Held for the Stud

by Vonna Harper

  “Don’t say it like that.”

  “Just being honest.”

  Was he? In the last few minutes his tone had deepened and his breathing was coming faster. He had a hard-on. She wanted to focus on his reaction, but how could she when his thumb was on the move? So damn deep now, slick and knowing. Filling not just her rectum but seemingly everything. She had to stay put.

  Become even more excited. And desperate. Maybe as screwed-up as the men who were here—or would be.

  “Banner.” His name escaped her throat. “Don’t dismantle me. Please—please…”

  Before he’d insisted she finish her words and thoughts. She didn’t know how to handle this silence. The waiting was terrible.

  Beyond that.

  “What do you mean by dismantle?” he asked at last.

  Had she used the word? Had she even spoken?

  He was working her into a frenzy, pushing her to the edge just by moving his thumb in all directions. He let go of her hair, swiped his fingers over her soaked pussy and coated her buttocks. He repeated the action, his touch now so light she only sensed the contact. He was over, around and in her. Maybe laughing at how she jerked.

  At any moment she’d reach the end of whatever edge he’d placed her on. Instead of giving her that final shove, he’d pull her away from it. She’d land on the floor, curl into a ball, maybe cry. No, not that! More likely call him every name she could think of.

  “Don’t you dare,” she warned when he withdrew completely.

  Silent, he swatted the backs of her legs. The sting gave birth to a cry. He again slapped the same spot.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I can’t help…”

  “I know you can’t.”

  She tried to lift her head. At the same time she ground her belly against him and held onto his ankles. There was a closeness that hadn’t been there before. She belonged to him.

  Relief and alarm circled around her when he wiped his fingers on his jeans then recoated them with her wetness. He pressed the heels of his hands against her buttocks, digging deep, exposing another layer of excitement and pain. Hissing, she scratched his calves through his jeans. When two hard blows shook her, she again reared up.

  “Oh God!”

  “Good or bad?”

  “I nearly…”

  “Came?”

  Shit, yes, not that she’d admit it if she could.

  “Want me to do it again?”

  “Yes. Damn it, yes.”

  His sharp-edged retort confused her. She couldn’t tell whether he was pleased or angry. Maybe she’d confused him. Whatever his reaction, it couldn’t be as overwhelming as hers. She wanted to spew curses but wasn’t sure she would be able to stop once she started.

  “When did things change?” he asked. “Before, you barely tolerated me. Today…” He finished by slipping a finger into her pussy.

  Her vision blurring, she sagged. Only having him inside her mattered. When he deepened the contact, she tightened weary muscles. She was lifting and falling with the edge of something indefinable overhead and darkness below. How she’d gotten here didn’t matter. There was just Banner and his knowing hands. She groaned with each swat and sighed in time with his thrusts.

  Two rough fingers stressed her channel. Somehow holding her breath, she waited. He kept her like that for so long that she called him a bastard. His fingers still invading, he pummeled her ass.

  “Oh shit. Shit. Banner, God damn you.”

  “God has nothing to do with this.”

  He was here. And there. Claiming her pussy and ass in turn, marking her, breathing like he’d charged up a mountain. She longed to join him on the insane run, but she was too deep inside herself to give more than fleeting thought to his journey.

  What was it he’d said, that more war-weary soldiers were on their way? The men deserved to leave reality behind. Her duty was to provide them with reliable horses, mischievous goats and cows with small calves suckling at their udders. The men should barely be aware of her. She certainly wasn’t a potential solution for their sexual frustration.

  How the hell could she accomplish that when she needed to fuck so much?

  “Damn you.” Banner’s curse slammed into her. He ground the heel of his hand into the base of her spine, hurting and igniting her even more than she already was.

  “What—have I done wrong?”

  “Everything. Nothing.”

  Wondering if he realized how unhinged he sounded, she sank into the pressure. She didn’t want him to stop, not now. Maybe ever. His strength reached her whole being. She couldn’t tell whether his intention was to hurt or excite her. Maybe both.

  Her eyes stinging and her throat raw, she ordered herself to wait. Every second became harder to handle than the preceding one.

  “I’ve had enough of this,” he snapped. “No more playing.”

  “What do you mean by play?” She knew not to try to get away. “It sure as hell doesn’t feel like that to me.”

  “I’m not interested in games. Never have been.”

  Maybe he wanted her to tuck that bit of information away for possible future use, but her system was on overload. She couldn’t take more. Stifling another curse, she tried to roll off him. He rammed a finger deep inside her and held her in place. There was no end to her or to him. Somehow, it had all been roped together.

  “Things have gone in a different direction from what I intended.” He anchored her against him.

  “What did you expect—”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Holding her so tightly she could hardly breathe, he blew his hot breath over her spine until she was certain she’d scream. What did she care if she couldn’t move? He was, what, being gentle?

  “Banner,” she muttered.

  “What?”

  “I—don’t know.”

  He cursed. Then, without giving her any hint of what he had in mind, he pushed her off his lap. She landed on her hands and knees. His hands went to his crotch, his fingers closing around his zipper.

  “No,” she heard herself say. “I want to do that.”

  “Are you giving me an order?”

  “Of course not. I know better.”

  “You’d better.” His lips thinned. “Yeah, all right.”

  That was all she needed to hear. Feeling more clearheaded than she had for a long time, she spread his legs, gently pushed his hands aside and unsnapped his jeans. Eyes downcast, she tackled the zipper. When he stood, she straightened and pulled his jeans over his hips. His erection pressed against his briefs, compelling her to stroke it through the single layer.

  “That’s enough,” he said.

  “You can’t—surely you want—”

  “Want isn’t the point. Stand.”

  The command struck her like his hand had. Weak-kneed, she obeyed. Little remained of the strong woman she’d believed she was, but she didn’t care.

  “To the bed. Lean over it with your ass out.”

  “You—are you going to take me—where are you going to put it?”

  “It?”

  “You know what I’m talking about.”

  “Oh yes I do. It’s going where I want.”

  Of course. Both cowed and thrilled, she managed to obey. The bed was so low she had to splay her legs and bend deeply at the waist. She imagined what she looked like, little more than a landing spot for his shaft.

  When he didn’t immediately plant his hands on her, she guessed he was studying her. She didn’t hear clothing or shoes being removed but couldn’t trust her senses. He’d have to pull out his cock, but the rest of him might remain dressed.

  “You’ve come a long way.” He tapped her aching thighs. “There’s hardly any rebellion left to you.”

  Arguing the point would call for her to lie. Besides, she only wanted one thing. The more still she remained, the sooner she’d get it. Hopefully.

  He moved her hand from her thigh to between her legs and settled a finger over her hungry clit.


  “God,” she whispered, unable to stop from wiggling her ass.

  “Remember what I said about there being no deity?”

  Uninterested in conversation, she focused on what was happening. In contrast to what had felt like endless punishment, he was now being gentle.

  Something hot rose and fell inside her. She wasn’t climaxing, but the delicious sensation was within reach. She clutched the bedspread and shoved her ass at him as mares in heat did. That’s what she was, all right, a rutting animal. A primal creature.

  “Damn you.” He captured her clit between two fingers. “Damn you.”

  Shaking, with her breath caught somewhere between exhaling and inhaling, she looked over her shoulder. She could only see part of him, a glimpse of a naked chest, shoulder and arm. He’d gotten rid of his shirt.

  “This works for you?” He squeezed. “Something you want?”

  “Yes, damn it!”

  “That’s enough cursing.”

  He cared what she said? “Please. Please.”

  “Yeah, all right.”

  Then, as if he were granting her a favor against his better judgment, he placed the tip of his penis at the entrance to her pussy. All air gone from her lungs, she waited.

  He slipped into her slickness, starting slow but picking up speed with every inch. Her pussy stretched under his bulk. His fingers and thumbs had exerted their own kind of magic, but this was something else. More.

  Everything.

  He planted his hands over her waist and plunged. Over and around her, treating her like she was an object, he dove and retreated, dove and retreated. She swirled in sensation. Cried out. Made animal sounds.

  Drenched in sweat, she struggled to match his frenzied pace. He was in charge, in control.

  How she loved it! How glorious to lose herself in his power and strength.

  There it was, something hot consuming her. She considered fighting the nearly-there climax so it would last, but she’d been heading toward this since she’d first seen him today. He’d torn her apart and put her together. The pieces were askew.

  She was different. Changed.

  “Yes!” she screamed. “Damn it, yes!”

  Maybe she’d said more, but she couldn’t put her mind to what it might have been. Wallowing in the thrill, she let go.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “That didn’t take long,” Banner said.

  “No.” She swallowed. “It didn’t.”

  “With no thought on your part that I might want sex to last longer.”

  She couldn’t tell if he was angry. One thing she did know was that she’d slipped off the bed and lay in a ball at his feet. She didn’t have the strength to move, wanted to hold on to the feeling of her nerves short circuiting.

  “It was good for you?”

  His sarcasm reached through the fog and she shook her head until her vision cleared. Half-naked, he stood over her looking every bit the conquering soldier. Despite her awe at finally seeing his naked chest, she found something she hadn’t seen before in his expression. It was as if he were trying to understand himself.

  “Didn’t you want to fuck?” she asked. “The way you’re looking at me—”

  “What I did or didn’t anticipate doesn’t concern you.”

  She didn’t believe that. His intention was to take up residence in her mind. Having to look up at him with his cum sliding out of her and memories of his hands branding her ass made her feel—all right, submissive.

  Wondering how long she’d go on feeling like that, she struggled to stand. She’d just gotten her feet under her when he clasped her shoulders and turned her from him. She took the image of his now flaccid cock with her, that and the desire to close her mouth around it and bring it back to life.

  “Go into the bathroom,” he said. “Take a shower. Don’t get dressed.”

  His threat—she shouldn’t think of it as a promise—stayed with her as soapy water washed sweat off her well-used body. She could barely stand the scrape of a washcloth on her sensitized skin. No matter what he might think or say, she couldn’t make herself hurry. All she wanted was to crawl naked between the sheets and pass out.

  A towel wrapped around her, she finally stepped out of the bathroom. He stood near the window, looking out while muted daylight played over his skin. He appeared at peace, a man satisfied. The longer she stared at him, the more convinced she became that what she’d believed was a tattoo on his back was a scar. It was long, wide and jagged.

  Banner was a solder. He’d fought. Been wounded. Maybe nearly killed.

  Swallowing a cry along with the need for an explanation, she tried to put herself in his position. Nothing she’d done had come close to what he must have experienced. Had his opponent lived? Did he ever talk about the fateful day when he must have felt powerless? She wouldn’t be surprised if he kept the memories and nightmares buried deep inside.

  Then he swung his powerful body in her direction and she acknowledged that this dominant man might never tell her what had happened. If he ever did, it would have to come willingly from him. He called the shots.

  She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, or even if he was aware of her presence. Maybe his past had pulled him in. She’d give everything for a kind word from him, or, if not that, at least an inkling that he truly understood what he’d done to her.

  Instead, she was looking at a stranger.

  “I’m not going to have time for you for a while,” he said without emotion. “I have to convince the new men that they aren’t being scrutinized. That’s the only way they’ll relax.”

  “Will you be around?”

  “Some of the time. I have meetings—too damn many meetings…”

  His voice trailed off as if he were deep in thought. Maybe she could grab her clothes and leave without him noticing, but he’d said he didn’t want her to get dressed.

  “Andy isn’t the most screwed-up of the lot. Far from it. Others—they’re ninety percent crazy. Possibly dangerous.”

  Thinking he must be exaggerating, she waited. Her wet hair on her shoulders was cooling them. The rest of her body surged to life at the sight of him. If he wanted her to grovel before him, she would.

  “I don’t dare take the chance.”

  “What chance?” she asked.

  He headed for the dresser. “That you’ll try to help them.”

  What’s wrong with that? Not long ago, she would have argued the point, but he’d taught her not to.

  “I won’t let that happen,” he said.

  “Let? How can you if you aren’t around?”

  A flicker of something touched the corners of his mouth. “By ensuring you won’t forget my demands.”

  What she’d experienced had been a series of lessons, not that she’d argue semantics with him. Knowing she’d barely catch a glimpse of him for the foreseeable future was the last thing she wanted, but she needed that time to try to find herself. Pull herself back together.

  “This”—he extracted a pouch from the dresser drawer—“will ensure I’m on your mind—and in your body.”

  He held up a large red butt plug with a flared base.

  “I don’t understand,” she said, although she did.

  “You’ve never seen one of these?”

  “Not this big.”

  “Hmm.” He fingered the narrow area between the broad middle and the base. “I’m not interested in when, where or why you learned about a plug’s purpose.”

  He owned a butt plug. Maybe he’d bought it specifically for her, not as a simple object to be used during sex play but nearly permanent. Unrelenting proof of his ownership of her.

  Mouth dry, she stared.

  “Nothing to say?” He held it higher.

  Numb, she shook her head.

  “That’s good. Not perfect, but good.”

  What had happened to the woman she believed she was, the one who would give a man a black eye for trying to make her accept the foreign object and what it represen
ted? She’d been replaced by a slut who craved the feel of his hands all over her.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “Nothing. Not a single thought.”

  His chuckle was harsh, a blast of sound designed to let her know he didn’t believe her. “More like too much on your mind.” He closed his fingers around the plug and moved it in and out of the butt he’d created. “Impossible to ignore.”

  “I guess so.”

  He cocked his head. “Are you looking forward to having it lodged in you?”

  She couldn’t get her mouth to stay closed. Hot juices tracked down her inner thighs. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “You’re being honest.”

  “I, ah, maybe I am.”

  He nodded and stepped into her space. His skin held a kind of heat she’d never felt. If she could have formed the words, she’d have pressed him about his scar. He might not have answered but she’d have tried.

  Holding the plug with one hand, he closed the other around the back of her neck and propelled her to the bed. Not telling her what he had in mind, he pushed until she lost her balance. She flopped onto the mattress, the towel falling away and her body in position to be fucked.

  “Legs apart.”

  Yes, Master.

  She supposed she should be grateful because he took the time to thoroughly coat her ass with her juices before positioning the plug at the tiny opening. “I’m part of you,” he said, so softly she wasn’t sure she’d heard every word. “Looking after you in ways you never expected.”

  She couldn’t tell whether he expected a response. If he did he’d be disappointed because her every thought revolved around what he was about to secure inside her. Despite what felt like endless anticipation, her mind refused to settle. She imagined a talented craftsman—of course it would be a man—spending hours designing the perfect tool. Once Banner inserted it, she’d be able and expected to wear it indefinitely.

  “Relax. Let your breath out.”

  Yes, Master.

  Distracted by the voice inside her head, she did as he’d commanded. He swirled the tip around her rear entrance while she struggled to stay motionless. She wished could watch, was relieved that she couldn’t. Pressure started, increased.