After a weekend that had consisted of more sex than sleep, I was going to be such a wreck at work today. Hell, tired as I was, I would’ve gotten lost on my way from my car to the boat if it weren’t for the fact that a giant flattop ship was kind of hard to miss.
Dazed, I made my way down the long pier. A few civilian contractors passed by me without a second look. Some enlisted Sailors and junior officers stopped, saluted me sharply, and said, “Good morning, sir.” I returned each salute and greeting, thankful that habit and muscle memory had made those responses automatic enough to still happen even while I was in a haze.
Habit and muscle memory saved me from making an ass of myself, but I needed to be sharp. As the new XO, I couldn’t be shuffling aboard in the morning like some kid who’d been partying all weekend.
Not that I was out to impress anyone or get command of a ship; my ambition had run pretty dry in recent years. Still, I had a job to do, and I did take my role seriously. I was the enforcer of the rules the commanding officer made. The CO and I would be in deep shit if the crew didn’t respect us, and the upper chain of command on this particular boat wasn’t held in terribly high regard these days. Not after the last two COs, the XO, and several others had been relieved for various offenses over the course of a year.
That wasn’t to say other ships didn’t have their fair share of bullshit in the upper ranks. When I’d been stationed on an aircraft carrier back when I had been a lieutenant commander, the CO had been so close to retiring that he’d just stopped giving a fuck. The XO had been the opposite—a hard-ass who’d throw the book at someone for the most minor infraction. The CO’s apathy hadn’t mattered when the XO had kept us all in line.
Then the XO had been busted with his dick in a petty officer. Adultery. Fraternization. Conduct unbecoming a gentleman. Overnight, the five-thousand-strong crew had turned almost mutinous. If the CO didn’t care and the rules didn’t apply to the XO, then why should any of us bother?
The Fort Stevens had roughly the same level of respect and morale right now. The junior personnel regarded the senior ranks with open contempt, and those who were senior to them but junior to me and Captain Hawthorne pretty much shrugged and wished us the best of luck.
And, of course, the ship was scheduled to go to sea for six months in the spring. Couldn’t wait to see what happened when a crew on the verge of mutiny was tired and sex deprived with no land in sight. Especially once we deployed and brought aboard almost two thousand Marines on top of the thousand-plus existing crew, making the boat three times as crowded. Fantastic.
Once I was on board, I followed the maze of passageways to my office. The space was cramped, but that was to be expected. Everything on a ship was cramped. Well, unless you’d spent time on a submarine. I never had—aside from a tour once or twice—but some friends had, and they thought a carrier or an amphib ship were the damn Four Seasons after those claustrophobic confines.
I shuddered. There was a reason I’d never volunteered for sub duty.
I settled into my office to get some work done. I had several Sailors and a couple of officers coming in today for Executive Officer Inquiries. XOI was a step below Captain’s Mast, which was a step below court-martial. These were serious offenses, which meant I needed to be focused.
That didn’t mean I was focused, though. The minute I sat my aching ass down, my mind wandered right back to the man who’d spent most of the weekend in my bed.
He’d left Saturday to go to work, and then he’d come back yesterday for a rematch after closing. We’d gone to a café he’d recommended for lunch, and what a surprise—found our way back into my bed last night. This morning, we’d both been bleary-eyed as hell when I’d had to get up and head to the boat . . . but not bleary-eyed enough for him to refuse that blowjob in the shower.
I shivered in my desk chair. Goddamn, he was hot. And addictive. One look at him on Friday night had given me a hard-on, but I’d had no idea what was in store once I got him into my bed. Now I was suddenly desperate for him to lay me out and ride my ass again. It was as if I’d never felt anything like that before, and now I needed as much as I could get.
Except I had been fucked before. There were a couple of guys in my past, and my ex-wife had been very enthusiastic with that strap-on. So I was no stranger to giving or receiving anal.
Holy fuck, though. Diego. That man had ridden me hard until I couldn’t take anymore, and when I’d begged him for more anyway, he’d given it to me. His cock was addictive. He was addictive.
And the way he’d talked dirty in my ear? That was . . . oh God. I couldn’t even say he’d been talking dirty. When he’d slipped into Spanish, I’d had no idea what he was actually saying. He could’ve been complimenting my car or insulting my mother or reciting the Lord’s Prayer. All I knew was his tone had been so utterly filthy, he’d talked me right over the edge into the hardest orgasm I’d had in years.
I shivered again, goose bumps breaking out under my uniform. Christ, that man was sexy. It was impossible not to come away from a weekend like that in anything but a good mood, even if that good mood wasn’t going to last long. Which it wouldn’t—not when I had a day packed with Executive Officer Inquiries. Because disciplinary hearings were so much fun.
I managed to concentrate enough to get through the first couple of XOIs without making an ass of myself. A distracted XO during a disciplinary hearing would really help with that ship-wide morale and discipline problem the CO and I were fighting. The minute I had my office to myself, though, I was back to spacing out and thinking about Diego. Hadn’t he said something this morning about getting together again?
I sat up. He had. Somewhere in the middle of making out and blowing him, there’d been a we should do this again and an I want more of what we did last night. The only thing left was to figure out when or where. Or whether he was just enthusiastic about another rematch because he’d had his dick in my mouth a minute before.
So, during lunch, I slipped down to the pier to find a decent signal and texted him.
Busy tonight?
Nope. Off today. ;)
Oh, now that made things more interesting. A midweek work night wasn’t the time to be starting something at one in the morning, but earlier? Oh yeah, I could do that.
Want to grab dinner & then go to my place?
Can do. When/where?
We texted back and forth for a few minutes. By the time I went aboard again, we’d made plans to meet at the café we’d gone to yesterday, since it was close to the house.
And now, with my evening plans sorted out and my libido tugging even harder at my focus, I returned to my office for the first XOI of the afternoon.
When I got home, I stripped out of my uniform, showered, pulled on a Cardinals T-shirt and jeans, and drove to the café to meet Diego.
He was there when I arrived, and he smiled as I came up the sidewalk. Then his eyes drifted down, and he suddenly looked horrified. “What the fuck is that?” He gestured at my shirt.
“What?” I glanced at myself.
“You’re a Cardinals fan?” He clicked his tongue and scowled. “And here I was thinking you were almost perfect.”
Aside from being on active duty?
I didn’t ask that out loud, though. As curious as I was about his almost-allergic aversion to the military, the conversation was light and I wanted to keep it that way. “Don’t tell me you’re a Patriots fan?”
He made a disgusted noise. “Please. Eagles, all the way.”
I scoffed, shaking my head. “Oh God. Well, enjoy watching the Cardinals stomp them on Sunday.”
Diego paused like he was thinking. “They are playing this weekend, aren’t they?”
“I think so, yeah.” I took out my phone and pulled up the schedule. “No, wait. Two weeks from Sunday.”
Diego’s eyes lost focus for a second, but then his face lit up. “All the bartenders get a weekend off every month, and that’s mine. Perfect!”
I grinned. “So you want to watch the game with me?”
“Hell yeah.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m always down for being there while a Cardinals fan watches his guys get stomped.”
I laughed. “Uh-huh. We’ll see about that.”
“We will. Two weeks from Sunday.”
“My place?”
He nodded. “Your place.”
This was going to be fun.
We went into the café and, after we’d been seated, opened the menus. We talked while we perused the menu, meandering from topic to topic. We were still getting to know each other, after all.
After I told him one of my wild tales of being overseas, he laughed and almost choked on his drink.
“And none of you were arrested?” he asked, eyebrows up.
“None. Which was surprising—the Japanese police don’t really have a high tolerance for stupid drunken Americans. Not in towns with bases, anyway.”
“I’ll bet they don’t.” He chuckled, and he didn’t seem to mind that we were brushing up against the subject of me being in the military. “Why do you think they let you go?”
“We had someone in the group who was fluent in Japanese. If you’ve got someone who speaks the language, it can go a long way when you’re dealing with foreign police.”
Diego nodded. “I believe that. As long as a cop speaks Spanish or English, I’m good.”
“Well, you’re doing better than me. If the cop doesn’t speak English, I’m fucked.”
“They didn’t make you take a foreign language in school?”
“Eh, I took French in high school and college, but I’ve never had much need for it, so I’ve forgotten most of it.”
He nodded. “Yeah, that happens. To be honest, my Spanish would probably get rusty if I didn’t talk to my family as often as I do.”
“You talk to them often?”
“As much as I can. Calling Mexico isn’t cheap, so . . .” He waved his hand.
“I can imagine.”
He cleared his throat. “You close to your family?”
I pressed my lips together. “Not as close to my sister as I’d like to be, but . . .” I sighed. “That’s a long story. My parents moved to Florida a few years ago, and I talk to them as often as I can. Visit too. They used to come see me, but it’s hard for them to travel now.”
Diego studied me. “Do they know about . . . uh . . .” He gestured at each of us.
“That I’m bi?”
“Yeah.”
I nodded. “They knew I dated a couple of guys in college. They don’t necessarily like it, and probably thought it was a moot point after I got married, but yes, they know. What about yours?”
“My father never knew.” His expression darkened, but only for a second before he shook himself and met my gaze again. “My mother thinks he would have been all right with it, even if it took him some time to get there, but I guess we’ll never know.”
“How does she feel about it?”
“When I told her the first time, she cried.” He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “That was . . . hard.”
“I’ll bet,” I said, almost whispering. We held each other’s gazes. The topic of our families felt loaded for some reason. Like ground we didn’t need to be walking on right now.
Before I could change the subject, he said, “So your parents moved to Florida? From where?”
“Phoenix.”
“That explains the Cardinals thing.” He sighed dramatically. “I guess I can let it slide.”
“Uh-huh. Yeah, I was born and raised there, and I’ve been trying to avoid the desert ever since.”
“Don’t like the heat?”
“Not really. And I’m pretty sure the desert was actively trying to kill me.”
Diego laughed. God, I loved the way he laughed. “Trying to kill you? How?”
“Snakes and scorpions, mostly. A rattler bit me when I was ten, but it was the scorpion sting that almost killed me.”
Diego blinked a few times like he was struggling to take in everything I’d just said. “Okay, now you have to tell me both of those stories.”
I chuckled. “Well, the rattler was under my friend’s front porch. We were supposed to tell our parents if we saw a snake so they could call one of the removal specialists, but we were dumb kids and thought teasing it would be more fun.”
Diego pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re not serious.”
“I totally am.” I shook my head, laughing at the memory. “I got too close, it got pissed off, and . . .” I gestured at my forearm. “It got me.”
His eyes widened. “It really bit you.”
“Uh-huh. No scar, though. I mean, there were a couple of puncture wounds, but then I wiped out on a bike when I was a teenager, and the road rash took out the scar.”
“I thought rattlesnake bites did more damage than that.”
“They do, but I got lucky—it was a dry bite. Scared me more than anything, which was probably the idea. I still had to go to the hospital, and it hurt like a son of a bitch for a while, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been.”
“You did get lucky,” he said. “And the scorpion?”
“That was when I was twelve. My friend—same friend—and I found a bark scorpion. Those are the really dangerous ones, so obviously we were playing with it.”
Diego inclined his head. “I’m seeing a pattern here.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh. So you were teasing it like you teased the snake, and it stung you?”
“Basically. And I was so afraid of getting in trouble for playing with it, I didn’t want to tell my mom. When I started wheezing and puking a couple of hours later, she took me to the ER.”
“Were you in trouble after that?”
I shuddered as I picked up my drink. “So much trouble.”
He burst out laughing. “Sounds like you deserved it.”
“Hmm, probably.” I arched an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you were the perfect kid.”
“Me?” He put a hand to his chest. “I was an angel.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, aside from the time my brother and I took our dad’s car out joyriding.”
“Oh really?” I folded my arms on the edge of the table and leaned closer. “How did that turn out?”
“It went fine until we ran out of gas. Then we were fucked.” He sipped his drink. “This tow truck driver pulled over to see if we were all right, and it turned out to be one of my dad’s friends.” Diego grimaced. “You want trouble? That was trouble.”
I snorted. “So much for a perfect angel, right?”
He shrugged, grinning mischievously. “I didn’t say I was a perfect angel. But at least I wasn’t getting bitten by poisonous things I was teasing.”
“Hey, don’t judge me.”
We both laughed, and just like we had over coffee in my kitchen and at this same café yesterday, we lost ourselves in conversation. It wasn’t until long after we’d eaten and a waitress came up to the table that I realized how long we’d actually been here.
“Can I get you gentlemen anything else?” There was a subtle note of impatience in the question. Some thinly veiled encouragement to not ask for anything else.
I checked my phone. “Holy shit. It’s almost midnight?”
“No way.” Diego looked at his phone too, and his eyes widened. “Oh. It is.”
We apologized profusely for overstaying and tipped her almost forty percent for having occupied a table for so long. She locked the door behind us and flipped the cheery Open sign over to Sorry We’re Closed.
Diego looked back at the sign and grimaced. “Poor lady. She probably wanted to go home an hour ago.”
“I know. We’ll have to keep better track of time if we do this again.”
He met my gaze. “Are we doing this again?”
I moistened my lips. “You tell me.”
“We could. It’s fun, right?”
“Yeah, it is.” Especially the part that usually comes after.
“So, sure.” He used my belt to tug me closer. “And there’s also the game coming up.”
“There is. But do you really want to watch that with me?” I smirked. “Because I will rub it in when the Eagles lose.”
Diego returned the smirk. He leaned in like he was going to kiss me, but he snapped his teeth instead, making me jump. “Haven’t you learned not to tease wild animals?”
“If a rattlesnake and a scorpion didn’t teach me, what makes you think you will?” I couldn’t resist a long kiss. He didn’t object. As the kiss went on, I held him tighter against me. God, he was addictive. “Shame we stayed here so late.” I held him firmly against me. “I was looking forward to taking you home.”
He smiled, sliding his hands up my chest. “Just means you’ll want me that much more when you do get me into bed.”
“Fuck yeah, I will,” I growled as I moved in for a kiss. His lips were still curved into that smile, but they quickly relaxed against mine, and the conversation seemed like it had happened ages ago. I cupped the back of his neck, and we stood there for the longest time, just letting the kiss be its own thing. Not foreplay. Not a promise of more. Not a tease. Just lips and tongues and two men getting completely lost in a long, sexy moment.
When we broke the kiss, his eyelids were heavy, and his smile was adorable with his slightly swollen lips.
“You know, since I’ve got that off weekend coming up . . .” He actually sounded a little shy as he asked, “Maybe we could do something. Go down to Flatstick and dance at a club where I don’t have to work.”
The thought of him out on a dance floor made my head spin.
I quirked my lips, pretending to give it some thought. “That could be fun.”
He grinned, sliding his hands into my back pockets. “Uh-huh. Dance a bit. Fool around. Not have to worry about coworkers.”
“Mmm, I like that idea. Maybe we could get a room too.”
Instantly, Diego went rigid. He shook his head. “No.”
“What? Why not?”
“I . . .” His cheeks colored. “It’s . . . Payday is still a ways off, you know?”
I waved a hand. “I’ll cover it. I want—”
“No,” he said sharply. “If we’re going to do this, we’re splitting it. I am not mooching off you.”
“Mooching?” I shook my head. “No, no. It’s—”
“We split it.” His tone didn’t offer any room for debate.
“Okay. Okay. I’m fine with that. I just want us to be able to relax that night without worrying about getting all the way back to Anchor Point.”
Diego’s jaw tightened. “That shit can get expensive, you know? And I mean, even this . . .” He gestured at the café and avoided my eyes. “I can’t do it very often. I, uh, really shouldn’t even be doing it this much. Twice in one week.”
I touched his chin and lifted it so he was looking in my eyes. “Don’t worry about it. If you don’t want to go, we don’t have to. Or going to dinner. Any of it. I don’t mind staying in.”
His lips tightened, and he sighed. “I do want to go out. And I like the idea of staying in Flatstick, as long as it’s one night. I just . . . don’t want to mooch off you.”
“You’re not.”
“Still.” Diego swallowed. “Let’s just stay someplace cheap, all right? I’ll feel like an ass if it’s something extravagant.”
“We don’t need anything fancy.” I gave his ass a playful squeeze. “Just a place to sleep and fuck.”
That seemed to shake some of the tension out of him, and he grinned as he leaned into me. “I love the sound of that.”
“Me too. So, on your off weekend, Saturday night in Flatstick, then watch the game on Sunday?”
“Sounds perfect.”
“Good. And I’m sure we can think of something to do between now and then.”
“Mmm, I think we can.” He kissed me again, and I let it linger because why the hell not? Yeah, when I went to work in five hours, I’d be a bleary-eyed mess, but this evening had been worth whatever penance came my way. And yeah, I’d be chugging down coffee, struggling to stay awake, and my brain would probably be all over the place, but if that was the price for a long, perfect dinner with Diego? Fine.
And in a couple of weeks, I’d have him for a night of dancing and an afternoon of football.
I could not wait.