The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories (242 page)

I put it back down and pulled my tank top and underwear on. Walking back to my bedroom in skimpy clothes was out of the question. But I eyed Chris’s garments that now lied in a heap on the floor. I kneeled down and sniffed the pants. They smelled of smoke. My bath towel seemed like a much better option, even though it was quite damp. I wrapped it around myself, scooped the dirty clothing and my boots off the floor, and opened the bathroom door.

Peeking outside, I prayed Ethan wasn’t anywhere close. The last thing I wanted was for him to see me barely dressed. The hallway was quiet. I stood in the door, waiting for any sound that would testify to his presence. Nothing. I waited some more. Finally, I felt too tired to stay there any longer. I padded back to my bedroom. As soon as I was about to open my door, I heard soft steps on the stairs. Quickly, without making any noise I slid inside and closed the door behind me.

“That was close,” I whispered to myself.

The bed looked so inviting. I dropped everything on the floor and found the hairbrush in my backpack. I closed the window, remembering what Ethan said about the mosquitos, sat on the bed, and ran the brush through my tangled hair. Finally, I gave up on fighting with those stubborn curls and slid under the covers. Sleep came quickly, like a thief in the night.

Sometime later, I woke up, startled. I couldn’t place this room. I didn’t know where I was. My heart pounded in my chest, and I had a difficult time getting enough oxygen into my lungs. It was a panic attack. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to slow down my frantic breathing. “I am not having a panic attack. It was just a bad dream,” I kept repeating loudly.

The door flew open. Ethan barged into the room. “Lisbeth, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

He turned the light on, and I winced, covering my face with the crook of my arm. I was shaking and kept repeating my mantra.

“Where are your pills?” he asked.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t break the mantra. I had to keep going. This was the way to beat the panic attack. I’d done it before. I was going to do it again. “I am not having a panic attack. It was just a bad dream. I am not having a panic attack. It was just a—”

He gently pressed his finger to my lips and said, “Shhhh, you’re fine. Breathe, Lisbeth. Just breathe. Like that, you see? Good. Shhhh. Breathe.” He smiled and gently stroked my hair. “I will get your meds.” Although he spoke in a soothing voice, there was a raspy edge to it. I liked it. I concentrated on that calming sound of his voice.

“Are they in your backpack?”

I nodded once.

Ethan stood up and came back with the backpack. He dumped everything on the bed, and when he didn’t see the medicine container, he looked in the front pocket. There it was, together with two sticks of a chewing gum, and a pen.

“I’ll bring you some water. Will be right back. Do not get up. Just breathe slowly for me. Can you do that?”

I grabbed his hand. “Don’t go. Talk.”

He looked questioningly at me.

“Talk,” I repeated. “No matter what about.” I closed my eyes. My heart slowed down a notch. It was easier now. Ethan made it easier.

“There was a small village in Afghanistan, close to where we were stationed,” he started in a voice barely above whisper. “They raised some skinny goats there, mostly for milk. That milk was the best I’ve ever had in my life. But really
the best
milk came from this funny-looking goat owned by an old woman. I would always bring her a little gift—a notepad, a pair of socks, a bar of dark chocolate.” He smiled. His gaze seemed unseeing, watching something that nobody else could see.

I realized I was still clutching onto his hand, so I let go, embarrassed.

Ethan turned his face back to me. For a fleeting moment, he looked surprised, disappointed even. But then it was gone, and he continued, “One day, the woman asked for a tube of toothpaste. She wanted specifically the Sensodyne. I was amazed how she even knew the brand name, until I saw that she had it written down in English. The note read: SENSODYNE. A TOOTHPASTE FOR SENSITIVE TEETH. She must’ve gotten it from another American soldier.”

“Did you bring her that toothpaste?” I asked.

He smiled and nodded. “Yep, sure did. She was very happy, pointing to the goat and speaking in her native language, which I didn’t understand. I got curious though, when she kept pointing to that goat. I managed to let her know that I didn’t understand, so she motioned for me to follow her.” He closed his eyes and shook his head, grinning.

“What?”

“She wanted to brush the goat’s teeth with Sensodyne. Actually, she did, and I watched the whole thing. It was something to behold.”

“You can’t be serious.” I propped myself up on my elbow and realized that my panic attack completely ended. I felt almost normal again. What a relief.

“I am. She really cleaned the goat’s teeth. She would put the toothpaste on a small rug, wrap it around her finger, and, holding the goat tight by its neck, she would rub the Sensodyne onto the animal’s teeth. Then she would quickly wipe its teeth with another wet cloth.”

“And the goat stood still for that?” I couldn’t believe such a crazy tale.

“Not really, but it didn’t freak out as it should.” He shrugged. “It was a strange animal.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Yep. I wonder if the milk from that goat tasted so much better because its teeth were clean.” He chuckled.

I laughed too. I imagined a grinning goat, its teeth sparkling, like in a Sensodyne commercial. The visual was so funny that I couldn’t stop laughing until the tears prickled my eyes. “This is the most hilarious story I’ve heard in a long time!”

“Oh, I could tell you some crazy stuff you would never believe.”

I wiped my eyes and blinked a few times. Then I remember why Ethan was here. “I’m so sorry. I woke you up and freaked you out too.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I wasn’t sleeping. Glad you’re better though. Ready to go back to sleep?”

“I’ll try.” I turned onto my side, hugging the pillow and looking in front of me. I could see Ethan from the corner of my eye.

“Good,” he said in that deliciously hoarse voice and quickly put everything back into my backpack. “Look, if you... if this happens again, just knock on this wall.” He pointed to the wall behind my headboard. “This separates our bedrooms, and I don’t sleep much. I read into the wee hours, so no worries if you need any help.”

“Okay,” I said quietly. “Thank you, Ethan. I’m such a burden.”

“Nonsense.” He stood up and walked to the door. He turned around and added, “Never think of yourself as a burden. We all need help from time to time. Such is life.

––––––––

I
lied down on top of the covers and opened my book. Flipping the pages, I tried to find the spot at which I stopped reading when I heard Lisbeth scream and ran to her bedroom. But I couldn’t concentrate on the book. My thoughts kept going back to her. So I switched the bedside lamp off and draped my arm over my eyes, hoping to fall asleep.

A while later—maybe ten minutes, or maybe thirty—I was still awake, thinking of how scared Lisbeth was. I’ve seen such expressions way too many times to count on the Afghani women and children’s faces. The fear, the uncertainty of tomorrow, the confusion... it was all in Lisbeth’s eyes, and there wasn’t much anyone could do to ease her anxiety now. Not until her pursuers were caught, or better yet—dead.

I turned the lamp back on and pulled my M9 from the bedside table drawer. I normally wouldn’t keep the gun loaded, but I decided to be prepared now. It was a beautiful piece. Jack had the same 9mm Beretta. We often went to the shooting range to keep them in good use. I could only hope I wouldn’t have to use it to shoot any other target than the paper ones at Karl’s Range.

The gun went back inside the drawer, which I promptly locked. The small lock didn’t provide a lot of safety, but it had to do this time around. It was better than nothing.

I switched the light off and went to the window. The moon made the scenery almost creepy, with its cold, silver light reflecting off the quiet water. A few small clouds surrounded the moon, as if threatening to choke it with their soft bodies. The peacefulness of the daytime continued through the night, as it always did here. So what was it that bothered me tonight? I crossed my arms against my chest and kept looking out there.

Half an hour later I decided to give sleep another try. I slid under the covers and closed my eyes. The cabin was quiet, and I could only hear the rustling of the trees outside. The wind got stronger, as it often did at night. I thought about Lisbeth, sleeping in the next room. Only a thin wall separated us. Her bed was pushed against it, as it was mine. We were practically just inches apart.

That thought was a mistake. My drowsiness gave way to desire, and I grunted when my groin went hot. My boxers pressed unnervingly against my awakened cock. I tore them off, hoping to relieve the discomfort. But now the softness of the sheets made me think of a woman’s delicate skin against mine. And not any woman’s... Lisbeth’s. The memory of her hand clasping mine came rushing through my mind. My cock was rigid, and I had to do something to release the furious tension or there was no hope for sleep tonight.

I closed my eyes and slipped my arm under the covers, until my hand wrapped around my raging hardness. My mouth opened and my breath came forcefully in and out. Lying on my back, I tried to imagine Anne Fisher kneeling between my legs, sucking me off. She had a perfect mouth for it. But I could only see Lisbeth’s lips wrapped tightly around my cock, her eyes dreamily raised to mine, her head bobbing up and down, her mouth sucking.

I tightened my hand over my length and started sliding it up and down, first slowly, and then quicker and quicker. My breathing became labored, and my teeth clenched in response to this sweet agony. I thrust my hips, imagining Lisbeth’s long, lean legs and arms enclosing around me, pulling me in and out of her hot, wet pussy. No, I wanted her handcuffed to the bed, pretend-play she was my captive, fighting against the restraints. The possibilities were endless. I would have her any way I wanted, giving her more pleasure than she’s ever known.

God, I wanted to fuck her so badly. This wasn’t the time to feel bad or remind myself that I had to keep her safe and protected; or that she had to stay completely off limits. This was the time to fantasize. A little fantasy won’t hurt anyone, but it would help me. I badly needed release.

I threw the covers off and pumped my cock with my hand, moaning quietly. I wanted to scream, feeling the raging orgasm approach. Faster... faster... faster... now! My eyes squeezed tight, and a loud groan escaped me when the seed shot out. The violent release shook my whole body. Oh, yes, that was what I needed. But I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to keep going. I wanted more, much more.

Sweat dripped from my temples. It also collected on my chest and stomach. My underarms and the areas under my knees were damp too. I wiped the sperm off my abs with my discarded boxers and stood up, heading for the shower. My cock was still hard and bobbed against my stomach. I tried to ignore the fact that I was still aroused, almost ready to go again.

Right before I opened my bedroom door, I remembered Lisbeth. Not that I forgot about her even for a moment. That was impossible. But she shouldn’t see me like this—still rock-hard and completely naked. Or should she? Damn, of course not!

I quietly closed the door and pulled the sheet off the bed. It had to do. I wished so badly there was another bathroom upstairs, even though I never brought female company here. But when my family visited, that single, shared bathroom was always a problem.

Trying not to make a noise, I locked myself in and dropped the sheet onto the floor. I turned the water on in the shower and realized that Lisbeth was recently here, bathing. That didn’t help with calming down my desire. Instead, it surged through me with renewed strength. I closed my eyes. She was so close... maybe she felt the same... maybe we could... no, that could never happen! I didn’t bring Lisbeth here to have my way with her, no matter how tempting it was. I had to make my hungry dick understand that.

The only way to keep my hands—and my mind—off her was to masturbate again, to get rid of the nagging need. I picked up the soap and immediately thought that she used it to wash herself. God, this was too much. I lathered up my hard cock and pumped it fast, leaning against the shower wall with my other hand. Water ran down my back, caressing my skin like a lover’s lips. Like Lisbeth’s lips...

I was getting close. It felt so damn good. Not as good as the real thing. It never did. The real thing... a woman... I needed a woman so badly... maybe in a few days... Anne Fisher or Rita... there were always willing ladies... no, I didn’t want any of them! I wanted Lisbeth. Only her!

A vision of her on her knees in front of me, with her wrists bound behind her back and a scarf tied over her eyes, her mouth tight around my length, her head bobbing up and down... oh, yes! Serving me, submitting to me... I threw my head back and groaned in a primal need.

“Lisbeth,” I whispered.

Water ran over my upturned face and throat, down to my chest, cascading down onto my groin and my fist clenched over my wild-with-need cock. The release should come now. I worked it hard, unable to stop, to wait much longer. I wanted an orgasm... I wanted it... nothing else mattered... faster... faster... God, faster, harder, yes—harder!

The sperm shot out, bringing me over the edge, and I moaned, unable to stop the sound of an incredible pleasure. I watched the white, creamy substance mix with water and run down the drain. It kept coming, and I kept panting and grinding my teeth. I hated it. I loved it. No, I hated it, because it wasn’t the real thing. I never had to masturbate. A simple text or a quick phone call would always be enough to get a willing mouth and pussy.

I stood in the shower for a long time, numb and spent; maybe even satisfied, at least on a very primal, physical level. What else did I want? Wasn’t it what I was always content with—an orgasm?

I returned to bed, listening for any sounds that would indicate Lisbeth was awake. But the cabin was completely quiet. She was asleep.