Stolen September: A Military Romance

A knock at the door sends Bruiser into a frenzy, and I don’t have time to get him in his crate to open the door. It swings open and I recognize the fatigues bent over rolling on the ground with the dog. Barking and swirls of camo maneuver in the entryway until Bruiser takes off to find his extra-large dino bone. You might say that was Tank’s deployment gift to the dog.

“Honeybee.” He stands up, blocking out the light from the open door, and with a sharp, stinging cry, I launch myself in his arms. I can’t help the flood of emotions that overwhelm me, and as much as I’m trying to meld myself into his arms, I’m pushing back so I can inspect that he’s come home fully intact. He lets me go and I back away to take in this man I love more than anything in this world. His face looks tired and travel weary, while the muscles of his body, built before his absence, seem to have multiplied tenfold.

“Damn it, Tank!” I’m sniffling and look like an unmade hot mess. He’s always catching me off guard.

His foot kicks the door shut behind us as I’m backed up against the wall. His hand brushes back my loose hair as he tilts my chin up to his face. Thick fingers brush the fresh tears off my cheeks.

“Hey, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to come home to dinner cooking and my wife barefoot in a skimpy house dress. All that’s missing is for her to tell me she’s pregnant.” He’s hoisted me up in his arms again, hiking up my dress as I wrap my legs around his waist.

“You jerk. I’m not pregnant.” I bop him on the shoulder and get a ride as his abdominal muscles shake with laughter.

“I should hope not, little lady. You’d have some explaining to do.” He swats my butt playfully while carrying me into the kitchen. I’m settled on the countertop, where his hands travel up my legs to my hips under my dress.

“You’re home early. I’m happy.” I don’t care about getting all dolled up tomorrow to greet him. This is a million times better.

“You miss me?” he asks. Big oaf. What does he think I’ll say?

I jerk my head over his shoulder to Bruiser, who comes into the kitchen holding his dino bone, showing it off proudly. “I missed you about as much as Bruiser likes his daddy-bone.”

“Cute, Honeybee.” He chuckles, resting his head against mine. His hands don’t stop their exploration of my body and I sigh, content to feel his touch all over me.

“How’d you get back early?”

He grunts. “Classified.”

I pout, wondering if he’ll relent and tell me, but he never does with things like that. I don’t pry further and instead I run my fingers over his shoulders and scratch his fuzzy, shorn head.

“Tell me how your job is going.” Tank is deflecting. He doesn’t want to hear about how I hate doing data entry eight hours a day, five days a week, but it’s giving me something to do while he’s gone. I’m working on ways to find more of myself. He’s got his passion and I need to find mine. I don’t feel the same level of despondency as I did early on. I’ve connected with my girlfriends Kate and Hope from back home and we started an online book club. It’s fun posting pretty pictures of the books we love.

I push Tank back and hop off the counter, holding his hand. I pull him into my corner of the living room to show him my latest project.

“What’s this?” He pushes around my little table of objects and sees my small, refurbished MacBook pro.

“Kate, Hope, and I started a book club. I take pictures of the books we read and put them on my Instagram. I started writing a little. Who knows, maybe I’ll write a military romance book.”

“Romance, huh?” Tank gives me a look with a spark in his eyes that says I’m going to get a good fucking first, and then some romance. We haven’t had many deployments, but I sense this is the way of things. I don’t have any issues with an eager husband, except for missing him so damn much.

“Yeah, why don’t you give me some inspiration, big boy.” I tap his chest playfully.

Tank growls and gives chase. I scream a little and Bruiser joins in, barking loudly. I run up the stairs to our bedroom and don’t bother shutting the door.

Tank barrels in and Bruiser playfully nips at his pant leg, trying to pull him away from me.

“Oh no, Mommy is mine, you crazy mutt.” Tank guides Bruiser out of the bedroom and locks the door. My puppy whines outside and I don’t know who I feel sorry for.

“He’s going to bark and scratch,” I remind him, smirking. It’ll be the second door that needs replacing in this house, but I don’t think my husband looks overly concerned. In fact, he smiles like it’s a challenge.

His head dips

down, “More than you will, Honeybee?”

I roll my eyes, scoffing. “I don’t bark, Henry.” I’m backing away from him until my legs bump against the bedframe. I sit down and scoot back as Tank comes closer. He shucks his clothing off piece by piece. When his boots are off, he looks at me the way a lion studies its next meal. I shiver and lean back on my elbows, enticing Tank to do his worst. He stands between my legs and raises them up on the bed, parted. His hands reach for my silky panties and tug them off, tossing them over his shoulder as he pushes my dress up, exposing me to him. I shiver as if the room is cool. He licks his lips, edging closer to my center. Breath huffs from my lips as my hands fist the sheets.

So much for making the bed this morning when he taunts me.

“We’ll see, wife. We shall see.”