Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 1

only thing I could focus on for any length of time. My pissed off mood gave way to hungry and horny.
    ****
    Leaning back against the car, arms crossed over my chest, I watched Mac step out of the airport terminal. He was dressed in his fatigues, duffle over his shoulder and a big shit-eating grin on his handsome face. His hazel eyes were hidden behind his shades, but I knew they were dark with hunger and need. Three months we'd been apart, Mac off training his replacement. Three months without heat, skin, and passion, which was two months, twenty-nine days too long if you ask me. My body lit up, nerve endings tingling as he stepped closer, and just like that first night in a grungy little hotel in San Diego, California, I was instantly so fucking hard it hurt.
    The first night at Twentynine Palms in San Diego, California, officially known as RTD or recruit training depot, while waiting for my initial gear to be issued I turned my head and met Mac's hazel-green eyes for the first time. I doubt anyone else noticed the way our eyes lingered just a fraction longer than necessary, but I noticed and so did Mac. At twenty, I was one cocky son of a bitch. I knew who I was and where I was going, and I wasn't going to let anyone or anything stand in the way of achieving my goals. Although I was completely selfish and goal-oriented, I still got horny. A lot. It was during our first three-day pass I found out that as cocky as I thought I was, Macalister Jones was just a wee bit cockier, and I got my cherry ass popped. Twenty-two years later he still owned my ass, only I hadn't realized it at the time or maybe I did but just hadn't admitted it.
    Years of discretion had taught us how hide our desires to the outside world. If anyone had walked by our car, they would have seen two platonic friends, one saying to the other, "How was your flight?" What they wouldn't have noticed was the way the tip of Mac's finger slid along my thigh as he walked by, arms swinging. They wouldn't notice that when Mac nodded his head and said, "Good," he looked over the top of his glasses, meeting my eyes with a predatory gaze so full of lust, my goddamn breath caught. And, unless they were standing practically on top of us, they wouldn't hear Mac whisper in a deep, husky voice, "Get in the car before I fuck you over the hood." But, I heard it, and while my head was screaming, " don't you dare fucking move, let him bend your ass over!" , I strolled casually to the driver's side, slid behind the wheel, and slammed the door.
    To anyone who may have glanced our way, we were two friends pulling away from the terminal, the passenger throwing his head back and laughing at a shared joke. What I actually said was, "One of these days I'm going to drop trou and find out just how fucking cocky you really are."
    "Two more months and I'll do you in the middle of fucking Main Street," Mac laughed.
    And didn't that just make my chest squeeze nice and tight and cause my gut to get all fluttery. That same weird feeling had been battling with another unsettling feeling lately, one of heart palpitations and nausea, in equal measures. I didn't have a goddamn clue what was wrong with me, and I was beginning to think I'd stayed in the Marines one term too many. There is a reason most don't make a career out of the military, you lose your fucking mind after that many years, and I was convinced that was what my problem was. I laughed at his joke with him and then stole a glance in Mac's direction. Then I took a double-take at his sly grin that curled that full, luscious mouth in combination with his wide, blunt fingers massaging the thick bulge in front of Mac's fatigue pants. That sight short-circuited my brain, and the only thing I could think about was the throbbing ache in my groin and getting us the fuck to the house, pronto.
    "Been a long time, Gunny." Those fingers kept stroking.
    I got serious about the heavy rush hour traffic, doing my damndest to ignore Mac's deep, husky voice.
    Even with my best efforts, I didn't miss the way Mac pushed the palm of his hand hard against his cock. "Christ I ache," he groaned.
    "Shut up, Mac," I hissed. "Just shut the fuck up. Not another word until we get to the house."
    Mac chuckled, the sound deep and gravelly, and I felt it resonate against the pulsing veins in my shaft. I growled a low warning sound and cranked the radio.
    Even with the heavier than normal traffic with tourist season in full swing, we made it to the house in