Page 22 of The Soldier

I lift the covers and I’m wearing a T-shirt I don’t recall putting on and the panties from last night. His musky aftershave still lingers in the air. I close my eyes and groan as the memory of his wide shoulders looming over me as I arched my hips against his hard cock comes crashing around me.

You hussy.

Then I shoot up, gasping. I kissed the toy soldier. Like full on...

“Noooo.” I drop my face into my hands. Oh god, I begged Marshall to have sex with me. How could I have done that?

Damn you tequila...et al.

I must’ve had at least a dozen shots, I realize as a blur of lights and music comes flooding back, merged with the drive home in the limousine.

Marshall singing.

His eyes holding mine.

Alice climbing out and it just being him and me.

The way he straightened my dress and then didn’t make a single move to do anything inappropriate.

Like I wanted him to.

I was drunk. That’s my only excuse. It’s science. Booze plus a hot guy equals sex. I do not like him.

I hate you.

No, little wolf, I don’t think you do.

I flop back down and lay my hand over my eyes. I am never going to the BHS offices again. Or their parties. I’ll have to tell Savannah I am busy for her upcoming birthday. Marshall will be there, I know he will. I can’t face any more of his smirks and...

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.” One more memory finds its way to back to me.

Tell me when you’re ready to be fucked like the wild wolf pup you are, and I’ll make sure it’s a night you never forget.

My thighs clench as heat pools at my core.

I am not spreading my legs for that Green Beret if it’s the last thing I do. I refuse to even grab my vibrator and take off this craving.

I lift the covers and glance down at my pussy. “You can go without. Bad girl.”

Then I toss back the sheets and zombie-walk to the shower.

––––––––

“ARE YOU STILL hungover?” Alice asks as I toss the pain meds down my throat and chase with the green tea.

“Yes, Alice. I am. Didn’t you see me consume half a gallon of tequila?” I snap and wave out for another drink.

Where are the servers in this damn place?

My hands shake as I dig through my bag for my wallet. Then I huff and walk over to the counter.

“I need another green tea.” I grumble. “Black. Make it a double.”

The lady, dressed head-to-toe in black with a café logo on one breast, tilts her head at me. “Hungover?”

I nod impatiently.

“You need to hydrate. Let me make you a smoothie with coconut water and some protein.”

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