Текст книги "Semper Fi"
Автор книги: Jane Harvey-Berrick
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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 24 страниц)
Eventually, Caro went to leave, and we all stood up politely. I risked a quick glance at her.
“Sleep well, gentlemen,” she said quietly.
The others sat down again, but Caro was looking straight at me when she ran her fingers along the chain around her neck. She was telling me that she was wearing my ring. Yeah, that was a good moment.
As soon as she left, Grant repeated his orders not to give her any information, not even whether it was hot in summer. What an asshole. He had no idea how good of a journalist Caro was if he thought that was going to stop her from getting a story. Hadn’t he read her articles? Although I liked the idea that Grant was trying to keep her out of the loop and safe.
After that, we were dismissed.
I spent three tedious hours going through the transcripts, learning not one single useful new fact.
With my eyes burning, I rolled into my bedding and passed out.
Reveille was at oh-four-hundred. I was washed, shaved and fed 30 minutes later, and we were waiting for Caro. And waiting. And waiting.
Grant looked like he was about to stroke-out when he sent the same female PFC that I’d seen the night before to shake her awake.
Caro emerged five minutes later, red-faced and embarrassed.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, sounding flustered. “I overslept. It won’t happen again.”
Grant was too irritated to reply, merely nodding and getting ready for our small convoy to leave Leatherneck.
I noticed that Caro was moving stiffly. I longed to walk over and rub her shoulders and do a bunch of other stuff that isn’t in the Marine Corps Manual.
She pulled on her body armor, tugged her hair up into a rough ponytail, and slapped on her helmet. Damn, she looked cute.
Grant was so pissed, he did the one thing he could to show he was mad at her—told her to sit by me. I was the luckiest son of a bitch in the whole damn world. And yeah, my mom really was a bitch.
“Good morning, Ms. Venzi,” I said in my best panty-dropping voice. “I trust you slept well?”
“Too well, thank you,” she replied politely, raising one eyebrow.
As we sat side-by-side in the APC, I was aware of the pressure of her thigh in the next seat. I slid my backpack closer and took her hand in mine. She didn’t look at me, but her lips turned upward in a private smile. Yep, that look went straight to my dick. It was going to be a long ride.
We headed north, the scenery the same dusty, barren landscape, bumping along a broken road, heading up into the foothills. The heat was already building and we were all sweating.
Our road followed the side of a riverbed, and for a hundred yards in each direction, a strip of green vegetation broke the bleakness of the lunar landscape.
Scattered in the stony fields were the typical fortified farms with high walls, built from a mixture of mud and straw so they blended into the dirt. Some were collected into loose hamlets for protection, but most had been abandoned after heavy fighting in the area. They were a complete fucking nightmare to search, and often booby-trapped after the families had been kicked out. The area seemed deserted but I could see herds of skinny goats, which meant that the owners were around, watching us. I scanned the high ground, looking for anything out of place, but there was nothing. I knew they were there, hidden. At least they weren’t firing at us.
It took us five hours to travel the 60 miles to our next stop, thanks to roads that had the shit bombed out of them, and there were some that had been washed away in Spring floods. Our destination was the town of Now Zad.
What a shithole.
It had been an important market town once, but now it was torn to pieces, buildings destroyed by mortar fire, bullet holes across every wall, empty shops were open to the sky, shutters drooping. But there were still people living here, God knows why. Nowhere else to go, I guess.
An elderly man was selling a few potatoes and eggs from a rug outside a vacant lot. He waved his hands wildly as we drove past, cursing the Infidel invaders and hoping that our balls rotted to dung and fed the crows, Allah be praised.
Caro glanced at me.
“What did he say?”
I saw Grant’s head turn toward us, also waiting for the answer.
“Nothing I’d like to repeat, ma’am,” I said, running my thumb over the back of her hand. She got the message.
Our compound had been a police station at some point in its life, but used many times over by ISAF soldiers from both British and US forces. There was no fresh water, no electricity, and the sleep area was in the old cells, up to a dozen men per room.
I listened carefully as the quarters were allocated and I was glad to hear that Caro was given a separate room.
I was sent to talk to the squad of Marines we were relieving, all who were happy as fuck to be getting back to Leatherneck.
But it wasn’t good news: the Taliban had been sending in reinforcements over the last week, even though the number of RPG attacks had decreased. I got a cold feeling in my gut—the bastards were waiting for us. I couldn’t help thinking that they knew why we were here.
Not good.
I hadn’t even had time to find out where I was sleeping when chow was called. But then Grant ordered me to go talk to a bunch of locals who were hanging around the observation post at the entrance.
It turned out that they wanted to invite the boss to meet the town elder; they even promised to kill a goat for him. I’d bet my ass that Grant would be thrilled. It was polite to let them invite you three times and they would say ‘stay for tea’ the way we’d say ‘how are you?’ but not expect a real answer. But when they kept on inviting you, that was serious.
I passed the message on and Grant agreed that he’d come soon, but was unwilling to commit to a date in advance. I tried to tell him that this would be considered an insult, but he didn’t care. So much for hearts and minds. I relayed his answer, then spent 45 minutes dealing with the fall-out.
I was on his shit list but at least he didn’t give me punishment duty of doing a burn from the shit pits—no flushing toilets or refuse collection here. Setting fire to the latrine waste was seriously gross. Necessary, but gross.
I finally got some food three hours after everyone else had turned in and the first watch were on duty.
I wanted to make sure that Caro was okay before I headed back to the comms room to listen to the radio chatter about our arrival. What the fuck had I been given five terps for if I had to do all the grunt work? Okay, I knew the answer to that, but I was tired and pissed and really wanted to make sure Caro was safe. So I waited until I was sure no one would notice, then made my way to her side of the compound.
I crouched down outside her room, then opened the creaky door, whispering her name as I crawled inside.
She was sitting on a narrow air mattress, and I could just make out in the dim light that she had a huge smile on her face. My heart thumped painfully just looking at her.
“It’s like a dream having you here,” I said, shaking my head slowly. “I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and find I’ve imagined you.”
I pulled her into my arms and she clutched me tightly.
“My dreams aren’t usually this good,” she sighed against my chest.
“Mine are,” I said, a smile in my voice. “Or they used to be. When you first left, I dreamed about you all the time.”
“What was I doing?” she asked, stroking my cheek as the memories flooded back.
“Mostly, we were just walking on the beach.”
“Mostly?”
I grinned. “Sometimes we did other stuff.”
Triple R X-rated.
“Stuff? I’m not sure I know what you mean by ‘stuff’,” she laughed, then she rubbed the front of my pants, palming my hardening dick.
“Caro!” I groaned loudly. “Fuck, I just came to make sure you were okay in here. I have to get back to the comms room.”
“Right away? You can’t take a few minutes?”
I could hear the disappointment in her voice.
“I really can’t, baby,” I said, kissing her hungrily. “Grant’s waiting for me.”
“You’re such a tease,” she snorted, slapping my ass. “You come in here, raising my expectations…”
“That’s not the only thing that got raised,” I admitted as I adjusted my junk.
But she just laughed at me. “Well, I’d have been happy to meet those expectations, but apparently you have to go be a warrior.”
“Actually, I have to go be an interpreter … I could try and come back later, Caro.”
Her smile dropped away and she held my face as she looked into my eyes.
“Sebastian, seriously: do what you need to do. You know where I am, and I trust you to know whether or not it’s safe to take that risk. It worries me that I’m a distraction here for you. The most important thing is that you focus on your job. We’ve got the rest of our lives after that.”
The rest of our lives.
I kissed her again, then rested my forehead against hers.
“I’m a lucky bastard—thank God for you, Caro.”
“I’ll see you at breakfast, Marine,” she said, running her hand over my short hair.
“One other thing,” I said, needing her to know that this was important, “there’s been some radio chatter and the Taliban definitely know we’re here. I don’t think they’ll do anything tonight—they’re not in position, from what I can work out, but if you hear someone yell ‘incoming’, get your body armor on, keep your head down, and stay in here away from the windows. Whatever happens, Caro, stay in here. Everyone out there knows what they’re doing: we don’t need your help. You know what I’m saying, baby?”
She nodded then wrapped her arms around me more tightly. “I promise. I don’t want you thinking about me when you have more important things to concentrate on.”
I had to smile at that. “There isn’t anything more important than you.”
But I did have a job to do—and if I did it right, it would keep everyone safe. I kissed her again, then tore myself out of her arms and made my way back to the comms room.
Jankowski was hunched over a coffee when I walked in, talking to another guy who had his back to me.
The Lieutenant frowned when he saw me. “Where’ve you been, Hunter? You know we can’t use the local terps on this.”
“Taking a dump, sir,” I said, slouching into the empty seat and picking up the headphones.
The other guy turned around and grinned at me. “Well, well, well, if it ain’t the Hollywood Marine!”
I turned and stared. “Fuck me! Sergeant Chivers! How you doin’, man?”
Mark Chivers was a guy I’d met on my first tour in Iraq. We’d hung out a bit before I’d gotten picked for interpreting work. He’d gone to boot camp at Parris Island, NC, and called everyone who’d trained in Cali a ‘Hollywood Marine’. We called them ‘Swamp Doggies’.
He grinned at me. “Lookin’ good, Seb. Who’d y’all fuck off to get sent to this shithole?”
“Much as I’m enjoying this touching reunion,” grunted Jankowski, “I’d really like to know what the fuck the enemy is saying about us, or is that too much to ask, Hunter?”
“On it, sir,” I said, as Chiv winked at me and turned back to the radio operations.
I spent the next four hours listening to comms traffic. The Taliban definitely knew we were here, but so far it sounded like only a few of them were on the ground—more were being summoned. It was clear that someone knew something; what that was remained unclear. But the coincidence of them sending reinforcements at the exact time of this new mission, well, I’d have to be a fucking moron not to make the connection.
Eventually, as the comms chatter died down, Jankowski let me go off duty. My head was pounding from being immersed in heavily-accented Pashto and Dari for the first time in three years. The intense concentration left me feeling drained. I needed to sleep; but first I was going to check on Caro.
Her door opened quietly, and I watched for half a minute as the slow, even rise of her chest showed that she was asleep. I could only see a dim silhouette, but being near her, that was enough. All thoughts of heading to my own cot died. Instead, I curled up awkwardly at the foot of her air mattress and was asleep in seconds.
I wasn’t sure how long I slept—not long enough—when Caro’s alarm woke us before dawn. The right side of my body ached from where I’d been lying on the concrete floor. I stretched out cautiously.
“Sebastian!” she gasped, obviously surprised to see me. “What are you doing?”
“Hey, baby.”
“How long have you been there? Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“Couple of hours,” I yawned. “I didn’t want to wake you—you looked so peaceful.”
She crawled across the narrow mattress and wrapped her arms around my neck, burrowing herself against me.
“You didn’t even take your boots off,” she murmured into my neck, her lips tickling my skin.
I laughed quietly and kissed her hair. “Didn’t see much point.” I climbed to my feet reluctantly. “Gotta go, baby.”
“Already?” she said, disappointment shading her voice.
“Yeah, need to get a wash and shave before dawn patrol.”
“You’re lucky,” she said with a wry smile. “I’m relying on baby-wipes while I’m here. You’ll get to know me in a whole new way, Sebastian.”
I winked at her. “Looking forward to it, baby. See ya later.”
The sun was just beginning to appear behind the mountains, casting long shadows across the compound. I took a turn in the shitter, then lined up at the outside water butts to take a cold shave.
After I’d stowed my shaving kit, I booked it back to the comms room.
A different radio operator was in Mark’s seat, but Jankowski was there again. I didn’t have time to do more than salute.
“Hunter, you’ll be out on foot patrol this morning. Grant wants some hearts and minds work, and he’s hoping that you’ll pick up on any vibes from the locals. Go get some chow before the briefing in 20 minutes.”
“Yes, sir.”
I decided that my two Shiite terps should stay at the compound today. I didn’t want any trouble with the locals.
They didn’t seem to care when I gave them the news—it would be an easy day for them where they could sit on their asses, drink sweet tea, and still get paid by Uncle Sam.
I left them as they started their morning prayers, then walked over to the line for breakfast. I could see a bunch of bootnecks flirting with Caro. She was laughing at them, a huge smile on her face as she snapped some photographs. I couldn’t help my hands balling into fists, and I had to concentrate really hard not to say or do something that was going to piss her off. But it really went against the grain to see her surrounded by horny guys and not do anything. This relationship stuff sucked balls.
She saw me and threw a soft smile in my direction. I heard her voice, and knew that she was trying to reassure me.
“Gentlemen, it’s too early in the day for all that.” All of what? “I haven’t even had my breakfast MRE yet.”
I relaxed a fraction as the banter dropped back a notch, but I could tell that they liked her—even more when she shared a bottle of soy sauce that she’d brought with her to try and make the MRE rations taste better. Breakfast was more noodles and unidentified meat—also known as ‘Meals Rejected by the Enemy’ or ‘Man Ready to Eat’. Whatever it was, it tasted like ass and was about as chewy.
I was surprised when Grant sent for Caro to join the morning briefing. She wasn’t going to hear anything particularly interesting—I’d already had my main orders from Jankowski.
The small ops room had gotten pretty crowded with all the officers and gunnery sergeants when Caro arrived. I could see the fuckers looking her over with appreciation. I wanted to blindfold every bastard there. Even Grant almost smiled at her.
“Right, men: this morning we’ll have four patrols moving out. Sanders, I want you and your team with me heading northeast along the river bed wadi. Romero, northwest by the edge of town. Jankowski, your men take the old market area with Holden flanking you at 100 yards.
“Hunter: you’re in charge of the terps—brief them before we go. The population here are Sunnis. Are any of your men Shiite?”
“Two, sir,” I answered quickly. “I’ve told them to stay behind today.”
“Does that leave us short?” asked Grant, frowning.
“No, sir, but one of the teams will have to have Angaar: his English is so-so.”
“Then send one of the others with him.”
“They don’t get along, sir. Could cause problems.”
“Then damn well make sure it doesn’t!” Grant snapped.
I didn’t argue the point further, but I wasn’t happy with the order.
As the meeting broke up, Caro raised her hand.
“Which team would you like me with, Captain Grant?”
He looked up, clearly irritated, but Caro’s expression stayed neutral.
“Perhaps ‘like’ was too strong a word, Captain,” she suggested coolly.
I had to try really hard not to smile at that, and I saw Jankowski and one of the other officers grin openly.
“You’d better come with me, Ms. Venzi,” Grant muttered, somewhat unwillingly. “And you, Hunter.”
“I feel like Fox Mulder,” Caro murmured loud enough for Grant to hear, but not loud enough that he’d feel the need to reply. “The Marines’ ‘most unwanted’.”
Grant frowned, but I could tell he admired her being ballsy. I was so fucking proud. I had to leave the room or I’d have given myself away.
The dawn patrols left the compound on foot: the overt mission was to scout out the area and get a hands-on idea of the terrain. The two patrols checking out the marketplace had the most dangerous job. Those old bazaar buildings provided plenty of places where IEDs could be planted. Snipers were also a concern.
But my patrol was heading up the river wadi to try and find some locals to talk to. I pulled on my body armor and helmet (40 pounds), before shouldering my day pack (35 pounds) and picked up my M16 (nine pounds loaded). Gunners and radio operators carried more. The temperature was already in the high-nineties: it was going to be brutal.
I didn’t usually get nervous on patrols—not since the very first time—just more aware. But having Caro with me, I was about ready to shit myself, even though she’d been positioned in the middle of the patrol for safety. I was up front with Grant so I couldn’t even keep an eye on her from this position. I kept telling myself that the best way to keep her safe was to do my fucking job.
Grant grunted at me.
“Hunter, you’re the terp—you take point.”
We’d walked about a mile up the trail to the wadi when we saw our first locals.
Four kids, aged about eight or nine, were sitting in a patch of dirt. They stood up in a hurry when they saw us, looking scared, but I called out a greeting to them, grinning when they stared at me in surprise.
I directed all my questions to the oldest boy. Afghans were big on hierarchy and it was easy to offend if you didn’t follow their rules.
I asked him if he’d seen any Taliban lately. I didn’t really expect him to answer truthfully, but he pointed up into the foothills.
In my peripheral vision, I saw Caro taking a photograph. I hoped like fuck the boys didn’t see her; if they knew we had a woman on patrol, the news would spread through the area like wildfire.
I asked the kid how long they’d been there, and Grant wanted to know what we were saying.
“He says there are Taliban up in the hills, sir. They moved into position during the night. He doesn’t think they’ll come out in daytime. Not sure I’d take that as an ironclad guarantee, but it could mean they’ll hit us at dusk or first thing in the morning.”
I couldn’t help glancing worriedly at Caro.
“Anything else?”
I sighed. “He said his father has promised to get him a rifle like mine when he’s ten.”
There was no chance that this fucking war would ever be over when kids were being used to carry it forward. And it was a tribal country—I wasn’t sure a dose of democracy would work here, but I left that shit to the politicians.
Then one of the kids spotted Caro and gaped, openly pointing her out to his little buddies. They immediately started asking a ton of questions, and I couldn’t help smiling as Grant asked me to translate.
“They want to know if Ms. Venzi is your wife, sir, or if you just brought her to do the cooking.”
Caro threw me a dirty look and some of the guys laughed, but Grant looked worried. I could guess why.
“Tell them she does the cooking,” he said hurriedly.
I gave them the answer and the kids nodded knowingly. I passed out some hard candy, telling them to eat it right away and to toss the wrappers. They were probably too smart to get caught with Western goods on them, but it was worth reminding them. If the Taliban found them with the candy on them, they wouldn’t care that they were kids.
They continued to watch us until we were out of sight.
Caro snapped another photo of them waving, then hurried to catch up with Grant.
“Would you like to explain that to me, Captain Grant,” she said mildly, while secretly giving me the stink-eye.
“I don’t want word getting out that we have a journalist with us,” he said shortly.
Caro looked worried, then glanced across at me. I tried to smile reassuringly, but I probably just looked sick.
We moved slowly next to the dried riverbed when I saw a tell-tale flash in the sky and the guy next to me yelled, “Incoming!”
There was a loud roaring overhead as we half-dived, half-fell into the wadi. I craned my neck up, but I couldn’t see Caro, which meant she was somewhere in the riverbed with us.
The rocket propelled grenade shook the ground as it exploded, and the percussion from the blast was almost deafening.
“RPG, sir!” shouted the gunny. “Bastards missed by 300 yards. Up in the foothills, sir. They’ll have us in range any second.”
He was right: we were in their sights. The wadi gave us good protection but we were pinned down.
Keeping low, I made my way toward Caro and crouched down next to her.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said breathlessly, her voice shaking only slightly. “Don’t worry about me. I won’t move. Promise.”
It was the best I could do: the thought made me sick. I made my way back to the radio operator in case I was needed to listen to any comms chatter.
The gunny and another guy moved forward with a mortar and fired off a couple of rounds.
“Hewitt,” shouted Grant to the radio op, “call in air support. I want the shit bombed out of those fuckers. Give them the coordinates—now!”
Two more RPGs came in, each landing closer, although not close enough to worry me too much.
Fifteen minutes passed before we heard a couple of F15 fighter jets streak past overhead.
There was a massive explosion followed immediately by a second, and the mountain shook. I looked up to see a thick cloud of dust and smoke hanging over the foothills, lazily drifting down into the valley.
Caro was already sitting up to take a quick photo. God, she was fearless. The other men noticed too, grinning at her with admiration in their eyes.
“Was that your first time under fire, ma’am?” one of them asked.
“First time it was that damn close,” she smiled. “I almost peed my pants.”
They laughed easily. “Well, you looked pretty cool, ma’am. We should make you an honorary Marine.”
“I’m sure Captain Grant would be delighted with that suggestion,” she laughed.
Then she looked across at me and pressed her hand over her heart. I badly wanted to kiss her, but all I could do was smile back.
After waiting to see if there would be any further RPG attacks, we slowly made our way back along the dried up riverbed.
An hour later, we got back to the compound, hot and tired but alive, which meant we were one up on the enemy. Caro immediately ran toward the make-shift bathroom that Grant had designated for her private use. The guys were laughing at her crab-wise run, and it made me proud to realize how much she lifted morale just by being here. She hadn’t been scared enough to piss herself, unlike some men I’d seen under fire for the first time. My woman was fucking brave. My woman.
I decided I wanted to do something to show Caro how I felt about her—and I’d do it under the guise of her impressing the shit out of everyone. Yeah, it probably wasn’t keeping things on the down-low, but I was going to make her a camp shower.
I rounded up a couple of volunteers and explained my plan. They all wanted to help do something ‘for the ballsy writer chick’.
I’d noticed a bunch of jerry cans earlier, so I filled them with tepid water while we rigged a shower unit by punching small holes through a rusting bucket and hoisting the cans overhead.
When we’d finished, I strolled over casually and squatted down next to her.
“How you doing, baby?” I asked quietly, making sure my voice didn’t carry.
“Pretty damn good,” she replied calmly, “considering I nearly got my ass shot off today.”
I couldn’t help grinning at her. “You are so fucking amazing, Caro.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, Sebastian.”
Some of the guys were staring at us speculatively, so I stood up and pointed behind me. “We’ve fixed you up a makeshift shower, ma’am.”
“Excuse me?” she gasped.
“The guys wanted to do something for you—they think you’re a ballsy woman. So they’ve made you a shower. You’ve got about two-and-a-half minutes of lukewarm water. How’s that sound?”
“What? How?”
She gaped at me in amazement.
“I just left some cartons of water out in the sun. They got pretty warm: all we had to do was hoist them up and make a shower head. You’re good to go. Except you won’t be able to take off your clothes, but it’s better than nothing, I guess.”
“God, I love you!” she smiled. “But I think I love them, too!”
I knew she was joking, but I’d be a lying bastard if I said I wasn’t as jealous as fuck.
She waved at the shower-building team and they cheered her loudly.
“I’ll be right back!” she smiled.
The gunny who’d been on patrol with us slapped me on the back.
“Get in line, buddy. We’d all like to tap that.”
I don’t think he knew how close he came to losing his front teeth as he strolled away. Luckily, Caro reappeared, and the sight of her wearing just a t-shirt and pair of short yoga pants, redirected my attention immediately. She looked happy, and that was enough.
I tore myself away to head back to the comms room, trying to ignore the boner in my pants at the thought of Caro in the shower.
I stayed on duty late until Grant allowed one of the Shiite terps to relieve me. Helmand was a Sunni area, so the theory was that the Shiite interpreters were the most trustworthy. But it was just a theory, and Grant had to acknowledge that I couldn’t man the radio chatter 24/7. I’d been awake for 41 out of the last 48 hours and I needed to sleep. With Caro.
I headed to her room and instantly felt relaxed as I heard her soft breaths. I tried to make myself comfortable at the bottom of her mattress, but she woke almost immediately.
“Hey, baby,” I whispered as she sat up. “I didn’t mean to wake you—I just wanted to see you.”
She rubbed her eyes and reached her hands toward me. “You’re too far away,” she yawned.
I knew the smart thing would be to go to my rack and sleep, but hell, you get all the sleep you need when you’re dead.
I tried to stretch out on the mattress next to her, but my boots hit the door.
“Fuck,” I swore quietly, “they’ve given you a damn hutch to sleep in.”
“At least it’s private, Sebastian,” she murmured, running her finger across my cheeks.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “that’s something.”
I leaned over her, taking the weight on my arms, and kissed her gently, just like I’d wanted to do all day.
I hadn’t planned on starting anything, but Caro seemed to have other ideas because she tightened her hands behind my neck and locked our faces together.
It was such a fucking turn on having her here, like this, in the middle of a fucking hellhole. She pushed her tongue into my mouth, hungry and determined, then she ran her hands down my back, gripped my ass and squeezed hard.
God, I wanted her, even if it was a dumb fucking idea.
“Are you sure, Caro?” I questioned.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Here and now.”
I groaned as she raised her hips, rubbing against my rock hard cock.
“But you’re going to have to get naked,” she added.
I sighed and pushed away from her, shaking some sense back into my brain which was definitely lacking any blood flow.
“It’s going to take some explaining if the Taliban attack and I run out of your room with my ass hanging out,” I reminded her.
She hesitated and I wondered what she was thinking. It didn’t take long before I knew.
“I don’t care if you don’t … time to get naked, Marine,” she ordered, rubbing her thigh against me again.
“Make me,” I teased.
Her eyebrows shot up.
“Okay, what can I trade you to get you to take your shirt off?”
It was my turn to be surprised.
“Trade?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “I want you to take your shirt off, but it seems like I’ll have to give you something in return. If I agree to your terms, you lose the shirt. If I don’t agree, you get to keep it on.”
“For real?”
“Yes, Sebastian,” she stated, clearly issuing the orders. Well, okay then.
“A shirt for a shirt, Caro,” I challenged her.
This was about to get interesting—and she was wearing a lot less than I was.
Moving slowly, in a show that was so fucking sexy, she unbuttoned her shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra. My uniform jacket and t-shirt hit the floor and we were both naked from the waist up.
“So far so good,” she said, her voice low and husky. “I want you to take off your boots and socks.”
I thought for a moment, considering how I could raise the stakes, especially as she had fewer clothes than me.
“Okay, but I want you to touch your breasts, Caro; touch yourself until your nipples are hard.”
She followed my instructions quickly, running her hands lightly over her tits, toying with her nipples while she stared into my eyes.
“Fuck!” I said roughly, licking my lips, wanting to taste her, like now.
“Boots,” she snapped.
It took over half a minute for me to unlace my boots and lose the socks. My coordination was fucked because I couldn’t peel my eyeballs off of Caro who was now massaging her own breasts, teasing the nipples to peaks.
“I want you to take off your pants, Sebastian,” she whispered.
God, if Grant walked in now…
“And you have to lose those pajama bottoms, Caro.”
She kicked them off quickly, adding them to the pile in the corner.
I unzipped my pants, leaving the skivvies on. But she was out of clothes, and didn’t have anything left to trade.
