We sang two more songs before I cracked open my beer, which I had won, and handed it to Tank. I didn’t feel like drinking it, so I grabbed a bottle of water and chugged some. Tank drank both, and that was it; he wasn’t a big drinker either.
We enjoyed where we were. Tank was leaning against a tree, happy to hold me, and I was content to be held, leaning against his firm chest, feeling it rumble and move as he laughed at some of the jokes being passed around.
“Max, I hear you can handle yourself.” A guy I don’t remember being given his name blurted out, when there was a pause in music and conversation, gaining a lot of unwanted attention.
“She can,” Prez answered, looking at the guy.
“Will she join the games for top woman and top male, fighter? In the mud wrestling event?” He asked excitedly.
“Why? That isn’t an event I would insist any of my ladies join, if they don’t wish to.” Prez shrugged, murmurs around us started.
“True, but the same girl has held that title for a few years now, and a few of us would like to see that girl lose her title.”
“Personal grudges have nothing to do with us. If and when the event starts, whether Max wants to join in will be her decision, same with any of my club members; we have nothing to prove.” The Prez picked up his beer and took a long swallow, the sign that this conversation was done.
I, in a very unladylike manner, yawned, gaining a chuckle from Tank.
“Come on, let’s hit the sack.” Tank tightened his hold around my waist and stood up. Taking me with him. I squeaked in surprise as he managed to stand with little to no effort, whilst holding me as if I were nothing.
“Goodnight.” We both said to those around us, and Tank, still with me in his arms, walked to the tent.
Tank POV
My girl had been the talk of the camp, and more and more rumors were floating about. Prez gave me a look that told me trouble was coming, and I was not sure. I wanted to know what it was.
Max had said she was sorry to me several times for decking the two women who had tried to approach me.
“I won’t let them touch you, Tank. You said we would give this a try and see where it takes us. That means no other women are allowed to feel what is mine. I won’t be the quiet one, letting you go, not like I have in the past, letting my man leave me, because he sees someone he thinks would be better. That girl died, I won’t apologize for wanting to keep you all for myself.” She had said through tears, after the last bimbo hit the dirt, and she felt guilty for having hit two girls, and we hadn’t been here long.
It was a turn on. I have had girls fight over me before, and I wasn’t dating them; this was different, felt different. I would be doing the same if men came onto Max; we are a team, until we both agree that we are no longer together. That it didn’t work out. That would suck big time, because it would make seeing her hard and uncomfortable, but at least we can say we tried.
“Hey, you’re the first girl to fight for me like this. I have had girls scrap over me, but not because they were mine, but because they wanted to be the one to break the ice king out of his funk. That was what the girls at the club called me, the ice king. I was cold and unforgiving, and they wanted to break the armour I put around me; they don’t understand me, and they want to be the one who can say they melted the ice. You did that without even trying. We still have a ways to go, but you chipped at the shield around my heart.” I was getting all soppy, and I never get mushy.
We had a great day and evening. The games were fun to watch, and the singing was a surprise for everyone. I knew my girl could hold a tune, and that our voices harmonized well together. We would never be paid singers, don’t get me wrong, but we weren’t bad either. Maybe singing in a club, where the public can enjoy, hearing tunes they already know, and can sing along to. Don’t need a great voice for them, be in tune and harmonize together.
I watched as Max carefully got undressed, folded her clothes neatly, placed them in a pile, and scrambled under the blankets in her underwear. She was cute to watch as she folded everything neatly. I shucked off my clothes and left them in a messy pile, not concerned about how they might crease overnight; they are where I need to grab them if needed in an emergency.
We have snuggled in and got comfortable. My shaft was always at half mast when I had her in my arms, and unless she wiggles against it by accident, it will go down, eventually. I wasn’t asleep yet when the others arrived in the tent, and we heard them whispering and giggling, trying to stay quiet.
It quietened back down, that was until the kisses started. The soft moans of pleasure, and then the slow growing sounds of intimacy, louder and louder, as calls for harder and more, I felt Max stiffen at the sounds. I wondered if she had ever heard others being intimate like this before. Both Cricket and Sticks were loud lovers, groaning and calling for more, faster, harder. The grunts from Prez and Bruiser told me they were getting close. The sounds of skin hitting skin, the wet sounds of the thrusts into the warm, moist juncture, I recognise all the sounds for what they were.
Cricket was the one to scream out first, followed by Bruiser’s roar of pleasure, then it was Stick’s turn, yelling out ‘Yes!’ As she reached her climax, lastly was Prez, his roar so loud, I am positive the rest of the camp heard him. Followed by more kisses, before the sounds settled and fell quiet.
Max relaxed when the sounds stopped, and her gentle snore followed soon after, while I lay there holding her for a while yet, playing back the day’s events, and what a day it had been. I can’t remember the last time I smiled and laughed so much, and was this relaxed.
Sleep claimed me, with a smile on my face, and my woman in my arms.
Max thrashing about in my arms woke me.
“Please, don’t hurt them.” She whimpered in her sleep. She hadn’t had a nightmare for a few nights now. I wonder if something happened today to trigger it. I held onto her, rubbing circles on her stomach, kissing her hair, neck, and shoulder. I had learned the hard way not to try to wake her but to hold her while she finds her way out of the nightmare.
“Why?” she shouted a little louder, and I whispered, “You’re safe now,” in her ear, trying to hurry her to the end. She hadn’t spoken of the nightmare; we hadn’t reached that stage, where she trusted me with her secrets, her nightmares, but I am hoping we are closer now.
The curtain moved aside, and a tired-looking Prez popped his head in.
“All good?” he asked softly, as Bruiser popped his head in too.
“Yeah,” I say, as she whimpers again.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.