her shaved pussy and I lick my lips hungrily. I drop to my haunches and grab her hips in my hands, guiding her to my face. I need to taste her. To feel her desire, coat my tongue. Beads of her nectar at her entrance betray her need. I swipe my tongue over her pink, swollen lips, then bury it inside her slit.

  “Oh, Sawyer!” she cries out to the ceiling and leans into my desperate mouth.

  I part her smooth lips and hold her tight against my face as I tease her clit with an assault from my mouth. I suck her sensitive nub, pulling it in past my lips, and mercilessly thrash my tongue over it. She tastes like a sweet summer pie of the freshest berries picked just as the sun ripened them to perfection.

  Her body writhes and trembles as her ecstasy builds with each swirl of my tongue. I control her pleasure with every measured lick and suck. Her orgasm is a gift I’ll give her before I take what’s mine. Before I possess her senses and own her little pussy with my thick cock.

  Elsie cries out as I bring her to the edge and her nectar floods between her lips. I lap it up, happy with my appetizer. My cock throbs against my zipper, loudly reminding me that I’m still hungry for my main meal.

  I stand up and Elsie collapses against my chest. “That was incredible,” she murmurs.

  “That was only the beginning,” I assure her, stripping my clothes off as she tries to regain her composure. Her eyes open wide as she watches me peel off the layers and abandon the fabric on the floor.

  She breathes in sharp, like she just opened the perfect Christmas gift. The one she’d been dreaming about all year, the one she never fully thought she’d get, no matter how good of a girl she was, when I expose my thick, glistening cock to her.

  “Are you on birth control?” My mind somehow manages to remember the responsibility. Although, if she isn’t, I can’t promise it’ll make any difference for how this is going to go.

  “I am.” She never moves her eyes from my dick. Like, she’s afraid it’s too good to be true and if she blinks it will somehow disappear.

  “Touch it,” I demand, pulling her hand over to my shaft. Elsie hesitates, but then her lips curve up into a sweet smile as she wraps her hand around me.

  “That’s right, baby, I’m going to fuck you good. I’m going to take care of you,” I promise her.

  Elsie looks like she’s about to say something, but I don’t give her the opportunity. I clench onto her hips firmly and spin her around so she’s flattened against the cabin wall. I step between her legs, forcing them open with my thigh, and easily hold both of her wrists over her head with one of my meaty hands.

  “Tell me what you want,” I growl in her ear.

  “You,” she whispers, but that’s not good enough. I’m going to make her say it.

  “What do you want me to do to you, Elsie?” I grab the base of my cock in my hand and rub it over her soft pussy. She leans back against me and presses her ass into me.

  “I want your cock, Sawyer. I need you inside me,” she answers me.

  I don’t keep the lady waiting. Sliding the tip of my cock against her soaking wet entrance, I plunge into her depths, savoring her tight heat clenching down on me, adjusting to my thickness.

  “Awww,” she breathes and grinds her hips against me.

  I circle my hands around each of her thighs and spread them open wide as I bury myself inside her. Elsie’s arms and tits are laid flat against the wall, her face pressed against the cabin boards as I hold her legs open and fuck her hard.

  Elsie presses her weight back against me, not that there’s much to it. It’s enough that she’s anchored herself, so I can fuck her deep and fast. I feel her tight walls trying to milk me dry, squeezing around me, desperate for my seed. My balls tighten up and my cock twitches as I slide inside her wet pussy until my hips are flat against her plump ass and she’s filled with every inch of me.

  “That’s right. Take it all, Elsie,” I praise her and get lost in the rhythm of pounding her pussy with abandon. Every thrust is tattooing my memory in her brain. Every time I claim her, own her, penetrate her with my thick cock, she cries out, driving me to the edge of my sanity.

  I can’t take it anymore. Holding her thighs tight, I fuck her like I’m trying to drill her into these wooden walls. She clenches around me, bringing my orgasm crashing down, and I fill her with spurts of my cum.

  For a moment, I hold her steady. She pants as she turns to face me with a half-cocked smile on her lips as her eyes are glazed over with bliss.

  “That was amazing.” She wobbles slightly and I grab her and steady her. I’ll be her pillar. Her strength. I’ll support her and never let her fall.

  “Let’s get you to bed,” I murmur. I’m not asking her. I easily slide my arm under her thighs and sweep her off the ground, carrying her to the bedroom. I’m not done with her yet. I won’t be done fucking her until the sun disappears and the moon takes its place. Until the snow melts into spring and the flowers bloom. Until the years blend together in a highlight reel of only our most amazing moments. And even then, I’ll want to fuck her more.

  But, for now, she needs her rest. I carry her into the bedroom and lay her on the bed. Rest now. Fuck later.

  17

  Elsie

  I can’t move. Not a muscle. I don’t think I’ve blinked. The only thing I’m sure of is that my heart is still working because it’s threatening to beat out of my chest. My hair is a tangled mess but I don’t care. Not in the least. I roll over and smile into the pillow as I listen to Sawyer lightly snore next to me. I don’t know why he kissed me. I’m not sure what he was thinking, but I do know what I felt.

  It.

  That spark. That magic. That indescribable, intangible thing I always thought was made up to sell movies and romance novels. I’ve been kissed plenty of times. Ben used to kiss me every day. Look at me, already thinking of him in the past tense. My heart sinks as I realize I’m going to have to go back and deal with his bullshit. It’s almost enough to ruin my mood. To ruin my revelation.

  But it doesn’t. Nothing can take away this moment, this exact second in time when sharing myself with Sawyer sent a jolt of electricity through me and made the world behind my eyelids explode in a kaleidoscope of colors. Nothing could make me feel how I did before we had sex. It was like the blinders lifted to an entire world I’d only ever heard about and I was finally allowed to take a step inside. My entire body tingles as I try to make sense of all this. Even my hair feels electrified, like the first time I rubbed a balloon against the wall to see if it would stick and it left my hair standing on end, clinging to it.

  Do I love him? Is that what this feeling is? The thought snaps my body from the cloudy warm world of wonder and into the moment.

  Don’t be ridiculous, I scold myself. You don’t even know him. You’re hungry and confused and locked up with this guy. This must be some kind of Stockholm syndrome or something.

  Except, I’m no prisoner. And Sawyer seems to be running from something in his life, but I don’t get the sense that it’s the law.

  I turn and look at him. His face is so peaceful, yet so manly. I realize this is the first time I’ve felt this way. I was so jaded before. Thinking love and attraction were close enough to the same thing. I can’t believe I was ever going to sell myself short like that.

  His eyelids open and he catches me staring at him in his sleep… again.

  God, how embarrassing.

  “Hey, beautiful.” His voice is thick. “How long have I been out for?” He stretches and twists every muscle in his powerful arms.

  “Not too long,” I answer. The truth is, I’m not sure. Time has no meaning here. Minutes and hours don’t matter. Just survival and fun.

  I slide my arms over him
and press my breasts against his hairy chest. A stain of dirt across my forearm catches my eye and I frown. Licking my hand, I try to rub the filth from my skin frantically.

  “Okay, that’s it.” Sawyer hops out of bed and my focus shifts to his swinging cock hanging like a pendulum between his legs.

  “What are you doing?” I watch as he leaves the room and begins putting on his clothes.

  “Stay here,” he demands, his voice sounding like his vocal chords have been rubbed with sandpaper.

  “Where are you going?” I tilt my head to the side and my knotted hair spills over my shoulder.

  “Wait here. You’ll see.” He doesn’t give me any more explanations. Instead, he walks out of the cabin into the snow. I don’t have long to wonder where he is off to before the door opens and he thumps back in across the worn floor with a huge wash basin full of snow. I watch with interest as he plops it down in front of the fire.

  “What’s that for?” I hop out of bed and pad barefoot across the floor to the pile of clothes Sawyer helped free from my body last night.

  I dress quickly and look up into his deep brown eyes, waiting for an explanation. In them, I don’t see a criminal. A lost soul, to be sure, but some kind of thief or murderer? I doubt it.

  You were wrong about Ben, my conscience reminds me. Thanks, Jiminy Cricket.

  “We’ve got to keep a supply of water going and it takes a ton of snow to melt into anything worthwhile,” Sawyer explains. I notice the usual condescending tone he likes to take with me has been smoothed down. There’s no edge left in his voice.

  “I didn’t think about that,” I confess, looking over at the pot of water on the stove. It never occurred to me that Sawyer was going through all this trouble to give us even the most basic of necessities. This whole time, I’ve been whining about not having a shower and dreading using the, I shudder, pit toilet. I didn’t even think about how we’ve been getting water to cook and drink with.

  “Thank you.” I study his gruff features. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought he was trying to pull off the whole lumbersexual look. With his bushy, but well-groomed beard, and his big black boots and love of plaid. Regardless of whether or not it’s fashionable, he wears it well. I bet I could get him tens of thousands of followers on Instagram. However, the thought makes me sad. Like catching a firefly only to let it die in the mason jar. Some things aren’t meant to be trapped by glass containers or social media. Not everything is meant for our consumption.

  “Isn’t a big deal,” Sawyer answers. “I do it every day back home. It’s how you survive out here,” he explains.

  “Where is home?” I finally ask.

  “My home is a beautiful log cottage. It took longer than I’d like to admit, but I built it myself.” He puffs out his chest. “Not like this dump.” He looks around with disgust. “I take care of my place.” His beard twitches as his lips turn up into a proud grin.

  “I believe that,” I say more to myself than him. “That’s pretty far out there. Do you ever see any people?”

  “Not unless I’m doing a supply run. That’s where I was heading when I found you. I do the trek about four times a year to get what I need to make it through the next three months.” He crosses the floor and easily plucks the oversized stewing pot off the stove and looks inside.

  “Don’t you get lonely?” I whisper, almost afraid of the answer. I realize I’m holding my breath, hoping he’ll say yes. Hoping he’ll have had the same feelings shoot uncontrollably through his body as I did through mine, after we had sex. I want him to tell me he’s painfully lonely and that only I can fix it.

  “Can’t say I do.” He keeps his eyes downcast and walks over to the basin he placed by the fire.

  I peer down as heat licks at my cheeks. God, I’m acting like a little schoolgirl with a crush. Of course, he doesn’t feel any of that. I’m being stupid.

  Sawyer keeps his back to me and pours the remaining water from the pot in his hands out over the snow, turning it into a slushy mixture that reminds me of the Slurpee machine at 7-Eleven.

  “I’m going to get more snow for this one.” He turns back to face me and I force myself to wear a smile.

  “Okay, sounds good.”

  “While I’m doing that, can you crank up the radio? I’m pretty sure we’re here for a while yet. It’s getting really icy out there and the snow still hasn’t stopped.”

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  As he takes off, I grab the red radio and crank it up until I can hear it begin to crackle. I put it on the windowsill and the voices cut in.

  “It has been almost forty-eight hours since social media socialite model Elsie Young has reportedly disappeared into the Chugach forest. Due to extreme weather conditions of white-out snow and hail, emergency crews and search teams are still on hold to begin a search. At this point, it is believed that the search will be for the remains of the twenty-three-year-old due to the unforgiving temperatures, which have been plummeting to minus twenty-two throughout the nights.”

  I look up from the little box reporting my death to Sawyer. I didn’t even hear him come back in. “Are they ever in for a surprise.” He chuckles. I don’t know why, but I start laughing. I can imagine their faces, Ben and Kate’s, even newscasters and police. They’ll be slack-jawed with disbelief. Who knows, they might even make a movie about this. Or at least a made-for-TV movie.

  It’s possible.

  I go into the little bedroom and pick up my phone for the first time today. I can’t believe another day has almost slipped away and I didn’t even check my cell. That only happens… well, that never happens.

  Of course, it has no signal. This time, not seeing the bars doesn’t bother me, though. I’m kind of happy to still be cut off from the world.

  I carry the phone in my hand. The fact I don’t even have a cord to charge it with doesn’t even bother me. Normally, that would be the stuff of nightmares and panic attacks.

  “What are you doing? Calling them up to tell them they’re wrong?” Sawyer teases me.

  “Nah, if it’s okay with you, I want to take a picture of us. This has been a crazy experience, and I’d love if I could—”

  “No,” Sawyer cuts me off firmly. The word is a complete sentence and leaves the room as cold as the snowy drifts outside.

  “Uh, okay. Never mind.” I quickly turn around and turn off my iPhone. Just because I’m not panicking about the battery, doesn’t mean I should let it dwindle down to nothing. I take a deep breath, wondering how I offended Sawyer. I guess I really don’t know anything about him. Maybe he is a murderer after all.

  No. I know that’s not true. So, he doesn’t want his picture taken. It doesn’t mean he’s a criminal. Or does it?

  I head back out and Sawyer is walking through the door with yet another pot.

  “Hey, sorry I snapped at you.” He kicks the door shut behind him. “I shouldn’t have. I really hate the whole selfie thing.”

  I nod. “Sure, whatever, it’s fine.”

  “No, it’s not. No one should talk to you like that. Don’t put up with anyone being an asshole to you like that, not even me,” he says the last part quietly, his voice full regret.

  Why not? That’s how everyone treats me. My foster sister. My fiancé. Even my own parents. I push down the lump growing in my throat. “What’s in the pot?” I change the subject. “More snow?”

  “Nope.” He breaks out into a huge grin.

  “What then?” I walk over to look inside.

  “Rabbit stew.” He looks proud. “I didn’t want yesterday’s meal going to waste, so I turned it into a stew and kept it out in the snow. Just needs to be heated up. I figure you must be hungry enough now to give it a try.”

  I don’t want to tell him he’s right. I try to look like I don’t really care. That my stomach isn’t reminding me every five minutes that a few plain crackers aren’t going to cut it.

  “I might be persuaded,” I answer.

  “Good!” He beams.
He looks genuinely happy. I can’t help but smile back. “You’re going to love it. They say the only thing better than a rabbit stew is an aged rabbit stew. It’s going to be great. Besides, you’re going to want a full belly tonight.” He places the pot on the stove and begins to rummage through the hiking bag he brought with him.

  “Oh? Why is that?” I lift my eyebrows sky-high.

  “Because, wait a sec here.” His arm disappears deep into the bag. “There it is!” He smiles and pulls out his hand, clasped around an amber bottle of booze. “I found this last night in the back of a cupboard. I planned to squirrel it away and bring it back to my place after all this was done with.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “I guess I feel like celebrating.” He shrugs.

  “Oh? What for?” I’m not protesting. I could go for a nice meal and some drinks. I’m curious, though.

  “Well, it’s not every day I find myself snowed in with an absolutely stunning woman. It feels like the gods are smiling on me. I can’t think of a better reason to celebrate.” He puts the booze on the counter.

  Crimson washes over my cheeks as I blush. “I feel the same way,” I whisper.

  “Great!” He cracks open the cap of the bottle and pours a little of the whiskey into a couple of cups, then holds his in the air. “To us.” He smiles.

  I slide up to the counter and clink my glass against his. “To us,” I agree.

  18

  Sawyer

  It’s hot in here. Between the roaring fire I’ve been feeding logs of wood to all day, the stew cooking on the stove, and the warmth of the booze spreading over my body, it’s starting to feel almost balmy.

  I grab the canning pot and dump the hot water in the basin by the fire. “I’m going to grab some more snow.” I slip my boots on and look over at Elsie. She’s leafing through the worn pages of my book. My only book. When I took off for Alaska, I had enough stuff to take with me. Bringing a library wasn’t an option. Instead, I brought the one book that meant the most to me. Since then, I’ve picked up tons more on every trip I’ve made into town, but The Catcher in the Rye is still the one I go back to.