Authors: Aisha Brooks
ROMANCE: Billion Dollar Question (BWWM Billionaire Bad Boy Romance) (African American Alpha Mail Order Bride New Adult) (59 page)
This deliciously dirty story is a part of Julia Becker’s super-charged, highly lewd collection of love and lust, written in 2015. Those who attempt to steal any part of this goldmine and take it as their own risk being a fiery, hot death from a hunk bearing copyright notices—and she’s not about to play with you.
This is a work of fiction—although we wish that people like this really existed, it’s nothing more than a figment of a very, very overactive imagination. Any resemblance to someone you know, a place you love or a thing you hold dear to your heart is nothing more than a craving in your heart that these carnal desires and actions were true!
It goes without saying that this book oozes with erotic sex appeal, and is filled to the rafters with a smorgasbord of acts that you certainly wouldn’t tell your grandmother about. Bodice-ripping, panty-dropping and glasses-steaming, the scenes contained herein are wickedly naughty!
Although all the saucy characters are flirting with forbidden desires and sometimes taking the naughty fruit they really shouldn’t be, all are consenting adults over the age of 18 and not blood-related. What they are is passionate and eager to explore their carnal desires all day long.
In short, this book is going to get you very, very hot!
© Julia Becker
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any many whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination. Please note that this work is intended only for adults age 18 and over. All characters represented are age 18 or over.
Table Of Contents
Chapter 1: ARMY
Chapter 2: A Conversation With The Psychiatrist
Chapter 3: SoldierMatch.com
Chapter 4: The First Date
Chapter 5: Getting To Know Each Other
Chapter 6: Deep Thoughts
Chapter 7: Declarations of Love
Chapter 8: The Happy Ending
Chapter 1: ARMY
Soft, white light from a single incandescent light bulb illuminates the waiting room of Dr. Trevor Williams’s Green Bay offices. In the middle of the waiting room floor is a beautiful mahogany coffee table, upon which rests a stack of magazines ranging from “Field & Stream” to “Good Housekeeping,” and the “Sports Illustrated: Swimsuit Edition.”
The worn upholstery of the leather couches and sitting chairs that line the sand colored walls of the sitting area are in stark contrast to the fresh arrangements of fake yellow tulips that sit on the end tables that flank the seats.
Sitting alone on one of the leather sofas is a tall, muscle-bound man in his middle thirties. He is fiddling with a hole in the knee of his blue-jeans in the soft silence while his eyes dart from the flowers to the various certificates and licenses that adorn the walls. His gray t-shirt stretches across his massive chest, seemingly ready to burst at the seams from the enormity of his pecs and biceps.
In sharp relief, block letters spelling the word “ARMY” stretches across the front of his shirt, black and distorted by his muscles.
Around his neck are the dog tags that would have been used to identify his body, in the event that he had been killed in one of the several hell-holes that he visited during his time on active duty.
Stretching up his neck and behind his left ear is the image of a rattlesnake, mouth wide and ready to strike. On the inside his right forearm is a tattoo detailing his exploits as a green beret, one of the proud, few, elite soldiers that take on those missions that normal infantrymen are not trained, nor equipped, to complete.
The first tattoo is of a yellow, five pointed star, with a smaller, second star in its center. Above the star is a ribbon, colored with a pattern of red, blue, and red, with thin white lines between them. Above the ribbon are three “V’s” and a single oak-leaf cluster, showing that three of his four medals were awarded for valor in combat operations.
The second tattoo is similar, but rather than a yellow star with a red and blue ribbon, it is a golden star, with a smaller silver star in the center, and a red white and blue ribbon. Above the ribbon is a single oak-leaf cluster, showing that he received two of the awards for valor.
The third tattoo is of a golden eagle, such as the one in the Great Seal of the United States, with a blue circle around the eagle, saying “For Distinguished Service.” Above the image of the medal is a red ribbon, with a thick, white bar in the center, flanked by two, thin blue bars separating the white from the red.
Having only received one Distinguished Service Medal, there are no oak-leaf clusters above the ribbon. Next, is the medal for which the man is most proud: a golden heart, with a golden image of George Washington on a purple field for the foreground. Above the medal is the purple ribbon, and two oak-leaf clusters, showing that he received three of the awards.
Finally, there is an inverted five-point star, circled by a ring of greenery, below an eagle with the words “for Valor.” Above the eagle is a sky blue ribbon, with five white stars upon it. The Medal of Honor, while the most prestigious military decoration in the U.S., is the man’s least favorite commendation.
While serving in Afghanistan, during his most recent time spent in the country, he had been on a special assignment with his special operations unit. A group of insurgents in Baghlan province, north of the National capitol in Kabul, were scheduling guerilla attacks and suicide bombings at the direction of the vicious mujahidin Sheik Tayyib Pour Salman, who was the senior Taliban leader in the province. The man’s Amethyst team was tasked with infiltrating a compound just north of the provincial capital in Puli Kumri, and capturing the Sheik alive at any cost.
When Amethyst team roped outside the compound at 2 am, they found that they had been the victims of some bad intelligence, and were subjected immediately to a vicious barrage of fire from the ramparts at the top of the compound walls. The leader of the team of Green Berets, 1st Lt. Henry Younger was cut down, along with seven of the remaining nine team members. The man on the couch, as the senior ranking team member, had organized their defense, and still managed to complete the mission objective.
Seeing so many of his friends die in such a short period of time had caused the man to lose his grip on reality, and began suffering from severe panic attacks and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Receiving the Congressional Medal of Honor had been a small consolation for his actions and the things he had witnessed in both Afghanistan and Iraq.
Prior to his initial qualification for the US Army Special Forces, he had been one of the earliest soldiers to deploy to Afghanistan with the 10th Mountain Infantry Division. While there, he had earned his first purple heart, and first bronze star.
After rotating home, he entered into the Special Forces Qualification School, and then joined the 3rd Special Forces Group at Ft. Bragg in North Carolina. This led to his multiple deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan, in addition to various special operations missions all over the world. The combined horrors of the various nightmarish hell-holes that he has fought in have all combined to cause his mental break.
But now, he sits in the eerie silence in Dr. Trevor Williams’s offices in his hometown of Green Bay, thinking over all the evil he has witnessed, when a pretty assistant opens the door and calls in to the waiting room, “Sergeant Steele? Dr. Williams will see you now.”
Getting to his feet, SFC Robert Steele, former Green Beret and Medal of Honor recipient walks through the door to speak with his psychiatrist. He certainly has fallen far since his time overseas.
Chapter 2: A Conversation With The Psychiatrist
“So, Mr. Steele,” Dr. Williams says as Robert stretches out on the leather chaise-lounge in Dr. Williams’s main office. “Before we begin, I want to thank you.”
“Thank me?” Robert asks, confused. “For what?”
“For your service. I know that there are many who appreciate what you have done for our country.”
“What I have done?” Robert says, seemingly still confused.
“Yes, for serving our country in the wars overseas.”
“Dr. Williams, with all due respect, sir, but I am not proud of the things I have done or seen in those hell-holes.”
“Okay,” the doctor answers.
“Do you have any idea—any idea—what I have seen and been through?”
“No. Why don’t you tell me about it, so we can get started with your session.”
“Well,” Robert begins. “When I was in Baghdad, for example, I saw several kids with bombs strapped to their chests run into some buildings to blow them up. One kid couldn’t have been much older than about seven, and those bastards put five pounds of c4 on his chest, and sent him running toward our lines, and we had to shoot him.”
“And knowing that your team had to kill him affects you how?”
“Dreams, usually. I dream about seeing the boy run toward us, and I feel the weight of the rifle in my hands as I put it to my shoulder. I squeeze the trigger, and feel the series of recoils as the gun drives itself into my shoulder, and I watch him fall.”
“So, you are the one who had to kill him?”
“Yes.”
“And you dream about it often?”
“Almost every night.”
“Does this happen any other times?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you reminded often of what happened, or do you remember the boy at random moments during the day?”
“Yeah, I guess so…”
“Okay, what reminds you of him?”
“Almost any kid anywhere.”
“Okay, anything else?”
“If a car backfires or I hear any loud bangs or noises, I’m back in Baghdad all over again.”
“Okay. What other things happened that are hard for you to remember? A particularly bad fire-fight? An explosion, perhaps?”
Robert thinks on this question for a moment, and finally begins to answer Dr. Williams, telling him of a particularly bad day in the Kandahar province of Afghanistan. He and a squad of Special Forces operators were trekking through the mountains when they came upon a small village. Bearing the obvious signs of being in the U.S. military, they tried to go around the village without drawing attention to themselves, but they failed horribly.
Immediately drawing sniper fire from the crest of one of the peaks of one of the hills around the village, Robert and his team had to fight their way through the village, drawing several local mujahidin out from hiding to harass them. One of the Islamic fighters threw a grenade, and one of the privates on the team threw it back, the shrapnel cutting through a small boy, killing him instantly.
“I was in the park the other day, taking a walk,” Robert tells the shrink, “and a baseball rolled to my feet…I froze, and it was just like I was back in Kandahar.”
“Did you have a flashback?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, Sgt. Steele, I think that it would be safe to diagnose you with post-traumatic stress disorder.”
“English, please, Doc,” Robert replies.
“PTSD is a disorder of the mind that is brought on by extreme stress. It is often characterized by bouts of extreme depression, flashbacks, and unwittingly focusing on the event that has caused the trauma. In your case, your experiences in war have triggered the episodes. There are treatments—”
“So what you are saying then, Doc, is that I am weak,” Robert interjects.
“No, not at all,” the doctor immediately answers. “It is quite common among men and women who have spent any amount of time in a combat zone. In a case such as yours, where you have spent extended amounts of time overseas fighting in combat, I would be surprised if you hadn’t exhibited at least some symptoms.”
“So, how do I treat it?” Robert asks.
“Well, there are medicines that you can take, but I think that some other treatment options will be beneficial, even without taking medicines.”
“Okay,” Robert asks, sitting up on the edge of the lounge. What do I do?
“Well, the most important thing is to try to normalize your life once more. Do things that you used to do. Go to the movies, eat dinner at a nice restaurant, take your wife out for a date, that kind of thing.”
“Okay.”
“You are married, right Sergeant?”
“No. I haven’t been in a committed relationship since high-school.”
“Well then, I would suggest finding a young lady to take out. After all, there are few things more comforting than a woman,” Dr. Williams says, showing Robert to the door. “Same time, next Tuesday, Sgt. Steele. And I want to hear about your attempts to find a woman then, too.”
“Yes, sir,” Robert answers in a clipped, military way. “See you then,” he continues in softer tones. As he walks out of the office, Robert thinks over how long it has been since he has been with a woman. It has been at least eight months. After all, he has been out of the Army for a grand total of maybe six weeks, and his last leave was six months before his discharge.
Finally, Robert decides that maybe the doctor has a point, and resolves to go home as soon as he has finished his afternoon run, and visit that website that he heard about on the television. What was it? Dateasoldier.com? No, that wasn’t it…maybe it was militarymen.net…no, that was for veterans. So what was it?
Just then, a bus stopped right beside Robert, with the image of a Marine staring at him. He turns to look, and he sees the advertisement: “Former Military? Looking for Your Soulmate? Try SoldierMatch.com, the premier dating website for former military service people!”
Smiling to himself, Robert takes off at a brisk jog, starting on his evening run.
Chapter 3: SoldierMatch.com
Kimberly Brown sits alone in her classroom in the suburbs of Green Bay, drinking a cup of Starbucks coffee and grading papers. The beautiful young woman is only in her first year out of college, and as such is only twenty three years old. Her brunette hair stretches nearly to her waist, but he keeps it in a tight bun to keep it out of her almond shaped, green eyes. Sitting lazily on the bridge of her thin, slightly curved nose is a pair of glasses, without which she cannot see clearly those objects that are in her direct line of sight.