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But maybe it wasn’t that he was a marine so much as that he’d been a kid, a baby even, when he’d signed up and the Corps had formed him, literally made him into a man.
Only in the Corps did he learn something most men don’t: how to be human and how to be kind.
Santos didn’t have a type. He was, in this at least, such a fucking cliché.
Because at the end of the day what mattered to him most was the chemistry.
“I’ll be prepping and baking like a madwoman until we open. But after the grand opening, I’ll see you boys about your reward.”
“What if she wants us both?”
“And me. Together. At the same time,” she said, just so that Cat-leen understood the situation clearly.
“I’ve been dreaming about that.”
“Oh Sergeant, this was so much easier with Santos. You’re gonna make me do all the work aren’t you?”
stood in front of the two men who had, just yesterday, dry humped her to the best orgasms she’d had in years.
“She's asking, Sergeant, if your dick gets hard when I call you sergeant? Sergeant.”
“So you’re the caretaker,” she repeated, pointing at Santos, “and you’re the lover,” she turned to Knox, “But you won’t let him love you. At least not the way you want him to,” she asked Santos rhetorically. “And you want let him take care of you? Not really?”
“You getting impatient, Marine?” “I might be, Sergeant.”
“No honey, you’re not hearing me. I don’t care if he crawls under this table and starts sucking on your pussy. You’re not gonna come in this diner.”
“Anything you want, Sergeant.”
And then she helped Knox give Santos the best blow job of his life.
Yep, normal is totally relative.
But his gut was calm and sure. And his heart was full. That had to count for something.
“What in the hell kind of romance novel names are those,” Leah replied, her normally even tone a bit flustered.
“I’m just looking for a plane ticket. Whatever the hell is in the water down there, I need it.”