“Besides, I think it's a reverse harem. Not a ménage à trois,” Crozier corrected them, and the other three guys gave him a 'look.' “Do you know what books our nurses are reading? They are very horny.”
“Can't disagree with that. I mean, after this discussion and Roan with his…” Tank shut up because Roan stomped on Tank’s foot.
Roan deflected by drinking a full Bloodwine of his own. He waved at their waitress. “Who feels man enough for a shooting star mimosa? Crozier, you in?”
“Sure, I’ll take one, but, Captain, can you please just call me Drew?” Crozier laughed, shaking his head. “Watch this. Alex, do you want a Shooting Star Mimosa?”
“Better not. Too tempting to drunk text St... er… Ella or Kandal. These pancakes are great, though. Can I have another order?” Alex said to the waitress as she came right back with two Shooting Stars.
“My pleasure.” The woman, currently dressed in a Star Trek short skirt uniform, highlighting her tanned legs, was clearly checking Alex out. “Need anything else, doctors?”
“We’re good.” Tank shook his head and waited till she left. “I’m not a doctor, and Casserty here doesn’t count as single.”
“I’m single,” Drew said, admiring her departing figure. “She noticed we’re doctors.”
“Yet only wanted Doctor Romance Disaster,” Tank disagreed. “Trust me, a woman who’s interested in Mr. Dark and Tortured is not a bird worth chasing.”
“Really? My nurses say—” Drew started.
Tank gestured with his fork, stabbing his own pancakes. “Nope. I’ve played that card, more than once. Tends to attract a pretty strange brand of crazy.”
“How crazy? Key your car crazy? Stalk you crazy?” Crozier asked, interest piqued.
“No. Those birds I can handle. Nesting birds are the worst. There you are, just wanting some sweet, nice girl pussy, and after you bang a few times, they want to ‘fix’ you. Do you have any idea how fucking obnoxious it is? When you tell them to get lost, they get more determined that they, and only they, can heal you. Fuck that. I like me the way I am.”
Tank’s diatribe stopped their waitress in her tracks, returning with Alex’s pancakes... and an extra shooting star mimosa.
“Sorry about that, ma’am. He was raised by wolves.” Roan stood and traded the goods for an extra forty dollars on her tray before getting back in his seat.
“I was not. I’m everything the US Navy made me to be.” Tank beat his chest as Roan sat back down. “Don’t give up the ship!”
Roan kicked him again under the table. “Since when do you go for nice girls?”
“They’re more trouble than they’re worth,” Tank said, correcting himself when Roan shook his head. “Maybe because I have a three date limit.”
“Three date limit?” Casserty roused from his unordered mimosa, perhaps wondering if he should have done the same with Stella Magi.
“Yeah. It’s not a rule or a limit, per se, so much as a guideline. Never met a woman I could tolerate more than three dates.”
Drew had doubts. “You’re a Navy SEAL and you can seal the deal in just three dates?”
“Fu-banging isn’t ‘dating.’ I’m talking about things you do outside of bed. Dinner. Movies. Hiking. Three dates. Hence why I’ve developed an allergy to those do-gooder-nice-girl fix me types.” Tank listed pretty much the opposite of how Roan felt.
Clarissa was a nice girl. Sweet, sunshiny, and absolutely dynamite between the sheets. God must have created her exactly for him. They matched that well. He ate her sweetness like cotton candy and embraced his very masculine desires to ‘keep’ her. It was an endless ego and power trip to have been the one who took her virginity and ‘taught’ her to enjoy sex.
Some shrink could suggest it was wrong to revel in the privilege of molding her sexuality—if she hadn’t been ALL about it.
If anything, she’d indicated he had free reign to do a lot more than he had thus far. When he picked the scenarios of their ‘play,’ Roan tended toward pressuring/subversive games—single dad-babysitter, principal-student. He wasn’t opposed to being more physically aggressive and dominant, only when she requested it.
Like right before Tank had burst into Roan’s house. Roan had carried her in from the snow and was planning on stripping her naked in his living room. He’d wanted to make love, and she had indicated she was open to his off-hand comment about the Abdominal Snowman taking his virginal maiden in the snow.
Fuck, when he got home, he’d let her pick the game and finish getting her naked. If she wanted him to ravish her as a wild beast, he’d do it and let her beg for...
“What do you think?” Alex’s comment broke into Roan’s highly inappropriate train of thought. The others were looking at him expectantly as if he hadn’t been engaging in naughty sexual fantasies about his best friend’s sister.
Crap. His cerebral prefusion headed to his groin at the idea of getting back to Clarissa didn’t improve his ability to form sentences.
Were they still talking about the pros and cons of nice girl sex? Or had they decided to discuss whether brain surgery or rocket science was a harder discipline?
