At the same time, the best friend licks his fingers and scissors her lips open from the front. It’s amazing. They’re going to do it. She knows it. She wants it.
Dropping her head back so that her eyes half close, she seems to almost go limp between them like a ragdoll as they both breach her orifices at the same time. One in her ass, one in her pussy. Simultaneous and outrageous. Huge, throbbing, almost brutal.
I match my rocking to theirs, knowing just how long it takes for her to reach a shrieking, shattering orgasm. That’s what I want. Right there.
And I find it. Yet it still blows me away. White lights fracture in front of my eyes, splintering and then raining down in front of me like fireworks glittering against the night sky before dropping back to the earth in spent ash.
After it’s over, another video automatically plays, but I don’t want to see it. I just close the laptop and let the images linger on the inside of my eyelids like burned-in negatives.
Maybe Mona is right. Maybe I am kind of freaky now. Maybe porn has ruined me. But nothing that feels this good can be 100 percent wrong.
Chapter 4
Cass
Scanning the email again, I let the relevant words jump out at me. Offer… Service… New York… Promotion? Sort of.
If I am being honest, half of me knows this is the right thing to do. After all, it’s not every day that your run-of-the-mill paratrooper gets a chance to rise to leadership like this. I mean, coordinating all of the National Guard in the Northeast? Ensuring border and coastal safety from Maine down to the Carolinas? It’s amazing.
But the other half of me thinks that another tour of duty is the way to go. Or as many tours as it takes. It’s not just the rush of flying by night into enemy territory, strapping up, then leaping out into the black night air, silently falling to the earth behind enemy lines. Executing the mission with deadly efficiency. Returning a hero, even if you can’t tell anyone about it.
I mean, that’s the real American dream, right?
But I know that in reality, that dream has an expiration date on it. Eventually anyone who is any good gets promoted to leadership. And I am very, very good. One of the best. It is sad that means getting grounded while the people who report to me still get to fly, still get to jump.
If I took the job in New York it would be domestic training missions instead of enemy combat, but at least I would still be jumping. I would still be doing some good a few thousand feet in the sky.
Growling to myself, I snap the laptop closed. I don’t have to make this decision tonight. I don’t have to make this decision for a week. I’m sure the answer will come to me. Retire gracefully and take a leadership position at the oldest military base in the country, or continue signing up for tours until they put me out to pasture like any other soldier?
That is the question.
But not for today.
Will appears in my doorway, blocking the whole damn thing. He stands with his forearms on the top of the door frame, flexing as he leans into the room.
“Can I help you with something?” I ask.
“I’m ready to go,” he informs me. “It’s stuffy in here. Let’s go get a beer.”
Nodding, I realize that’s probably the best plan for the evening. It’s Friday, it’s hot, and staring at emails is not going to magically create an answer for me.
“Yeah, all right,” I shrug, standing. Glancing in the mirror, I seem to be decently dressed. Jeans. Clean T-shirt. Clean shave. Just got my haircut this week.
“Burgers?” Will asks.
He looks me up and down as though he is also glancing in the mirror. Since we are twins, sometimes it feels like looking at my own reflection. But we’re not exactly the same. I like action. Will likes plans. I like jumping. Will likes mapping out the strategy with little circles and triangles to indicate the different players in the op.
After high school, we both did a couple of years of college. Our dad wanted us to go right into the military, but our mother thought more schooling would make us better soldiers, in a way. More worldly. She said that education certainly couldn’t hurt a soldier.
But after two years, we had both had enough. The urge to serve was just too strong. Besides, growing up in North Carolina, you’re constantly surrounded by the most elite of armed forces. Paratroopers. Eighty-second Airborne. Special Forces. They say that when the president picks up the red phone, the phone rings at Fort Bragg. And as far as I know, that is true. If it ever came to that, our nation would be in good hands.
Will got a two-year degree without even trying. It seemed like just showing up was enough for them to give him anything he wanted. That seemed to satisfy our mother, and she allowed us to enlist even though I hadn’t gotten as far as Will did.
And then he even kept going. Now he has a bachelors degree in American history. He’s a regular brainiac, practically a scholar of military strategy.
I am a better shot, though. Just saying.
So, despite being a man of few words, Will is actually the brains of this operation. He even outranks me, but if he is smart he doesn’t bring that up too often.