Page 56 of The Games We Play
Her words make me chuckle. “That’ll be the first and last time you ever say that to me unless you want me to spank your ass.”
And even as she tries to deny it, I feel her pussy clench around me. Not going to tell her I can read her body like a book already.
She lays her head on my chest, in no hurry to move.
Sunlight bathes us both.
She slides her hand to cup my throat, stroking her thumb over my skin. I slide my hand up and down her back, drawing circles with my fingertips. My head is silent, the tension gone from my body. And for a moment, I’m Tyler again. Just a guy dating a girl.
“You okay, Iris?”
“Mm-hmm,” she mumbles sleepily.
“Gotta move so I can deal with this condom, but I’ll be right back.”
She lifts off me slowly while I hold the base of my dick, and then she flops beside me. Her small tits make me smile as they wobble once, then stop.
In the bathroom, I catch sight of my reflection. Ink covers my body. My personal battles and military ones could play out on my skin like a storybook, if she wanted to read them. But more importantly, I’m smiling.
I deal with the condom, then walk back into the bedroom. She’s crawled beneath the sheets. “Is it nap time?” she asks.
It’s three o’clock in the afternoon; I barely sleep at night, let alone during the day, and I had plans to take her fishing down at the lake. Instead, I climb into bed and tuck her against my side. “Yeah. It’s nap time.”
18
IRIS
Someone is shouting, the sound terrifying.
The warm covers are ripped off me, and I’m suddenly exposed.
Forcing my eyes open, I grasp for the sheet, desperate for something to cover my body. My only thought is that someone has found us, but I don’t know who.
But then I see Spark sitting up in bed, his face in his hand as he sucks in air.
I place my hand on his clammy back, and he jumps but doesn’t turn to look at me. “Sorry,” he says gruffly before climbing out of bed, whipping his jeans off the floor, and disappearing into the hallway.
It takes me a moment to get my own heart rate under control, but something in the hunched shoulders and defeated look on his face makes me want to find him. I slip on the pajamas I brought with me and find him in the kitchen making coffee.
Uncertain that caffeine is such a good idea when it’s already close to dinner, I place my palm over his hand and stop him from grabbing the carafe. Stepping up so close our bodies touch, I place a soft kiss on his back, over a tattoo of a man’s name and a date. I pay attention to his ink for the first time in detail, and I see that around a huge Iron Outlaws tattoo, there are small vignettes dedicated to other people. And the date is the same for all of them.
A guitar, a rose, and a woman’s name, Aniyah.
A torn flag, a fleur-de-lis, and a paw print.
I don’t know many veterans, but I read enough to know they don’t all come back home as they left. Some physically, some mentally. And tears sting my eyes.
“I’m here for you,” I say quietly.
“Just a bad dream,” he says gruffly, shaking free from my hold. He yanks the fridge open, grabs a beer, pops it open, and drains half before he turns to face me.
I see Tyler disappear and Spark appear before my very eyes. The lost and vacant look leaves his eyes, he straightens his shoulders, and he breathes deeply.
“You want to tell me about it?”
Spark shakes his head. “It’s enough I have to dream about it. Should we make a start on dinner?”
I tilt my head, force him to look at me for a minute longer. It’s uncomfortable. We both know it’s something more. “You need me to forget what happened and make dinner with you?”
