proper conduct and order, two necessary components for running the world's most elite branch of war fighters.
Now, after meeting Bennett and going half way with her—and desperately wanting to taste that second half— I'm not so sure those rules and regulations weren't set in place to test me and make my life a living hell. Could I turn my back on the Corps and what it stands for? For Cassie Bennett, I wasn't sure, but this was more than just saying no as I would for almost every other female. This was a dire straits game of tug-o-war, a self- depraving inner struggle, a test of wills. On the outside, I was winning, but deep inside...deep inside I knew I was losing badly.
My mind was swirling and jumbling with the thought of betraying one of the main rules that had been put in place to protect all parties involved. For the first time in my career, I wasn't ready to staunchly defend an order that had been given. I was ready to toss that bitch aside and forget that it even existed if that meant I could finally taste Bennett and every ounce of her vanilla and fruit scented body.
I hated what she was doing to me in terms of who I was as a Marine and my standing within the Corps. I didn't make it to where I was because I cut corners to get there. I worked hard, never taking shortcuts or doing shit in secret. But now, not only was my mind grappling with the idea of doing those things, I was fucking salivating at the opportunity to break that one, cock blocking rule. Because by not breaking that rule, it was destroying my mind while also slowly, tortuously breaking down my will power.
Chapter 6
Cassie
The bowling alley was completely and utterly frustrating. What started out as a fun idea to quickly pass along the lunch hour, turned into a panty wetting, lip biting, image-producing fiasco within my own mind. I pictured Sgt. Cruz's lips on mine, biting and tugging as I bit down on my own. His response was not lost on me, and I could only hope that it wasn't that obvious to everyone else in attendance. If Sgt. Cruz was serious about forgetting what had happened that night at Coyotes, he wasn't making it easy on me. He could have very well stayed away from us because honestly, we weren't that loud. And even if we were, it was a bowling alley for crying out loud; people get loud and rowdy in there.
Unlike the other three people I was with, I knew the real reason he had made his way over to us. He wanted to make his presence known. I had no clue he was there until he walked over, using his burly voice that reminded me of pure and unadulterated sex, to bark out orders that he knew he had no business giving. The sight of him did things to my body that felt foreign to me. How I couldn't contain my excitement whenever he came near was baffling. I was never
I was usually much more in control than what I'd been showing, but somehow, whenever he got near me, everything I ever knew washed away, leaving me stupefied.
Even with his abrupt exit his presence lingered, making me wholly uncomfortable and unable to concentrate. The frequent questions from Dalton, and the incessant stares from Jensen and Castillo, had me on pins and needles. Dalton had no clue what was going on, and I was hoping to keep it that way. Jensen and Castillo knew and were in a position to make things very difficult for me if I tried to act on it. It was a delicate balancing act that I was faltering with.
As much as I wanted to believe that we could be mature adults about what had happened, there was much more to this that was clouding that prospect. For starters, the feelings involved, whether simple attraction or lust, were consuming me. It was on my mind from the moment that I woke in the morning until I went to bed at night, and having to see and interact with him throughout the day was driving me crazy.
So many times as I sat in my seat trying hard to focus on the lesson for the day, my mind would wander off and thoughts of those large hands grabbing and groping my body, lifting me and tossing me down on the bed while raking over every inch of me, would crash into my mind, diverting my attention and sending my clit into a violent, throbbing mess. It always seemed that just after coming back from my daydream I'd find Sgt. Cruz's eyes glued to me, almost as if he knew or felt exactly what it was that I was seeing and feeling. A few times I caught him wiping his brow, indicating that some lustrous thought had been rummaging through his mind as well.
My frequent bathroom breaks had nothing to do with actually needing to use the bathroom, but more so to catch my breath, wipe my sweat away, and soothe the ache building within me, yearning for a release that never truly came because I still hadn't had the remedy to dispose of it. No matter how difficult I thought it would be to turn my thoughts and my libido away from Sgt. Cruz, I was finding the actual act of trying to forget about him ten times more difficult. It was slow torture, like someone taking you to the brink of an earth shattering orgasm and then abruptly pulling away, leaving you to try and obtain a feat that you knew would never come. The frustration within me was beginning to build, and I was running out of ways to quell it.
Thursday evening came and with it came our first official Field Day, or the detailed cleaning of our barracks rooms with an instructor inspection to follow. Angelica and I did a meticulous job of cleaning and making sure that nothing was out of place.
We stood at the entrance of our room, still in uniform, nervous as shit that something was going to be out of place and that we would fail, probably furthering the strife already festering between us.
Sgts. Newsome and Jensen walked up, looking like two angry pit bulls ready to attack on command. They stopped at the door, greeting both Angelica and me, before removing their covers and walking into the room, scouring every inch of it. My breath caught as nerves settled within me. I thought Sgt. Cruz's absence would quell the nervous flutters inside of me, but it did quite the opposite-- it intensified them. I knew he was around, I just didn't know where or when he would pop up, and that uncertainty escalated my anxiety.
After waiting in the hallway for what felt like a lifetime, Sgts. Newsome and Jensen were finally making their way back to the entrance of the room, effectively signaling that we had passed our inspection. Just as I exhaled the daunting breath that I had been holding, I saw Sgt. Newsome turn his head and begin yelling.
'Why the fuck is this wall locker not secured?'
His thunderous voice shook me, sending ice through my veins as I knew he was referring to my locker. I was certain that I had locked it up.
'Pfc. Bennett,' he called out, jolting me back into the room.
'Yes, Sgt. Newsome?'
'Is this your wall locker?'
'Yes, Sgt.'
'Then why in the fuck is it not secured?' The veins in his forehead were beginning to bulge as his entire face went beet red.
'I thought it was, Sgt.'
His eyebrows twitched as flash of anger went off in his face.
'You thought?' he yelled out, moving closer to the locker before placing his hand and on the unsecured lock. 'When you
'Yes, Sergeant,' I quickly replied.
Without another word, he opened the locker, looking around at the contents before grabbing and violently flinging it down onto the ground, expelling all of my personal belongings from inside. There were clothes, body sprays, lotions, hair essentials, make-up, jewelry, detergent, books, and many other things that lay strewn on the ground. I wasn't sure if I should move to pick them up or wait until I was given the order to do so. Instead, I stood there, eyes locked on Sgt. Newsome as he went into a long tirade on how sloppy I was and how my absentmindedness could someday cost the lives of my fellow Marines.
When he finished, he ordered that I clean up the mess and secure my
'Well, I'm cleared, so I'm going to run down to the vending machine. Thank God he didn't trash my shit too,
