Marrying the Marine-epub (12 page)

“I’m so glad you’re willing and wanting to listen to my experience in the war. It really helps when I talk about it with someone who truly cares.” Braylon’s mind flashed back to Madison. After he returned home three years ago, Madison had never wanted to listen to him talk about Iraq. The spoiled, snobbish lady was too wrapped up into herself to even care about the horrors he’d been through. When Braylon had asked about taking their relationship to the next level, she’d flat out said his career chosen path as a Marine didn’t fit her family’s image of what they wanted her husband to be. 

She pushed him to go back to law school and work in his father’s business. Finally, he’d gotten so fed up with Madison trying to change him, he dumped her. And now she claimed they shared a son.
Drayton. What am I going to do when I find out Drayton’s really mine?

He sulked inwardly then shifted his views back to Iraq. Every time he revisited that time in his life he felt like crying. And although he never wept outwardly, his heart wept inside on a regular basis.  The macho side of him fought to keep his wounded heart a secret.

“When my squad first arrived at our outpost in Iraq, the first thing we did was outfit our living quarters.” He drifted away.

Growing up in the comforts of a luxurious Texas-style mansion, outfitting his living quarters hadn’t come easy for Braylon upon his arrival in Iraq. Back home a person just stayed inside if the weather was unrelenting, but in the desert he had to salvage wood to build shelter against the vicious winds. While pissing into metal pipe fed through a barricade filled with dirt was challenging, it’d been even harder for him to burn his own feces in a metal drum.

Forget about taking a shower because there wasn’t any running water. After long days of gruesome foot patrolling the infantrymen would pull on new socks, use baby wipes to clean their bodies, and smother themselves in baby powder so they could pretend they smelled decent.

“It was misery, but we endured the misery together.”

Sandella sat upright. “How do you feel about women fighting on the front lines?”

“While I think women are more than qualified to fight, I have mixed feelings about it.”

“Why’s that?”

“As men, we fight together, kill together, and get killed together. And while that bothers me, I think I’d react differently and be worse off if I saw a woman fighting next to me get her head blown off. I also think I’d be more inclined to help a woman who’d been injured before I helped a man.”
And some men can’t focus with titties and a fine piece of ass around them.

“Yeah, I see your point.” 

Tears streamed down her face after he shared the fact that everyone in his unit except for him had died after a bomb explosion. “I’m glad to have served my country. If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing. I’m proud to be a Marine,” he said, emphasizing the word Marine, getting out of bed. 

He opened the closet door, retrieved a box full of photos from the shelf, then made his way back to the bed. “This is a picture of me and the men in my unit,” he said, handing her the photo filled with brave Marines.

She slid the picture he’d given her to the back of the rest to look at the following one. The skin at the corner of her eyes compressed as she peered down at the photo of him sitting next to body bags. She glanced up at him. “This is so sad. I’m so sorry.” Her eyes misted. “I’m so proud of you. Thank you for everything you’ve done for this country.” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him as if he didn’t have early morning breath.

As his tongue twirled around hers, his cock stiffened. He motioned her to her back, threw her sultry legs over his shoulders, and drove his tool inside the sweet juices of her juncture. 

Riding her, he cupped the heel of her foot and kissed it.
I’m never going to tire of this pussy.
He might not be ready to admit it, but this damn woman had a hold on him.

Gyrating her hips, she placed her toes on his lips, and he sucked the two big ones inside his mouth. She burst into laughter. “That tickles!”

Stroke. Stroke.
“It does, huh?” With his fingers grasping her ankles, he stroked her and suckled on her toes like they were stick candy.

“Stop! I can’t take it!” She covered her mouth and couldn’t stop laughing.

“You’re tickling me, too” he thrust into her, “so it’s only fair that I tickle you back.” Rocking his hips back and forth, he tortured her cute pink-painted toes.

Giggling, she hefted the pillow from the headboard, tossed it in his face. She then gyrated her hips, intentionally severing their connection, and rolled out of bed to her feet. She stood at the side of the bed with her arms wrapped around her waist, cracking up with girlish laughter. Witnessing firsthand her extreme excitement, he became aroused to the point of no return.

He clambered out of bed, walked to the back of her, and then reached around to caress the high swells of her breasts. Grinding his erection against her spine, he slid a hand between her legs and pinched her clitoris. Her laughter turned into deep, intense gasps.

He placed a hand on her spine, grabbed his dick, then rubbed his mushroom head along the crack of her butt. “I’m going to take you from behind.”

Following his lead, she flattened her hands on the rumpled linen, bent over, and he slid his shaft deep inside her.
Oh yeah. This pussy will always be mine.

MAKING GOOD LOVE
to Sandella twice this morning had Braylon rushing to get to work. He glanced at the clock inside the Hummer then cursed. An extremist when it came to punctuality, he’d never been late to work before and had no intentions of being tardy today either. Appreciating the durability of his SUV, he weaved around a slow-moving Pontiac and made a quick right into Parris Island military base.

Reaching the guard’s station, he halted. The guard stared at him, then after scrutinizing his ID saluted him. Braylon raised his hand to his forehead saluting him in return.  The security on the base was airtight, just like it should be.

The long road leading to his office had a cozy country feeling. Large oaks with huge branches draped with grey moss lined both sides of the road. A smiled covered his face as he cruised past recruits jogging alongside the road, dressed in camouflage and spit-shined boots. The drill sergeant chanting out in front curved to his right with his team of recruits strictly following his lead. 

Braylon wheeled his truck in front of the brick building, parked, and read the time on the dashboard. Good, he was fifteen minutes early. Because he liked to arrive to work at least thirty minutes beforehand, he and Sandella were going to have to start having sex earlier in the morning from now on. 

The fall sun beat down on his nape as he climbed the steps of the building. He pulled the door open and gladly stepped inside. After three and a half weeks of relaxing, it sure felt good to finally start work, he thought, taking in his professional surroundings.

Marines walked about inside the office wearing various forms of uniforms, depending on their ranks and assigned duties. He’d already had the pleasure of meeting his boss, Spencer Knox, the same day as he’d met Sandella so he knew exactly where his office was.

As he strode down the hallway toward Spencer’s office, an attractive blond female dressed in navy blues stopped him. “Do you need help?” she asked, her eyes raking over his body. Was this woman coming on to him? Did she have the nerve to flirt with him on their first meeting?

“Thanks, but I’m good.”

“Well, if you ever need anything,” she looked back over her shoulder, then back at him, “I’m Alyssa…Alyssa Carrington.” She extended her arm.

Braylon shook her hand. “Braylon Wexler. Nice meeting you, Alyssa.”

“No, it’s nice meeting you,” she said, emphasizing the
you
. “Mmm. Mmm. Mmm,” she hummed, strutting off.

When Braylon turned around to look at the sexy blond, she was looking back at him too. He smiled, then proceeded toward his destination.
Sorry, Alyssa, I’m taken.
The sudden thought of belonging to only one woman, Sandella, had come out of nowhere and nearly scared the living shit out of him.

He emerged inside the office of his boss, Lieutenant Colonel Spencer Knox, to find him standing behind his desk, looking out the window. Braylon cleared his throat. “Good morning.”

Spencer’s head snapped in his direction. He looked down at the clock on his desk then back at Braylon. “Good morning. For a second there I thought you’d be late. Just so you know, I have low tolerance for tardiness.” He chuckled dryly.

Braylon detected a condescending tone in the man’s voice. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m right on time.” 
If it hadn’t been for making love to Sandella I would’ve been much earlier.

A tall lanky white man with thick brown eyebrows marched into Spencer’s office and came to a stop next to Braylon. “You must be our new Criminal Investigator…Braylon Wexler.”

Damn, his eyebrows need trimming.
“Yes. I am.”

“I’m Lieutenant Colonel Forest Greene.” Braylon’s brows must’ve hitched. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s a dumb name, but you can blame my momma for that.” Forest burst into laughter and Spencer joined him. “Who the hell knows, maybe the broad was pissy drunk when she had me. That’d explain my behavior, wouldn’t it, Knox?”

“If you say so.” Spencer said, shaking his head.

Braylon found Forest’s untimely remark and tone rather unprofessional considering this was their first meeting. Maybe he was just too uptight because he’d been on edge about possibly running late.

“Anyway, welcome to Parris Island. My office is right down the hallway. Let me know if I can be of any help to you. Nice meeting you.”

“Likewise.”

Spencer said, “I’ll show you around, introduce you to your coworkers, then you can get settled and began your day.”

HOURS LATER
after Spencer showed Braylon around the base, he returned to his office. He plopped down in his chair and hit the button on his computer. Rolling his shoulders, he sighed, then leaned back in his chair waiting for the computer to charge up. All that great sex last night and this morning had him longing for some more. He thought about Sandella and his dick hardened.

His eyes scanned over the clean spacious workspace.
Nice office. It’s much different than being on the front lines of a war.
He folded his arms across his chest and noticed the blinking red light on his desk phone. He had a message.

He lifted the phone to his ear, hit the inbox for his voicemail, and grabbed a pen from his organizer. In search of a note pad to write on, he pulled open his desk drawer and found several pieces of unopened mail inside. One of the envelopes was stamped
confidential
in red.
Confidential? 
He hefted the medium brown envelope along with a yellow Post-it.

“Hi Braylon, this is Alyssa.”
Alyssa? Oh yeah, the girl I met in the hallway this morning.
“I forgot to give you my number. It’s 551-1352. Again…551-1352. Call me sometime.” Braylon smiled at the woman’s determination and dropped the receiver back on its base. Because he had no intention of calling her, he didn’t bother to write down her number. Right now his mind was on one woman, and one woman only. Sandella.

Assuming the envelope had belonged to the individual that had had this office before him, he flipped it over, slid his finger under the flap, and broke the seal. He pulled out a sheet of paper with a typewritten message addressed to him. As he read over the unnerving document, his heart scrambled like eggs inside his chest. The letter read:

Dear Detective Wexler.

Inside this envelope is the original case file documenting the death of Sugar Summers. I’m acutely aware that you know the deceased woman’s daughter, Sandella, and thought this might be of high interest to you. Considering you are the new lead Criminal Investigator for Parris Island, I’d think finding her killer would be of utmost importance.

While I’d much rather speak to you in person than write this letter, I’m smart enough to know that it wouldn’t prove wise. The last man that attempted to do such a thing was found murdered in the woods. With that being said, I’m pleading with you to please reopen the case and bring him down. All of the answers pertaining to Sugar’s untimely and unfortunate death can be found right under your nose if you sniff hard enough.

Welcome to Parris Island,

Simon

Fucking Christ!
Braylon scampered briskly across the room and shut the door. With his heart beating like a drum against his chest, he flopped down in his chair, and pulled out the remainder of the contents inside the envelope. He grasped the police report as sweat beaded on his forehead.

He swiped at the sweat then reclined in the chair.
Dear God.
When he flipped to the second page he almost pissed on himself. In his hands was a bloody image of Sandella’s mother taken right after she’d died.

Who’s Simon?
he wondered, rereading the signature at the bottom of the letter. He had no idea who Simon was, but he damn sure planned to find out. And now that someone had felt it necessary that he take a look at Sandella’s mother’s case, he was going to try his damndest to find out who her killer was. He locked the file in his drawer then pondered what to do next.

Sliding the key to the lock inside his pocket, he crossed the room to the door and made his way over to his secretary’s, Victoria’s, desk. How this shit had been thrown in his lap his first day was kind of scary. Downright creepy. Who in the hell knew about him and Sandella? Could this Simon guy be the killer?

Victoria, a brunette with short wavy hair, lifted her eyes from the computer screen. Her lips curved upward.  “How’s your first day going?” She popped a breath mint in her mouth. 

Crazy as fuck. 
“It’s going great.” He leaned into her. “Do you by any chance know an employee by the name of Simon?”