Semper Fidelis (22 page)

“Actually, I’m a Major now.” Jordan beamed.

“A Major? Congratulations.”

“The promotion was part of the deal when I agreed to the crazy plan of becoming a citizen of Afghanistan—well, pretending that I was.”

“I’m happy for you.” Kelley reached over and squeezed Jordan’s knee.

“Thank you. It was a tough assignment.”

“We’ll both have tough assignments in the future. Do you think we can make it?” Kelley asked.

“I do. We can do this if we try, but I don’t mind a little hard work.”

“Neither do I.”

Jordan reached out and touched Kelley’s leg. “I’ll always be open and honest with you.”

“What if it’s top-secret?”

“We’re working on getting you special clearance. Davis likes you.”

“The general?”

“Yep. When he came to visit the base, he really came to give me some information.”

Kelley shook his head, hating that he’d missed something as important as Davis passing intel to Jordan on his watch. “Really?”

“Yes. He’s not disappointed at all that you’ll be given special clearance. He thinks he can work with you.”

“You’re freaking me out a little.”

“Don’t worry. They won’t want you to pretend to be an Afghanistan citizen. We just need some good guys in the intelligence community that are doing things other than shuffling papers. Your responsibilities will be greater, but it’s nothing you can’t handle.”

Kelley sighed and realized that it was what he wanted. He liked challenges and doing more intelligence work would suit him just fine. “I look forward to the challenge.”

Jordan leaned across the center console and nuzzled Kelley’s neck, “So you think we can last?”

“I do.” Kelley put one finger under Jordan’s chin, tilting his face up. “We’ll last. It will take work but I think we have something. But right now, I want you.”

Jordan popped open the driver’s side door and hopped out. He raced around and helped Kelley stand, grabbing his cane from the backseat of the truck. They entered the hotel and Kelley followed Jordan upstairs to his room. With the door shut, Jordan stripped off his clothes, one hand going straight to his cock. He stroked the thick rod, his gaze never leaving Kelley. “I want you on your back in the center of that bed.”

Desire raced through Kelley. “Now that you outrank me, are you going to always be this demanding?”

“You bet your sweet ass. Now strip.”

Kelley took off his shirt while Jordan pulled the blankets off the bed. He accepted Jordan’s assistance in taking off his pants, since he was still a bit wobbly. Kelley sat on the edge of the bed then rolled to the center and stretched out, curling his fingers into the sheets. “Are you going to fuck me?”

“No, I’m going to ride you.” Jordan tossed the lube to Kelley before ripping open the gold packet with his strong, white teeth. It sent chills of anticipation down Sean’s spine and he scooted closer to give Jordan better access to his body. Jordan kissed his hip before placing the condom on the head of Kelley’s penis and using his tan fingers to stroke and roll it onto him. The sight of those same fingers, now spreading a glob of lube over the tip of his dick and working it down his shaft—that was almost Kelley’s undoing.

“God, Jordan,” Kelley gasped. “You have to stop that or I’ll be finished before you start! Besides, it’s your turn”—he tossed the lube back to Jordan, a sly smile on his face—“and I like to watch.” He settled back onto his elbows, propping himself up just enough to observe Jordan working first one, then two, slick fingers into his hole. Sean could almost imagine the familiar burn, building quickly before fading into the first tingles of pleasure.

Kelley was watching him with rapt attention as Jordan crawled forward, straddling him, lining up his hole and sinking down. The man was tight and it took a few seconds for Kelley’s cockhead to slip inside but when it did, Kelley gasped at the heated sensation.

“You’re so hot and tight.”

Jordan sank down inch by inch, leaving Kelley gasping for breath. Their gazes locked as Jordan began to ride him, lifting and lowering over and over again. The sensations racing through his body almost overwhelmed him. He gulped down air, trying to keep up with the man and not blow his load instantly.

They were good in bed and he hoped they would prove good outside it as well. He grasped onto Jordan’s hips, pumping him faster, feeling the muscles in his hips flex under his skin. Jordan fisted his own cock, matching Kelley’s rhythm. They were both on edge, Jordan’s tight channel gripping his engorged cock.

“Jordan,” he shouted.

Hot cum shot out of Jordan’s dick, landing on Kelley’s chest. That pushed Kelley over the edge. His fingers dug into Jordan’s flesh as he pumped the man down his cock, holding him tight as he came. When they both could breathe again, Jordan eased off, still so careful of Sean’s leg. He ignored the shooting pain for the moment, pulling Jordan to the bed at his side, so he could look deep into his lover’s eyes.

“My beautiful man, we don’t know each other that well, but this is it for me. You’re mine and I’m yours.” Jordan’s smile was sweet and he couldn’t resist the urge to stroke his fingers along the golden skin of his jaw.

“Kelley, you may think that, but no one else knows me like you do—no one else has made love to me as both Akim and Jordan—only you. I have nothing left to hide. You’ll always have a piece of me that no one else will ever know about.”

They kissed and Kelley held him close, not letting go as they drifted to sleep. They’d met under impossible conditions, both of them had suffered and now they were together. The road ahead might be difficult, but with Jordan at his side, he knew they would fight to stay together. They probably wouldn’t be able to spend each night wrapped in each other’s arms, but they were bound by more than touch—they were bound by love.

About the Authors

LE Franks

At seventeen, LE Franks walked away from writing for love. Jumping head first into real life and traveling the world seemed to be fair compensation until the characters in her head demanded their turn. Now, living in the San Francisco Bay Area, surrounded by inspiration everywhere, LE is finally taking off the filters and giving the stories free rein. These days, LE can be found frequently writing about sexy men who desperately need a happily ever.

LE writes M/M Romance in a unique mix of humor and drama with enough suspense to produce fast-paced stories filled with emotion and passion and featuring characters that are quirky and complicated. Don’t expect the typical, rugged hero or sophisticated businessman with the world at their feet; LE’s men are living in the margins—they’re in the middle of their journey, doing the best they can while searching for a connection to something bigger than themselves. With a little effort, and a lot of luck, they may actually find their happily-ever-afters.

When not writing, LE wrangles an odd assortment of jobs (six— both paid and volunteer), houseguests (including pro baseball players), family and friends. Manifesting an odd combination of contradictory talents and traits, LE is tragically honest and personally deceptive and makes the best piecrust—ever.

Email:
[email protected]

Sara York

Sara York lives in the southern United States with her family and dogs. Sara loves romance that takes you to distant worlds where you could be a princess or a warrior. She enjoys reading about faraway places, but writing is her passion. Her favourite vacation would be to spend the day at the beach while reading or writing a good book.

Email:
[email protected]

LE and Sara loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at
http://www.totallybound.com
.

Also by Sara York

Surprise Sleepover

Working it Out

Selling It

His Hero: Zane’s Inferno

Emergency Servicing: Love Without Borders

Promoted by the Billionaire: Surrendered to Him

SOUL SICK

Kendall McKenna

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Berettas: Fabbrica d’Armi Pietro Beretta S.p.A.

GLOCK: GLOCK, Inc.

Ka-Bar: KA-BAR Knives, Inc.

Kevlar: E.I. du Pont de Nemours and Company

MOPAR: Chrysler Group LLC

Mustang: Ford Motor Company

Chapter One

Jamie crouched in the corner of the deserted house. He struggled to hear updates on the crucial battle seven klicks away, over the sounds of the one raging around him. He curled into his MTV—Modular Tactical Vest—pressing his headset tighter to his ear. A grenade detonated close by. Jamie startled, ducking his head to protect his face. If he was lucky, his Kevlar helmet would absorb flying shrapnel.

Marines held the high ground in the main battle, pushing back against the Taliban force. Jamie’s men were on the roof above him, holding off enemy reinforcements and supplies.

They were outnumbered. Dozens of Taliban surrounded them. Jamie’s five Marines on the roof were the only things stopping them from joining their comrades on the hill. They were sitting ducks up there. He hoped to Christ Matt and his platoon turned the tide on the hill, soon.

Jamie heard the hiss and whistle of an inbound RPG. He ducked his face, hoping the fucking thing struck the building low.

The blast was loud. The building shook. Jamie’s teeth rattled and he tasted blood from his bitten tongue. Something impacted his chest, his arms, the fronts of his legs. All he heard was a ringing in his ears. Sharp pain spiked through Jamie’s shoulder and hip when the blast knocked him to the ground.

He was floating. There was pain, but it was distant. Chaos and noise swirled around him, but didn’t involve him.

“Captain! Captain Anders!”

Someone called his name. Whoever hailed Jamie was at the far end of a long tunnel. At least it sounded that way.

“Captain Anders. Can you hear me? Can you hear me, sir?”

Jamie took a deep breath. Fuck, it hurt to breathe.

“Captain Anders, are you okay, sir?”

His staff sergeant was talking to him. Seth should be on the roof with the rest of the Marines. It was critical they keep the reinforcements from joining the Taliban already engaging Matt and Rusty.

Jamie took another breath. It hurt a little less. He opened his eyes but nothing made sense. Jamie blinked but couldn’t focus.

“You okay, Captain?” Staff Sergeant Reardon asked again, sounding worried.

A violent fit of coughing overwhelmed Jamie. His lungs hurt. His ribs ached like a motherfucker. Jamie rolled to his side but that made the room spin.

“Can you sit up, sir?” Seth asked.

Jamie blinked again as the coughing passed. He made out the dirt floor, mud brick walls, and the shattered glass of the single window. Jamie let Seth help him sit up.

He looked into Reardon’s concerned face. The RPG blast must have knocked him senseless for several minutes.

“What’s the sit-rep, Staff Sergeant?” Jamie demanded, his voice hoarse.

“We’re holding ’em off, but all of us are black on ammo,” Reardon answered. “Once we’re all dead, they’ll have a clear shot at the rest of the company.”

Jamie nodded. He had to let his fellow platoon commanders know. “Rejoin your men, Seth. Let’s make ’em earn it.”

“Aye aye, Skipper.” Reardon scrambled through the hatch to the flat roof of the dwelling.

Grabbing his M4, Jamie crawled to the shattered, front-facing window. He keyed the mic button on his chest. “Tango-three, Tango-two-actual.”

Sounds of a raging gun battle accompanied Rusty’s response. “Go for Tango-three-actual.”

“We’re pinned down in a small village, seven klicks west of your location,” Jamie said, making sure to be understood. “We left the victors five klicks back and humped it in. We’re black on ammo. When we go down, twenty-plus hostiles will be headed your way.”

“Roger that. Can you pull back to your victors and rejoin?” Rusty asked.

“Negative. We’re dug into a final protective line.” Jamie couldn’t hear Rusty’s reply over the sound of his own M4. He was taking out as many of these fuckers as he could before he finally went down.

Methodically, Jamie identified target after target, carefully picking them off with two rounds each. Ejecting his spent magazine, he slid his last one home, resting his cheek on the stock. Before he could squeeze the trigger, Jamie heard a new sound in the distance.

The sound was familiar, but out of place. As it grew louder, Jamie was sure he heard the diesel roar of a Humvee engine. Scratch that, several Humvee engines. What the fuck?

Jamie kept firing at targets. He killed hostile after hostile, watching arms and legs shatter and heads explode, from his own .223 rounds. Jamie was ready to die and he couldn’t afford to hope.