Saved Between the Sheets: An Anthology of Stories that Get to the Point

by R. M. Walker

  The sentiment and the idea itself hit hard, squeezing his chest. “I should have stuck to the tangent about sex.”

  “It’s never too late to go back.”

  Her words struck another dark chord inside. With Kirby, it was always too late to go back. There was only forward, to try to save her the next time. “I’d hate to force it. Unless that’s your thing.”

  “Hmm…” She twisted her face into exaggerated contemplation. “I’ve been known to kneel in the right circumstance, but I’ve also required the same.”

  Her innuendo was enough to break down the dam struggling to contain his memories. The past flooded in complete with visuals and every other sensation. Her lips wrapped around his cock while she looked up at him with wide, hungry eyes. Him in front of her, worshipping her pussy with his tongue.

  Scents. Sounds. Sensations. It was all there. Here they were talking about faith and fury, and he was fantasizing about fellatio.

  “I wouldn’t mind bearing witness to either,” he said.

  She licked her lips. “Are you one of those people with deep-seated religious fantasies? Fucking the priest on the altar kind of thing?”

  “No. Definitely not. These are all right near the surface.” If they were throwing vagueness out the window, in favor of being direct, he was taking advantage of it.

  She laughed lightly, and the music drove straight to his cock. She turned to face him. “I offer services to any faith, including hearing confessions, if you’re feeling the need to unburden your soul.”

  They were paused outside the tent designated as the chapel, near the back side where here room would be located.

  A reply hovered on the tip of his tongue, flavored with need. The need to taste her again. To feel every inch of her body. To inhale her familiar scent, and tell her everything he wanted to do to her.

  He stepped closer, and her breath caught. She watched him with wide eyes, but it was anticipation rather than fear that stared back. He dipped his head to hover his mouth near her ear. “Good night, Pastor Kirby.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Captain Gibbons.” Disappointment lingered in her words.

  He knew the feeling. Why did he do that? Why hadn’t he taken advantage of the moment?

  She gave him one more glance and disappeared inside.

  Because the pull to her was stronger than it had ever been. If he gave in now, he wouldn’t want to let her go. And until she knew more about herself and him, his affection might come off more as obsession.

  Who was he kidding? It was completely obsession. Strong enough it had lasted for centuries, and so potent that if she’d nudged him one more time, rather than walking away, he wouldn’t be able to turn her down.

  Chapter Two

  Kirby didn’t know what it was about the man outside her tent, but in the short time since she’d met him, her pulse hadn’t stopped screaming, and her heart kept racing. She unlaced her boots and set them in their spot.

  She’d never seen the man with the reddish blond hair and piercing hazel green eyes before. But it felt like she’d known Gwydion for a lifetime. Or longer. If she closed her eyes, she swore she could picture exactly where to touch to make him groan. Exactly how it felt to have his hands roam her skin.

  She unbuttoned her BDU top, and shrugged out of it, leaving her in just a black tank top. The cooler evening air rushed in, kissing the moisture from her skin, but not soothing the heat that rushed through her veins.

  He was interested. He didn’t make any secret of that.

  She shouldn’t even be considering hooking up with him. Their conversation was somber, rather than arousing. And for discretion’s sake, she needed to be careful who she slept with.

  Gwydion though… She’d never seen sex as dirty or sinful, but right now her body screamed at her to let him do anything and everything filthy to her that he could imagine.

  There was one guaranteed way to cure the feeling.

  She tugged her tent open again, to find him loitering just a few feet away.

  “Do you want to come in for a glass of wine?” she asked. “I know, it’s a dry country, but this is communion wine, and I won’t tell if you won’t.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t drink.” Yet, he was still here. So that wasn’t a brush-off.

  She stepped aside enough to hold the tent open wider. What was she doing? She had zero desire to stop, whatever it was. She needed him here. Fuck that. She just needed him. He obliterated her reason until the only thing she could focus on was him. How irrational was that? She didn’t care. “Coffee then? Cookies? Sex?”

  “All right.” He stepped inside.

  She zipped the flap shut behind him. “To which one?”

  “All of the above. But not in that order.” The gravel in his voice made her breath catch

  She whirled to find him watching her with that same heated gaze he’d traced over her since they met. “Where would you like to start?”

  In response, he knotted his fingers in her hair, under her ponytail, and crushed his mouth to hers. She swore lightning spilled between them, dancing on her skin and sparking in her thoughts. She groaned against his lips. He deepened the kiss, driving his tongue into her mouth to dance with hers.

  The entire world faded into the background until there was nothing but him. His touch. The intoxicating sound of his groans.

  She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist, and fuck him right here and now.

  Her thoughts, her body’s response, none of it made sense. She shouldn’t be throwing caution to the wind because a smooth-talking doctor made her panties damp.

  She wasn’t in the mood to listen to reason. She felt frantic and desperate and unhinged.

  The way he dragged his mouth along her jaw, to suck on her neck, implied she wasn’t the only one.

  Kirby needed to be closer. She pushed his shirt up.

  He broke away from her long to tug his top off, then scraped his teeth along her shoulder. He bit the strap of her tank top and dragged it down to expose more skin.

  She licked up his chest. He tasted faintly like sand and sweat and desperation. Or that last one was her.

  He barely had her pants unzipped before he shoved them to the ground.

  She undid his belt and worked him free. He bucked against her hand when she wrapped her fingers around his shaft. He was as hard as she was wet. She draped her arms around his neck.

  “You should know,” he murmured against her lips, “I don’t make a habit of this.”

  “So I should feel special?”

  He glided his hands down her back, to cup her panty-clad ass. “You’re better than special. You’re exceptionally extraordinary.”

  It was a cheesy line. But the sincerity in his throaty answer stole any witty response she had. “Okay.”

  He turned them both so her back was to the bed. He lifted her enough to steal her balance, but managed to gracefully lower her onto the mattress, leaving her legs hanging over the edge.

  Gwydion knelt at her feet.

  Anticipation jammed her heart in her throat. She hadn’t expected him to take the kneeling thing so literally. Not that was complaining.

  Especially when he kissed the inside of her knee. The feather-light brush of his lips skittered over her entire body. He nibbled up the inside of her thigh. There was just enough of a five-o-clock shadow on his chin to add a delicious burn. He scraped his teeth over her panties, the licked along the cotton covering her mound.

  The build-up was enough to make her squirm. With him so close to the core of her need, so attentive, but still so far away.

  He nibbled, nudged, and teased through the thin cotton covering her mound for several minutes.

  She grabbed fistfuls of her blanket, and her hips thrust in time to his licks. She wanted to squeeze her thighs together to mute the pulse, but that wasn’t happening with him between her legs.

  He hooked his fingers in the elastic of her underwear and dragged it off.


  The warm evening air against her damp skin was another layer of sensation, adding to a build toward overload.

  When he slid his touch along her slit, she groaned in anticipation. He wrapped one finger on either side of her clit, the licked across the head.

  Sweet mother of all that’s holy. She raised her ass off the bed to get closer.

  He licked and sucked and squeezed.

  She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming out. Tent walls weren’t exactly known for their ability to mute sound. Pleasure built in her skull, swelling until it forced out everything else. Lightheadedness swam in, and a rainbow of sparkles danced behind her eyelids. She came hard, pressing into his mouth.

  As she hit the peak of her orgasm, he pulled his hand away, still sucking on her clit. He slid two fingers inside her without warning. He hooked his touch up, and struck something inside her that nudged her headfirst into another climax.

  She clenched around him, and thrashed against his touch, not sure if she wanted more or if it was too much.

  When her body decided for her, shuddering and pulling away, he eased up.

  Her head was still swimming when he stood, leaned over her, and crushed his mouth to hers. She dove into the taste of herself on his lips, not caring that he’d knotted slick fingers into her hair.

  This was incredible, and she needed more. Her body sang to be wrapped up in him.

  “Condom?” she asked breathlessly. She hadn’t completely lost her reason. Just mostly.

  He groaned and rested his forehead against her, where her neck met her shoulder. His breath was hot and tantalizing on her bare skin. “Don’t have one.”

  Praise the Slain God one of them thought ahead.

  She rolled on her cot enough to reach the bedside table, and plucked a condom from the nightstand drawer.

  She held it up, and he nipped at the foil with his teeth, tearing the package open. Playful in the midst of frantic need. Apparently he could get hotter.

  She rolled the protection onto his thick shaft, reveling in his low groan.

  He shifted them both on the mattress, so she was completely on the bed, then knelt between her legs.

  How were they going to keep the springs in this thing from squeaking? Did she care? At this moment, she’d do anything he asked of her, no matter how depraved. He could fuck her in front of the entire battalion. Let every single one of them use her mouth and come on her bare skin. As long as she got to feel him buried inside her.

  Gwydion nudged her opening with the head of his cock, and slid in enough to stretch her open, before withdrawing again.

  She wrapped her legs around his ass, and tried to coax him forward.

  He entered her slowly, with drawn out strokes, until he was buried inside her. His pause and low groan confirmed she wasn’t the only one on the edge of desperation.

  He gripped her thighs and pushed her knees back to her chest. And then the teasing was over. He hammered inside her hard and fast, his face screwed up in ecstasy.

  She swore a tangible energy flowed between them and wrapped around them. Tendrils of power and desire, wrapping their bodies together with hunger and need. The frantic pace of his thrust pushed her into orgasm a third time. She came hard, squeezing his cock, her mind floating on an impossible sea of cotton.

  His soft grunts and stuttered pace told her he was close too. He paused for a heartbeat, and then slammed harder against her, stuttering and finally slowing to a stop.

  The outside world filtered into the edge of her senses as the world swam back into focus. The distant roar of engines. The scent of sand mingled with sex and sweat. Their heavy breathing.

  He let go of her legs and dropped his head onto her chest.

  She wasn’t sure how long they remained like that before he rolled to her side. He stripped off the condom, disposed of it, and stripped off the rest of his clothing.

  Then he lay down on the cot and pulled her into him to spoon against her back.

  The bed was a tight fight. She didn’t care. Even being wrapped in his arms, feeling his heart beating through her back, was its own kind of wonderful intensity.

  She didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep with Gwydion pressed against her until she woke up. The frantic hunger that drove her last night had faded. There was still a soft voice, telling her to stay here. Whispering she should curl up next to him and go back to sleep. Or wake him up for early morning sex.

  She had things to do, and so did he. This needed to be a one-time deal.

  In the creeping light of dawn, he looked peaceful and fierce at the same time. Tattoos decorated his chest and upper arms. She hadn’t seen him properly last night. A lot of the soldiers had ink, but on Gwydion the scrawling letters and patterns were more than just art. Though that had a lot to do with the canvas.

  Kirby pushed aside the desire to steal one more kiss. She scribbled him a short note, dressed enough to be presentable, grabbed her things and headed for the showers.

  Last night was incredible, but it was time to get back to reality. The ache in her chest, telling her not to walk away from him, was because the sex was so good. Nothing more.

  Chapter Three

  Gwydion was disappointed to wake up alone in Kirby’s cot. Memories of the night before teased his senses. The faint scent of poppies and copper—distinctly Kirby—clung to the sheets and his skin.

  Gray peeked in from outside. It was near dawn. He’d slept through the night. That hadn’t happened in ages. He needed to get back to his tent, and then start his shift.

  Voices carried from the next room. Kirby and someone else. She was already working. No time for a round two of last night. Or maybe something a little slower, and less frantic. Either way, it was probably for the best that they put a little breathing room between them. He didn’t expect last night to end on that note, but the stress relief… the connection… having Kirby again… it all undid him.

  Now that he’d sated the urge, he could step back a few paces. Focus on protecting her until she came into her own immortality, and woo her at the same time. Every time they met, she fell in love again for the first time, and he adored seeing that through her eyes.

  He forced himself out of bed. His clothes were folded on a nearby chair. The note on top was scrawled in a flowing script.

  Thank you. See you around the base.

  He folded the brief letter, and tucked it into his wallet.

  Gwydion was cautious emerging from her tent. He didn’t care about rumors—this was another chapter in a never-ending life—but she didn’t need them.

  He headed back to his own bunk. Even in the pre-dawn light, the base buzzed with activity.

  He needed to call Min and Starkad. Let them know he’d found her. There was a sliver of temptation, a tiny voice, that insisted he keep Kirby and the news she was alive all to himself. He wouldn’t be happy with that, and neither would she.

  Kirby was one of Odin’s original shield maidens. Created to decide which warriors would be carried to Valhalla when they fell on the battlefield.

  But she’d betrayed Odin, at least in his mind. Extended her reach to other warriors, who worshiped other gods. So Odin cursed her to never know peace, until she learned what true loyalty was.

  That had translated to her being reborn each time she was killed. But she never came back with her memories or Valkyrie strength intact. Those rushed back in when she was older. Leaving her mortal and mostly helpless until that point in her life.

  Kind of a bad thing when she was drawn to war even before she realized who she was.

  Gwydion met her in life four or five. He was art, and pranks, and she was the antithesis of everything he believed. They fell in love despite—or maybe because of—their differences. He’d been devastated the first time she died, believing she was mortal.

  When Starkad and Min arrived in his village just a few days after her passing, they explained her story. They’d both loved her in past lives, and searched for her across time and continents.<
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  Gwydion thought the news miraculous at the time. He could have the woman he loved again. He didn’t have a problem with her loving them as well, as long as he could find her.

  Since then, he’d watched her die almost half a dozen times. Knowing she would come back, only to suffer again, was no longer reassuring. He—they—needed to ensure she survived this time. Whatever it took, they’d break Odin’s curse.

  He reached his bunk, and grabbed a towel and the satchel he kept his toiletries in.

  A whisper of Kirby’s intoxicating scent rushed over him. Memories rushed back full-force, of now and the past.

  Knowing she was so close, combined with the images of their pasts together, flowed through him, and focused on his cock. After all these centuries, a hint of Kirby was enough to make him hard.

  Last night should have been enough to hold him over until he could spend some more time with Kirby outside of the bedroom. But having found her again… Every time her name or her face or her taste rushed through his thoughts, his erection grew harder.

  He brushed himself through his pants, and his dick jerked at the light contact. He could try to think about baseball and cold showers, and hope that kept him from walking into the showers at full mast, or he could take care of the distraction.

  Gwydion worked his cock free, and wrapped his fist around it. If he closed his eyes, he could almost picture Kirby in the room with him. He stroked as he let the memories dance through his head. Her light voice. Her tight, slick pussy. The way her lips felt wrapped around him. Her throaty cries when she came.

  He fell into the phantom sensations, and straight toward orgasm. His balls tightened. His gut clenched. He gripped himself harder and stroked faster.

  He came hard, coating his hand and an unfortunate sock with thick streams. He pumped until his dick was raw and his arm ached, and even then he didn’t want to stop.

  As a trickle of reason flowed back in, he took several deep breaths to center himself. She was here now. The only thing he had to rush was making sure she stayed alive.