Duty(24)

I nod, stroking her hair as she swallows me again, and my fingers wrap through her hair, tightening slightly as she sends waves through my body. I hold her head gently, keeping her still as I begin to pump my cock in and out of her eager, loving mouth. Lindsey tugs lightly on my balls, not painful but keeping me from going too fast, guiding me higher and higher.

I give her everything. If this is the last night, if this is the last time, then I'm going to show her with my body what I can't tell her with my mouth. I love you, Lindsey. Can you feel it? The wave of pleasure that's building inside my belly, the explosion that's threatening inside me—that's for you.

I swell, and Lindsey hums around my cock, pushing me over the edge. I groan deeply, spurting thick and hard, filling her mouth. She takes it all, making sure to get every last drop before swallowing and looking up at me with a smile, waiting for me to react. I don’t hesitate, and I pull her up, taking her mouth and kissing her hard. Our tongues wrap around each other, and I’m not grossed out in the slightest. Eventually, I let her go, and she looks at me for a second, then smiles. “Why?”

“Because you asked for me to be the man of your dreams for one more night. I'm not afraid, and I want to share everything with you. We won't say that word, but I'm never going to be the same after this weekend. And I want to show you how much you mean to me.”

Lindsey strokes my face, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Come to bed with me . . . man of my dreams.”



“Are you sure?” I ask, standing with her outside the security gate of Newark Airport. My flight's in an hour, but I've already checked my bags through. All I've got is a paperback Neal Stephenson book and my wallet right now. There's really nothing left.

“I'm sure,” Lindsey says sadly. “Last night. This morning. They were incredible. Perfect. And the memories will help. But we know the truth, Aaron. Our moment of fantasy is over.”

“And what if I don’t want it to be over?” I ask in a whisper. I swore when I woke up this morning, her naked body nestled in my arms, that I wouldn’t make this harder than it needed to be. But now, I can't let her go. I don't want to let her go.

“Nor do I,” Lindsey says quietly. “But by the time we could see each other again, that Gray Line's going to be Blue. I won't have you risk everything you’ve worked so hard for. I care about you too much. Go on. Please. If we stay here much longer, I’m going to start crying.”

I lean in, and we kiss. One last time. It's tender and soft, everything I want to remember about her, and when our lips part, she's smiling too. “Goodbye, Aaron Simpson. Be well.”

Before things get out of hand, I turn and join the security line, forcing myself to face away from Lindsey for as long as I can. Finally, I turn around, but she's left already. That's probably for the best. But still, I wish I could have said goodbye.

I wish I could have said a lot of things.





Chapter 8





Lindsey





It's kinda nice, watching the fireworks over the Puget Sound. It's a lot different from any other way I've celebrated the Fourth of July, even if it is a bit lonely.

The grand finale starts, blast after blast going off over the water, and even though I'm miles away, I'm buffeted by the sounds that pepper the air. I feel bad for any PTSD vets in the area. They've got to be going through hell listening to that, so much like artillery or even machine gun fire. I can understand why there were safety notices on the radio as I drove into the area.

Mom and Dad don't understand why I insisted on driving to Washington a few days early, but at least they didn't say anything about it. I guess after having me hang around the house for a week more or less constantly moping, they figured that they'd ask their questions later. I'm glad for that, because right now, I'm not sure I could trust myself to give the answers that they need to hear.

The truth is, I miss him. Walking away from that security checkpoint before he could say goodbye was the hardest f*cking thing I've done in my entire life, and my last two weeks at the Academy before going on leave were pure hell. Twice, I found myself walking down by Central Post, not for work but just to be there, wishing he'd come around the corner by the library, his smile dazzling in the summer sun. I even ate a pizza at Grant Hall, or I tried to before the sadness made me leave. I couldn't eat another bite, knowing that even though I wanted to do nothing more than share the pizza with Aaron, we'd never be able to. I gave my half-pizza to some poor cadet who was stuck at the Academy doing summer school and walked out. Last semester, I looked up at Grant Barracks and wondered which window was Aaron's before leaving, trying not to cry.

I've been doing that a lot lately. More mornings than not, I've woken up to find that my pillow's a little damp, and I haven't even found the energy to ride my bike. It’s still strapped on the bike carrier on the back of my Honda.

The last of the fireworks goes off, and the silence reigns heavily over the water, except for the cheers of the crowd that's gathered lower near the shoreline while I'm up here in my hotel room. I know I could have checked into my unit early. They'd have just let me crash out until my official report date in two days, but I just didn't want to be near the Army for a little while.