“Do whatever you want to me. I’m yours for the night.”
I shake my head. “Nah, sweetheart, you’re not mine, we’re each other’s. Use me for your pleasure, and I’ll use you for mine.”
On a gasp, she says, “Deal.”
I press a few kisses on her neck before I whisper in her ear, “Now bend over and brace yourself.”
I press on her back and help her down before placing my swollen cock at her entrance. Preparing myself, I take a deep breath and then fully insert myself, bottoming out in one smooth stroke.
She tightens up at first, her hands gripping the sheets, but then slowly starts to relax as she adjusts around my girth.
“Oh . . . my . . . God,” she breathes out.
“Sorry, sweetheart. Can’t hold back. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” She rests her hands under her cheek, elbows winged out, and says, “Fuck me.”
Feeling like I hit the lottery, I grab hold of her hips, steadying her, and start to move my hips in and out, my length gliding along her slick channel, squeezing me tightly.
Shit, I’m going to come fast. She’s so tight, and with each stroke I make, she pulses around me, contracting purposefully. I’ve never experienced anything like it, and it has me seeing fucking stars with each stroke.
“Jesus Christ,” I mumble as I move in and out of her a little faster. “You feel so damn good, Ryan. So damn good.”
“You’re so . . . big,” she gulps. “I’m going to come, again.”
“Not yet. Not there.”
She moans and buries her forehead in the sheets.
“I’m there, Colby. God.” She starts to tighten around me, her orgasm hitting her harder and faster than I expected. She screams out my name, her body tensing around me as I thrust my hips harder.
Sweat eclipses me, my body starting to float, an all-consuming pleasure starting to ripple up my spine as I make two more pushes inside her. My orgasm rips through me, almost like a machine gun shooting off in my body in rapid fire, starting at my toes and all the way to my cheeks. I still inside her, coming so fucking hard that my vision goes blurry.
“Fuck. Fuck,” I yell, eyes squeezed shut, pleasure roaring through me.
It takes a few seconds, but once I stop coming, I feel my body start to relax. Sated, the tension I’ve been carrying for the last couple months slowly eases out of me. That’s all it took. One single orgasm. God. She’s a sexy woman to fuck.
Letting out a long pent-up breath, I fall to the side and drag my hands over my face. Smiling, I look over at Ryan who has the same goofy grin on her face as I expect I do.
And then that’s when I hear it: the porn movie is still on.
Laughing, I reach over to the remote and turn off the TV. “My hotel neighbors must think there is an orgy going on in here.”
She wiggles her eyebrows. “Bet they’re jealous.”
“Most likely.” I sit up and take care of my condom, tossing it in the bathroom trash can before returning to the bedroom. That was one of the hottest things I’ve done, and I am so not done with Ryan for tonight. Hope she has stamina.
Curled up in the bed, naked, Ryan lifts up the sheets for me to join her. I scoot in next to her and pull her into my chest where I place a kiss on the top of her head. Scooting in close, she places her hand on my chest and nuzzles her head into my shoulder.
She lightly dances her fingers over my chest and says, “I think we can safely say, we’re close friends now.”
I chuckle and stroke her hair. “I don’t have many friends like you.”
“What? Blonde and frisky?”
“No. Friends I’ve eaten out.”
On a gasp, she pinches my nipple and laughs with me. “Had I known you were so dirty, I would have turned on porn this morning instead of watching Friends.”
I press another kiss on her head. “If you’d done that, you wouldn’t have a new sweatshirt, and I would have fucked you so hard all day, you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow.”
* * *
I stare at the plane I’m waiting to get on, coffee in hand, a feeling of relaxation floating over me. I haven’t felt this good in a really long time. And I would like to say it was because I had sex, but I’m not stupid. I know there’s more to it.
I had comfortable sex, the kind of sex you can only have with someone you know. It was off-the-charts amazing, something I don’t think I would have gotten banging a random girl from a bar. This was different. Ryan and I knew each other, so there weren’t any expectations. One passionate night. That’s all it was, and it was fucking amazing.
We fell asleep after our first round, and I was rudely woken up by my alarm, reminding me of my early morning flight. I never got a round two with her but maybe it was for the best, because I could see how easily someone could become addicted to Ryan. There’s something special about her.
I take a sip of my coffee and stare at the early morning sun as my phone vibrates in my pocket.
I check the screen.
Smiling to myself, I open up her text message.
Ryan: You’re just going to leave like that, without saying bye?
I set my coffee down and text her back.
Colby: I said bye. It’s not my fault you sleep like the dead.
Ryan: Well, when you fuck me like that, what do you expect?
Colby: The ego boost is appreciated.
Ryan: You want an ego boost? You’re ridiculously good at sex.
A guy can’t hear that enough.
Colby: Back at, ya.
Ryan: Question.
Colby: Shoot.
Ryan: Do you realize we didn’t kiss last night?
I’m about to text her and tell her we did, but when I think about it, I realize she’s right. We didn’t kiss. I kissed her everywhere but her mouth.
Colby: Huh, we didn’t. Are you upset about it?
Ryan: No, probably for the best. I think your lips on mine might have done me in.
Colby: How so?
Ryan: Big dick, amazing at oral, body of a god. If you were a good kisser too it would have been too much.
Colby: For the record, I’m an amazing kisser.
Ryan: So full of yourself. If only you were this loose in person.
Colby: Don’t forget my “move.”
Ryan: I knew it! You brooding jackass. Ugh, so annoying. Anyway, just wanted to thank you for last night. The orgasms were much appreciated.
Colby: Same here. You’re hot as fuck, Ryan.
Ryan: You just made my nipples hard. Damn you. Have a safe trip, Colby. If you’re ever in town again, you at least have one more person to visit. Take care.
Colby: You too, Ryan.
Chapter Seven
COLBY
Three months later . . .
“What are you doing after you get out of here?” Colt asks, as we walk down the corridor to our lockers. We spent the whole day in the air, training, practicing four-jet-formation aerial maneuvers. It’s taxing and hard on your body.
“Grocery store and home.” I hang my helmet on my designated hook and start stripping down. LPU first, then my harness, and survival vest. With each article I take off, I hang them up in my locker accordingly, keeping everything perfectly in order.
“Grocery store? That’s boring shit, man.” Colt flings his gear in his locker, not giving it a second thought. “Come out to the bar with me and Rowdy. It’s karaoke night.”
Yeah, I won’t be participating in that, not even if they paid me.
“I’m good. Ask Bent.”
“Bent has a date.”
I lift my head and cock my eyebrow. “Does he?”
“Yeah, some chick he met the other day.”
And why the hell am I hearing this from Colt?
“So that leaves you, me, and Rowdy. It’ll be fun. Rowdy is a shit singer when he’s drunk. It’s hilarious.”
“I’ll pass.” I undo my g-suit, letting my legs breathe from their tight confines, shaking them out like every
other time I free myself of my pilot gear.
“You’re really going to pass up drunk Rowdy singing for the grocery store?”
I shrug. “I need food.”
Just then, Bent walks into the locker, undressing quickly. I eye him and finally say, “Have a date you’re late for?”
He pauses, twists his head to the side and glares at Colt. “Do you have to tell everyone?”
“Don’t share information with me if you don’t want it spread it to everyone who walks in my path.”
“Unbelievable,” Bent mutters while shaking his head.
“What’s the secret?”
“It’s the commander’s daughter,” Colt singsongs.
Slamming his helmet into the locker, Bent says, “Will you shut the fuck up?”
Eyes wide, Colt pretends to zip his mouth and then chuckles to himself as he pulls away.
Growing serious, I step closer to Bent and say, “Bent—”
“Don’t.” His back is toward me as he moves quickly. “Just drop it, okay?”
“Playing with fire, dude.” I roll up my flight suit sleeves, preparing for the Las Vegas sun, and pick up my bag.
His head hangs low as he answers, “I know.”
I pat him on the back, not wanting to elaborate, because he knows better than anyone the date he’s about to go on is a whole bunch of trouble.
“See you tomorrow.”
I head out of the locker and to my truck, the same truck I bought when I was able to finally have a car on campus at the Air Force Academy. It was used then, and it’s really starting to show its age, but I can’t seem to exchange it for something new. It might sound stupid, but it’s one of the things I still have that reminds me of Gramps. He gave me the money to buy it, so there is a piece of him in this truck.
I toss my bag on the other side of the cab and situate my aviators on my nose. The truck roars to life, and I crank up the air conditioning. Growing up in Colorado, I’m used to dry heat, but Las Vegas takes it to a whole other level.
I don’t take much time in making my way to the commissary, finding a parking spot, and hopping out of my truck. Colt and Rowdy like to get off base as much as they can, but I like the close confines of everything. I don’t have to go very far for food or housing, which works great for my ordered life.
The parking lot is empty for a Monday night, which is usually bustling with airmen and women picking up last-minute items for the week, like me. I should do my shopping on the weekends, but I need downtime. My job is stressful, and living in a bustling, chaotic city like Las Vegas, I need the solitude and quiet. I grab myself a cart and head straight to the vegetables. That’s pretty much all I eat—grilled shit, because it’s all I really know how to cook. Growing up in a household that was less than loving, I had to figure out basic living on my own, cooking being one of the hardest tasks to tackle. I don’t know, I just don’t have the cooking gene in me.
Yellow squash and zucchini are my go-to, so I pile a bunch in my cart along with some peppers, onions, and eggplant, because why the hell not?
As my make my way to the meat, I grab some bananas, apples, and oranges before taking my grocery list out of my pocket.
The guys would never let me live it down if they saw me walking around the commissary holding a grocery list. They already think I’m boring as shit, so they’d just about slaughter me if they knew I had a list.
Frankly, I don’t want to forget anything, because that means I have to make another trip. Fuck that.
I stare at my list, reminding myself to get eggs, because I forgot to write it down . . . just as my cart rams into a solid figure.
A small yelp accompanies the pushback of my cart along with a thump.
Shit.
I stuff my list in my pocket and round my cart to find a woman on the floor, glasses askew, and a broken watermelon on the ground next to her.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” I say, bending down to help the woman up. “I didn’t see you there.”
She takes my hand and rights her glasses right before looking at me. Deep brown eyes stare back at me, hidden behind thick black-rimmed glasses. Porcelain skin, rosy cheeks, and platinum-blonde hair that looks completely natural, not from a box. Flustered, she dusts off her high-waisted brown pants, and rights the tight-fitting white button-up shirt that’s tucked in to her waistband.
“Pardon me,” she says sweetly, her voice smooth like honey. “I was so not paying attention, kind of enamored by the green hues—” She stops and stares at the broken watermelon on the ground. “Oh dear, I was going to say by the green hues of my watermelon but it looks like there was a massacre on aisle one.”
“That’s my fault. I was staring at my grocery list.”
She smiles shyly and bends to pick up the watermelon. I stop her attempting to clean it up, not wanting her to get watermelon juice all over her clothes. “Hey, I’ll get someone to pick this up. You don’t want to get all messy.” Just as the words fall out of my mouth, an employee walks by. I snag the kid and say, “We had a bit of an accident over here. Would you mind helping us clean it up?”
“Not a problem. I’ll grab some supplies. Could you stand around it until I get back? I don’t want anyone slipping.”
“Sure,” I answer as the boy takes off.
“I can stand here if you want to continue checking things off your grocery list,” the woman says, adjusting her purse on her shoulder.
“Nah, it’s okay. I’m in no hurry.”
“Neither am I.” She smiles again, looking at me through her thick eyelashes.
She really is pretty, with almost a quirky look about her that makes her unique with her heavy bangs and light freckles framing her beautiful face.
Seeing that neither one of us is moving, I introduce myself. “I’m Colby. Sorry I cracked your watermelon.”
Shaking my hand still, she says, “I’m Sage, sorry I interrupted your grocery list reading time.” Funny too.
I shrug off her apology. “It’s a few minutes I’m willing to spare.”
Shit, did I just flirt with this woman?
From the look of it and the way she turns her head down, humor playing at her lips, I’m guessing I did.
I can’t even remember the last time I flirted. Here and there maybe when I was out with Colt and Rowdy, but they do most of the work for me when it came to women. I sit there and drink while they push the girls toward me.
She adjusts her glasses on her nose again and says, “I’m going to guess you’re a pilot. Unless it’s Halloween and I missed the memo.” The way she delivers her jokes, quiet almost monotone, makes me believe she’s shy despite her good sense of humor. It’s cute.
“Nah, you didn’t miss the memo. I’m a pilot.”
“What do you fly?”
“F-22,” I say with pride. That will never get old, being able to brag about the wings I take to flight every day. I worked damn hard to get to this position, an elite spot in the Air Force, and I never miss a moment to talk about it.
Her eyes widen and her nose twitches cutely to the side. “Wow, an F-22, super stealth.”
I chuckle. “One of the best.”
“Did you hear about the new F-35?”
Did I hear about it? Uh, it’s all I’ve been reading about lately. Lockheed Martin has been working on the F-35 for what seems like forever, and it’s almost ready to be tested in the sky. I’m partial to the Raptor, but hell, if given the opportunity to fly an F-35, I’d jump right on it.
“Yeah, pretty excited about it.”
“Think you’ll fly one?”
I shrug my shoulders. “A guy can only dream, right?”
She nods and shifts on her feet, twisting her hands together in front of her. “I’m not a pilot, in case you were wondering, but I admire the planes from afar.”
Given her attire and glasses, I’d guessed that. Is she a civilian? Girlfriend, or married maybe to someone on base?
“What do you do?”
“I’m an op
tometrist here on base.” She nods at her statement. “Yup, I look at eyeballs all day while you’re flying in the skies.”
“As long as you’re not poking them.” I chuckle, the sound feeling weird on my ears. It really didn’t sound like me at all. This whole conversation doesn’t sound like me.
Maybe I feel bad because I ran into her. Is that why I’m not acting like my normal closed-off self? Or maybe it’s because she’s shy and a little timid so it makes it easier to talk to her.
“Never poke an eye, rule number one.” She adjusts the strap to her purse again and nervously laughs, her voice very soft-spoken. “It’s sure taking that guy a long time to get cleaning supplies.”
“Hey, if you need to get going, I’ll guard the watermelon.”
“Do you mind?” She shifts on her feet. “I’m kind of late for a party.”
“Not a problem.”
She points behind me. “I’m just going to slip past you and grab another melon.”
“Yup.” I step to the side and tilt my hat in her direction like a doofus. “Have a good one.”
A very small smile peeks past her lips. “Thanks, you too.”
Because I’m a man, I check out her backside before turning back to my grocery list. Firm ass, narrow waist, slender shoulders. She’s pretty, but very quiet. Letting out a long breath, I read my list to see where I’m at, only to lift my head again and give her one more look. She hefts a large watermelon into her arms, a little unbalanced at first, and then heads to the checkout.
Sage, the optometrist, interesting.
Chapter Eight
COLBY
“Hey,” I answer my phone, another long day of work kicking me in the ass. “What’s up, man?”
“Heard there is a chance Nellis gets to test out the F-35.”
Tired as hell, I put the phone on speaker and set it on my counter where I unzip my flight suit and let it dangle at my hips, my sand tee clinging to my torso. “Not sure. We haven’t heard anything yet.”