Serving the Soldier - Part 1 (An Alpha Military Romance) (3 page)

Without a word, he did as I bade. I saw a brief wince of pain cross his features before he turned his head away from me and slowly rolled over, like a log slowly rolling in the water. Good. He’d learned that much at least. Once again, I was graced with a view of his glorious buttocks. For a second, I wryly wondered if a coin would bounce off them. No doubt it would. What would it feel like to run my hand over those hard mounds?

I cleared my throat and focused my attention on the surgical incision in his lower back. It was about four inches long, running at a slight angle at his lower back, just above the two dimples near the top of his buttocks.

The edges of the surgical incision were clean, unlike the still healing and puckered scar tissue over other gashes on his back. The gashes had been caused by shrapnel, but not the spinal injury. He lay with his head turned away from me, his face toward the window.

“How did you break your vertebra?” I asked.

He didn’t say anything for several moments, and I figured he would ignore my question.

“Our Humvee hit an IED,” he mumbled. “I was blown out of it and landed on some rocks. That’s when I broke the vertebra.”

I didn’t know what to say. He had answered the question so simply, as if it was nothing. It must have been a horribly frightening experience, but he related the incident without a tinge of emotion. Simple. Matter of fact.

I said nothing, kept my questions to myself. I didn’t ask about anyone else in the attack. Didn’t ask how he had gotten from the scene of the injury to the camp aid station. Didn’t ask about how he was evacuated back to Germany and then to the states. I knew better.

I reached for the small notepad and pen I always kept in the side pocket of my scrubs pants and placed them on the table next to the supplies.

I yanked a couple of surgical gloves from the box I had retrieved from the bathroom, pulled them on, and then carefully measured the length and width of the surgical scar, jotted down my notes, remarking on the color of the skin and healing scar tissue around it. Then I pulled off the gloves and replaced them with a fresh pair, only then reaching for the tube of antiseptic ointment. I squeezed some onto the tips of my fingers.

“Sorry, this might be a little cold,” I said, and then gently dabbed the ointment over the length of the incision. I felt just a brief contraction of his muscles as I applied the ointment. “The incision looks clean, but I’ll keep an eye on it for a day or two.”

I finished with the ointment application, removed that glove, and replaced it with yet another. Next, I reached for a package of 5 x 5 square gauze and tore open the paper wrapping. “Please don’t go into the pool until this is completely scarred over,” I instructed as I retrieved the gauze square and gently laid it over the incision site. In a matter of moments, I had the new bandage taped into place.

I briefly glanced at the other healing scars that I could see, but knew I also needed to check the ones on his right hip and thigh. Closing my eyes and stealing myself, I spoke. “Can you roll over please?”

He did, slowly, once again crossing his arms behind his head, watching me. I knew he was watching every reaction, so I schooled my features and refused to give him any satisfaction. I was here to do a job, and I would do it to the best of my ability, no matter how aggravating the guy could be.

I was used to getting tested by my new clients, and if not by the client themselves, by their family members. It was kind of like a “getting to know you” interaction that didn’t so much involve me as it involved clients and their families trying to figure out if I was professional, skilled, patient, slow to anger, or whatever.

This was especially true of family members of those with dementia. I understood. They wanted to make sure that I was the right fit for their loved one and that I would be patient, understanding, and compassionate. Still, this experience with Jax was totally new. I had a feeling that he was testing me for altogether different reasons.

I carefully eyed and measured the jagged and freshly scarred wound threading down his right hip and then the one on his thigh, curling around to the back of his knee. I ignored, or tried to, the fact that his cock was only inches from my hand.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. What the hell? I briefly shifted my gaze to the movement and realized that his dick was moving, slightly, but moving nevertheless.

For a brief moment, I wondered what it would feel like to wrap my fingers around his penis. It looked so soft and velvety, but I could imagine that upon full arousal, it would be huge, hard, and thickly veined, throbbing with passion. I imagined what it would be like to cup his balls. Would they be heavy? Then I wondered how long his dick would be when fully aroused.

From the size of him, I imagined his cock would be pretty big as well. I imagined what it would be like to sit on it, to lower myself onto it, to feel him fill me up, to make love to him. I tried to stifle my wild imaginings, but just the thought of having sex with him, imagining his tongue swirling around my nipples, his penis pumping hard into me made me wet. The pulse in my neck throbbed, and I caught my breath. My eyes widened in surprise.

I glanced at Jax’s face and saw him watching me with what I could only term as an expression of wry amusement.

“I can’t help it, it has a mind of its own,” he said.

I made a face, straightened, and stepped into the bathroom. Reaching under the sink counter, I grabbed a fluffy blue towel. I returned to the bed, extended the towel, and lifted an eyebrow. “Cover yourself please,” I said. He made no move to reach for the towel, so I unfolded it halfway and without a word, dropped it over his privates.

He laughed. “I’m sure you’ve seen your share of cocks,” he commented.

I glanced again at him with a nod. “That I have,” I agreed.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“No problem at all,” I replied, trying to maintain a cool demeanor even though I felt a bit off-balance and unsettled. I gazed down at him with curiosity. “Are you always this bold?”

He shrugged. “My squadron is often in close quarters with no expectations of privacy. I guess I’ve just gotten used to it.”

“I’m sure you have,” I said, gathering the trash and crumpling it in my fist. “Nevertheless, I’d appreciate it if you would at least make an effort to keep yourself covered while I take care of your wounds.”

He continued to smile. “Are you a prude, Angie?”

I frowned. “Not at all, but I just met you, for crying out loud. Have you no sense of shame?”

He laughed again. “Shame? About what? My nudity? What you see is what you get,” he shrugged, his arms still crossed behind his head. “Don’t you ever just let it all hang out, walk around your apartment with no clothes on?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

He stared at me, his gaze once again roaming over my body. There went that tingling sensation again, so I quickly turned and made my way back to the bathroom, where I threw away the trash. I couldn’t believe how blatant he was. This would take some getting used to, no doubt about it.

I gathered my emotions and then reentered the bedroom to gather up a few of the supplies and return them to the bathroom cabinet. When I returned, he was sitting up in bed, his feet on the floor, his hands braced against the bed on either side of his hips.

My eyes widened with surprise as he stood and I saw his penis standing at half attention. I glanced up at his face in alarm, but he merely waved a hand at me, gesturing that all was okay.

“You’ll have to excuse my dick,” he commented. “As I just mentioned, it has a mind of its own. You’re an attractive woman, Angie, but you have nothing to worry about with me. I won’t take advantage of you… unless, of course, you ask me to.”

I felt the heat of a blush warm my cheeks, and despite a weird sense of pleasure that he found me attractive, I wondered if this situation was a mistake. Could I do my job in such a sexually charged atmosphere? I was in uncharted waters here. My own attraction to him was undeniable, but I had to maintain a professional relationship and demeanor.

I was a nurse, dammit!

I was also a woman, but I couldn’t allow myself to be swayed, influenced, or in any other way open to any physical relationship with Jax Andrews.

As he slowly made his way over toward the tall chest of drawers standing in a corner of the room, I quickly finish cleaning up the supplies and then returned the bags under the sink. By the time I exited the bathroom, he had retrieved a pair of boxer briefs from the dresser and was slowly making his way back to the bed. He glanced up at me, as if he anticipated my next question.

“I don’t need any help,” he said.

His tone was almost gruff now. His mood had changed. I had to wonder about that too, but before I could process it, he glanced up at me again.

“A friend of mine is stopping by in a little while. He might be staying for dinner, although I’m not sure. Your supervisor told me that you often prepare meals for your clients. Is that true?”

I nodded. “Yes, and since I’ll be here full-time, I expect that I’ll be preparing all your meals. I assume that your cupboards and refrigerator are stocked?”

He shook his head. “Not really, but I’ll give you money tomorrow and you can go out shopping for whatever you need. For tonight, something simple and light is just fine. My friend won’t care either, as long as it doesn’t have sand in it.”

Sand? Then I realized he was referring to Afghanistan. They were probably used to eating K rations. “I’ll head down to the kitchen and see what’s available and cook up something. I’ll make enough for everyone.”

He nodded, but said nothing. I glanced outside, saw that it was nearing late afternoon. “You don’t expect me to eat with you or anything, do you?”

“You can eat anywhere, anytime you please,” he said, sitting on the side of the bed, the boxer briefs still clenched in his hand. “I usually eat on the back patio when the weather is nice, and you’re welcome to join me anytime you wish. If you don’t, you can eat in the kitchen, or up in your room. It makes no difference to me.”

With that, he focused on getting his skivvies on, leaning forward slowly as he lowered his hand holding them toward his feet. “Didn’t they give you a grabber?” I asked as I watched him struggle with the underwear.

“A what?” he asked, looking up with a frown.

“A grabber… it’s a long device with a handle on one end, like a bike brake handle, and a claw on the other… it’s often used with elderly patients with arthritis,” I explained. “Makes it easier to pull on socks, underwear—”

“I don’t need any grabber!” he interrupted, his scowl darkening.

“Okay,” I shrugged. I decided to leave him be and see what was available in the kitchen. As I neared his bedroom door I glanced over my shoulder.

“What time is your friend coming? I’ll make sure something’s ready by then.”

He glanced up, the scowl still present. “Whenever he gets here. Just have something ready and I can take care of the rest by myself.”

I nodded and quickly left the room, exhaling a huge sigh of relief as I headed down the stairs and back along the hallway to the kitchen.

I busied myself in the kitchen for a while, trying to cool down the sexual heat that had nearly gotten the best of me. Never in my life had I experienced such wild imaginings. I explored the cupboards and the refrigerator, trying to figure out what to make for dinner.

A short time later, I heard the doorbell ring and figured it was his friend. I remained in the kitchen. Let him answer his own damn door. I didn’t hear anything after that and busied myself making up a stew.

Before I knew it, an hour had gone by. I didn’t hear any sounds in the house. With a stew simmering on the stove, I quickly looked into the living room and the small den area, seeing no sight of Jax or his friend. I wondered if he had come and gone already. I slowly headed up the stairs, thinking I’d let Jax know that dinner was ready anytime he wanted it.

I headed down the hallway toward his bedroom and saw that the door was half open. I heard a noise coming from inside and stepped into the doorway, preparing to knock. Stunned by the sight that met my eyes, I froze and could only watch in stunned fascination.

I should’ve turned away from the door, crept silently back down the hallway, but I couldn’t. I’d never seen anything quite like it. I wondered if this was similar to watching an X-rated movie, which I’d never seen in my life.

Jax lay on his bed, naked of course, but it wasn’t his friend from Delta Force who was with him, but a voluptuous blonde who looked like she had just stepped off an airplane from Sweden. Neither one of them noticed my presence at the doorway. If they did, they couldn’t have cared less.

Jax was on his back, the woman straddling him on her hands and knees, but facing backward. She had taken the head of his cock in her mouth, her head bopping slowly up and down his thick shaft while her other end was, well, receiving similar treatment from Jax’s tongue.

I tore my gaze from his mouth and allowed it to travel down along his broad, well-muscled shoulders, his tight pecs, and down along his sides. I admired the musculature even along his ribs. Of course, I knew anyone in Delta Force would be in great shape, but his body was magnificent.

Just looking at it got me hot. My gaze continued downward, admiring the slight dip of his abdomen below his rib cage, and then his hips and, of course, his erect cock, at the moment receiving the full attention of the woman’s mouth and tongue. Her hands were supporting herself on either side of Jax’s thighs, her huge, pendulous breasts swinging above his belly. With every dip of her head, her breasts jiggled of their own accord, her nipples hard and erect thanks to Jax’s fingers, which alternately teased and tweaked the nipples and then groped her breasts as if they were overripe oranges.

His tanned fingers against her white skin was a fascinating sight. His fingers were gentle, and he alternated rolling her nipples along his open palm and then his fingertips would flick, tweak, and otherwise stimulate those oversized, hard, and erect nipples to the point where I almost sensed the same sensations in my own.

The woman made a moaning sound in her mouth as she gave Jax a blow job. I was impressed that she could take so much of him into her mouth and could only imagine that part of him was in her throat. She didn’t give any indication of gagging, which I probably definitely would have. I watched in fascinated arousal as, every once in a while, her tongue swirled around the shaft of his cock. His head was engorged, glistening with her saliva, and seemed to react of its own accord to every movement of her tongue.

Her hand, grasping his shaft, stroked up and down, sometimes slow, sometimes faster. As her hand moved, her own hips rocked gently, her pussy situated slightly above Jax’s mouth, which at the moment appeared to be sucking on her clitoris. Then I saw him shift his head. His tongue stroked the length of her clit and then it disappeared inside her vagina, his tongue mimicking the appearance and disappearance of his own dick inside the girl’s mouth.

Oh God. His hips moved only slightly, and at the back of my mind, I applauded him for his restraint. So he had maneuvered his positioning and sexual needs to cater to his injury. Good for him.

I felt an increasing tingle in my own breasts, wondering what it would feel like to have Jax suckling on my own pussy, those strong fingers gently pulling, twisting, and tweaking my nipples into hard little pebbles. I had never assumed that position with any of my former boyfriends. No, call me dull and boring, but the extent of my sexual experience with those former males had, more often than not, tended to the wham, bam, thank you ma’am kind of sex.

I imagined, just by watching Jax with his Swedish whoever she was, that having sex with and making love to him would be a stimulating experience, if my current feelings were any indication. Finally, after staring at them for several moments, awed and horrendously stimulated, I quickly backed away and quietly made my way to my bedroom. I quietly closed the door and leaned my back against it, hot, horny, and unbelievably stimulated.

Slowly, I reached up under my shirt and caressed my own breast, feeling its weight in my hand. Would it feel like that to him? I brushed my fingertips softly over my nipple, trying to imagine what it felt like if Jax did the same thing. My groin throbbed with heat and I couldn’t get the sight of Jax and his blonde out of my head.

I had to find release, and soon. I quickly scrambled onto the bed, unbuttoned my pants, and shoved my hand in beneath my underwear, cupping my pussy with the palm of my hand. I was already wet. I had never done this before, but what the hell? Spreading my knees slightly apart, I lay on my back, my left hand up under my shirt and bra, playing with my nipple while my other hand began to stroke my clitoris.

In response, my hips began to rock slowly. It wasn’t the same as doing it with a guy of course, but I guess it was a close second. In my mind, I kept imagining the sight of Jax’s tongue lathing the Swede’s labia one second, and then sucking on her clit the next. I imagined his hands on my own nipples, gently pinching, teasing, and encouraging them to reach out for attention.

Before long, I felt the blood surging through my veins and a steady and burgeoning heat continued to grow in my groin as my hands took the place of Jax’s obviously skilled tongue. The last image I fastened in my mind before I felt the waves of an orgasm rush over me was the site of his cock in the Swede’s mouth, hard, thick, veined, and slowly pumping upward in response to her own gifted tongue.

In a matter of moments, I reached orgasm. Waves of pleasure washed over me, leaving me gasping for breath. If I could do that to myself, I could only imagine what someone as skilled as Jax could accomplish. Finally, as my muscle contractions gradually slowed and the pulsing in my pussy declined, I removed my hand from my pants and from under my shirt. I lay staring up at the ceiling, feeling slightly ashamed and embarrassed. Still, what was a girl supposed to do?

After several more minutes, I slowly heaved myself off the bed and headed into the bathroom where I washed up, straightened my clothing, and then stopped one more time at the sink to splash cold water on my face. My cheeks were a little flushed, my pupils dilated, but in a couple of minutes I would surely be back to normal, whatever that was around here.

For a brief moment, I felt a twinge of jealousy for the Swedish woman, and then decided I didn’t care. Jax was my client, my patient. I was here to provide him care, fix food, and otherwise make sure that he stayed on track with his recovery. Other than that, I didn’t really care what he did with his personal and private life. It was none of my business. It was not my place to judge.

Or to want
, my mind whispered.

Nevertheless, as I stepped out of my bedroom and made my way quietly back down the hall and then downstairs toward the kitchen, I couldn’t halt the frown that I felt furrowing my brow. I scolded myself, literally ordering myself not to get emotionally involved with Jax Andrews. He was not the type of guy I was interested in anyway, at least not for the long-term. He was a thrill seeker, an adrenaline junkie. That much was obvious. He was not the kind of guy that a girl could rely on for the long haul. No, I didn’t know anything about him or his background, but I knew his type. Elite forces guys were not long on commitment. They lived fast and hard.

I headed into the kitchen and glanced into the stew pot. Good thing I turn the heat off underneath the pot before I’d gone back upstairs. That wouldn’t have been funny, trying to explain why the stew had burned, or why the kitchen filled up with enough smoke to set off the smoke alarm, and then having to explain to Jax what had been so important or occupied so much of my time that I allowed such a thing to happen. I imagined having to explain that one and felt a flush of heat rise up my chest and into my cheeks.

“Everything okay down here?”

Startled, I gasped and spun around, my hand reaching for my throat. “Oh my God, don’t do that!”

“Sorry,” Jax said, striding into the kitchen wearing a pair of khaki, knee length cargo shorts.

The waistband of his shorts hung low on his hips, as if daring me to once again imagine what lay beneath, but I forced my gaze upward. “Everything’s fine. There’s a pot of stew here anytime you want.”

“My buddy will be here soon. Is there enough for him too?”

I gazed down into the pot, half filled with stew. “Plenty.” I watched as he made his way closer toward the stove. He crowded close to me to peer into the pot.

“Looks good and smells even better,” he commented. “Good thing you can cook, because I sure as hell can’t.”

He looked at me, his expression as unreadable as ever. I didn’t know how to respond to that, so merely nodded.

“You’re going to join us, aren’t you?”

My first reaction was to shake my head, but I thought better of it. If I was going to live here for the time being, I might as well get used to the comings and goings of his friends. No use hiding in my room like a frightened little mouse. “If you would like me to join you I can, but I can also eat up in my room if you require privacy.”

He stared again for several moments and then grinned. “So formal,” he commented. “Are you always so formal, or do you let it all hang out once in a while?”

I immediately thought of what I had just done in my bedroom and felt the heat of a blush once again travel upward from my neck to my cheekbones. Trying to keep my voice calm, I responded. “I know how to have fun, but I’m on duty. Duty first, you know.”

He nodded, serious now. “Always.”

Just then the doorbell rang and he turned toward the sound. “That’ll be Michael.” He glanced at the wooden kitchen table and gestured with his chin. “We can eat in here.”

I nodded. While Jax went to open the door and greet his friend, I began to open the cupboards, looking for the dishware. I idly wondered how the Swedish woman had gotten out of the house so quietly. Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe she was still in Jax’s bed, waiting for his return and Round Two.

I shook my head and pushed her out of my mind. I set several plates and bowls on the table and had just turned to look in the rollout drawers for the silverware when I heard the sound of voices and footsteps in the hallway, heading toward the kitchen. One hand in the silverware drawer, I turned to look over my shoulder and once again found myself staring.

What the hell? Were all Special Forces so handsome? Michael had broad shoulders like Jax, but he was leaner. He had a swimmer’s physique, a high forehead, gorgeous green eyes, and a long aquiline nose that looked like it belonged on a Greek statue. While the opposite of Jax in coloring, Michael looked almost angelic. If he’d had an external glow and sported wings, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

“Michael, this is Angie Meadows, my new live in nurse, maid, cook, Jill of all trades, whatever you want to call her.” He gestured to his friend. “Angie, this is Michael Weathers. He’s one of my buddies from my squadron.”

I had begun to smile, but got stuck on Jackson’s term “new” live-in nurse. So he’d had one before? Nancy hadn’t told me anything about that. What happened? Why wasn’t she here any longer? Before I could even begin to analyze his comment, Michael stepped forward, hand extended. He wore a devilish smile on his face and I steeled myself, prayed for strength, and returned his handshake with a smile.

“Pleased to meet you, Michael. I hope you’re hungry, and I certainly hope you like beef stew, because that’s what we’re having.”

“Told you,” Jax commented to his friend.

Again I glanced at Jax, confused. “Told him what?”

Jax looked at me with a deadpan expression. “I told him that you were little bit bossy, but that you are easy on the eyes, you know your stuff, and you have orders not to let me get away with shit, at least not too much.”

I stared at him in stunned dismay. He thought I was bossy? I began to frown but then Michael spoke, distracting me.

“Someone’s got to keep him in line, Angie, and better you than me,” he grinned. He seated himself at the table, his expression sobering. “After dinner, Jax, we gotta talk. It’s serious.”

Jax gazed at his friend a moment, offered a slight nod, and then sat down across from him at the table. Looks like I had my choice to sit next to Michael or Jax. I ultimately decided that the end of the table was probably the safest and set the silverware and plates accordingly.

As I served up brimming bowls of beef stew for Jax and his friend, I wondered about his former nurse. He’d only been out of the hospital for a little while and he’d gone through one live-in nurse already? That didn’t bode well. I frowned, wondering once again why Nancy hadn’t said anything to me about it. Maybe she thought I’d have declined the job.

In my book, there was nothing more challenging, emotionally and physically, than a difficult client. Sure, I understood that illness, injury, and living with pain got on the nerves of my patients, but some of them turned downright ugly, difficult, argumentative, and sometimes even violent. The last thing I needed in my life right now, especially with a live-in situation, was what I called a ‘problem child’.

I dished up half a bowl of stew for myself and then sat down at the end of the table. I ate quietly while Jax questioned Michael about friends who I assumed were other members of their squadron. It was small talk, really, nothing stimulating. It didn’t involve me, but it did help me gain a sense of the camaraderie I sensed between the two. That was nothing new to me either.

Soldiers relied on their buddies, and the term implied way more than friendship. Growing up in the military, I knew that the term, in a way, defined a bond between soldiers that was often closer than that of brothers. In combat, you relied on your buddy to not only have your six, but to rely on at all times, in all situations, in combat, peace time, and anywhere in between.