Alana Albertson - Invincible

“I can't fucking do this, Pat. Her nails raked at the skin on her forearms. She rubbed a palm on her thigh. “I can't. I can't. It's too hard. You can take me back, I don't fucking care. I need it. It hurts.”

She crumpled to her knees and I winced at the sound of bone grating against the rough wood floor, the sound of her breathless sobs. I crouched beside her and laid a hand against her back that was clammy with sweat. Annie shrieked at my touch and cringed backwards.

“Don't fucking touch me!” The sound of her scream echoed off the walls of the room, rang in my ears. “Don't touch me. I don't want anyone to touch me.”

But I didn’t give up that easily.

She shivered. I wrapped her in a blanket and held her. She resisted at first but relaxed in my arms. Her eyes seemed to roll back in her head for a second, which made me nervous, even though I’d done my research and knew that it was normal. I kissed her forehead and rocked her to sleep.

She had her rough days, days where she didn’t want to get out of bed, screaming, crying, and pleading for her next fix. But she got through it. It was brutal to watch her suffering, her body quivering. But the heroin had finally left her body, like a ghost of her nightmare.

Tonight was our last night together. Tomorrow, I would walk her into the embassy when it opened, and then Kyle, Vic, and I would return to our navy carrier. To our life. To our next mission. Without her. Without Annie.

For our last night we had ported in Curaçao, though I wouldn’t let Annie get off the yacht and risk her being seen. Kyle and Vic had gone into town. They’d both be back later, but for the first time since this ordeal had begun, Annie and I were alone.

Matchmaker Vic had brought in food from a local restaurant, since he figured she hadn’t had a good meal in years. A bottle of merlot, two New York strip steaks, mashed potatoes, and chocolate cake for dessert. I guess it was kind of a celebration. A toast to getting her life back.

We sat at the tiny table in the corner of the room. I plugged in my phone so we had some music—classic rock not classical. I wasn’t trying to set a seduction scene however much my dick wanted me to—for now I just wanted to have a nice dinner. Annie sat across from me, her hair pulled back into a low bun. I felt like I was on a first date.

I poured her a glass of wine. Time to make small talk. “What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get home?”

She lifted the glass to her mouth and pressed her lips onto it. I wanted her lips to press on me. “Oh, I don’t know. Sounds weird, but I don’t want to see my friends for a while. I’m sure they’re all going to act weird around me, or ask me all sorts of crazy questions that I don’t want to answer. Nicole used to joke that if we ever got rescued, it would be like winning the super bowl. You know, ‘You’ve just won the super bowl. What are you going to do next? I’m going to Disneyland.’ But that’s not really my thing. I’d love to go to Lake Tahoe, rent a cabin, hike around the lake. Something outside. I’ve been locked up for so long, just get out, walk, hike, stroll on the beach. Be free.”

Funny. That’s exactly what I liked to do in my free time. Anything out in nature, hiking, camping, exploring. I loved Lake Tahoe—my mom made sure that even though money was always tight, she would save up enough for us to spend a week in a crappy motel there every summer.

“Oh, I also want to adopt a dog.”

“I’ve got a dog, Trigger. He was one of our military dogs in Iraq. He’s a German Shepherd. Retired. Great dog.”

“That’s cool. I wish I could meet him.” She pushed her food around her plate. “Pat, I’m scared of going home. I just wish I could stay here on this yacht.”

“That's not what I would call freedom, being stuck in the middle of the ocean. Why are you scared? Your parents are going to be thrilled to see you. I can’t imagine their pain.” I paused. “And your boyfriend has given interviews about how he’s still in love with you. I’m sure you two will run off and get married. Live happily ever after and have two point five kids with a mini van.”

“Chris? Please. I mean he’s a good guy. He’s a surfer, used to high all the time. I feel really bad about everything he’s been through, people thinking he killed me and all. But I’m so different now. He’s not the type of man I can see myself with. I want to be with someone strong, caring, brave. Someone like you.”

Two out of the three ain’t bad. “I’m not caring.”

“Yes, you are. You came back for me, you care about me. You’ve nursed me back to health.”

“You’re a job to me, Annie. A mission. An American. I’m a SEAL, this is what I do. Any of the other guys on the Teams would do the same thing. It doesn’t make me special.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

This was a fun meal. I should’ve gone into town with Kyle and Vic. “Yup. Once. She cheated. End of story.”

“Not all girls cheat. I never cheated, on Chris, I mean. Though I doubt that sounds reassuring coming from a former hooker.”

I winced. I felt bad. She was just trying to connect with me. She was probably scared to go home. “I don’t think being repeatedly raped counts as cheating. I admire your strength. I don’t know how many women could go through what you went through and still be able to smile.”

She took a sip of wine, her eyes twinkled. Her eyes wandered around the room, then fixated on me. “Pat, I have one favor to ask.”

I didn’t hesitate. It was our last night together. “Anything. Shoot.”

Her mouth widened into a smile, and she moistened her lips. “Make love to me.”

What the fuck?

I shifted in my seat as I thought about what to say—she was fragile and I didn’t want to reject her. I needed her to be strong for tomorrow. “Annie, you’re beautiful, and in any other situation, any other situation, I would love to fuck the shit out of you. But we can’t go there. I don’t want to hurt you. And I’m incapable of offering you any more than that and you deserve more. I deploy nine months out of the year. When I’m home, I’m so tired from training. Your first experience after this nightmare should be special. You've had enough assholes use you, debase you and treat you like a piece of ass. You don't need that. You don’t need me.”

Her lips parted, she stroked her hair. “I know what I want. I understand your job. For the past five years, I’ve been forced to have sex with strangers, do unthinkable things. Drugged out of my mind.” She leaned in to me and put her hand on my thigh. “Don’t let the last memory I have of being with a man, be with someone who paid for me. Someone I had no choice to reject. I want you. I choose you. Make me feel good.”

Her fingers sent a shiver down my leg and pleasure swept through my body. This was wrong. She was a recovering addict, a former prostitute. Sleeping with her could only confuse her, set back her recovery.

She inched her hand up my thigh and across the front seam of my jeans, gripped my growing erection. I growled in my throat, widened my legs and slumped backwards in the seat. God, I wanted this. The nights I'd suffered with her tight little ass pressed against my cock were unbearable.

Her fingers teased at the zipper, but it wasn't her touch that snapped my control. It wasn't the soft panting breaths that escaped her lips or the way her breasts teased at the neckline of her dress. It was the trust in her eyes, the hope. It called to me like she had when she first asked for my help. And I so wanted to fucking help her. Craved it.

I waited a beat, studying her eyes, my face an impassive mask despite my earlier reaction to her touch. Could I do this? Fuck her and leave her. It’d be the cruelest and kindest thing I'd ever done. Giving her back her freedom, her right to choose what to do with her own body. Reclaim her sexuality for the first time in over five years. I was already in deeper with this girl than I'd ever allowed myself to be. Could I let her go after this? Could she?