Jack And Crush Read online

  Lara Norman

  Jack and Crush

  First published by LPN Publishing in 2018

  Copyright © Lara Norman, 2018

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  First edition

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

  Find out more at reedsy.com

  This story would not be the same without the help and input of

  several people. BeLynda, Denise, Kim, and Jamie, thank you

  for your support, and sometimes a much-needed kick

  in the ass. To all my FF readers,

  you remain the reason

  I’m a writer.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  It was especially hot that mid-November day, an Indian Summer. Fletcher remembered being surprised at the way the heat smacked him in the face as he stepped off the bus that brought him from Ft. Hood. The sky was hazy, like a portend to something more fierce. It wasn’t unusual for him to take the bus from Fort Hood, since he lived about an hour from the base in Abbott, Texas. He was coming home early, surprising his fiancée, and he couldn’t wait to see her; he’d been overseas for eights months that time. It was a lot of work to Skype with the time difference, but he’d emailed her every other day and sent pictures when he could. Ava had seemed just fine with him leaving that time around, and he was happy that she was adjusting well to his deployments.

  Fletcher had grown up with Ava Wilder, and they had a relationship that was easy and comfortable. She wasn’t clingy, and that was perfect for someone who worked late hours and every few months had to run a mission in Baghdad. He was a geospatial intelligence imagery analyst in the United States Army, with the rank of Corporal. His C.O. informed him before he left that he would most likely qualify for Sergeant after the end of his leave, based on the hard work he’d put in while in the desert and his seniority.

  Running up the steps to the blue Colonial two-story house, he unlocked the front door and dropped his duffel bag on the floor. The air conditioning made it feel like heaven in there after the unusual heat, and the feeling of being home was overwhelming. He’d noticed Ava’s car in the driveway, but didn’t see her as he made his way around the staircase to the farmhouse kitchen at the back of the house. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, he wandered back to the staircase. Trailing his hand on the hard and cool wood of the banister, he climbed the stairs, anticipating how they would reunite. Ava was his first and only partner, and they had a pleasant sex life. But it had been eight months, and he was worked up at the thought of releasing so much sexual tension with his soon-to-be wife. They weren’t known for being wild in bed, but they were comfortable. His absences made their reunions more exciting than their usual encounters.

  The second stair from the top always squeaked when stepped on, and as Fletcher avoided it he thought he heard a noise from the general direction of the master bedroom. Grinning, he moved faster down the hall, his heart pounding heavily in his chest. He reached the bedroom door and paused, listening.

  He heard Ava laugh, a high, girlish sound. Then he distinctly heard a male voice in response.

  A male voice.

  In his bedroom, with his fiancée.

  Nothing he did from that point on was done with conscious thought: the turning of the doorknob, the door swinging open, his feet carrying him into the room. Everything felt surreal as he stood there at the footboard, staring at Ava and Jax.

  Ava was the first to see him. She gasped and sat up abruptly, her pale breasts bare in the light from the window before she covered them with the sheet. One hand scooped her blonde hair out of her face before she shoved roughly at Jax’s arm. He was under the sheet, and Fletcher refused to think about exactly what he was doing. Jax sat up, spotted Fletcher, and his dark brow raised. Not in surprise or even shame, but defiance. A challenge.

  Jax was the size of a linebacker, and he knew that Fletcher would not take him on. Fletcher had never been in a fist fight, despite being combat trained. Jax had once been considered his friend; at the very least, they were acquaintances from high school. The all-American jock was in bed with the former cheerleader. Fletcher felt like the world’s biggest fool.

  His body turned away, his heart denying what his brain was processing.

  Fletcher took the keys to his Mustang off the hook by the back door, grabbed his duffel, and tore out of the yard. There was only one cure to the images flashing through his head. Whiskey.

  Of course Lillie noticed the walking sex god come into her bar. He had on a disheveled army uniform, and hair that looked as if someone had already fucked him thoroughly that day. He came right up to her favorite stool and sat down.

  “What can I get you?” she asked. He admired her long dark hair and the plethora of tattoos clearly visible. What he needed, was to forget.

  “Whiskey, neat.”

  Fuck, even his voice was sexy. Of course it is, she thought to herself. Some people are just genetically blessed. She grabbed the Jack Daniels and poured him a generous three fingers.

  “Whatever you want, sugar.” When she handed the glass over, he threw it back like a pro and slammed the glass back down. He’d had that kind of day.

  Lillie raised one eyebrow. “Another?”

  He nodded vigorously, then scrubbed his hands over his face in irritation. Lillie couldn’t help but notice the gold and green flecks in his sad blue eyes. He was not a talker, so she moved away to work and serve the other customers.

  Several minutes later, he addressed her as she drew nearer. “Ma’am?”

  “I know you’re not talking to me, cause I ain’t no fucking 'ma’am’," Lillie returned. Fletcher was a bit stunned as she stood in front of him. She was used to that look. Welcome to the club, dude. Her mouth often got her in trouble.

  “I-I’m sorry?” he stuttered.

  “You should be,” she retorted as she slapped another glass in front of him, this time leaving the bottle. Lillie walked away, feeling his perplexed expression as it followed her ass down to the other end of the bar. “And stop staring at my ass,” she yelled behind her. They always stared at her ass.

  As the evening moved into the wee hours of the morning, and the soldier still sat there brooding, she knew there would be a problem at closing time. Lillie was closing solo that night, but, luckily for her, a Louisville Slugger kept her company behind the bar and the Glock in her purse got her home at night.

  Although, she doubted she’d have any real trouble from him. He didn’t appear to be mean, just lost and very depressed.

  “Last call, sweet cheeks,” she announced after everyone else had cleared out for the night.

  “Shit, already?” Fletcher signed the tab she’d kept running for him and stood from his stool. “You coming?” he asked, putting his hand on top of hers as she took his receipt.

  She rolled her eyes, huffing at his arrogance. “L
ike hell.”

  “I meant, are you closing?”

  “Yes. Where do you live? I’ll call you a cab.” Lillie picked up the portable phone she kept near the register.

  His face clouded over; she found it heartbreakingly beautiful. “I’m not drunk enough for a cab, but I don’t have a home,” he said, all forlorn.

  Uh, what? He was clearly not homeless. "No comprendo."

  “I don’t have a home to go back to. I need to find a place.” The look on his face was devastating.

  She thought about it, her fingers drumming on the bar. She knew exactly what she was getting herself into if she offered him her couch. “Fine, let’s go.”

  “Go where?” he asked, his eyebrows pulling together. Lillie thought he had gorgeous eyes. She also knew she was spending too much time looking at how handsome he was.

  “You can crash at my place. No funny shit, either, or I’ll wrap your balls around your throat and choke you with them.” It was doubtful she’d have to follow through on the threat; she’d do anything that hottie asked of her.

  “You have a dirty mouth,” he pointed out, as though she didn’t know this already.

  “No shit. Now let me lock the doors, and we can leave through the back.”

  He waited patiently for her, trying to build up his fortitude for what he wanted to do. When she started to walk down the alley, he put out his hand to stop her. “Wait.” He fished in his pockets until he came up with a set of keys. “You should drive, just to be safe.”

  “Deal.” When they rounded the corner and the only car out front was a bright blue Mustang S197, Lillie creamed her panties at the thought of driving it. “Oh, what a beautiful lady you are,” she crooned, running her hand over the hood.

  She hit the key fob to unlock the doors, and then shivered at the way the night air had cooled so drastically from the day. Her ass cheeks were going to freeze in her short skirt. They climbed into the car, and she roared to life under Lillie and Fletcher.

  “Jesus,” Lillie breathed, her hands caressing the steering wheel. The leather seats were cold on her ass, but soft like butter.

  “Are you going to drive home, or make love to my car?” he said in a demanding voice.

  “Both.” Duh. “What do you do for the fine folks at the army?” she asked conversationally as she pulled away from the bar. She’d looked over his fatigues for any sign of his rank, but she didn’t know enough about it to make an educated guess.

  “I read maps. I was just at Camp Al-Istiglal,” he enunciated carefully. “The air base in Baghdad,” he clarified.

  “Wow, say that three times fast,” she joked.

  “Mmm,” was his only response.

  When they got to her place she let them in, turning on the light above the stove and setting up the coffee pot. Soldier boy walked around her small living room, looking at the walls.

  “I like your art,” he said, and he sounded sincere.

  Lillie couldn’t say why that pleased her so immensely. Most people didn’t even notice her art. “Thank you,” she told him fervently.

  The warm smell of coffee was permeating the air when she felt him. His tall, lean body was directly behind hers, and there was a pulse of sexual energy that flowed between them. Lillie took a deep breath in, holding for a count of five, and let it out slowly.

  “We should have coffee first. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

  He laughed. “Believe me, I wish I was drunk enough to get the images of my cheating fiancée out of my head. I would rather focus on you.” He just wanted to prove to himself that he was man enough to please a woman. Was that so wrong?

  When she turned to face him, his hands immediately grasped her face and their mouths melded. His lips branded hers, searing the tender flesh. When she gasped, he thrust his tongue in her mouth, and she finally reacted. Her arms went around his neck, and she buried her hands in his fuck-me hair. She’d been dying to touch it all night, and it was just as soft as she’d imagined it would be.

  When his hands went to her ass, lifting her up onto the countertop, she didn’t protest. Instead, she braced her hands on the Formica behind her, watching as his eyes darkened and traveled down her torso to her short skirt, down her thighs to her knee-high boots. He kneeled, and her heart leapt to her throat. His fingers moved down her smooth thigh until they reached the top of the zipper to her boot. He pulled it down and slid the boot off, causing it to thunk heavily to the linoleum. Her heart echoed the sound as it raced frantically in her chest.

  Fletcher repeated with the other boot, then his hands were on her feet, stroking the arches, roaming up her calves, massaging the muscles, reaching her knees. He lifted her legs, one at a time, and swirled his tongue over the crease at the back. Lillie whimpered as her panties flooded with her arousal. When he stood, she slid off the counter and took his hand, leading him to her bedroom at the back of the house.

  She stood barefoot in front of him and slipped her skirt down her legs, kicking it off. She reached for the hem of her tank, then whipped it off and stood in nothing but her skivvies.

  “Fucking beautiful,” he murmured. She was the complete opposite of his fiancèe, and that was exactly what he needed; dark hair and dark eyes, tattoos and piercings. His fingers roamed the ink on her collarbones, which she somehow found incredibly erotic.

  Fletcher watched her, his irises dark and lethal, as she slowly unbuttoned his camouflage shirt. When she had it free, she moved on to his undershirt. He helped her pull it over his head since he was tall enough that she couldn’t reach. Kneeling, she untied his boots and pulled them off, followed by his socks. When she remained on the floor but reached for his belt, he hissed. When she unzipped him and slipped her hands in his pants, he growled. The pants came down his lean hips, and she pushed his briefs down quickly after. He stepped out of his clothes, but she could only stare at the enormous cock that sprang free.

  Lillie swallowed the saliva that had pooled in her mouth at the sight of him. Leaning in, she glanced up at him from under her lashes. He had an earthy scent, some kind of manly soap, and she inhaled before running her flattened tongue up the length of his cock. His eyes closed, his face scrunching up, and thrust one hand into her hair. She fondled his balls with one hand, stroking his length with the other hand. He moaned, and it went straight to her lady bits.

  “Maybe I can thank you for serving our country,” Lillie breathed out over his wet skin.

  "Fuck," was his brilliant response. She’d been known to make a man speechless before, and the new experiences were almost too much for him.

  His thigh muscles clenched, and her mouth closed around him. Her hands and mouth worked in sync for a time before he stopped her with his hands on her shoulders, pulling her up toward him. Afraid he was going to blow his load way too soon, he kissed her deeply, shoulders bent around her to meet her shorter height. His chest was smooth, taut muscles straining under satin skin peppered with a few hairs. Lillie’s hands went to his hips, and he moved his mouth to kiss down her neck. She leaned her head away to give him better access, moaning shamelessly at the sensations of the sucking and licking he was doing. He could make miracles with that tongue.

  He broke away and looked into her eyes; she saw that his were filled with lust. His hands found her bare ass, and he looked at her in surprise. She turned, giving him a show of her tiny thong and the dermal piercing just above her tailbone.

  “Fuck, woman, you’re sexy.” His voice came growling up from deep in his chest. He didn’t even know a woman could get piercings there.

  Oh, yes, that pussy-tingling velvet voice was getting to her. Gah. She shook her ass for effect, and then felt him on her, hands caressing her ass cheeks and the tattoo work above them. Opening the drawer to her bedside table, she handed back a condom. Lillie heard the tell-tale rip before he pushed her onto the bed, and she gladly went face first into the quilt.

  There was nothing subtle about the way he went about fucking her. Her thong was moved aside, and
his thickness pushed into her with no more preamble. He used the leverage afforded by standing to push her into the mattress over and over. He was hitting her so deep, it wasn’t long before she felt the gathering of sensations in her pussy. Reaching down, she found the place they were joined and touched him as he moved in and out, reveling in the groan he let loose.