Cole: The Wounded Sons, Leah Sharelle [the reading list .TXT] 📗

for was to be alone, get on my bike and ride off somewhere … anywhere but here, listening to the stories being told about Signal.

We could use his name outside of the confines of the team now. It was a sign of respect, proof that his death had not been in vain, that his service to his country and the men he served with was one to be applauded, his courage to be appreciated.

Of course, no one outside of the uniform would ever know exactly what acts of courage and honour he performed, and even then, not all active soldiers would know. Only those with special clearance would ever hear about the details of Deke’s bravery. How far he drove himself to protect his fellow operatives. Just what he put himself through on every deployment.

I think that was the hardest part for me to deal with. That I … we, couldn’t unload what we did. What we saw. What he experienced every day we put the uniform on and jumped on a helicopter to be dropped off in whatever hell hole we deployed to.

There was no relief, no respite from the burden of being a soldier.

My father and his best friends were proof of that.

It’s more than thirty years since they wore the Team Five patch or saw action, and most of them still dealt with some form of PTSD. Granted, since finding the loves of their lives, they all said they cope much better. Now and then, though, I saw that guarded look in their eyes; the walls go up when they didn’t think anyone was watching them.

I did, though—notice; using my powers of observation was why I was so good.

Finishing off the last of my beer, I tossed the bottle into the esky beside me and reached for a bottle of whiskey. Ten beers in, and I was still coherent, my mind still working, my memories still there. It was time for something stronger, something that could dull the noises and visions, even for a night.

Taking off the lid, I didn’t bother with a glass or anything to weaken the liquor, putting the bottle to my lips, I drank down a long shot, the burn of the alcohol awakening my senses. Fighting against the compelling need to take it slow, I continued to gulp down the dark liquid until my stomach revolted, telling me I was going too fast.

Dropping the bottle to the table with a hard thud, I choked on one but swallowed the last mouthful, feeling the effects immediately.

“Damn it, Deke! Why the fuck did you have to go and die?” I croaked out.

Why did you make me see it?

Suddenly, cheers rose from the main bar. Team FIVE all had a raised beer in the air repeating the mantra from the original team, one we took on ourselves.

“Honour, Respect, Loyalty.”

Pissed off, I dragged myself to my feet, having heard enough, and seen enough. I staggered by the potted plants the women of the Club liked to dot around the main room, thankful for the cover they allowed me. Being seen and dragged into the sombre celebrations was not on my mind right now.

Riding my bike was out—the alcohol well and truly taking hold of me. Instead, I had thoughts of finding myself a warm and willing body. Maybe, just maybe, spending a few hours deep in a pussy might help me get through burying Signal tomorrow.

Help me forget all the guilt I carried. It was stupid, but I couldn’t help wonder had I got there earlier, reached Deke an hour before I did, maybe his injuries would not have been so bad. And the only thing we would be celebrating today was being reunited with my team.

All of us whole.

Not broken like we are now.

Taking another slug of whiskey, I walked down the hall to my room. My phone was on my bedside table, making a call now my only thought process.

“Fuck baby, your skin smells so fucking good, so clean, so pure,” I groaned against her soft belly, my tongue coming out and taking long, languid licks at her heated, tanned skin.

“Hmmm, oh god, Rambo, that feels amazing. Please don’t stop.” Her sweet, breathy voice begged me. Rolling my tongue in the indentation of her belly button, I looked up her sexy petite body and gave her my best smirk.

“Oh, don’t worry, Temptress, I don’t intend stopping until you have come in my mouth then on my cock,” I assured her, not acknowledging her silly nickname for me or the one I gave her.

A funny thing happened on my way to my room to get my phone … I didn’t make it, instead, I found myself passing a woman coming up the hall, she smiled at me and the next thing I knew I had her up against the wall kissing the shit out of her. The way she moaned and sucked my tongue into her mouth, of course, ending up in one of the spare rooms, was the next logical step, right?

Sliding my hands down the super soft skin of the sexiest hips I’ve ever had the pleasure of holding, I slid under them until my fingers gripped the fleshy globes of her arse. To be honest, I was a bit fuzzy on the details on how we got naked if I undressed her or vice versa, the alcohol I’d consumed being responsible for that slight lack of memory.

“I’m going to enjoy this meal, Temptress,” I hummed, placing my nose close enough to breathe in the heady scent of my sexy bed partner’s arousal.

“Just hurry up and lick me, I want to see if your tongue on my pussy is as good as my imagination.” The throaty voice hurried me. Now, if I was sober, that comment might be questioned intensely by me, but I was not sober, not even a little bit.

Swiping my tongue out, I licked a path through the sticky folds all