Military Romance Collection

by E Cleveland

  Opening my mouth wide, I bury my bottom lip in her slick center as I eagerly roll my tongue over her again and again, her quiet moans growing louder and pushing me on. I drag my bottom lip over the length of her pussy and rub the sensitive skin inside my lip against her clit, making her cry out even louder.

  Carefully, I slip my index finger inside her, surprised by how wet she is. She’s so fucking tight that now I’m the one moaning at the thought of sliding my cock in her. The vibration of my lips as I let out a deep groan makes her twist her hips and push down on my finger so it’s deep inside her. I never stop chasing her orgasm with my tongue, determined to make her cum.

  I feel her pussy contract around my finger and push it inside her in deep strokes.

  “Oh, oh my God! I’m gonna…ahhh!” She screams almost as loud as the crowd that normally fills these empty seats around us. I swipe my tongue over her still, pushing her ecstasy as far as I can before backing off. I sit back on my haunches and enjoy the view. Standing with her arms out, clinging onto the bar behind her is Chelsea. Her legs are most definitely threatening to give out on her and she clutches the bar for support.

  I stand back up and look down at her. I can’t help but feel proud of how worn out she looks already.

  “That,” she swallows to lubricate her hoarse throat, “that was absolutely incredible.”

  “Mmm, I’m glad.” I smile back.

  “Let’s spread that blanket on the field and keep this going,” I wrap my hand around her hip and give her a slight tug in my direction.

  “Really?” Her lips turn down and she looks at her feet.

  “Yeah, well, unless you’re not into it?” My throbbing cock is begging her to tell me that’s not the case. Old teenaged cases of blue balls would have nothing on this if she’s shutting this night down now.

  “No, no,” she reassures me, “I am. It’s not that, it’s just…” she trails off and scrunches up her face shyly.

  “What?” I push her to continue.

  “I guess I just didn’t think a big, tough football player like you would wanna fuck me on a blanket or whatever. I expected something a little more…rough.” She flutters her eyelashes at me and my brief moment of surprise is quickly pushed to the backburner by my overwhelming desire.

  “Is that right?” I step into her, “I knew you had a dirty side. Acting all innocent and sweet, when you really want me to show you what I got, huh?” My voice is as gritty and dirty as my thoughts.

  “Mmmhmmm,” she nods her head, biting that fucking lip of hers again.

  I hope she knows what she’s asking for, ‘cause I’m gonna fuck her till she can’t walk straight. “Get over here,” I lift her up easily from the ground and walk her over to the solid wall of the stadium. As soon as I drop her back down to her feet, I pull out my wallet and pry the gold foil packet from inside with one hand and rip it open with my teeth. My eyes never leave her face.

  Unbuttoning my jeans, I make quick work of my zipper and pull out my rock hard cock. The condom slips down over it in one quick motion. “You’re sure you don’t want the blanket?” I give her one last chance to change her mind.

  “No,” her voice doesn’t waver, even when her eyes grow about three sizes bigger as she looks down at my thick cock. “I want you to fuck me... hard.”

  Enough with the small talk. I grab her hips and flip her toward the stadium wall, pushing her forward until her face and tits are pressed flat into the cement. Grabbing the base of my cock in my hand, I slide it along her opening, stopping only for a second at her entrance before pinning her flat under my body and thrusting myself all the way inside her.

  “Oh!” She sounds equal parts excited and surprised. I sink my cock deep into her core and slide my fingers down her arms until they reach her hands. Threading my fingers between hers, I pull her hands over her head and lift her clean off her feet until she’s pressed against the wall, perfectly lined up to fuck.

  I plunge my cock into her as far and as fast as I can, over and over and she wraps her legs backwards around my calves to give herself more leverage. If I had any doubt that she was enjoying this, that just erased it.

  “Oh, fuck, Cameron. Harder! Take me harder,” she pants against the wall.

  I stop holding back. My movements become pure primal instinct as I fuck her. With every stroke I try to slide deeper inside her, until I’ve filled her completely.

  “Cameron, oh shit! I’m gonna cum again!”

  “That’s right, Chelsea,” my voice is ragged as I pump into her relentlessly, “you fucking cum on my cock,” I demand.

  Chelsea throws her head back from the wall and moans into the darkness surrounding us. Her pussy is milking me for the seed it can’t have. I fuck her furiously, my muscles contracting hard as my orgasm threatens to overcome me. The ripple of pleasure runs through my body. I grunt as my cum fills the latex barrier between us.

  I hold her still against the wall, until the last spurts of my seed fill the condom. Finally, I step back and carefully put her back on her shaky legs. Chelsea pants and holds her hand against the wall for balance as I slip the condom off and tie off the end, sticking it back in the foil wrapper at my feet to dispose of later.

  Wrapping my arms around her, I guide her out to the field and lie down, pulling her on top of me. Our half-dressed bodies are both radiating heat into the chilly night.

  The cool blades of grass remind my skin that the summer is over as I hold Chelsea in my arms. I listen to the sounds of our ragged breathing, like waves crashing on a rocky shore, and peer up into the midnight sky.

  I don’t tell Chelsea the real reason I love to bring girls here. Is it a panty dropper? Sure. It drops those lacy, frilly things quicker than a bottle of lemon gin. That’s not the reason I bring them here though. Just an added bonus.

  The real reason is this view. The millions of twinkling stars clustered in the sky. I love to study them and love to look at them. It brings me back to a simpler time, when more seemed possible. These stars, I realize, aren’t that different from the ladies Chelsea has been chewing me out about all day.

  Most of them are indistinguishable points of light that blur together and whose names no one remembers. There’s only a few jewels in the sky that anyone readily recognizes. If those girls are the blur of stars in the background, then Chelsea is the diamond among them.

  The North Star.

  I tilt my chin to my chest and look at her. She has her eyes closed and her ear pressed to my chest, listening to my heart. My arms are blanketing her back, each covering her body, protecting it from the chill in the air.

  Yes, she is my North Star. The brightest star in my sky. The one I need to guide me onto the path I should follow. The one that will lead me home.

  17

  Chelsea

  “Is she down?” I bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t smile at the cartoonish exasperation on my sister’s face.

  “For now,” she sighs, slumping down in the dining room chair across from me. “I can’t believe the fight she can put up at ten months. I’m in big trouble when she gets to Chris’s age.” Her eyes drift down to the steamy mug of coffee I poured for her. “Thanks,” she lifts the Christmas-themed cup to her lips and flutters her eyes closed as she takes a long sip.

  “No problem,” I hold up my own mug in a clink-less cheers and take a mouthful of coffee. “Aren’t they all like that? Kids, I mean. Don’t they all fight nap time?”

  “No, Chris was easy. I practically just laid him in his crib and he was out like that,” she snaps her fingers together loudly, then looks over her shoulder like she’s afraid the noise will wake Honor.

  “She can’t hear you,” I smile.

  “No, I know. You’re right,” the tension eases from my sister’s shoulders, “I just don’t have any fight left,” she sighs. “After how long she took to take her nap, I think I might need to lie down too,” she jokes. “Or at least have a few more of these,” she swirls the mug between her fingers and thum
b before taking another long sip. “She’s just so stubborn,” Lauren looks into her mug for answers her coffee can’t give her.

  “Gee, I wonder where she gets that from,” I tease her.

  “Oh, I know where she gets it honestly. I mean, her aunt is the most stubborn woman I know,” she sticks her tongue out playfully at me.

  “Me? Ha! You’re one to talk.”

  “Yeah, well I guess we both learned from the best, huh?”

  “Mom,” we say in unison. A shared smile between us turns to giggles.

  “Anyway, Honor will either grow out of it or get worse. Either way, I love her. And I love you,” she looks down.

  ‘Awww, thanks Lauren.”

  “I was talking to my coffee,” she answers flatly.

  “Well, thanks a lot!” I pretend to be hurt, holding my fingertips over my heart.

  “No, you know I love you too. But, honestly, I feel like I can’t even function without coffee anymore. When I had Honor, I didn’t feel like thirty was too old to do the newborn thing again. Now, I’m wondering how women who have kids in their forties do it. It’s insane.”

  “It must be exhausting.” I try to empathize, but my experiences teaching other people's kids in second grade don’t really stack up.

  “It is,” she admits. “I’m so glad I cut back my hours at the hospital. I can’t imagine if I was still full-time,” the dark circles under my sister’s eyes confirm her story. “Besides,” her face perks up and she looks across the table at me, “now I have more time for things like having coffee with my favorite sister,” a smile finally touches her lips.

  “Your only sister,” I stress.

  “Right and by default, my favorite,” she grins.

  “You’re too kind,” I smirk at her.

  “Yeah, well, what can I say? I’m just full of love,” her smile grows behind her Santa cup.

  “Full of something.”

  Lauren laughs and it does my heart good to see her relax again.

  “OK, enough about me and the baby, I want to hear about what’s going on with you and Mr. Football Star,” her eyes twinkle, “spill it,” she prods.

  I take a huge mouthful of coffee as I gather my scattered thoughts. The wings of a thousand butterflies tickle my insides every time I think about him. Each of those butterflies must have one of my thoughts or emotions strapped to its back as they dance in the chaos of my mind. One second I feel like I may have met my soulmate and the next I’m chiding myself for ever buying into his smooth words.

  My feelings about him keep swirling around, making me confused. Not to mention dizzy.

  “Well,” I swallow hard, “first he showed up on his motorcycle and drove us up to Flagstaff to watch the sunset,” I begin.

  “How many times has he pulled that one out of his hat, I wonder,” she muses. My sister is well aware of Cameron’s reputation. As one of her husband’s close friends and ex-platoon members, she’s seen him a lot more over the years than I have.

  “That’s what I said to him!”

  “I bet you did.”

  “Yep, so then we went to see a concert on campus, but these girls were buzzing around him and wouldn’t back off,” I roll my eyes at the memory of their rudeness.

  “No!”

  “Yes. Anyway, we left and Cameron took me to the stadium. He knows the alarm code and we stayed there.” I look into my empty cup.

  “Oh my God. I bet he does that move all the time too! Of course he knows the security code. He would! Sounds like you got a big slice of the Cameron special, huh?” She chuckles. “I would’ve loved to see his face when you called him on that,” her eyes scan my face, but I keep my head bowed.

  “Well…” I can’t look at her.

  “Wait,” she says the word slowly, as she turns the thoughts over in her mind, “you’re not saying? It didn’t work on you, did it?” Her lips are parted and her eyes are wide.

  “It wasn’t like that. I mean, he was sweet and sexy,” I can hear the feeble excuses pouring from my mouth. “I don’t know. I probably won’t go out with him again, but it was nice to cut loose and have some fun for once,” I admit.

  Lauren nods her head silently, the smirk melting from her face. “No, you should go out with him again,” she says it like she’s stating a fact.

  “I don’t know. His life is university, football and parties. I’m past that phase, you know?” I peer up at her, secretly hoping she’ll help me build up a good case for it.

  “More like you never had that phase,” she counters. “When did you ever really break loose and just party? That was never you.”

  “No, not really,” I admit.

  “I say go for it. I can see how your face lights up when we talk about him. Did you have fun on your cheesy date?” She presses.

  “Yeah. More than fun. Parts of it were amazing.”

  “Then, there ya go. You need to go out with him again. Find out if you can break the wild stallion,” she twists her lips into a wry smile. “Seriously though, what do you have to lose?”

  Before I have a chance to search my mind for an answer, my cellphone interrupts us. Lauren practically jumps out of her skin and looks over her shoulder waiting to hear Honor protest angrily.

  “Hello?” I answer.

  “Hey gorgeous. Glad I caught you!”

  I mouth the words “It’s him,” to my sister.

  “Hey Cameron, what’s up?”

  “Not much, regular day. Can’t get you off my mind though. My coach is giving me hell for being distracted. I thought I’d give you a call.”

  “Well, it’s nice to hear from you,” heat blossoms in my belly and spreads out through my body.

  “I’m glad you said that,” he murmurs and I bite my lip. “I have a game this Friday evening. I got you a seat, well, season passes actually,” he explains. “I’d love if my good luck charm could be there to cheer me on.” He dances around directly asking me to go.

  “This Friday?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I can’t,” my shoulders slouch in defeat. “I have parent teacher interviews until eight.”

  “Oh, crap. Uh, OK. How about you come to the party afterward then? It’s at Sigma house on campus.”

  “A frat party? Me?” My eyebrows shoot up toward the ceiling. I look over at Lauren as she’s frantically waving her hands and shaking her head yes.

  “Why not you? I can’t really skip out on it. The whole team agreed we’d go, but I’d love if you’d go with me?”

  I glance at my sister. She’s whispering “Do it! Go! This is what we’re talking about.”

  “Um, sure. What time is it?” I finally answer.

  “Great! It starts at nine, so I’ll text you the details, OK? I gotta go before my coach skins me.”

  “See you then.” I hit the end button on the call and my eyes trace the broad smile on Lauren’s face.

  “A frat party?” I say weakly.

  “It’ll be fun, remember? Just see where this all goes and have a good time for once.”

  A good time. I hope that’s what this is. Not a humiliating time. The memory of the girls that were glued to Cameron’s heels last night crosses my mind and I scrunch up my nose, pushing the thought away.

  Lauren’s right. I deserve to have as much fun as anyone else. It’ll be a good time.

  I hope.

  18

  Chelsea

  Pressing the button on my phone again, I turn on the screen.

  7:55

  I sigh heavily. I’m not surprised that I’m waiting for Jeffery Stewart’s father to arrive. He was scheduled for his parent-teacher interview ten minutes ago. I purposely slotted him into the last spot so I would be able to discuss the issues his son has been having this year. I didn’t want our meeting to be rushed because of other waiting parents. After all the trouble Jeffery has brought to my classroom, I knew there would be a lot to go over.

  “Knock, knock,” the principal, Kathleen Gibbons pops her head in my door.

/>   “Hiya,” I paste a broad smile on my face. I don’t want her to see the frustration radiating through me.

  I don’t want her to pick up on the fact that I’m itching to get out of here, so I can go see my boyfriend, at a frat party of all places. I feel a twinge of disgust with myself at the last thought. Why did I let myself get caught up in Lauren’s little speech and Cameron’s offer of a good time? A frat party? I’m thirty-two, not a college kid fresh out of mom and dad’s basement. Hell, Cameron is thirty! It amazes me that he doesn’t feel too old to be going to these things. Although, I’m guessing when you’re the star quarterback of the university team, you don’t feel the same weight of adult responsibilities like an albatross around your neck.

  “You all finished up here?” Mrs. Gibbons interrupts my thoughts, not to mention my unwavering and quite possibly creepy over-smile.

  “No, I still have one more interview,” I watch as her eyebrows scrunch together in disapproval.

  “Well, I’m getting ready to close up shop here,” She looks at her dainty wrist watch. A relic from a time before cellphones. Mrs. Gibbons sweeps a stray silver hair behind her ear that escaped from her polished bun.

  “I know. Can we just wait another ten minutes? I want to make sure he’s not just stuck in traffic or something.”

  She presses her already thin lips flat and pushes her wire-rimmed glasses up her narrow nose. “Oh, all right. Ten minutes and then the front doors will be getting locked. Almost all of the other teachers have already cleared out, you know,” she gives me a curt nod of her head before disappearing down the hallway. I can hear her chunky heels clopping away.

  I hit the button on my phone again and it tells me that only a couple of minutes have passed. Why am I waiting for this joker? He’s not gonna show.

  I stand up at my desk and start to shuffle my papers together to get ready to go. To hell with waiting around all night while Ms. Prim and Proper gets huffy with me. If there was ever a perfect model of why I need to inject some fun into my life every once and a while, it’s Mrs. Gibbons. With her over buttoned blouses and overzealous love of schedules, she’s a reminder of how you can turn out if you don’t let your hair down every so often.