Stolen September: A Military Romance

She rolls around in the bed like she can’t quite wake up. “What time is it?”

A glance to the nightstand clock registers the morning hour of four thirty. I chuckle because I gave her an extra half hour of sleep before digging in again.

“I’ll be quick as a buzz, Honeybee, promise.” I crawl up her body, laying my weight over hers to settle in the warmth. There’s nothing like feeling my wife flush against me, skin to skin. Her chest expands as she puffs a breath of sweet-smelling air.

B

ea grouses and I snicker in the dark, continuing to feel my way over her. I shift her legs open with my knee, dropping my hard length against her belly before moving downward to press up inside her slick heat. Her hands grasp my shoulders, slowing me down. I want her badly, but I want her to remember this and miss it when I’m gone.

“Since you’re here, don’t be hasty,” she pants with a sassy retort.

“My girl likes it slow?” I ask, kissing her lips while resting my head in the crook of her neck. My hips undulate and I fill her with my length.

“Your girl is a little sore.” She’s pouting, but she’s meeting me with each cant of our bodies, eager and willing.

“I miss you too much when I’m gone.” I admit this on a broken whisper, feeling the confession in the root of my soul. Marines are tough. I’m tough, but the emotional toll wrecks me when we’re separated by my loyalty and duty to country.

“Then don’t go, Tank. Don’t leave me here alone.”

She’s trying to be strong, but we’re both at odds in this new territory. Was it wrong of me to marry her? I’ll fucking lose it if she starts bawling, because I’ll be right there with her.

I force the pain away with pleasure, kissing my way up her body and leaving little bites as I go. I hope it leaves marks, like a tattoo telling a narrative of how much I love her, miss her, don’t want to be parted from her because the truth is, I’m a selfish asshole for wanting both my girl and my career.

“You know that’s not how the military works.” I lick her barely rounded soft belly where her hip meets in a sloping indentation of skin and bone. I use my hands to memorize every curve of her so that when I’m asleep at night I might imagine her next to me, under me, being inside her sweet heat.

I continue to tease and snack away on her delectable body until she’s squirming, panting, on the cusp of an orgasm so strong I’ll place bets that she’ll see stars. She turns quiet, fingers gripping my head, nails scraping the military-grade fuzz. It’s the press of her fingertips that advises me how close she is to losing it. I love when my Honeybee goes postal, bucking, whimpering, all out clutching me close to her body like she’ll never get enough of me the way I’ll never get my fill of her. It’s reaffirming in a way that saying I love you can’t quite measure.

I still my body and let her ride me from below. Her legs wrap around my waist as she grinds upward, establishing a deeper connection on my cock.

“Henry.” My name melts off her shuddering lips and I know if I look at her she’ll have this overwhelmed expression bordering on those bawling tears that undo me. I’ve fucked my girl into a state of an emotional hurricane and I’m not a damn bit sorry.

“Was it good, baby?” I kiss her slack mouth, letting her slide off my dick in a puddle of our combined juices. I know it was good. We’re messy, love-drunk, and her hitched breath tells me all I need to know. “Will you miss me while I’m gone?”

“I’ll miss you like Hans misses a stormtrooper.”

Ah, there’s my girl. It’s hard to suppress my chuckle when I want to rage and cry at the time slipping through our fingers. I’ll be back soon, but I doesn’t change the time I pissed away now that I got her back. I do my best to reassure her.

“I’ll be able to call you this time. You know, that right?”

A huff in the dark followed by her sigh lets me know where she stands. “It’s going to be hard.”

“Hard like before?”

“Harder, because I know you’re out there. Harder because now I’ll be waiting with the expectation of you coming home.”

What she doesn’t say is her fear of me not coming home. I swallow back the knot in my throat. Yeah, definitely harder. I agree with her and plan to call her as much as I can.

“We can get through the next thirteen weeks. I bet you’ll be tougher than I will.”

“You realize that we’ll have spent more time apart than together.” Her fingers trace over my face slowly. She follows the cords in my neck before wrapping her arms around me, not letting go.

Grabbing her hand, I nip at her fingertips playfully and attempt to joke. “Some of the best relationships operate that way. You’ll miss me so much you’ll never get mad at me.”

“Tank, that’s not even funny.” Her face looks about as serious as a heart attack, and really, who could blame her. It’s a piss-poor joke and I know it.

I hope she likes the stuffed bears I got her, custom dressed to look like us. I wanted to get her something big, but I saw the bears in the flower shop and thought she might like them. They’re wrapped up for later; right now, I want to ravish my wife so she doesn’t forget me while I’m gone.

“You’re coming to graduation.” It’s not a question. I pepper her face with kisses. My parents and younger brother will be there, but I want my wife to be there. I want her to run into my open arms like a Hallmark fucking movie moment.