Read Online GAGE: A Bad Boy Military Romance by Cordelia Blanc - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cordelia Blanc
Ads: Link
can’t play.”
“What about me?” Darby called out from across the pavement. “I heard my name.”
“Mind your shit, Darby.”
I dropped the barbell into its cradle and sat up. I couldn’t take anymore of their nonsense. “Take it inside, would ya? I’m trying to workout here,” I called out. All the men looked at me. There were four men involved in the wager: Hastings, Miller, one of the new recruits (some kid named Joel Aubin), and Corporal Lyon, one of the older guys.
Lyon was bald and had a big black beard. A cool wave pulsed through my body as I realized he was part of the bet. He was a lunatic, a murderer in uniform, the kind of guy who joined the military as an excuse to legally murder minorities. He tried his best to look tough, like a bearded biker from an 80s motorcycle club.
Sure, I could take him, but Ashley wouldn’t be able to. Because of Lyon, they almost stopped sending BCs to our outpost. A few months into our tour, the son of a bitch killed one, some young prostitute they flew in from Baghdad. He strangled her while he fucked her, claimed she asked for it. Major Richards did a good job sweeping it under the rug. Lyon got a slap on the wrist and world kept on turning.
“Hey Daniels, Hastings said you’re sharing Miss April with the rest of us. Way to go, brother,” Lyon called out, scratching the wiry beard hair on his cheek.
“I’m not sharing her, she’s not mine.”
“Well aren’t you Mr Women’s Rights?”
“Why don’t you just spend the night fucking yourself, Lyon?”
He laughed and looked at his betting partners. His beard did a poor job hiding his awkward embarrassment. “You want in, Daniels? Place your bet on one of us, maybe make some cash? If you’re feeling risky, Hasting’s odds are 20-1.”
“Hey!” Hastings said, the smile vanishing from his face.
“Don’t waste your bet on Lyon, Gage,” Miller said, laughing. “Two pussies can’t fuck one another.”
Corporal Lyon gave Private Miller a swift shove. “Fuck you.”
“What do you think, Gage?” Hastings asked.
“I think you guys need to go rub one out and stop acting like a bunch of horny teenagers, that’s what I think.”
Lyon shook his head and then men continued discussing their stupid bet. And it was stupid, because Ashley wasn’t going to sleep with any of the dimwits. She’d made it clear enough the night before that she didn’t want to sleep with anyone, especially not some thug like Lyon, or a shrivelled up pervert like Hastings.
But I wasn’t worried about whether Ashley would say yes or no. The real question was, would the bastards listen? Hastings, maybe. Lyon—not a chance. Lyon didn’t have the pride to accept rejection. His ego was too big, and too fragile. If Ashley said no, he would probably rape her in an attempt to get her to admit she meant yes, that she secretly wanted it and how dare she reject a man like Lyon?
The bastard made me sick. And I’d told him that many times. He always assumed I was kidding around. His ego was too thick to accept that someone thought he was a piece of shit.
“I bet she likes it in the ass,” he said.
“No, no. She’s too classy. You’ve gotta romance her a bit, let her lead at the start, and then you make your move,” Miller said, using his hand to simulate a gentle wave, as if he was running it down the side of Ashley’s curvy, soft body.
Lyon laughed. “No, she’s definitely an anal slut.”
I dropped the barbell back into its cradle again, this time with a loud clang. The men turned and looked at me as I sat up. “Alright, men. Go back to your rooms and rub one out. Get this out of your system.”
They all laughed. “Fuck off,” said Hastings.
“That’s an order,” I said.
Their laughter faded into silent confusion. “You’re ordering us to go and jerk off?” Miller asked.
“Major’s orders were to keep
“What about me?” Darby called out from across the pavement. “I heard my name.”
“Mind your shit, Darby.”
I dropped the barbell into its cradle and sat up. I couldn’t take anymore of their nonsense. “Take it inside, would ya? I’m trying to workout here,” I called out. All the men looked at me. There were four men involved in the wager: Hastings, Miller, one of the new recruits (some kid named Joel Aubin), and Corporal Lyon, one of the older guys.
Lyon was bald and had a big black beard. A cool wave pulsed through my body as I realized he was part of the bet. He was a lunatic, a murderer in uniform, the kind of guy who joined the military as an excuse to legally murder minorities. He tried his best to look tough, like a bearded biker from an 80s motorcycle club.
Sure, I could take him, but Ashley wouldn’t be able to. Because of Lyon, they almost stopped sending BCs to our outpost. A few months into our tour, the son of a bitch killed one, some young prostitute they flew in from Baghdad. He strangled her while he fucked her, claimed she asked for it. Major Richards did a good job sweeping it under the rug. Lyon got a slap on the wrist and world kept on turning.
“Hey Daniels, Hastings said you’re sharing Miss April with the rest of us. Way to go, brother,” Lyon called out, scratching the wiry beard hair on his cheek.
“I’m not sharing her, she’s not mine.”
“Well aren’t you Mr Women’s Rights?”
“Why don’t you just spend the night fucking yourself, Lyon?”
He laughed and looked at his betting partners. His beard did a poor job hiding his awkward embarrassment. “You want in, Daniels? Place your bet on one of us, maybe make some cash? If you’re feeling risky, Hasting’s odds are 20-1.”
“Hey!” Hastings said, the smile vanishing from his face.
“Don’t waste your bet on Lyon, Gage,” Miller said, laughing. “Two pussies can’t fuck one another.”
Corporal Lyon gave Private Miller a swift shove. “Fuck you.”
“What do you think, Gage?” Hastings asked.
“I think you guys need to go rub one out and stop acting like a bunch of horny teenagers, that’s what I think.”
Lyon shook his head and then men continued discussing their stupid bet. And it was stupid, because Ashley wasn’t going to sleep with any of the dimwits. She’d made it clear enough the night before that she didn’t want to sleep with anyone, especially not some thug like Lyon, or a shrivelled up pervert like Hastings.
But I wasn’t worried about whether Ashley would say yes or no. The real question was, would the bastards listen? Hastings, maybe. Lyon—not a chance. Lyon didn’t have the pride to accept rejection. His ego was too big, and too fragile. If Ashley said no, he would probably rape her in an attempt to get her to admit she meant yes, that she secretly wanted it and how dare she reject a man like Lyon?
The bastard made me sick. And I’d told him that many times. He always assumed I was kidding around. His ego was too thick to accept that someone thought he was a piece of shit.
“I bet she likes it in the ass,” he said.
“No, no. She’s too classy. You’ve gotta romance her a bit, let her lead at the start, and then you make your move,” Miller said, using his hand to simulate a gentle wave, as if he was running it down the side of Ashley’s curvy, soft body.
Lyon laughed. “No, she’s definitely an anal slut.”
I dropped the barbell back into its cradle again, this time with a loud clang. The men turned and looked at me as I sat up. “Alright, men. Go back to your rooms and rub one out. Get this out of your system.”
They all laughed. “Fuck off,” said Hastings.
“That’s an order,” I said.
Their laughter faded into silent confusion. “You’re ordering us to go and jerk off?” Miller asked.
“Major’s orders were to keep
Similar Books
