Duty(12)

Today, instead of meeting all the way out by the ski slope, we meet near Michie Stadium. Aaron's a few minutes late, which isn't all that unusual, but for some reason, it pisses me off today. “Hey,” he says, still with that same smile that he always has when he sees me. “You look stressed.”

“Bad day at work,” I tell him tersely, strapping on my helmet. “Ready to roll?”

“Sure,” he says, putting on his sunglasses. “I was thinking a ride out to Camp Buckner?”

“Fine.” We take off, but as we leave main post and turn left, heading down the highway toward Buckner, I keep hearing that wolf whistle in my head and his gloat that I’ll have to call him Sir. I'm getting angrier and angrier, and I start pushing the pace. The route out to Buckner isn't too bad for a bicyclist, but instead of just taking it easy, I'm leaning over my handlebars, pumping hard. I hear Aaron call out behind me, but I ignore him, pushing harder.

I know what I'm trying to outrun. I'm trying to outrun the frustration that I feel inside me, that I'm stuck as a PFC while getting wolf whistles from *s who are going to be Lieutenants. I'm angry that I want to be more. That I want to have the chance to be more than just a file clerk. I'm frustrated that I want a real relationship, that I want a chance to do things . . . and in trying to do so, I'm breaking a rule. A stupid rule, made in the days when things were different in the world, in our society. I mean, how am I supposed to be unduly influenced by Aaron when I can't even be in his unit? The odds of him becoming my commanding officer are tiny.

I come down the last hill and see the entrance to Camp Buckner up ahead. I hang a right, heading down the road, taking the last half-mile to the main Camp turnaround point hard and fast. I can hear Aaron keeping up behind me, and when I make the turn, I screech to a halt. He's cut me off, and our bikes nearly hit as he yanks his bike directly in front of mine.

“What the hell?” I seethe, hopping off my bike. “You trying to crash?”

“No,” Aaron says, putting his kickstand down and getting off his bike. He's angry, and his eyes are sparkling as he confronts me. “I'm trying to figure out what the hell is up with you today! Jesus, you've been pedaling like you're trying out for the Tour de France!”

“If you can't keep up . . .” I huff, and Aaron rips off his helmet, slamming it to the ground.

“It's not that!” he yells, stepping closer until he's barely inches from me, his hands trembling. “You're obviously angry about something, Lindsey. Was it the weekend? Are you pissed at me?”

“No!” I yell, pushing him away, but it's me who takes a few steps back, stumbling until I nearly fall. “Yes! No! I . . . dammit, Aaron!”

I'm starting to cry. I'm so angry and pissed off with all these emotions coming to a head. He takes my hand, pulling me close. His lips find mine, and we kiss, hard at first. His lips mash against mine, and I'm pulling at his head, devouring his mouth and tongue as I hold him close.

He reaches down, picking me up and carrying me, and I'm treated to see just how strong he is. I knew his legs were strong from riding, but he lifts me like I weigh nothing and carries me toward the lake. At first I think he's going to carry me to the freezing cold water, but then we're at the sand, and he's pulling at the zipper of his coat, pulling it off and dropping it to the grass below. “Lindsey . . .”

“Yes,” I say immediately, our kiss softening somewhat. There's still a lot of passion, and I turn around in his arms, letting him undo my top while I grind my ass back against his cock. He's hard already, and with the heat of our bodies, I'm sweating from the ride and his body pulling me back against him as he pulls my jacket off and cups my breasts, kissing and sucking on the curve of my neck. “Yes . . .”

We tumble to the ground, turning and kissing each other as he pulls me on top, my legs spreading to straddle his waist. His hands knead my ass, and he's moaning, trembling. I can tell it's been a while for him, but then again, it's been a long time for me too. This isn't going to be some endurance event, but I don't care. I just want him to pound me into submission.

We fumble, pushing and sliding our pants down, one of the drawbacks of bike pants I'm frustrated to discover, and finally, I roll off, pushing my pants down and getting on my hands and knees. “Give it to me!”

Aaron holds my waist tight as he drives in deep, both of us grunting at the force. It hurts a little. Like I said, it’s been a while, but it's a good hurt. He stretches me painfully, making me gasp. He stops, and I look back, shaking my head. “Keep going.”

I'm wet, which helps as he pulls back and slides in again, this time slower, and the pain dissolves in the wave of pleasure that washes out and fills my body. My gasp turns into a needy moan, and I push back into him, the warmth filling me inside and out as he thrusts again and again. We're going fast. I knew we couldn't last long, but I need this.

His cock is wonderful now, and wave after wave of ecstasy washes over me as he takes me. Not too hard, but not soft either. He drives into me, angling his hips so that the head of his cock is hitting just the right spot, and the fire builds hard inside me until I'm gasping, trembling on the edge. “Aaron . . .”

With a primal growl, he pulls me tight, his cock swelling deep inside me. He's on the edge too, and I feel the orgasm coiling deep in my stomach, big and needed. I want to feel his cock explode, and I dig into the sand, pushing back, squeezing my * around him. Aaron gasps, and suddenly, he's there, slamming into me hard as he comes hard and hot, blasting inside me.