Free Burn by Aubrey Irons

sounds like you sure know how to have a good time, Princess.”

    I shoot him a look; “I know how to have a plenty good time, actually.”

    “Oh really?” He’s leaning closer as he grins at me, and I find myself not wanting to pull back even though I know I should; “So you know how to just cut loose and play?”

    “ Yep. ” I say with a withering smirk of my own.

    “So, kinda like how you were playing with yourself thinking about me right before I walked in here?”

    I can literally feel the blood drain from my face as my heart just drops . I’m frozen and just staring at him with my jaw right there on the floor as he leans back into the couch and grins.

    “I-” I’m sputtering; “I don’t know what you’re-“

    With a look of triumph on his face, Logan pulls out my fucking vibrator - the one I evidently left out in plain sight in the bathroom - from behind his back where he’s obviously been hiding it since he first sat down.

    The blood comes rushing back to my face with a burning feeling, and I suddenly just want to collapse into a puddle and just drip through the floor-boards.

    Logan grins at me with a sort of gleeful look on his face; “I mean, maybe you weren’t thinking about me, but I somehow doubt it.”

    I grit my teeth, feeling angry and mortified as I slowly shake my head at him; “Anyone ever tell you you’re an arrogant asshole ?”

    He laughs; “If I had a dollar for-“ He trails off and then chuckles; “Well, I’d be me.”

    I stand quickly and storm back towards the front door of the apartment; “Well go be you somewhere else, dickhead.”

    The actual genuine shock on his face is almost worth the price of my dignity and my embarrassment, but not quite; “ Aww , now Quinn, don’t be-“

    “Out.”

    “I mean I can stay if you think it’ll help you out, back in the bathtub with your little friend here-“

    “ OUT. ”

    Logan shuts his perfect mouth and nods slowly before he wincingly stands and shuffles towards me and the door I’m holding open.

    “You forgot your shirt , Rocky.”

    He grins as he passes me, leaning in so close to my ear that I feel a shiver at the heat of his breath, hot on my neck; “Keep it, darlin.”

    “ Out. ”

    “ Fine .”

“Do you like it here?”

    I shrug; “Room and board while on active duty, and the pay’s pretty decent,” I strap up my gloves, warily eyeing the guy easily two and a half times my age lacing up his own; “Listen, pal, you sure you actually wanna do this spar match? I’m kinda, uh, good.”

    The older guy with the silvered beard grins at me, taps his gloves together almost like he’s eager, and steps into the dirt circle; “Hoo-rah, Marine.”

    I freeze for a second before I whip my head around to stare at him; “What’d you call me?”

    Ok, so I’m hardly the only ex-U.S. Military who works for Blackriver, or even the only guy who may or may not have walked away from duty before getting here. But, it’s pretty much on the list of “never talk about” when you’re living with a bunch of roughneck, battle-hardened mercenaries like the guys here.

    The old guy smiles at me; “Like I don’t know another jarhead when I see one.” He pulls up the sleeve of the t-shirt he’s wearing, showing me the faded eagle, globe, and anchor tattoo there.

    Ok, didn’t see that coming. Still, I shrug and brush off his Marine reference; “Nah, I was a cop back home before this.” It’s half true; ok, more like a quarter true, at best. I never even went out and took the test or anything.  

    The older guy nods, but there’s a smart glint in his eye that says he doesn’t buy a word of that bullshit; “Hey, I don’t need to know.”

    That’s right, he doesn’t, I fume to myself. Whoever this old dude is - arms dealer or whatever he is - he’s sorely mistaken if he thinks he can just waltz into camp one afternoon and start playing head games with guys like me. Marine or not, this guy’s asking for