Military Romance Collection

by E Cleveland

  He pulls me down to the blanket and tugs my dress down over my body as I wriggle to be freed from it impatiently. Once he has it pulled down over my ankles, he tosses the gown beside us on the grass, like an afterthought. Normally, lying under him in nothing but my lacey underwear while he’s still fully dressed would make me feel self-conscious. But tonight, with the moon and stars as our light combined with the way he’s looking at me make me lean up on my elbows and tilt my head to the side, happy to let him look.

  “God, Lauren, you’re so beautiful.” His voice is hoarse.

  “Thank you,” I whisper back. “How about letting me see you?” I let my eyes trail down over his tuxedo and feel those butterflies beating their wings again at the idea of him stripping it off.

  “You don’t need to ask me twice.” He slides his coat off onto the ground in a pile. The rest of his clothes are quick to follow making a small mountain of fabric next to us. His cut muscles challenge my eyes to focus on just one place.

  He leans over me and his warm fingers slide under the edge of my panties, hooking them and pulling until he’s tugged them off me. I sit up a bit and dip my fingers under the waistband of his underwear. I still feel shy about undressing him. I slowly pull them down until his cock is exposed and wobbling in front of my face. I can’t help but gasp. I try to wrap my fingers around it, desperate to feel him, but Mack softly pushes me back against the blanket.

  “I want you, Lauren. I need to be in you.” He lowers himself onto me and braces himself with a strong arm on each side of my body. My eyes are drawn to the definition in his bicep, then the blue of his eyes. “Are you ready?” he murmurs.

  I nod and bite my lip as he presses the head of his cock against my slick opening. He pushes himself into me and I can feel my body opening around his thick shaft. Even though this isn’t our first time, it still stings a little when he thrusts his hips and fully buries his member inside me. I wrap my arms back around his neck. The need to feel his skin pressed against mine is overwhelming. The way his frame covers me is soothing, like a warm blanket in a thunder storm.

  Mack inches his cock into me, until his hips are flush with the insides of my thighs. I open my legs further, twisting my feet around the backs of his knees, allowing him to fill me even more. When he pulls back and pumps into me again, I gasp at the tiny pinch of pain giving way to pleasure. Mack thrusts into me and I tilt my hips up to him, trying to feel him inside me as deeply as I can.

  He drops his head down and pulls my nipple into his mouth, sucking on it hard. I swear I see stars and it isn’t the ones in the sky. Warmth grows in my belly as his cock slides inside me. Little waves of ecstasy ripple through me as our bodies perfectly fit together. His breaths are quickening and his movements are getting jerky when a tidal wave of pressure and bliss crash down on me, leaving me screaming Mack’s name into the darkness. I can feel his cum filling me up inside as he grinds down against me, his hips shuddering against my thighs.

  We don’t move. We just lie here and listen to the night and our breathing. The crickets are back, I suppose they never left, but I can hear them again. Singing for us. I’d like to think of it as applause. Mack pulls back from me and a little bit of his seed spills onto the blanket. I don’t care. That’s what the pill is for. It’s not like he’s some kind of manwhore. We are each other’s first and last.

  “I told you I could make you even noisier,” he puffs out his chest proudly. He was right. For once I’m not even embarrassed.

  “That felt amazing.” I don’t tell him that it’s the first time I’ve ever had an orgasm from sex. I don’t want to bruise his ego.

  “You’re amazing,” he pulls me toward him, lying back on the blanket and holding me in his arms. We stare at the night sky together, neither of us in a hurry to get dressed. I feel like I could lay in his arms like this forever. At least until dawn. The early morning golfers might have an issue with forever.

  “I can’t believe that this is the end. The end and the beginning. I really feel like we’re starting a new chapter together, you know?” I ramble, breathing in the sweet smell of fresh cut grass and his cologne. He doesn’t answer me; I hope he’s not falling asleep.

  “You know what though? I can’t wait for all the chapters,” I continue. “I can’t wait for us to buy our first janky futon together and for us to buy grocery carts of ramen noodles. I can’t wait for when we get married, you know, after college I mean. And when we start having kids together. I think two kids is good, what do you think? I’m even looking forward to when we get all old and hunched over together,” I smile at the sky.

  Nothing. Just Mack breathing. Oh, jeez, he did fall asleep.

  “Mack?”

  “Yeah.”

  Or not.

  “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

  Those crickets sound even louder. Less like they’re applauding now and more like they’re mocking me.

  “Mack?”

  Crap. I probably freaked him out with my sixty-year forecast into the future. “Hey, you know I’m just talking right? I don’t really have big plans for that far away …”

  “Lauren, I need to tell you something.”

  Double crap.

  He sits up and I sit next to him. His eyebrows are knit together and his mouth is twisted to the side. “What’s going on? Did I freak you out about the future?”

  “No, it’s not that.”

  “Then what?”

  “Lauren, I got into West Point.”

  “West Point? The military academy? But you didn’t even tell me you were applying? In New York? What about my scholarship? What about our plans? When are you going?” My mouth rattles off the questions as quickly as my mind can form them.

  Mack looks down at his hands, then into my eyes. “I’m leaving in three days.”

  4

  Lauren

  2004

  “Three days?” I squeak.

  I’m searching his face for signs that this is a badly timed joke. There’s no twinkle in his eyes like when he mixed mustard with frosting and gave me a lifelong aversion to cupcakes. There’s no trace of a smirk on his lips like when told me his grandparents were nudists right before we pulled up to their house for a nice Sunday supper. Instead, I’m met with the same earnest stare as when he first told me that he loved me.

  “Mack, what are you talking about? We have school on Monday. Why are you fucking with me?” His eyes don’t change. He doesn’t bust out laughing and revel in the “gotcha” moment.

  “I know we do. I’m just going for a campus visit. Once you’re admitted, you can go check out the school for a week and get a feel for it. I’m not going for good until July.” He runs his hand over his dark brown hair and sweeps it down over his neck.

  My mind is spinning out of control. I might black out. Am I drunk? Is this a dream?

  “You’re serious? You just decided to drop this on me? On prom night? How long have you been planning this? When did you even apply?” I’m being tossed around on a sea of anger and despair.

  I’m drowning.

  “I didn’t want to just drop it on you. I applied last summer and I’ve been jumping through all their hoops for almost a year. It’s a huge process. I had to get endorsed by our congressman. My athletic ability, my SAT scores, my leadership skills, like every little thing had to be proven and was analyzed. I didn’t want to do all that, to try so hard and then have you and everyone else pity me if I didn’t get it.”

  “This is crazy!” I jump to my feet and grab my clothes. “I can’t believe you’d make a huge decision like this,” I hop on one foot as I try to get my foot back into my twisted panties, “and not even mention it once.” I step into my dress and tug it back up over my shoulders, “what about my scholarship here? You know I can’t just walk away from that and go out east. Dammit, I haven’t even applied to any schools in New York! Zip this up will ya?” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder and Mack complies. His fingers send little tingles down my spine, but I blink
hard and bury the sensation letting my disbelief and confusion rule the show. “Didn’t you think about me for one second? What kind of an asshole does this?”

  If he wanted to make me yell, well he got his wish.

  “Whoa, hold up. Of course I thought about you, but are you thinking about me? Christ, I thought you’d be proud of me. I thought you of all people would understand how important this is to me. You’ve known that I wanted to join the military ever since Ben …” his voice wavers.

  I remember when his brother died. It’s a day our entire nation remembers and mourns. We were fifteen and Mack was so proud of his big brother going out to New York City for a low level finance job after graduating college. We watched in horror as the twin towers were attacked. They tumbled down in slow motion, over and over, on every news station in the country.

  Mack and his parents held onto hope that Ben had called in sick that day, or showed up late. However, as they left voicemail after voicemail that would never be returned, I watched the hope slowly deflate out of their bodies.

  When we saw the groups of strangers and co-workers standing on window ledges, their hands forming a chain of solidarity as they jumped from the burning buildings, we cried. I held Mack in my arms as his body shook with sobs. He screamed at the television as he choked on his tears, “Why are you jumping? You can still get out! Why are they jumping?” He wanted so badly to believe that somehow they could still be rescued. Like there would be a back stairway that wasn’t a burning column of smoke. Like there would be a ladder high enough to reach them.

  It was the only time in my life that I’ve ever seen him cry.

  Later, when it was finally confirmed that Ben had perished that day, Mack confided in me that he actually hoped his brother had been one of the jumpers. He liked the idea that he met God on his own terms, and didn’t suffer.

  I’ve known since that day that Mack wanted to join the military. Since the day he had lost Ben, the day our nation had its heart torn out, he’d sworn he’d fight the war on terror if given the chance. However, I’d always thought he would join a local unit and that we’d still have our life together here in Colorado. I had no idea that he would try to join the most elite military academy in the country. But then again, Mack never does anything small.

  “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get into West Point? They only accept, like, ten percent of the people who apply you know,” he continues. “You can’t be over twenty-three, you can’t be married, you can’t have kids, you have to pass the interviews, the mental testing,” he’s ticking off each point on his fingers.

  He’s running out of fingers.

  I shut my eyes for a second and take a deep breath. I feel like I’m watching each milestone of our future together disappear with every admission criteria he rattles off.

  “Community leader,” Mack says.

  Poof! There goes the vision of us as a cute elderly couple on a Sunday stroll.

  “Medical testing,” he continues.

  Poof! Our wedding evaporates from the timeline.

  “Fitness test,” his voice is distant now.

  Poof! The futon sex and ramen dinners shrivel up and blow away in a pile of dust.

  “Are you even listening to me?” I open my eyes and Mack is standing in front of me. The inches between us feel like miles. For the first time, I realize he still hasn’t gotten dressed, his hard muscles and thick cock are as exposed as his soul and I can’t bear to look at any of it.

  “Yes, I was just thinking. I am proud of you, Mack. I really am.” My voice cracks. “But what about us? I thought we were forever, you and I.” Fat tears gather in the corners of my eyes and I blink quickly.

  “Lauren, we can still be together. There’s lots of couples who do the long distance thing through college.” He gently grasps my hand and for just a fleeting moment I believe him. I mean, sure, I’ve never heard of a long distance relationship working, like ever. Hey, I could be wrong. Right?

  “And then what?” Reality creeps back in, cuffing me in the back of the head. “What about when we graduate? Won’t you have to go on tour? Or get posted? It doesn’t sound like this is only four years of distance, Mack. It sounds like a lifetime. I … I just can’t do that.”

  “What are you saying? You want to break up?” His face twists up and his eyes squint like the revelation is blinding him. Surely he must have thought this was a possibility?

  “No, I don’t want to break up. I want you to stay here and go to Colorado U with me, like you made me think you were going to. I want you to grow old with me and I want to have your babies someday. You’re the one running off to the east coast to make yourself feel better about a bad memory.” I bite my tongue but the words had already slipped out. I can’t take them back. Mack steps back like my stupid remark physically knocked into him.

  “My brother,” he seethes the words through his teeth, “isn’t just some memory. And if you can’t support me and my dream, if you can’t be fucking happy for me that I earned something and fought hard for it, then this looks like it was the best decision of my life, cause it’s saving me from waiting another ten years to find out what a waste of time this relationship has been.”

  My hand flashes in front of my face like a hummingbird wing, a sting spreads through my palm as it lands across his cheek. Luckily, the sound of the slap drowns out the sound of my heart breaking. We both stare at each other, tears blur my eyes and slide down my cheeks.

  “I want to go home,” my voice is ice. Mack doesn’t grab me and pull me close, or run his hand through my hair and tell me it’s all going to be ok. Instead, he slips his clothes back on and steps up into the golf cart, staring straight ahead, his jaw is set.

  I slide in next to him and we sit in silence as we drive back toward the country club. The air has a chill to it now and as it whooshes around my ears, I can hear our love story again on the wind. But this time, it’s being told in past tense.

  And nothing will ever be the same again.

  5

  Mack

  2012

  "I'll be happy when we're done winning over hearts and minds for the day, sir." Corporal Thompson mutters as the camera crew is busy taking shots of the landscape for their footage.

  Landscape. That's hilarious. By landscape I mean endless sea of sand. We're not on high enough ground to really enjoy the mountains that Afghanistan has to offer, instead we're deep in her bowels. Gritty, dirty, brown expanses for as far as the eye can see.

  "Keep your head up, Corporal. This last Shura will be about forty-five minutes and then we can get back to the base for some grub." I reassure him.

  Truth is, I'm not so sure how much time we should be wasting on these Shura expeditions either. Every time we trek all over hell's half acre to meet the village elders and have a pow-wow with them about how we’re here to help, not hurt, them and their kids, I can't help but feel like we're the butt of a national joke.

  People aren't idiots, they know a propaganda campaign when they see one. It's difficult to occupy a country in war and also try to convince its citizens that you're not the enemy. That's the real battle, and I'm not sure we're ever gonna win that one.

  "I'll tell ya, I can't wait to get back. I hope with the time difference it's not too late to get a hold of Nadine," Thompson squints and twists his head as he tries to solve the time zone equation in his head. "Three weeks. It's crazy how it's so short, but feels so long."

  "It'll fly by, Corporal." I reassure him.

  But I know it's a lie.

  Kids waiting for Christmas ain't got nothing on us. After over 14 months of duty, the last three weeks will make molasses look like an Olympic sprinter. In some ways it feels like I was just getting settled into camp yesterday. In other ways it feels like this stretch of time has somehow expanded beyond my own lifeline. Like I was born into this war. Like I’ll die from it.

  "Don't worry, you'll be back with her soon."

  I watch as the camera crew from CNB gathers around the sil
ver haired news anchor who's come to capture a glimpse of our time over here. They've been following us for damn near a week, pulling guys aside with little interviews, and generally disrupting our routine. It's the nature of the beast though. Without news coverage, we'd get no support back home. People get too caught up in the morality of the war, and forget that there are real people torn from their real lives fighting it.

  The news guy, Cooper Sanders, has been great as far as these guys go. He's been real gung-ho about experiencing everything for himself. When I first met him, I wrote him off as just another Hollywood type. Full of Botox and bravado, but he's kept up with us pretty good. Even running an obstacle course we threw together, in full gear, just for shits and giggles. He’s good in my books. Even if he does wear make-up.

  I let my eyes travel over to his personal make-up artist, Tiffany. She’s clearly been watching me for a while cause her face lights up like a light bulb when she notices my gaze.

  I shouldn’t have fucked her.

  "I hope you're right, Captain," Thompson continues. "I just got a bad feeling ya know? I know there's only a few weeks left, but I keep thinking this is when we're gonna get in the shit. If I could cut it short and go home today, I'd be on the first flight out. I just wanna be back with my woman and meet my son!"

  "We know, Thompson. We know." Corporal Armstrong interrupts. "Most of the guys just wanna get home and get some poon, man. You though ... all you keep going on about is meeting a baby. Me, I'm gonna get back to the US and try to make babies with every girl who gives me the time of day. Just try to make em, mind ya. Not get all hormonal about actually having them, like this guy." Armstrong throws his arm around Corporal Thompson’s neck and tugs his head under his armpit in a headlock.

  "Screw off, Armstrong," he twists his head back out and takes a step back. "I'm not getting hormonal, I've got my first kid back home and I've never even met him. You don't get it. Until you can find someone who'll love you for more than a night, or for more than fifty bucks, you won't understand."