Chapter 1
Alex
"Shots! Shots! Shots! Shots!"
It was all I heard as I threw back tequila shot after tequila shot. My head was pounding with every chant that left those fuckers' mouths, and I knew at any second I was probably going to puke every ounce of that shit up, but through the incessant bangs in my head I told myself not to give these assholes the satisfaction. I would keep that shit down if it killed me.
"Come on, Staff Sergeant select. Throw 'em back, motherfucker!"
God, I loved my brothers, but half the time I hated them.
Like now.
Finding out I was selected to pick up staff sergeant in the Marine Corps was not only a reason to celebrate, but a reason to get downright trashed. These guys, my brothers in arms, promised me from the second I received the good news that tonight would be the night that I cleaned the bar out. And by the looks of things, they weren't lying.
Coyotes was jam-packed. Not only was it a Friday night, but with selection news being thrown around, and being stationed in the fucking boonies of Twentynine Palms, everybody had a reason to come out and party. This place was the Marines hangout. There was always the Enlisted Club—or E-Club—on base, but fuck it, we were too restricted there, and these fuckers wanted to kill my liver tonight, so to town we went.
The usual suspects had packed the bar. As always, there were the boot—the new Marines who waited every payday to come blow their money on alcohol, only to have to sit in their lonely-ass barracks rooms playing Call of Duty and other simulated war shit when they ran out of money. Who was I to stop them? They hadn't seen a lick of combat and wanted to live it through their television screens. Have at it.
Then there were the military groupies, tag chasers, or whatever name you felt like calling them. Yes, they exist. All they want to do is fuck anything in uniform in hopes that they can land themselves some benefits and a stay-at-home gig. They scour military hangouts in military towns, and in Twentynine Palms any bar is a military hangout. Normally, I steer clear of these "ladies," but occasionally my weakness prevails and I end up giving in, but I always protect my shit. Babies with one of these types would be my worst nightmare come true.
Tonight they were all over the place. Tiny miniskirts barely covering the cheeks of their ass, pieces of material used to cover tits, and plenty of makeup, hoping to attract some dude in need of a quick fuck with hidden, long-term consequences. Most of them, in this town anyway, were divorced from a Marine and hoped to nail another one. They disgusted me to no end, but hey, sometimes I just needed a quick lay and if they were available, why not?
Then, there were the guys like me. The single Marines who had been around for a bit, just letting loose and having a good time. Even if that fun meant I might end up in the ER getting my stomach pumped, I didn't care. I was moving up the ranks faster than I could have ever imagined.
When I set out to join the Marine Corps, it was sheer luck that I got in, and it changed my life for the better. My career in the Corps was owed to my recruiter who worked tirelessly for me, pulling so many fucking strings. He made sure that I knew that his name was on my shit and that he would find me if I ever embarrassed him. I knew then that I had made the right choice and that I wanted to uphold the Marine Corps mantra of Honor, Courage, and Commitment. I've poured every ounce of my being into my career; volunteering for combat deployments, leading junior Marines, mentoring, and now teaching.
Being an instructor at the School of Communications was not my dream assignment, but I took it in stride because like anything with the Corps, they assign you where you're needed. I knew that, and although it wasn't what I wanted, it was where I was needed. So when the orders were passed down to me, I packed up, shut my fucking mouth, and did what I was told to do.
Picking up staff sergeant in just six short years wasn't on my list of goals. I knew it could happen, but I never expected it to happen. Now that it had, I was beyond fucking thrilled and needed to party the way these assholes intended because it was worth it. The pain and suffering I would feel in the morning was well worth the bullshit I was putting my body through tonight.
"This night is to Sergeant Alejandro Cruz, staff sergeant select!" Riley shouted, throwing back another shot. I took another, but winced as the burning liquid made its way down. I was damn near sure that after fifteen of these little shits, my insides were being singed with every drop.
Sergeant Christopher Riley, or Riley as we called him, was one of the guys I had known the longest. I'd met him in boot camp and instantly hated him. He was loud, goofy, and always in my space. I'd grown up fighting guys like him, but after our brawl in boot camp one night after the lights went out, I grew to respect him. He was a skinny white boy, too pretty to be a Marine, I thought, and even though I kicked his ass he held his own and made me work for it. After that night, we actually forged a friendship, eventually becoming roommates.
"I don't think I can take much more. Fuck, you guys are killing me," I stammered out, half drunk, half mortified. I didn't want to bitch, but I was beginning to feel the effects of my limits being reached, and it wasn't shaping up to be pretty.
"Fuck that. We're clearing this place out tonight!" Jensen yelled, shoving another shot into my face.
Brandon Jensen, Jensen for short, was one of the first guys I met when I checked in to the comm school. I instantly liked him, making him my roommate as well. He was a lot like me. He loved the Corps, and it was evident in the way he carried himself. He, unlike a lot of the guys I had run into over the course of my six-year career, believed in the rules and regulations and set out to uphold them at every turn. I quickly realized that looking at Jensen was a lot like looking at myself only he was taller, part Mexican with some black mixed in, and probably a little more good-looking than I was. Chicks seemed to flock to him, and while I caught my fair share, Jensen was like a pussy magnet. They lined up, but he was always selective, which made me respect him even more.
"Don't pussy out, Cruz. You've earned this shit," Smith chimed in, patting me on the back.
"Yeah. Plus, you're paying for this, so you better drink up," Newsome threw out, causing me to turn my drunken gaze on him.
Part of me wanted to lunge across the table at him, yet another part wanted me to sit my ass down since my head was spinning out of control by this point. All liquor and no food was making me feel like a lightweight. I hated it, but I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep up the tough-guy charade.
"Don't pay him any attention," Jensen said, helping me into a seat and shoving a beer into my hand. "He's paying tonight. He just doesn't know it yet."
I sat back in the chair and sipped the beer in my hand. Being overly intoxicated to the point of almost blacking out left me no other choice but to be a bystander in this very crowded bar.
Smith and Newsome were two peas in the same pod. Caleb Smith and Andrew Newsome were both from some small podunk town in Nebraska and joined the Corps together. After being sworn into the buddy program and going through boot camp, Marine Combat Training, and comm school together, they were separated but finally made their way back to one another in the form of comm school instructors. They were a couple of bullshitters but pulled chicks just like the rest of us. Their beach boy looks had me believing they were from California or Florida when I first met them, but they convinced me they were from Nebraska and we've been friends ever since.
"Check out those girls over there," Riley pointed out. He wasn't near as wasted as I was, but he was still completely fucking awkward. I tried my hardest to focus in the direction that he was pointing in, but all I could make out were a couple of groupies. Riley laughed and smiled, hitting me on the shoulder, asking me if I wanted one.
"Fuck no," I quickly responded, throwing back more of the beer. There was no amount of alcohol that could make me want to get inside of anything he was pointing at. One of them had a tattoo that I could have sworn had the rank and last name of another fucking guy. Groupie if I ever saw one.
"You good here, man?" Jensen asked. Some random Asian chick was wrapped around his arm, standing behind him.
"Yeah, I'm good. Go on."
With Jensen's caramel-brown skin and those pretty-boy green eyes, women were always on his ass. He didn't discriminate and, unlike sorry-ass Riley, Jensen's chick looked respectable.
Some Jay-Z song came blaring through the speakers. While I bobbed my head, humming lowly to the words, two chicks I had never seen before caught my eye as they sauntered out onto the dance floor. They didn't look like groupies, but you could never be sure. One was a well-built Latina with long thick brown hair, full pouty lips, sporting a warm golden complexion. She had a banging-ass body, and while her jeans hugged in all the right spots, it was her friend that caught my eye. The long legs on this fucking blonde beauty were on full display. Thoughts of throwing those damn things around my waist and pounding my way into her were beginning to consume me, making me suddenly sweat like a fucking pig. Was it the alcohol, or my dreams of fucking the shit out of Blondie that had my shirt soaked and was making me lose all of my bearings? She danced with her friend, swaying those petite hips, and making me think of a million and one ways that I could use them for my satisfaction.
Her smile lit up the room, the innocence behind it smothering me, and at one point I believe she turned her head and looked at me, making my cock twitch beneath my jeans.
I bit down on my bottom lip…hard. After gulping down the rest of the beer I was holding, I rubbed my sweaty hand over my close-cut hair, then adjusted myself as nonchalantly as I possibly could, which meant I was overly obvious with it, but I didn't give a fuck. Blondie looked at me and made me all sorts of uncomfortable. I needed relief.
"What the fuck's got you in a trance, Alex?" Jensen asked, coming back to the table.
"Nothing. Where's your chick?" I asked, trying to take my eyes off the only female in this bar that had ever made me lose myself.
"She went outside to check on her friend," Jensen responded, narrowing his eyes and following my line of sight. "Why don't you go and talk to her?"
"To who?" I quickly asked, turning my head back in his direction.
"Don't play dumb with me, asshole. It's got to be one of those chicks. My guess is probably the Latin one, but either will do."
I glared at him. For some reason, the way he brushed her off as any other chick in this bar really got under my skin, making me want to punch him so that he'd realize she was much more than that. All I knew about her was that she owned a pair of perfectly toned legs, long platinum-blonde hair that I could imagine wrapping in my hands as I had my way with her, and a fucking smile that was heating me up while melting me at the same time. Other than that, I didn't know a damn thing about her.
"Sorry, man," Jensen apologized. I eased up a little, feeling ridiculous for allowing myself to get so riled up in the first place. "Anna's coming back, so I'm going to dance. I hope you get your ass off that chair and have some fun tonight." He smacked my head just as Anna, his chick of the night, pulled him back onto the dance floor.
Some techno shit blared through the speakers, so to combat the pounding thrums in my head, I ordered another beer from a floating waitress, hoping it would calm my headache and cool me down.
It didn't.
Blondie was having the time of her life out there on the dance floor with her friend. Every time she stole a glance over at me, or so my inebriated mind was telling me she was doing, I grew more and more agitated. She dipped low and her tight-fitting skirt hugged her hips nicely, fitting like a second layer of skin. It stretched to accommodate the move, outlining the shapely ass that she possessed. I shifted in the chair, needing to break away from the daydream that this girl had pulled me into.
The beer I was babysitting was removed from my hand and placed down on the table. I looked up to find Leticia Castillo, or Sergeant Castillo as she's known around the schoolhouse, standing there looking at me with a sly grin on her face.
"You come to people watch or what?"
"Isn't that what I always do?" I asked, finding myself yelling over the raging techno beat. My head was finally settling, even with the copious amounts of people yelling over the music just to be heard in such a small space.
"Well, Staff Sergeant select, you aren't people watching tonight." She grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the seat and onto the dance floor. Thankfully, just as we found our place, the music switched and moved to something much more tolerable—“Yeah” by Usher. Castillo danced around me, sending flirtatious movements my way, and I played along. Thankfully, my impending hangover seemed to be fading away with every movement.
A couple of minutes into the song, Castillo was pulled away by some guy I had never seen before, leaving me standing like a loser out there on the dance floor. Luckily, that didn't last too long as Blondie's friend shimmied her way over to me, her eyes low and wanting. When she got close enough, she threw a hand up to my chest and stroked her hips fluidly as if she were simulating a very dominating sexual act. Her eyes never left mine, and her perfectly full lips pouted even more as she intensely gyrated herself up against me. I didn't give a shit. She was hot, and so were her movements. She wasn't who or what I wanted, but she had guts, so I rolled with it.
Before long, Blondie strolled up, looking even more fuckable up close. That pretty face I saw from afar was magnified now that she was within arm's reach. She stared her bright green eyes into mine, smiling that carefree smile at me as she did so. My cock twitched again at the sight of her, and as she took her friend's spot just in front of me, I felt it spring to life. Fuck. I couldn't stand out there on that dance floor with wood for days as this girl was grinding on me. This was some embarrassing shit.
Blondie took the front, leaving her friend to take the back. We danced and touched as if we had known each other for years. Pretty soon, I was finding it quite easy to forget about what was happening behind me and just focus on what was standing before me. She bent over, rubbing her ass over my already hardened cock, and left it there, grinding against the rock-hard erection that was filling my pants. My mind flashed to how badly I wanted to bend her over with no clothes inhibiting us, but I quickly shook the thought away and just grabbed on to her hips and moved with her. As she made her way back up, she reached behind her and grabbed my neck, pulling my head down to hers as she swayed to the music. My hands were everywhere all at once.
I nuzzled my nose in her neck, taking in the sweet, decadent scent of vanilla and something fruity that was radiating from her sun-kissed skin. That smell sent my already excited cock into overdrive, bulging and straining against her, begging me to release it. I wanted to, I really did, but in a crowded bar that just wasn't going to happen.
Song after song played, and we danced together as if no one else were around. My hands had made their way over to her rock-solid abdomen, indicating that she worked out. It was a definite turn-on for me. Making my way up her chest, I stopped at her ample tits, full and perky, inviting me to have my way with them. As I worked my hands over her, she used her hands to move them quickly away, placing them back down on her hips. She was a tease, but I was certain that tonight I'd get my fill of her.
After the fourth song, I finally asked her if she wanted something to drink. She declined, stating that she was the DD for the night, so I helped myself to a beer, feeling the urge to calm myself after practically fucking her out on the floor. When I finished it, I found her dancing with some prick who couldn't tell his left from his right. She wasn't dancing the way she'd been dancing with me, but it irritated the fuck out of me that this dude thought he had a chance with her. I smoothly walked over in their direction and grabbed her hips.
"Thanks, man," I said as I pulled her back over to me for round two.
She smiled, that fucking heart-melting, cock-twitching smile. "Well, that was unexpected." Her voice was soft and delicate, just like she was.
I managed a quick smile. "You're mine tonight," I lowly rumbled, catching her off guard, Then she smiled again and turned around, going back to the moves that had successfully driven me crazy in our first bout.
“Blurred Lines” by Robin Thicke started to play, speeding up the vibe of the bar. As I swayed to the music with her, my hands made their way down her torso, stopping at the hem of her shirt and begging to be invited in. They weren't, so I moved them elsewhere, snaking my hands back up and over her tightly defined abs, and around her teasing rack that was now showcasing a couple of hardened nipples. It made me smile to know that I was affecting her just as much as she was affecting me. A one-way show was not going to happen tonight.
The song was sex to lyrics. Fuck, if I could have had Blondie anywhere else when that song came on, clothes would have been an afterthought, and I would have been deep inside of her by the time the first verse started. Instead, I had to settle for a grinding session on a dance floor with too many people around for my liking. We were dry-fucking on the dance floor for everyone to see and I didn't give a shit because if I had my way, this girl would be going home with me tonight.
My hands moved to her sweet-smelling, dainty neck, and as she turned her head I took my opportunity to crash my mouth down to hers, thrusting my tongue between those soft pink lips she possessed. She didn't object, opening her mouth just a tad bit more to give me all the space I needed. The minty freshness coming off of her tongue excited me much like the vanilla scent had done earlier. My tequila and beer breath couldn't have been doing much for her, but if she didn't like it, she wasn't showing it.
Just as our kiss was intensifying, her tongue matching my own thrust for thrust, her body turning around to stand face-to-face with me, Jensen came barreling over, almost knocking both me and Blondie over. We broke from our kiss, and I turned to him with wild fury in my eyes, hoping he had a good excuse for his cock block.
"We have to go. Now! Newsome got into a fight, and the cops were called. We have to get him out of here."
"Fuck!" I shouted, annoyed and concerned at the same time. "What happened?"
"I'll tell you later, but we need to get him out of here," Jensen said, urgency completely taking over his voice. He was always very by the book and knew that Newsome would be in a world of trouble on Monday if he were to get into any sort of tangle with the cops.
"Hold on a sec!" I shouted over all of the commotion.
"No! We have to go now."
Annoyance pelted me, sending flushes of red over my sweat-slicked skin, but Newsome was my brother, so there was no way I was going to leave him hanging. I'd just have to hook up with Blondie another time. Unfortunately, when I turned around she was gone. I looked all around the bar, hoping she had only stepped away from a very intense Jensen, but that wasn't the case. I couldn't even find her friend. Disappointment pierced through me as I ran out of the bar with Jensen, hopping into the backseat of Riley's truck. Newsome had a couple of marks on his face, but nothing too bad that would have to be explained on Monday morning. Just as we were pulling out of the back, the cop lights and sirens came blaring through the front.
Driving into the dark, deserted desert before us, I breathed a sigh of relief that we had just missed them, but got pissed all over again.
I had also missed out on Blondie.