Chapter 3 #2
I looked after her, confused. Was I talking to her? Was she talking to me?
“What the fuck?” I shook my head, trying to jolt the scattered pieces of my brain back into place.
Who the fuck is laughing?
Someone slapped my shoulder. “C’mon, buddy. Lesh, get home.”
“Whosh, Lesh?” I asked. “Why didn’t that smell…fuck! Sound right?”
A girl laughed. “Probably because you and your buddy drank more liquor tonight than six other people combined.”
Brock yelled, “Six! More like eight at leash!”
The girl laughed again. “Okay, Lesh and Leash.” She laughed some more. “Let’s get you two froggies home.”
“Whash your name go ge or us?” I asked. “That didn’t sound wight too.”
She giggled while walking between Brock and me. “It’s okay, go ge or us. I understood. I’m Carly.”
“Ish Carly married, Brock? Didju check?” I asked.
More laughter as we stumbled along.
“Yep. Shesh, all good,” Brock replied. “You assed her so many times.”
“Carly, you okay with them?” someone asked—a guy.
I spun on him. “You back off. Shesh jush fine.”
“Come on, big guy. Time to go,” Carly said.
“Not the big guy. Thash Brock. I’m big in better ways,” I replied.
I might not have been a giant, but I was packing in all the best ways.
“Hey! I’m big in all the ways!” Brock yelled as Carly helped us into the car.
Carly laughed at us some more.
“Whosh car is thish?” I asked.
“Well, since I have no clue what either of you drive, it’s mine.” Carly opened the door to the backseat, but before she let me near the door, she said, “Do not puke in my car. Do you understand?”
I nodded my head with less control than a bobblehead and crossed my heart like I was five. “Promish.”
Carly stared at me and then at Brock. I looked at him too. I pointed at him, poking him in the chest.
“No puking in the pretty girl’s car,” I told him. My head wobbled the whole time.
Brock saluted me. “Aye, aye!”
“Just get in the car,” Carly sighed. She walked around the car, getting behind the wheel. “I think breakfast is in order.”
Breakfast was a whole ordeal, but a necessary evil. Biscuits, gravy, eggs, and fried potatoes sopped up most of the alcohol. Enough so I could appreciate just how “go ge or us” Carly was. I hadn’t realized I’d fucked up the word so badly until she corrected me on it.
Carly was fucking funny as hell. She kept up with the banter, even saddled with two drunk-ass frogs. I was happy for my buddy. Brock had found a decent girl in a sea of…well, my granny would wash my mouth out with soap if I finished that thought.
“So, boys, what’s next for the two of you?” Carly asked as she wiped her mouth with the napkin from her lap.
It had been a long time since I’d eaten with a woman. Hell, with anyone with manners or the time to use them.
Brock, the awkward motherfucker, just raised his eyebrows and continued shoveling food in his mouth. I scoffed and shook my head at him.
Looking back at Carly, I said, “Deployment in a few days.”
She sighed, glancing between both of us. “You’re on the same team?”
Brock nodded, as did I.
“Yep.”
“Well, boys, what say we have a little fun before you go play in the sand?” Carly said with a wink.
I stared at her as a smirk spread across my face like the Grinch’s as he stared down at Whoville. I looked at Brock, and his eyes were as big as saucers. He swallowed hard; his eyes darted between Carly and me as he nodded.
Less than half an hour later, I shoved Carly up against the wall next to my apartment door as Brock pulled my keys out of my front pocket.
My brain registered how his fingers brushed over my cock before pulling out the keyring and unlocking the door. Stronger and harder, Brock’s hand felt different, but not that fucking much, and damn it actually felt good.
Brock wrapped an arm around my chest, pulling me back to this chest. “Inside.”
Why is that so freaking hot?
I glanced up at him as he gazed down at me.
Carly rose on her tiptoes, holding onto my neck to steady herself as she whispered against Brock’s lips. “You should do that growly, sexy thing more often. It sent tingles to all the best places.”
Carly captured Brock’s lips, and I felt him grow hard against my lower back.
That’s different.
I heard a door open down the hall, and I hot-footed us into my apartment before some kid saw something they didn’t need to see.
Once the door closed behind us, clothes flew and hands roved.
Male female…it didn’t matter who was touching what or when.
All I knew were sensations. If a rough, callused hand felt better than a smooth, soft hand, it was noted, but it didn’t penetrate completely.
The haze of passion and lust filled me, making my eardrums hammer erratically and keeping the logical side of my brain from working. Much.
The gasps and moans of Carly and Brock as I watched her suck his dick made my blood thunder through my veins like a locomotive. His cock was long and thick, stretching her mouth wide as I stretched her lips down below around my cock, pushing into her until she gagged on Brock’s dick.
Brock’s eyes met mine as he threw his head back, shoving his cock further into Carly’s mouth as I set a punishing pace. I locked my eyes on Brock’s, watching pleasure catch fire and turn into an inferno inside his eyes.
I’d had threesomes in the past—several, in fact—but never like this.
Never once had I noticed the other guy’s cock or pleasure.
I’d never given a fuck how good he looked, what made him gasp or groan, but I noticed everything when it came to Brock.
I noticed that when Carly deepthroated him, she didn’t get as much of a response as when he was only halfway in her mouth, and his cock seemed to be pushing up against the roof of her mouth.
Then something struck me. A realization that came out of left field.
There’s never been a time when I’ve done this and it was just me with a couple of chicks.
Continuing to stare into Brock’s eyes, the rage of lust that blazed there burned me—melded me into something I’d never considered before. Something I’d never thought to consider. That something lit my soul on fire.
The body between his and mine dissolved as I moved in and out of it.
I let my head roll back on my shoulders and squeezed my eyes shut to push out the thoughts that should have felt weird or foreign but didn’t.
I focused on the feeling of a tight pussy around my cock, a set of soft, thick thighs before me, and a round ass in my hands.
Another moan, long and low, drew my gaze. And there, waiting for me, was Brock’s gaze. His eyes were focused on my face and chest as he fucked Carly’s face.
Did it seem like she was just a vessel for him too? That it was just the two of us in bed together?
The thought that what was happening was between just him and me exploded in a kaleidoscope of sensations lighting up my soul. A spotlight casting all the shadows out of my mind, setting loose something I didn’t know was there but that I couldn’t fucking deny.
The blast of emotion settled at the base of my spine, drawing all my focus other than my gaze. That was reserved for my swim buddy. The tingling in my spine grabbed hold, forcing me into submission.
Spasms racked my body. I slammed my teeth together to hold back the scream that climbed up my throat. It didn’t keep it from bulldozing through my head and taking up residence like marquee lights on Broadway.
brOCK!
“Who is Brock? Hmm?” The stilted, heavily accented voice pulled me from my happy place.
I stared at the man until he chuckled. He patted me on my face.
“See, I knew you’d eventually say something other than your military information.” He turned and left the room, chaining the metal door closed as he went.
I sighed. I was thankful for a reprieve and that I’d not divulged anything too personal. I needed to escape, but I also needed to keep my wits about me.
As if keeping my wits about me has ever been an option with Brock Jones.
That first night in bed with Brock was one I visited often.
I visited every moment I’d spent with him.
I relished them all, but it was the night I realized I’d found my person.
It was also the night I realized just how much of a sense of humor God had.
The few fleeting moments Brock and I had snatched over the years were all we would ever have.
So, while I’d found my person, I’d never be able to have him and the career I had always dreamed of having.
Everything sucks.
I’d never been a complainer. Brock was the team’s complainer. He complained about everything. Hot, cold, wet, dry…you name it, he bitched about it. He never let it keep him from getting shit done, but he bitched about it while doing it.
I felt justified in my bitchiness, though. I mean, let’s be honest. If anyone had a right to bitch it was me. Instead of being returned to my cage, they’d left me strung up like a field-dressed deer in November.
Thankfully, that’s where the resemblance to the deer ended. I hadn’t been gutted. Yet.
How fucked do things have to be to be pissed you weren’t shoved into a metal crate to bake in the fucking sun?
My shoulders burned, though. Bad. Everything did. Pressure points were sore. I laughed at that.
Sore?
Sore didn’t even begin to cover it. I felt like a fucking Mack truck had hit me at a hundred miles per hour. And now we needed to add crazy to the list of ailments. Because apparently I was losing my fucking mind, since I had started talking to myself.
Granny always said the sign of senility was when you talked to yourself, and you answered back.
I wiggled in my bonds, trying to relieve some of the fire that had set up shop in my joints. The restraints offered little movement. Just enough that my joints felt loose and burned, but not enough to get any relief from the position they’d left me in.
Yep. The suck just got worse.