Unattainable (Undeniable, #3)(101)
"This night is to Sergeant Alejandro Cruz, staff sergeant select!" Riley shouted, throwing back another shot. I took another, but winced as the burning liquid made its way down. I was damn near sure that after fifteen of these little shits, my insides were being singed with every drop.
Sergeant Christopher Riley, or Riley as we called him, was one of the guys I had known the longest. I'd met him in boot camp and instantly hated him. He was loud, goofy, and always in my space. I'd grown up fighting guys like him, but after our brawl in boot camp one night after the lights went out, I grew to respect him. He was a skinny white boy, too pretty to be a Marine, I thought, and even though I kicked his ass he held his own and made me work for it. After that night, we actually forged a friendship, eventually becoming roommates.
"I don't think I can take much more. Fuck, you guys are killing me," I stammered out, half drunk, half mortified. I didn't want to bitch, but I was beginning to feel the effects of my limits being reached, and it wasn't shaping up to be pretty.
"Fuck that. We're clearing this place out tonight!" Jensen yelled, shoving another shot into my face.
Brandon Jensen, Jensen for short, was one of the first guys I met when I checked in to the comm school. I instantly liked him, making him my roommate as well. He was a lot like me. He loved the Corps, and it was evident in the way he carried himself. He, unlike a lot of the guys I had run into over the course of my six-year career, believed in the rules and regulations and set out to uphold them at every turn. I quickly realized that looking at Jensen was a lot like looking at myself only he was taller, part Mexican with some black mixed in, and probably a little more good-looking than I was. Chicks seemed to flock to him, and while I caught my fair share, Jensen was like a * magnet. They lined up, but he was always selective, which made me respect him even more.
"Don't * out, Cruz. You've earned this shit," Smith chimed in, patting me on the back.
"Yeah. Plus, you're paying for this, so you better drink up," Newsome threw out, causing me to turn my drunken gaze on him.
Part of me wanted to lunge across the table at him, yet another part wanted me to sit my ass down since my head was spinning out of control by this point. All liquor and no food was making me feel like a lightweight. I hated it, but I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep up the tough-guy charade.
"Don't pay him any attention," Jensen said, helping me into a seat and shoving a beer into my hand. "He's paying tonight. He just doesn't know it yet."
I sat back in the chair and sipped the beer in my hand. Being overly intoxicated to the point of almost blacking out left me no other choice but to be a bystander in this very crowded bar.
Smith and Newsome were two peas in the same pod. Caleb Smith and Andrew Newsome were both from some small podunk town in Nebraska and joined the Corps together. After being sworn into the buddy program and going through boot camp, Marine Combat Training, and comm school together, they were separated but finally made their way back to one another in the form of comm school instructors. They were a couple of bullshitters but pulled chicks just like the rest of us. Their beach boy looks had me believing they were from California or Florida when I first met them, but they convinced me they were from Nebraska and we've been friends ever since.
"Check out those girls over there," Riley pointed out. He wasn't near as wasted as I was, but he was still completely f*cking awkward. I tried my hardest to focus in the direction that he was pointing in, but all I could make out were a couple of groupies. Riley laughed and smiled, hitting me on the shoulder, asking me if I wanted one.
"Fuck no," I quickly responded, throwing back more of the beer. There was no amount of alcohol that could make me want to get inside of anything he was pointing at. One of them had a tattoo that I could have sworn had the rank and last name of another f*cking guy. Groupie if I ever saw one.
"You good here, man?" Jensen asked. Some random Asian chick was wrapped around his arm, standing behind him.
"Yeah, I'm good. Go on."
With Jensen's caramel-brown skin and those pretty-boy green eyes, women were always on his ass. He didn't discriminate and, unlike sorry-ass Riley, Jensen's chick looked respectable.
Some Jay-Z song came blaring through the speakers. While I bobbed my head, humming lowly to the words, two chicks I had never seen before caught my eye as they sauntered out onto the dance floor. They didn't look like groupies, but you could never be sure. One was a well-built Latina with long thick brown hair, full pouty lips, sporting a warm golden complexion. She had a banging-ass body, and while her jeans hugged in all the right spots, it was her friend that caught my eye. The long legs on this f*cking blonde beauty were on full display. Thoughts of throwing those damn things around my waist and pounding my way into her were beginning to consume me, making me suddenly sweat like a f*cking pig. Was it the alcohol, or my dreams of f*cking the shit out of Blondie that had my shirt soaked and was making me lose all of my bearings? She danced with her friend, swaying those petite hips, and making me think of a million and one ways that I could use them for my satisfaction.
Her smile lit up the room, the innocence behind it smothering me, and at one point I believe she turned her head and looked at me, making my cock twitch beneath my jeans.
I bit down on my bottom lip…hard. After gulping down the rest of the beer I was holding, I rubbed my sweaty hand over my close-cut hair, then adjusted myself as nonchalantly as I possibly could, which meant I was overly obvious with it, but I didn't give a f*ck. Blondie looked at me and made me all sorts of uncomfortable. I needed relief.