Page 5 of Chill’s Chance

“Oh, I’m good at killing, too.” He says with a laugh. “But like you. Couldn’t afford college, needed to figure a few things out.”

“And have you?” I ask him. “Figured things out?” He gives me a look that dampens my panties. We may be discussing life choices, but the look he gives me tells me he very much wants to figure me out.

“Yeah, that I’m a lifer.” He admits. “Every time I consider opting out, I can’t see my future, so I stay in.”

I nod in understanding. The military is a different way of life. It has very little in common with the civilian world. The longer I serve, the less I see my life outside the service. “I get that.” I tell him. “Originally, I saw this as a five-year plan. My five years are up in eight months. I’m not sure what I’ll do then. I can’t really see myself sitting in classes or behind a desk.”

We laugh and joke about ‘civilian life’ as we polish off the bottle. Our talk includes several light touches and heated looks. When he leans toward me, I know I should lean back, but I can’t force myself to make that move. Instead, I give in to my cravings and attack his lips. He tastes like warm whiskey and sin and immediately I’m addicted.

I use my tongue to explore his mouth, moaning at the heat and the taste of him. My panties are so wet I’m sure he can smell my arousal. When we break apart, we pant as we stare into each other’s eyes. “We shouldn’t do this.” He says and I almost scream in frustration. “But I can’t stop.” He continues.

“Good.” I reply as I attack his lips again. I feel his hands pulling my tank top out of my pants, groaning when his warm, rough hands touch my skin. I shudder as the pleasure spikes through me. We break apart long enough for him to remove my shirt. Once he removes my bra, he leans back as his eyes devour my breasts. The hunger in his eyes is enough to make my nipples pebble. I cry out when he leans forward to drag his tongue and teeth across each one. My breasts are sensitive, but I get off on rough play. “Hard and fast.” I moan against his lips when he abandons my breasts to feast on my lips again.

He jolts back and, with his eyes locked on mine, strips. I hurry to do the same. As I watch him roll on the condom, I run my fingers against my clit, my eyes lock on his length. My body aches to feel that bad boy pounding inside me.

“You’re so fucking wet.” He growls, picking me up and sitting me on the table. He lines his cock against my entrance with one hand while holding my neck with his other. Leaning his forehead against mine, he slides all the way in until he bottoms out. We both moan in pleasure as his heat pierces my core. “Like a fucking glove.” He murmurs as he pulls back before slamming forward again. He sets a brutal pace, but my body is ready and able to take it.

I grab hold of his shoulders, digging my nails into the skin until he hisses from the pain. He sucks on my nipple while using his thumb to work my clit. I feel my orgasm grow. As my channel flutters around him, he increases the pace. The only sound is our labored breath and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, that is, until we both roar through our orgasms.

“Fuck me.” I say as he pulls out of me.

“Give him a minute.” He replies with a grin as he removes the condom from his softening cock, making me laugh.

Suddenly, hands hold me down as pain rips through me. Hot breath, stinking of whiskey, floods over my face, suffocating me as the words ‘cunt’ and ‘whore’ echo in my head. I struggle, but can’t break free. When I open my mouth to scream, a dusty hand tasting of sweat and sand stops the sound. Tears pour down my face as a savage monster splits my body in two, taking from me what isn’t his to take. Hours or maybe days go by before I feel the weight leave me and I lay broken and bleeding. My tears are gone, my body empty, and I’ll never be the same.

My eyes fly open as I slam out of sleep. Clutching the sheet to my chest, I struggle to fight the nausea. But I can’t stop it. I fly into the bathroom and land hard on my knees as the whiskey comes back up, burning my throat. The smell makes my stomach roil again and I wretch until there is nothing left. I crawl into a ball and cry for the woman I used to be, cursing Hunter and wishing he’d never come back into my life.

During the night, I crawl back into bed and get a few more hours of sleep. I wake feeling worse than I did before going to sleep. But I force myself to get up and shower. While I don’t normally waste time on my hair and makeup, I make an effort today because the image I see in the mirror is frightening.

“Rough night?” Puma asks as I take a seat next to him.

I cringe knowing that I can’t hide much from my President.

“Yeah. Had a hard time sleeping.” I tell him as I accept a plate of eggs and toast from Showtime. “You’re a goddess.” I tell her when she hands me an oversized cup of coffee.

“I know.” She replies with a grin as she removes the plates in front of Puma and Alisa.

“Where’s Elina?” I ask Alisa. If there is one person who can make the day better, it is Alisa’s daughter, Elina.

“My father and Desdemona took her and Mal out for breakfast and then to the Children’s Museum.” Alisa says.

“I’m surprised you two are out of bed.” I comment with a smirk. Ever since Alisa caved and agreed to be Puma’s Old Lady, the two of them have spent more time in bed than out of it.

“God, I think he’s trying to kill me.” Alisa says, grinning at a smug Puma. “But what a way to go.” After they kiss, Alisa stands up. “The art auction was a tremendous success, but I still have work to do now that’s over. And I need to prepare for the next event.”

“And we have a kid to find.” Puma says, glancing over at Hunter, who is delivering plates of food to Wildcard and Spark.

“Do you have a plan?” I ask him.

He glances at me. “Of course.”

CHAPTER FOUR: HUNTER

I can see the exhaustion on Chill’s face when she sits down. Before I can grab her a plate of food, I see Showtime already setting one down in front of her. So I return to serving the rest of the members as part of my prospect duties. I may not be prospecting like the others, but in exchange for their help, I’m willing to do whatever they need me to do.

After everyone eats and we’ve cleared the tables, I join the other prospects in eating my breakfast. I watch Chill and Puma talking. Every once in a while she’ll glance my way and I know they’re talking about me and hopefully about their plan to find my son.

“Hunter. Max.” Puma calls just as I take the last bite of toast. I stand up and grab my plate, but Showtime takes it from me.

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