“I don’t usually drink hard liquor,” she admitted.
He raised his glass to her. “Yeah, well, I’ve been doing a lot of things I shouldn’t do.” And he took another swig of the booze, shaking his head.
She watched him, wondering who the man was behind the steel armor. She desperately wanted to know, and the whimsical part of her brain started filling in the blanks with wild stories.
Finally, Carrick cut into her thoughts. “Does Andriy even know you? The real you?”
She shook her head slowly. “No. Not at all”
“Did he threaten you…to stay untouched?” he followed up, anger in his voice.
“No, that’s not why,” she responded shyly, playing with the sand in front of her. Andriy had nothing to do with her virgin status.
“Then why?”
She shrugged, not sure how to answer. It was deeply personal.
“I think you know why,” Carrick challenged, shooting her a knowing look. “I’m guessing that you don’t trust anyone, let alone men. And that’s why you’ve never given yourself to any man.”
She looked up to him, her lips parting, realizing that he easily saw through her—and he was completely right.
“I wish I could read you like that.” She sniffed, exasperated.
He leaned back, replying, “I’m a lot older than you. I’ve got more years under my belt, and I’ve seen a lot of things.”
“How old are you?” she asked, curious as hell.
“Too old.” He took his drink again. “Sometimes, Dani… Sometimes, I just feel like saying fuck everything. Sometimes I hate all the rules in life.”
With those last words, he turned to her and licked his bottom lip as he looked her up and down. Butterflies fluttered uncontrollably in her stomach.
“But it’s never that easy, is it?” he said, his face darkening.
“This doesn’t need to get any messier,” she found her defensive self blurting out, continuing to push back.
“I agree,” he said, knocking his drink back and leaning forward so that his arms draped around his muscled legs. “Let’s just do what we are supposed to do, all right?”
Deep disappointment ricocheted in her stomach. His eyes grew intense as he looked at her. The words hit her hard and the aluminum cup shook in her hands. She sipped on her drink, not knowing what else to do.
Then he stood and took a step. For some dumb reason, she stood as well. But the effect was poorly thought out. Turning around, he looked down on her where she stood. There was a lot of something in his eyes.
And Danica unfortunately was too taken by him to listen to the smart part of her brain screaming at her to stop.
“I think—” she said quickly, not even sure what to say next.
All she knew was that she desperately wanted him to kiss her.
But he wasn’t going to.
Finally, in his detached and cold tone, he said, “It’s time for the next phase of your training—learning how to fight. Show me your stance.”
And with that, he pushed them right into a long session of fight training. She learned how to punch, kick and protect herself. He taught her self-defense moves and how to break free from holds. Danica kept her head down, obeying his every command and enjoying every time he touched her, reached his thick arms around her to hold her or held her hands up to show her how to throw a punch. He remained serious and focused, unbending.
Danica did everything she could to mimic the tone, though she had grown to feel very different about her time with him.
Hours later, Danica shivered as she sat near Carrick in the sand, watching the waves crash over each other underneath the night sky. The day had gone by too fast…way too fast. And now it was dark.
“Should we start a fire?” Danica prompted, rubbing her hands over her bare legs, which were even more golden from the day. “Surely that would be some sort of survival skill.”
“No.” Carrick shook his head, sitting strong and stoic in his place beside her. “We’d better not draw attention to ourselves.”
Danica tilted her head, considering his words. The lingering threat couldn’t be ignored. He was teaching her how to fight for a reason. She just hoped to God that she wouldn’t have to use the moves anytime soon.
A silence fell between them, but he didn’t say anything else. He just kept looking out over the water until, finally, she could remain quiet no longer and broke it.
“Tell me about you,” she said.
“What’s there to know?”
That same silence thickened between them, and more than ever she wondered what that cryptic message meant on his housewarming gift—"let the past be the past”. She’d grown desperate to know even the smallest morsel of information about him. Wouldn’t he tell her?
“Have you ever been in love?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s never going to happen again,” he snapped with a tone of finality.
Her mouth dropped open. She was unwilling to believe it.
“Why not?” she pressed, chewing on his words.
“Because I’m never going through that shit again, so forget it.” Carrick snarled with profound pain in his voice, pushing her away.
Before she could say anything, he got up and took three long steps toward the tent. The sand beneath her fingers seemed to shift and screech—screaming at her not to get up, not to follow him.
But she popped up out of her spot on the sand anyway.
“Wait, Carrick,” she breathed, all the hurt from the morning rushing back.
He paused, half-turned around and gazed over at her—guarded as hell. There was maybe ten feet between them, but it felt like an ocean.
She quickly explained, “I don’t understand why you won’t just talk to me about yourself. You are less trusting than I am.”
“This isn’t about trust, Dani.” His eyes flashed with fury and she knew the conflict between them had officially exploded.
“Then what?” The desperation in her caused her to grow irate. “Why can’t you just fucking tell me a goddamn thing about you? Don’t I deserve to know?”
He stood there, silent, watching her, as she laid it all on the line. Finally, he opened his mouth, and Danica found herself falling into his words.
“I’m an old vet, Dani. A washed up, broken sniper.” Carrick spoke in a low, warning tone tinged with anger and pain. “I’ve been to war and lived some fucked-up shit. I have no business putting that on you. You have your whole life ahead of you—without me. Stop asking.”
Then he turned around, moving back toward the tent.
“Without you?” Danica felt breathless, searching.
He shrugged her off, ignoring her.
She fell forward, stumbling closer to him, unable to let it go. “What do you mean—"without you”?”
He said nothing, as if she didn’t exist. It drove her insane, and words she didn’t want to say broke out of her mouth.
“I heard what you said! You think I’m a charity case!” she cried out behind him.
He stopped, turned and crossed his arms. A furious look expanded over his face as he looked down on her.
“Enough with the bullshit,” he growled. “It’s time for you to listen and learn how to defend yourself, because you and I both know that one day I’ll be gone.”
The reality of him eventually leaving just broke her.
“Then why did you do that to me last night? Why did you touch me?” She waved her hands frantically, tears falling down her cheeks. “Was it because I’m a charity case?”
Carrick launched forward, taking three big steps to close the distance between them. He wrapped one solid arm of muscle around her and yanked her close to him. After he’d hardening his grip and lifted her up and into him, she tilted her face up to his mouth—fearful but willing. His breath was a mix of whiskey and mint as it wafted down to her.
“Are you testing me?” he demanded. “Are you playing games here?”
“No,” she cried bre
athlessly.
“This isn’t charity.”
He stared down into her with intense eyes, studying her. She could only guess that he was debating what he was going to do next. She squeaked as he tightened yet again around her ribcage, holding her harder and closer than she’d ever expected.
“Then what is it?” she whispered upward. “I don’t understand why you are doing this.”
He hoisted her slender frame up in his thick, strong arms so that her eyes were level with his and her tip toes were just grazing the ground.
“It doesn’t matter.”
He dropped her, her feet hitting the sand hard. With one last threatening look, he pulled away and moved down to the shoreline—leaving her absolutely breathless and alone.
Chapter Nineteen
Danica
Danica sat in the tent, trying to recover. In her mini skirt and tank top, she hugged her knees to her chest, and though she was getting cold, she couldn’t feel it because she was sad, really hurt. He had hurt her, but she wanted him to come back to her all the same. Everything he’d made her feel that day and the one before came crashing to the front of her mind—like a teaser for something she’d never really get to have.
Finally, after too long, he stepped up to the tent, then he unzipped it and reached in. It looked like he was just grabbing a sweater, and she wondered if he was going to leave her to sleep alone.
“Carrick,” she whispered, and he turned his head to her.
He shook it, clearly telling her to stop talking to him. She could feel the struggle within him because that same one was happening in her.
“I just…” she tried to say something, pure need coursing through her veins.
He paused, watching her.
But before she could find words to finish her sentence, she shivered, wrapping her arms tighter around her knees. His gaze trailed up her bare legs to her chest and her lips.
“Don’t go,” she pleaded, her voice barely audible.
He must have heard her because he lunged toward her, grabbing her and pulling her up and onto him as he fell back onto one of the sleeping mats.
“Don’t you fucking think I want this?” he asked.
“I want this, too.”
“Fuck,” he growled and moved his hand up to the back of her head, bringing her face to his.
Then he took her mouth, kissing her like never before.
Lighting her on fire.
She straddled him and let him feel every inch of her. Acting hungry as hell, he inched her farther up his body, wrapping her even tighter against him and keeping his hand at the back of her head so she couldn’t escape his deepening kiss. As he held her, she found his hand underneath her black mini skirt, which had hiked up as he’d pulled her onto him.
Never before had she let herself completely fall into a man.
“You have no idea what you do to me.” He groaned low and hot as he slipped his finger underneath her panties, tracing the long, thin, wet line of her pussy’s aching slit.
“Be my first,” she begged with unchecked words from her heart, acknowledging for the first time what he meant to her.
“I shouldn’t.” Carrick worked his way down her jaw to her throat, running his teeth along her neck. “I really, really shouldn’t.”
“Do it anyway,” she said, wanting to forget everything.
Wanting to change his mind.
Wanting to give herself to him completely.
“Please,” she whispered as he pulled back to look into her eyes. “Just do this.”
He held her shoulders, pausing as he studied her. Then he conceded, taking her mouth with his once again. With every lap of his tongue, more and more of her tension released. She tasted the sweet boozy flavor in his mouth, savoring it completely, like he’d taught her to appreciate whiskey.
With the sound of the waves in the background, he helped her slip off her mini skirt—leaving her with only a tank top and panties.
“You’re perfect.” He exhaled, running his hands up her soft shins. “Take everything off.”
She nodded, starting to feel more nervous now that it had become a reality, and slipped off her tank top over her head, releasing her breasts. She didn’t miss the sound deep in his chest as he watched her strip—or the hunger in his eyes as he stared at her gladly giving herself to him. She hooked her thumbs in her panties and slowly pulled them down, showing him what he’d already tasted before—her wet virgin pussy.
He helped her grab the panties when they were just at her shins, launching them into the corner of the tent, a sense of urgency in his movements. All the same, she could still tell he was holding back from what he really wanted to do—take her hard and fast. Looking down, she bit her lip as she saw how his board shorts had changed. Now, there was a long, stiff bulge that had made its own tent in his shorts—his rock-hard cock. He reached down to his manhood, probably adjusting it to a more comfortable angle, and he was running out of real estate down there. He was that big.
How’s he going to fit in me?
After he whipped his hoodie off over his head, he revealed his bare chest and she sucked in an audible breath. She’d never seen him naked before. Sitting up closer to him, she reached out her fingers and ran them up a long tattoo on his torso. Like she’d suspected, he had some writing over the top of his chest, circling finally around his heart. She could only make out that there was a tattoo—not exactly what it said. She traced downward to his abdomen, which was ripped to all hell. God, he’s a statue of muscle, she thought, salivating.
He grabbed her hand and pushed her back, taking her mouth with his in the process. Once again, he kissed her like he needed to taste every inch of her, like he cared. He laid her back down as he worked his way down her neck, running his teeth along her sensitive skin. She arched her back as he made his way to each breast, fondling, cupping and tasting as he groaned. He ran his other hand down her abdomen to her clit, using that same circular motion that had sent her over the edge the day before.
Soon, she was arching into him as he tasted and tweaked each nipple, all while pushing two fingers up her tight pussy to ready her for him. She already was about to orgasm under his skilled touch. The man knew exactly what he was doing, and he was doing it very, very well—or maybe he just excited her more than she ever thought possible.
He’s the perfect guy to be my first.
“I can’t wait.” She exhaled, sensations pulsing up and down her limbs. “I need you now.”
He laughed as he made his way back up to her mouth. “The wait is what makes it so hot. Lesson number sixty-six.”
She shot her hands down, holding onto his thick wrists as he pumped his fingers up and into her.
“Carrick,” she pleaded, “I need you now.”
Again, he seemed calm and amused, circling faster over her clit and waiting for her to come. As she moaned, her pussy getting wetter and wetter, he pulled back a little, looking at her. The way he paused and watched her was unlike anything she’d seen before. He felt open for the first time…warm and raw.
I could get used to this.
“These past two days with you, Dani, have been the best days I’ve had in years,” he confessed as he touched her, the scent of whiskey softly wafting down on her.
But before she could reply, he took her mouth again. Her chest filled with burning emotion, and she fought back tears of pure joy as they kissed. Quickly, she was pushing down his board shorts, releasing his long, throbbing cock before her eyes.
“Oh my God,” she gasped, amazed by just how big he was.
When he kicked off his shorts and was naked, he laughed as he pumped his cock up and down, opening her legs with his other hand and moving between them. He hovered above her, one hand still working her clit, keeping her pussy warm and wet. She had no idea how he was going to fit inside her. He could barely fit two fingers.
“This might hurt at first,” he warned, moving the twitching head of his hard cock toward her wet hole. “But it’ll
get better. I promise.”
She raised her hips to meet him in desperation—needing to finally feel what it was like to have a man inside her. Aching and panting, she angled herself to make it easier for him, which he clearly understood. He held his cock at the base and slowly pushed the throbbing head into her while continuing to circle her clit. She cried out at first when he began, feeling her pussy immediately tighten around the intruder. But, slowly, she relaxed. Inch by inch, her dripping pussy allowed more and more of him in.
Then it felt like he’d reached a point where he couldn’t go farther. She looked down and realized he was only halfway seated.
“This is the part where it’s going to hurt the most.” He drew down on her, and she heard it in his voice—the warning.
She bit her lip, nodding, but kept her hips up and ready to take him. He pushed in harder, quick and fast, probably to get it over with. She yelped, trying to catch her breath. The pinch was much worse than she’d thought it would be and hurt flushed up and down her body. But then it was done, and he’d slid his cock all the way into her. The pain slowly left her as he began pumping in and out. Whatever discomfort she’d experienced was replaced by pure pleasure—and a feeling that she could never have imagined.
No doubt seeing her pleasure reflected in her expression, he grinned and urged her to open her legs wider and wrap them around his waist. She complied, letting him have complete control. Once her legs were around him, he immediately started pumping into her again. As he plunged in deeper, his thick cock stretched all the way to the end of her canal, pulsing savagely. He was hard as granite and she was taking his entire length. The more he thrusted, the closer she came to orgasm, which she recognized now, thanks to him.
It didn’t take long before she found those thrilling sensations running up and down her body, threatening what was about to happen. With his cock hitting the exact right spot, she came hard and fast, moaning his name in the process. Juice flowed out of her pussy as she throbbed and tightened around his cock. She arched once more, showcasing every inch of her body to him, which he met with a low growl and dropped to suck her nipples, one then the other.
Under Control Page 13