Soak (A Navy SEAL Mormon Taboo Romance) (9 page)

But I am happy!
Ryder wanted to say.
Your sister
makes me so, so happy! Things will never be like they were, but if I could just
make you understand how we make each other feel, I know no one could object.
Not even your God.
John looked at him with imploring eyes, and Ryder’s
heart sank.

“I don’t know, man,” was all he managed to say. “I don’t
know.”

Chapter Thirteen

“Just like that,” Chloe cried, mashing her face further into
the pillow to muffle all sound. She was on all fours, naked and supine under
her man. His engorged cock was already tickling her outer walls, pressing
lightly against the slick surface of her pussy. It took almost all of her
strength not to bear down and against him, sliding him inside. She was so
certain it would feel like Nirvana.

It was the ninth night of their “awful bliss,” (or she
called it, rather literarily, in her head) and as electric as their connection
was, Chloe—the new Chloe, Chloe 2.0—was growing impatient. She knew that she
wanted Ryder like a wife wanted a husband. Unfortunately, it turned out that
her shamelessness did have a ceiling, even in the new world.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought about making love to
Ryder, fully and totally. Only the night before, she’d been shaken awake by
Celeste in damp sheets. Her sister had looked concerned, claiming that Chloe
had been moaning in her sleep like someone possessed. It was the closest she’d
ever come to getting caught, and it had happened in her dreams. While she
slept, her imagination was free to place Ryder in any of a dozen of her
favorite romantic stories. He appeared to her as Rhett Butler, in his soldier’s
uniform. He appeared to her as George Emerson, or Mr. Darcy. In each dream, the
fictional encounter would end with the pair of them on the floor, sighing and
sore amidst a bed of torn petticoats. It was no small wonder her sisters had
started to notice such an active fantasy life.

But whereas in dreams she was thrilled to “jump the final
hurdle,” (to be
ravished,
to be
fucked...
) it was quite another
thing to think about intercourse in Uncle David’s old bedroom, in a hand-made
pillow-fort in her family basement, where she lay surrounded by Mormon relics.
The more time she spent with Ryder, the more doubtful she became about her
future with the church and the fictional whole-milk handsome man—but traditional
intercourse still felt like a line in the sand. Were she to have sex, properly
defined sex, with Ryder before marriage—she could technically be
ex-communicated from her Church. What remained of her covenant with God
restricted such flaunting of His doctrine. Chloe was certain that once she and
Ryder did the deed, there would be no returning to the way things were. And a
small part of her was pleased enough to keep all their naughty fun in an
imaginary-world, where it still lacked consequences. Where all still might be
undone. Where dreamers could wake.

He nudged up against her again, so Chloe felt a pinch of
pressure on her ass. He was gunning for her. While Ryder had been very
respectful of her boundaries so far, Chloe knew enough from Gwen’s teachings to
recognize blue-balls when she saw them. He bent over her body now, beginning to
paw at her low-swinging breasts. In his arms, she’d just begun to think of her
naked self as desirable—contrary to every small slight Mrs. Christiansen had
made in the last twenty-five years. Ryder tugged at her nipples. He kissed her
back. Chloe, alert with excitement, backed herself into his erection once more.

“Fuck,” he hissed, into the nape of her neck. “Fuck, Chloe.
I want you so bad.”

“I can’t, Ryder,” she said, barely convincing herself. But
he was a real man, observant of every ‘no.’ She continued to tease him, toying
with his flesh. Then, it was like a light-bulb went off in her head. Gwen
appeared, in her mind’s eye.

There’s a distinctive grey area around the ass...

No sooner had the idea occurred than Chloe blushed, even
though Ryder couldn’t see her face. She couldn’t bring herself to ask for it.
Anal sex. Even the words sounded dirty. Yet the craving for closeness was not
easily sated; she had to admit that she needed to feel Ryder inside of her.

“I want you inside me,” she said, tentatively, whispering
the words. Ryder ran his palms up and down her flanks. He roared back like a
lion and slapped her ass, so hard that she cried out. It shocked her, how the
pain transformed so quickly into pleasure. She leaned into him, indicating he
should spank her again.

“I brought something,” Ryder murmured, biting her earlobe.
“Just in case.” His breath was hot. It curled like smoke down her neck.

He leaned back on his knees, drawing his body heat away.
Chloe missed him instantly.

“What are you doing way over there?” she called coyly over
shoulder. Ryder didn’t answer right away. She heard the sound of a jar being
manipulated, and just as quickly, Ryder engulfed her again, mounting her from
behind. His erection was as persistent as ever.

“I want to get inside you, too,” he murmured, gripping her
middle, seizing her curves. Chloe gasped, putting two and two together. Ryder
waited for her assent, moving slowly back and forth, rocking. She spoke without
thinking first: “Yes.”

His cock bounced with excitement as he peeled back, and
began to knead at her hollow, secret spaces. He ran a finger back and forth
across her slick pussy lips, teasing her with different amounts of pressure. She
arced her back like a wild cat. Ryder bent, returning to the jar, and the next
thing Chloe felt was the slightly cool sensation of extra moisture. Lube.

“I’ll go slow,” Ryder said, gruffly.  True to his word, he
nudged inside, inch by inch. It hurt, but not enough to stop. Chloe breathed
deep, and gathered the pillows in her fists. She bit her lip to prevent herself
from making sound.

“Is it okay?” he whispered, voice raspy. At that moment,
Chloe felt something crucial in her body loosen and give way to the new
sensation. She nodded her head, and pressed herself against Ryder’s hips. And
there it was, the answer to her cravings: he felt perfectly, deliciously close.
She loved that she had the ability to hold his body like this.

And so, apparently, did Ryder. She felt his hands begin to
shake around her middle, his palms growing slick with sweat. His panting breath
tickled the back of her neck. She could tell he was restraining himself, for
fear of overexcitement. Something about that got Chloe even hotter.

“Fill me up,” she said, experimentally. Ryder moaned, before
pushing himself even deeper inside. This time, the pain gave way to pleasure
faster. He reached down to cup her swollen clit, just as he peeled himself
away. Chloe gasped as he pressed down, hard on her pussy.

“You like that, baby?”

“Yeah. I like that.” It was true.

Ryder began to create a rhythm, moving in and out at a new
speed. Chloe pushed and pulled accordingly, feeling herself stretch and flower.
Unknown moans began to escape her lips. When he folded his muscular torso over
her back, she could feel the defined, tense musculature of his perfect stomach.
The strung beds of his pecs kissed her own softness.

“Fuck,” Ryder said, abruptly. “I’m gonna come. Oh fuck,
Chloe, you’re gonna make me come so hard.”

She thought she could sense his cock swelling, seeking to
occupy her tight hole. She clenched herself, making her body a perfect fist
about him. Ryder laughed with pleasure, and slapped her ass. Hard.

“You like that too, don’t you?” He slapped her again. Then
his fingers returned to her drenched inner thighs. He rubbed and rubbed her,
just as his thrusting reached a fever pitch. Chloe began to feel dizzy. The
room was spinning. Her heart was racing. She imagined this was how it felt to
be drunk.

Suddenly, Ryder clamped himself onto her body, seizing her
middle like she was a buoy and he was a drowning man. His narrow frame rattled
and shook, and Chloe felt a sweet warmness fill her. She sighed, feeling a
release not unlike the one she’d first felt days earlier, when Ryder’s face had
been buried between her thighs. She was warm and then cool in rapid,
alternating tides. She was aware of the tips of her nipples, her fingers, her
toes, every vertebrae on her spine.

Ryder pulled himself out slowly, carefully, and Chloe
stretched her legs and arms, returning to herself. After a few moments’
personal attendance, they collided together again. She nestled into the crook
of his damp arm, between his bicep and his chest. She thought she had never
felt safer, nor more relaxed.

Ryder ran a lazy finger up and down her arm, then her
sternum, then the smooth surface of her belly, her breasts. Chloe was seized
with a sudden, unmistakable urge to weep. This all felt so good. So perfect.
And yet it couldn’t last, not while they were the people they were, in this
place.

His breath had already started to slow to a dozing pace. But
Chloe turned to her man, and put her mouth close to his ear.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” she murmured.
Waited. Ryder’s chest continued to rise and fall like a sleeping man’s.

“No,” spoke a voice. “No, no, no!” Just like that, the
sacred space was shattered. Chloe moved to cover herself, even before she could
bear to acknowledge the source of the sounds. But there was Johnny, about
halfway down the steps, looking unbearably babyish in his old flannel pajamas.
His mouth was twisted into a rictus of sheer horror. Chloe felt her heart drop
into her stomach as she imagined how much he must have heard, or seen.

“Oh fuck,” Ryder murmured, suddenly awake beside her. He
also moved to cover himself, but wasn’t quite fast enough. John put a hand over
his eyes.

“You are foul. Both of you. Foul, disgusting sinners.”

“Johnny!” Chloe cried. She’d never heard her brother like
this. His voice was acid, pure cruelty. She could feel the hatred steaming off
his words. Hot tears began to collect behind her eyes.

“John,” Ryder shouted, desperately. “Wait, John. I can
explain!” But he’d already turned to thump up the stairs. The sight of his
hardened back was somehow even worse than the disgust on his face. Chloe
swallowed and swallowed, as if she could push the pain down. The moment was
lost. All of her empowered feelings were lost. She was a small, stupid girl
who’d fallen and broken everything in one night.

The lovers waited, feeling suddenly cold and shameful in one
another’s embrace, before the door slammed, damning the basement to darkness.

Chapter Fourteen

He’d never been less hungry in his life.

Not even after spending hours in a makeshift morgue,
identifying his fellow SEALS’ brutalized bodies post-combat. Not after carrying
John miles through desert, while his useless leg dangled and bled and soured.
Even then, he’d been able to imagine nourishment. But the usual motivations
weren’t going to work today.

Ryder hadn’t been able to sleep a wink that night. He’d just
known he was going to have nightmares, for one, and that the guilt involved in
invoking Chloe-the-dream-catcher would outweigh any comfort she carried. He’d
instead spent the night imagining John fuming in his childhood twin bed,
lamenting the day he’d invited his brother-from-another-mother into his actual
family home. He could see himself now as little more than a betrayer, a wanton,
godless friend of the devil. He had brought nothing but corruption and shame to
these decent, decent people.

Yet: “Ryyyyyyder,” young Marie sang at 8am sharp, her daily
morning wake-up croon sounding purer than it ever had. The pretty girl paced
outside his door, waiting for what had become his ritual reply to her call.
(“Mariiiiiiiiiiiie!”) Today, he couldn’t muster. He bit his lip and prayed
(yes, prayed) for the ability to disappear.

Marie tried to rouse him a few more times before he heard
her trundle off to some other part of the house, where to confer with her
sisters. Sisters...Jesus, that was another thing. Here he’d been, thinking all
about his own skinny ass, when he ought to have been worried about Chloe.
Though it’d felt like he was the one with everything to lose in a scandal, in
fact it was she who had family on the line. Family and friends and faith she’d
compromised, all so he could act out his inner cave-man and fuck a Mormon girl
in the ass.

The words were crass in his mind, but another, even more
conflicted part of him was aware that what had passed between them wasn’t
dirty. Wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t had the chance to reply to Chloe’s tender words
last night, but his heart could complete the script. They were special. Or—they’d
been special. Now, they were just ruined.

“Mr. Strong!” called Mr. Christiansen, sharply. Ryder’s
heart plummeted. Where did the Mormons stand on pacifism? Because it didn’t
seem outside the realm of possibility that when he opened the door to his host,
Mr. C would be standing there with a shotgun barrel pointed at his visitor’s
chest. He’d certainly have been within his rights.

“In this family, we eat breakfast at seven sharp. You know
this, son.”

“Oh...right. I’m coming, Mr. Christiansen.” His heart
lifted, in spite of itself. Surely if Elder Johannes knew anything about the
events of last night, he’d already have kicked Ry out into the Utah spring with
a mandate that he never come back.

“Got something I want to talk to you about in any case,” his
host finished, the deep voice sounding a little serious. Ryder’s heart clenched
again. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he was totally going down.

Getting dressed in solemn silence, he turned the facts over
and over in his mind. The other night at the bowling alley, he’d discovered
Johnny’s own deep, dark secret. Perhaps this gave him leverage. Furthermore,
Chloe was John’s favorite sister, not to mention his oldest friend. Even if he
wanted to sell Ryder up the river, he surely wouldn’t out of respect for his
sister’s place in the community.

“It’ll be fine,” Ryder told his reflection, tracing the
black, coiled rattlesnake tattoo on his chest. It was a small ink, but just the
other night Chloe had peeled away from their coitus to kiss it. “I like this
one best,” she’d said, alluding to the vague tribal tattoos braiding his
shoulders. “It feels the most like you.”

“Why? Because I’m sneaky and evil?” She’d laughed her pretty
laugh, the one that made him thrill down to his toes. “Because you’re smart.
And you take care of yourself. You know when to be on your guard. And I like
your rattle.” They’d fallen into a small heap of giggles and kisses after this
remark, but her words had stuck with him. He liked that she could like his
snaky qualities. The aspects of his personality that so often made him seem
suspicious to others.

“It’ll be fine,” Ryder repeated, before securing his most
respectable button-down. He slicked back his hair, which was currently the
longest it had ever been, and pulled his most winning smile. Who could out this
face?

As per usual, the whole Christiansen clan was gathered around
the kitchen table, describing to one another their plans for the day. The twins
and Martin were still somewhat bleary in the early mornings, following a
lengthy spring break. They sat meditating over their school books with circles
under their eyes. Chloe had been tense at breakfast lately, too. Ryder
suspected that she felt antsy and useless when her father and siblings were
headed to work or school, and she was left to her own puttering devices, cooped
up in the house for hours with her mother and him, doing chores. On the other
hand, Ryder and John were home during the days, too. They’d lately had a lot
more closer-to-alone time, during daylight hours.

“Ryder!” Mrs. Christiansen beamed. She’d been getting warmer
and warmer, ever since he’d made a habit of cutting the grass without being
asked to. (Which was just about the easiest thing he could have done for the
family.) “I made your favorite, honey! Blueberry pancakes and bacon. Pop a
squat.”

She indicated a seat between Marie and Chloe. The latter didn’t
even look up as he sat down, and he made sure to keep up the ruse. He even
waited to eat until after Chloe had used the salt and pepper, so he wouldn’t
have to risk grazing her wrist as he passed her the spices.

“So how is everyone’s week shaping up?” chortled the
matriarch. Young Martin immediately launched into a long monologue about his
struggles in Algebra class. Everyone listened patiently, without interruption.
Ryder thought he had noticed a temperature change in the way the family
referred to their second-youngest son. His older sisters and even his mother
had become more deferential in even the past few weeks, as if Martin’s being a
man would eventually give him power and sway over the female members of the
family. He was already in training, Ryder realized, to be a domineering head of
household. His own Elder Johannes.

When the little boy had finished, a small lull fell over the
table as people alternately wolfed or picked at their food. But Elder Johannes
set down his knife.

“Ryder,” he said calmly, staring across the table at his
host. “Young man, I think it’s time we have a frank discussion about your
future plans here.”

Everyone else set their utensils down, too. Ryder felt his
muscles tense and recoil. Oh God, was this how it was going to go? A public
shaming? A family-style crucifixion?

“Of course, sir,” Ryder muttered, in the direction of his
still-full plate. He prepared himself for the shit-storm. He reminded himself
that he’d certainly seen worse than whatever a Mormon dad could dish out.

“Have you given any more serious thought to committing
yourself to our faith?”

Ryder’s mind short-circuited for a moment. The whole table
seemed to draw breath simultaneously.

“Uhh,” he began, uncertainly. Just then, he felt a sharp
pain in his instep, and had to bury a yelp. Beside him, Chloe continued to keep
her eyes fixed on her breakfast, but he knew she’d stepped on his foot.

“Sure,” Ryder concluded, off this not-so-subtle hint. “I
think the Latter Day Saints are”—he hunted for the right word—“very generous,
warm people. I just love em.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Oh, totally.”

“I’m pleased to hear this.” Elder Johannes’ face cracked
into that most unexpected of things: a big, goofy grin. Ryder couldn’t help but
echo his face.

“If you’re serious, we’d love to have you attend a few
informational meetings. Very informal affairs, just fellowship, food and faith.
We can provide you with some literature and testimony to set you on the path to
righteousness. At last.”

It wasn’t phrased as a question, but his host arched an
eyebrow in challenge. So this
was
an ultimatum, after a fashion. It made
sense. The church had a missionary aspect for chrissakes—naturally, they wanted
his soul. It was truly amazing that he’d managed to hedge for eight weeks.

“I would love that,” Ryder said. Everyone resumed their
meals, and relief fell over the table. Both of the twins shot him shy, proud
smiles. Martin even clapped, if a little sarcastically.

“Wonderful, wonderful,” Mrs. Christiansen clucked. Even
Chloe seemed pleased. A possible life flashed in Ryder’s mind’s eye: he could
convert to Mormonism, couldn’t he? It couldn’t be
that
hard. He’d go
through the motions, continue impressing the family, and one day soon, he could
ask Mr. Christiansen for his daughter’s hand. Once they’d made a commitment to
each other, they could leave Provo, flee North to Denver or West to California,
and be free together somewhere new...

No sooner had the image fleshed itself out than Ryder knew
there were holes in his logic. He might have been snake-like, but he still
wasn’t the type of man to disingenuously convert to a religion he didn’t
believe in for a girl—any girl. No one he could love would ever ask him to, he
was sure. Chloe hadn’t.

“We’ll get the ball rolling then, shall we?” continued Elder
Johannes. He launched into a speech about the benefits of religion, and the
values of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and the path of the
righteous. Ryder just nodded, grateful that he’d survived this meal.

“Wait. Wait.” All heads turned to Johnny, at the end of the
table by his mother. “I can’t just sit here and listen to this anymore. Mother?
Father? I’ve brought a great evil into our home.”

Ryder thought he could sense the blood draining out of
Chloe’s face, even without looking at her. His own heart started pounding like
a jackrabbit.

“What are you talking about, boy?” Elder Johannes asked. His
voice had become slow and full of malice.
I could run
, Ryder realized.
I
could just get out of this chair and run until I find a highway.

“Johnny,” Chloe pleaded. She was shaking. He could feel it.

“What’s going on?” Celeste cried, suddenly interested in the
conversation. Her Geometry book closed with a dull thud.

“Nothing. You’re going to be late for school.”

“Chloe, please. Don’t interrupt your superior,” Elder
Johannes said. He motioned to Johnny. “Son? Do enlighten us.”

John suddenly looked torn. Ryder recognized the fear and
pain in his friend’s eyes. Still, with a trembling finger, he pointed across
the table at Ry.

“He is not sufficiently pure to enter the faith.”

“God will be the judge of that, John. Not you.”

“No, I know what I’m talking about. He has brought...drugs,
into this house. Controlled substances, which he uses for recreational use!”
John’s face seemed unsure in the lie, but his finger stayed fixed on his
friend. Ryder dared hope that this was to be the extent of John’s confession.
Drugs, he could defend.

Elder Johannes stood then. His face had turned an odd,
reddish color, but his voice was as unperturbed as it always sounded.

“You’ve been away a long time, my son,” he spoke, to John.
“So you forget that our doctrine acknowledges freedom of choice. Perhaps your
friend has sinned in the past, perhaps he has things to atone for. But he can
make his heart clean. He can repent. Only the Holy Spirit can know his true and
eternal form. The more disciplined one is in the faith, the more righteous his
choices will be. Your brother can learn, if you can forgive.”

John had clearly not expected this reaction. He fumed and
huffed, even as Ryder felt Chloe relax beside him. He wanted nothing more in
that moment then to hold her. To tell her that she wasn’t wrong, she wasn’t
evil, she wasn’t unclean. He chose her, he realized. If he truly had the
freedom to choose...he’d choose Chloe over all of it.

“I admit I’ve made some mistakes,” Ryder continued. “I’ve
certainly done some things your Holy Spirit—
the
Holy Spirit—wouldn’t
approve of. But I am willing to accept these new...teachings.” He glanced at
his lover. For the first time, it occurred to him, the religious words didn’t
sound so silly. Perhaps there
was
something beautiful in the language of
the faith, Ryder allowed. In the massive commitments these simple, proud people
made, to God and to one another.

“He’s ruined your daughter,” John spat. The words seemed to
fall and sit in the middle of the table, like something gross, untouchable.
Now, Elder Johannes turned to look Ryder in the eye. He couldn’t keep the truth
from the patriarch. He hung his head.

“I saw them. Last night. You don’t understand, Dad. He’s the
Devil. The wolf in sheep’s clothing. He’s fooled us all, with his fancy books
and his helping out around the house. He only wanted to soil your daughter and
bring shame to your house. He sneers openly at everything we believe in.”

“Ryder? Is this true?”

“I saw them. Naked. I saw them f
ornicating
. Last
night, while you were asleep. In the basement. On Uncle David’s old pillows.”

“STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!” Now it was Chloe’s turn to stand.
She wheeled on her older brother with tears in her eyes. “Why are you doing
this to me?”

“Because you’re a filthy little heathen slut,” he said, in a
voice more cruel and terrible than anything Ryder’s nightmares might have
dredged up. “And you deserve to be punished.”

What happened next passed in a blur. Chloe left the table,
trailing hurt. Mrs. Christiansen moved to comfort her daughter. It seemed for a
moment that Elder Johannes would turn his column of steely, contained anger
back to his son, for speaking out of turn, but instead he looked to Ryder. He
didn’t even need the words that came next, as his host’s expression made them
quite plain.