her tongue and lips and then grasped his shaft with her hand. She worked him gently but firmly for another moment and then pulled away kissing him there as she worked her way back up to look into his big brown Navy SEAL eyes. Never letting her grip go she writhed into position above him and directed him insider her. With the insertion she felt a release from the tension and fighting and all the endless missions and getting wounded and the hospital and the endless conflict plague of humanity that her grandmother had brought on them all. She didn’t think about that for the moment. So quickly she felt . . . a release and she realized she was already climaxing.
Davy rolled Dee over and slid deeper into her. Dee could feel him, strong but gently, pushing deeper and deeper with each stroke. She particularly liked the feel of his hands as they firmly grasped at her buttocks and his fingers tightened with each stroke.
“Oh my God, yes.” She pulled into him and wrapped her legs around his body interlocking her ankles behind his back.
“Dee you are so hot,” Davy whispered in her ear as he nibbled on the lobe. She was peaking again already. Using her legs to force him even harder and deeper into her brought her to the edge . . .
Chapter 11
November 7, 2406 AD
27 Light-years from the Sol System
Monday, 4:42 PM, Expeditionary Mission Standard Time
“The edge!”
General Mason Warboys sat on the front of his tank mode hovertank lecturing the Warlords tank squadron— his Warlords.
“The very goddamned edge! We are at the edge of where humanity has ventured into space and seem to find remnants of the Separatist faction automated threats everywhere we turn.” Warboys pounded a fist downward onto the hovertanks armored hull. “I don’t care if we do have some down time. Who knows, at any moment we might find ourselves in another shitstorm with these godforsaken soulless computer-driven attackers. So we’re gonna train. And train. And train. And when we finish we’re gonna train some fucking more. Is that a hoowah?”
“HOOWAH!” the Warlords answered.
“Great. Johnny, get us set up and we’re gonna run this sim again and again until we get through it with zero casualties,” Warboys ordered.
“Roger that, One,” Warlord Two Lieutenant Colonel Johnny Stacks responded. “All right, you heard the general—everyone load up and let’s get with it.”
Mason Warboys nodded. He understood that there was a lot of work to be done. His team was new, raw, and from disparate groups throughout the fleet. They were still learning to be a team. He had beaten them into a decent tank squadron over the last eighteen months or so but they weren’t there yet. At least they weren’t where he thought they should be.
Once the Sienna Madira had been decommissioned and then recommissioned, General Moore—or President Moore, it was confusing to everyone—asked Mason to bring his team along for this long-haul mission. Mason was thrilled by the prospect, but the problem was that the Warlords had already been disbanded and reassigned. Warboys had to start over and pick a new team. While there were plenty of tank drivers in the Army the Warlords were elite and Mason only chose the best. The problem was finding elite tank drivers who could and would volunteer for an open ended long duration assignment to unknown locations. In other words, he did the best he could in the picking process. What he couldn’t get in experience he was damn sure going to make up for it in training.
Mason slid the cockpit canopy closed and cycled the restraints into his E-suit. His AIC processed the start up sequence and completed the handshaking with the ship’s sim center computers. Warboys could see the battlescape pop into his direct-to-mind view in full detail. The ten Warlords stood still in a vee formation all in tank mode. The virtual landscape was very similar to the planetoid they had recently been on but was different in a random shuffle
Davy rolled Dee over and slid deeper into her. Dee could feel him, strong but gently, pushing deeper and deeper with each stroke. She particularly liked the feel of his hands as they firmly grasped at her buttocks and his fingers tightened with each stroke.
“Oh my God, yes.” She pulled into him and wrapped her legs around his body interlocking her ankles behind his back.
“Dee you are so hot,” Davy whispered in her ear as he nibbled on the lobe. She was peaking again already. Using her legs to force him even harder and deeper into her brought her to the edge . . .
Chapter 11
November 7, 2406 AD
27 Light-years from the Sol System
Monday, 4:42 PM, Expeditionary Mission Standard Time
“The edge!”
General Mason Warboys sat on the front of his tank mode hovertank lecturing the Warlords tank squadron— his Warlords.
“The very goddamned edge! We are at the edge of where humanity has ventured into space and seem to find remnants of the Separatist faction automated threats everywhere we turn.” Warboys pounded a fist downward onto the hovertanks armored hull. “I don’t care if we do have some down time. Who knows, at any moment we might find ourselves in another shitstorm with these godforsaken soulless computer-driven attackers. So we’re gonna train. And train. And train. And when we finish we’re gonna train some fucking more. Is that a hoowah?”
“HOOWAH!” the Warlords answered.
“Great. Johnny, get us set up and we’re gonna run this sim again and again until we get through it with zero casualties,” Warboys ordered.
“Roger that, One,” Warlord Two Lieutenant Colonel Johnny Stacks responded. “All right, you heard the general—everyone load up and let’s get with it.”
Mason Warboys nodded. He understood that there was a lot of work to be done. His team was new, raw, and from disparate groups throughout the fleet. They were still learning to be a team. He had beaten them into a decent tank squadron over the last eighteen months or so but they weren’t there yet. At least they weren’t where he thought they should be.
Once the Sienna Madira had been decommissioned and then recommissioned, General Moore—or President Moore, it was confusing to everyone—asked Mason to bring his team along for this long-haul mission. Mason was thrilled by the prospect, but the problem was that the Warlords had already been disbanded and reassigned. Warboys had to start over and pick a new team. While there were plenty of tank drivers in the Army the Warlords were elite and Mason only chose the best. The problem was finding elite tank drivers who could and would volunteer for an open ended long duration assignment to unknown locations. In other words, he did the best he could in the picking process. What he couldn’t get in experience he was damn sure going to make up for it in training.
Mason slid the cockpit canopy closed and cycled the restraints into his E-suit. His AIC processed the start up sequence and completed the handshaking with the ship’s sim center computers. Warboys could see the battlescape pop into his direct-to-mind view in full detail. The ten Warlords stood still in a vee formation all in tank mode. The virtual landscape was very similar to the planetoid they had recently been on but was different in a random shuffle
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