by Vivian Wood
She followed one breath per movement and closed her eyes as she went through one sun salutation vinyasa flow at a time. Her forward folds and halfway lifts gave her a clean view of her thighs. Jesus. Are those all hickeys? Her usually flawlessly white thighs were covered in Henry’s marks.
As she jumped back into plank pose and lowered herself to a hover before she transitioned to up dog, Ellie found that it was easier than ever to “shine her chest forward” as one of her yoga teachers always said. Her back had grown accustomed to arching like that. She rolled over her toes and back into downward dog, where she took the luxury once again of “walking the dog.” Yes. This was exactly what her body was craving.
“Nice view,” Henry said from the doorway. Ellie opened her eyes and peered between her knees, still in her downward dog.
“Don’t get any ideas,” she told him. “You got your workout in, so let me get mine.”
Henry held up his hands and shook his head. “Hey, I’m not interrupting,” he said. “Just enjoying being a spectator.”
“Yoga isn’t a spectator sport,” she said with a smile. She bent her knees and glanced forward before she jumped to the top of the mat and into forward fold.
“Maybe it should be,” he said. “I’d watch it. Or, I should say, I’d watch you.”
She was acutely aware of her position as she let the gravity of her body send her head toward her toes. With her body folded in half, all Henry could see was her ass bent over and her fingers intertwined with her ponytail as they rested on the mat.
Upside down, she watched him as he peeled off his wet running shirt. “Good run?” she asked.
“Better than nothing,” he said. “And I’ll have you know, I didn’t fall on my ass once. Close, but still. Damn, kitten,” he said. She watched his eyes crawl over her body.
“Don’t even think about it,” she said. “I’m sweaty and gross.”
“Then we’re in the same boat!” he said as he came toward her in just his track pants. As he stood behind her, he gripped her hips and pressed his growing hardness into her backside. “Is this what you usually wear to yoga class?” he asked as he ran a hand down her folded back.
“Always,” she said as she let out a laugh. Slowly, she rose to a standing position but didn’t turn to face him. Instead, she continued through her asana, even as she felt his heat behind her.
Ellie raised her arms overhead, and his hands followed. He brushed down her hands and traced the outline of her arms all the way down and across to her chest. “What do you call this pose?” he asked her. She felt him go fully erect and her wetness started to spread.
“I call it…” she began, as she lowered her arms and placed her hands on his as they massaged her breasts, “kama-sutra-asana.” Finally, she turned and faced him. “If you want me to fuck you, get on the mat.” Even as she heard her voice, she couldn’t believe it was her. Where did that come from?
Henry opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with just a look. When he reached for her tank top to lift it over her head, she slapped his hand away. “You’re not in control right now,” she told him. His eyes bored into hers, questioning, but she wasn’t going to give up that easily.
When Henry was on his back on the mat, she stood over him and slowly pulled the tank top over her head. His cock jumped beneath his track pants. “Take those off,” she told him. After he pulled them off, she smelled a wave of pure masculinity—his sweat and musk from the cold run. Ellie hooked her thumbs into her underwear and pulled them down her legs slowly. She held his gaze and kept her legs and back straight so he’d crave the view from behind. Her underwear was in one hand, and she wrapped it twice around her wrist.
“What are you—”
“I’ll need this in a minute,” she said as she held one finger to her lips to quiet him.
She looked at his hardness, so familiar to her by now. No matter how many times she had him, she couldn’t get enough. “Watch me,” she said as she brought a hand to her center and started to rub circles into her clit. When Henry reached for himself, she corrected him. “No,” she said. “Just watch.”
She knew she wasn’t going to make herself come, but he didn’t need to know that. Frustration grew in his eyes as she stood over him, one hand urged on her wetness while the other played with her breasts. “Now,” she said, straddling his torso, “I’m going to lower myself onto that big cock of yours.” In one long, slow movement, she lowered down onto him.
He fit perfectly into her, just as she knew he would. “Oh, fuck,” Henry said as he watched himself disappear into her. Ellie’s feet were flat on the mat on either side of him, her knees pointing to the cathedral ceiling.
“You are sweaty,” she said with a laugh. She didn’t move, just enjoyed how he felt fully inside her.
“Sorry?” Was he asking her if it was okay? The sudden shift in dynamics made her even hotter.
“You should be. Lucky for you, I like it,” she said as she ran a hand up his glistening chest. “But you’ll still need to be disciplined, you know,” she teased.
“How’s that?” he asked as he rocked underneath her, desperate for her to move.
“Well,” she said as she toyed with the underwear on her wrist. It was mixed with her wetness and the slightest hint of her own sweat from those endless sun salutations. “I think, personally, you’ve seen enough for today.”
“What do you mean?”
“Show’s over,” she said as she leaned over him and wrapped her underwear around his eyes.
As she double-knotted the silky blue underwear behind his head and looked down at him, she realized—for the first time—she really had permission to look. To take him in without a thought to be embarrassed. She could do anything. This was going to be fun.
“How many fingers am I holding up?” she asked him as she placed one hand on his stomach and began to lift and lower herself onto his cock.
“I don’t know,” he said. His breath caught in his throat.
“Guess,” she said, even as her other hand rested on her own thigh.
“Three,” he said, and she lifted herself almost completely off of him. Only that sensitive tip remained inside.
“Wrong,” she said with a laugh. “Maybe an open-ended question will be easier for you.” Henry’s hands reached up to her, and she could tell he wanted to force her onto him. But he stopped, knowing better. This was a new kind of game. And with Ellie’s feet firmly on the floor as she crouched over him, she could easily just stand up and walk away—if she wanted to.
“Okay,” he said.
“What do you love most about my body?” she asked with a smile. He bit his lip.
“Everything,” he said. “How your tits bounce when I’m fucking you hard.” She lowered partially onto him and he gasped. “The taste of your come on my tongue, like the most decadent thing I’ve ever known.” She lowered an inch and started using him to stir her center.
“And?” she asked.
“Your ass is perfect,” he said. “When I spank you, it instantly shows my handprint. I love biting your ass… eating it… licking that rim and enjoying that close up view of your clit getting swollen.”
“What else?” she asked as she lowered a little more and stirred faster.
“Your face,” he said. “I love seeing your lips on my cock. How you look at me when I come inside you. How you look sleeping in my arms. I’ve… I’ve always loved that face.” Ellie fell completely onto his hardness and started to ride him. Always?
Her hands pressed into his chest, and she couldn’t believe it had happened like this. Two weeks ago, she’d never thought he would ever be like this—letting her have her way with him. For the first time, she watched all the little nuances. The shapes his mouth made when he was inside her, and how he’d slowly shake his head from side to side. Like he couldn’t believe it either.
Ellie leaned over him, put her hands on either side of his face and lowered her breasts to his mouth. When he felt her nippl
e as it brushed across his lips, he started kissing and sucking like it was all he’d ever wanted. She bounced harder. Their combined wetness made a slapping sound every time he pushed against her G-spot.
“You love this body?” she asked him. She could tell she was close to coming.
“I love it,” he whispered, his head buried between her breasts. “I love your body.”
That put her over the edge, and she called out his name as she ground herself into him. She came so hard it forced him to come, too. The feeling of his come inside her gave her an entirely new, second wave of an orgasm.
She lifted off of him and removed her underwear from his face. Henry blinked into the sudden brightness.
I love your body. It was, she realized, almost what she wanted him to say. Is this something more than just the dopamine? she wondered. As she’d been coming, she’d felt that familiar heart squeeze again.
Don’t be stupid. Henry’s not interested in you like that. At least, she was pretty certain. Should she say something? No. Everything was already too perfect. Why ruin it?
Chapter Twenty-Three
The guilt nearly chewed all the way through him. What the hell is wrong with you? There was something about being here, secluded from the real world, that made him not care about a fallout. In normal circumstances, he’d tackle an issue like this head on, no problem. But with this, it would mean confessing to Eli. And if that happened, that would mean no more Ellie. He couldn't give that up. Not yet.
It wasn’t just the sex, either. She just made him feel so good. Even that one time, when she took control and they were both so sweaty. He’d never been into being controlled before. But she’d done it so naturally, and he'd felt like he'd been given a gift. Like he’d seen a part of her nobody knew she had—not even her.
Hidden away in the office, he’d told Ellie he needed to work. That was bullshit, and she probably knew it. He’d actually been meaning to write, like his therapist had recommended. But when he’d sat down at the laptop, he found he didn’t have anything to write about. When had the nightmares stopped? All he could come up with was writing about Ellie, and that certainly wasn’t going to help him out any.
Slumped in the office chair, he noticed a stack of papers on the shelf. Ellie’s vet school application. You’re an asshole for distracting her. She was twenty-two years old, and he remembered that age. You didn’t know what the hell you wanted to do, should do, or anything else. It was equal parts wonderful and terrifying. When you knew you had your whole life ahead of you, it could also be paralyzing. That was part of what had attracted him to the military. When you didn’t know what to do with your life, why not let someone else make every decision for you down to how you make your bed?
Ellie deserved better. Better than him, that was for sure.
He’d also been avoiding Eli’s calls. When Ellie had been on the phone with her “mom,” he'd suspected it was really Eli. It was confirmed a few days later when her mom suspiciously began calling on a regular basis. “Has Eli called?” he finally asked. He knew Ellie found it a lot more difficult to blatantly lie rather than lie by omission.
“Yeah…” she’d said as she searched for the right words.
“Oh.” That was all he’d said. Every time the phone rang after that, he headed straight for the bathroom and flipped on the shower. Ellie never asked him why.
But at night? After they fucked? Things had started to shift. They talked more, really talked. He’d started opening up and revealing more of himself to her. He’d even told her about his first awkward breakup with Stephie, and how he’d made himself think about his parents dying when Stephie got angry that he hadn’t cried.
“I think Eli’s okay with me leaving D.C.,” Ellie had told him.
“Really?” he said. It was the first time she’d earnestly mentioned moving away. Was he just a distraction for her in the moment? A way to kill time? Obviously, she’d been mulling things over.
“Yeah,” she’d said as she stretched out across his bed. She looked surreal in that morning light, the pink rays from the sun splayed across her skin. “But I don’t know. Eli’s been worried before about the distance, about me being so far away. I mean it is pretty far, and it’s not like there aren’t great schools around—”
“Just to be clear?” Henry interrupted. “I don’t want you making any decisions based on me.”
“I wasn’t,” she snapped, but he didn’t believe her. She seemed deflated.
“Look. Kitten,” he said, softer now. “Don’t you go making any plans or room in your life for me.”
“I didn’t say anything about you,” she objected, starting to pout.
“Oh. My mistake, then.” He untangled himself from her and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m going for a run. You wanna come?” She rolled her eyes at him. They both knew she’d say no.
That conversation turned the entire day upside down. For all ten miles, Henry felt like someone watched from nearby. Probably those damn mysterious agents. Back at the house, Ellie was situated on the couch and seemed to be enthralled in one of her mindless movies. For a second, he thought to ask if she wanted to join him in the shower, but changed his mind. Something was different. A big part of him hoped it was temporary, but the voice that dug into him said it was the start of the end.
Ellie didn't come to his bed that night. For the first time in days, there was no sex. Even the flirting at dinner was minimal and, if he had to be honest with himself, strained. They hadn’t discussed sleeping arrangements, but both seemed to know. They retreated to their own corners at nightfall, like animals licking their wounds.
Henry thought back to the last time he’d made her come. Was it the real last time? He couldn’t be certain. But, if it was, he wished he’d known. He would have made it last longer. Done a better job memorizing the lines of her body. The few moles and freckles scattered like treasures he was meant to find on her skin.
He didn't hear when she went into her own room. A black veil enveloped him quickly after he climbed under the covers. Maybe you just need some sleep, he told himself.
He’d never felt the sun that hot before. On his right was Swan. He knew most of his shipmates’ forenames, but not Swan. With a last name like that, the kid had to have known it would be the only moniker he’d ever go by. Henry angled the Humvee down the “road,” if that’s what it could be called. The path was so covered by that red sand he could barely tell where the lines began. Not that it really mattered.
“You drive like my grandma,” Swan said as he popped the gum that always seemed to be in his mouth.
“Original,” Henry said.
“I don’t mean slow,” Swan said. “I mean like you’re five screwdrivers deep and just realized you’re late for church.”
“What the fuck, Swan?” Henry said with a laugh.
“What can I say?” Swan said. “My grandma likes her drink.” Swan was only two years younger than Henry but seemed so much younger. Maybe it was the complete lack of muscle. Even after all their training, it seemed like he just couldn’t muscle up. His cammies technically fit, of course, but it always looked like he was swimming in his uniform. “Dude, wake me up when we get there,” he said as he pulled at his helmet and tried to get a little more shade. It didn’t do anything.
“Yeah, yeah,” Henry said. “Get your beauty sleep before you turn back into an ugly duckling.”
“That’s original,” Swan said. Eyes closed, he started snoring immediately. Henry looked over and took in Swan’s baby face. He looked twelve years old, flanked in fatigues like he’d just tired himself out playing Cowboys and Indians: Warfare Edition.
“Fuck,” Henry whispered to himself as a little no-name “hamlet” came into view. A local waved on the roadside. They weren’t supposed to talk with the locals unless it was under direct orders as part of a community-building strategy. Still, all that empathy Aunt Mary had forced into him could sometimes get the best of him.
The man was old and obviously fra
il, even from a distance. His perahan wat tunban seemed to have devoured the sand and made him look at one with the earth. “Hello?” the old man called in a thick accent as Henry brought the Humvee to a halt and rolled down Swan’s window to hear. “Mebakhshen? Mebakhshen? Eh … mazrat mekhwaham …”
“Aaya shuma Englisi yaad daren?” Henry asked stupidly. Obviously he doesn’t speak English.
Swan stirred as Henry leaned over him. The old man came closer. “I do,” the old man said, and he pulled a Khyber Pass Copy pistol from the folds of material.
“Shit.” Henry slammed on the gas, but the old man’s hand was already partially in the open window.
“What the hell?” Swan said suddenly. As he jerked his head up, the gun knocked against the window frame as Henry pulled away.
The sound of the shot was deafening. That was what people always said about a gunshot. Deafening. It roared through his ears so intensely, he was sure he’d busted his ear drums.
Swan’s blood splashed across the window. It made it nearly impossible to see anything. “Swan,” a voice said, over and over. My god, is that me? “Swan!” he said, even as he noticed bits of bone and a few pieces of flesh that weren’t soaked in red resting on the dashboard. He’d been hit just right, the bullet had raced clean through his jawbone and exited the other cheek.
“It’s okay,” Ellie said. He felt her cool hands on his forehead, and suddenly he was back. “You’re okay.”
He didn’t have to say anything. She crawled into bed beside him, one arm wrapped protectively around his shoulder.
“Sorry,” he whispered, but she just shushed him.