by KD Robichaux
But it’s the intoxicating nervous look on his face that pulls at my heart. No man has ever looked at me the way he does, like I’m a goddess walking the earth. He devours every word out of my mouth like he did those sandwiches, and since that was the one thing he said he couldn’t wait to have once he was home again, that makes me feel pretty fucking special. And the fact that this man went through a war and still has that anxious look in his eyes because of me? I could get drunk on this feeling.
We’ve talked every single day since the IED went off. He knows me inside like no one else. It was so easy to talk to him, writing him e-mails as if I was just making a diary entry. Every time his response hit my inbox, I turned into a giddy schoolgirl who just received a folded note from her crush. When he’d call, my face hurt because I couldn’t stop smiling the entire time we spoke.
And I’ve never wanted someone so badly in my life.
He drops his bag into the chair next to the window, reaching down to fiddle with the thermostat below the blinds. He peeks out the curtains, toying with the chain and testing how to open and close them. I just watch him, his tension over being alone with me for the first time in several months giving me butterflies.
Finally, I take pity on him, walking over to him until I’m within inches. He drops his hand from the curtain chain, facing me fully, meeting my eyes almost shyly. I smile gently, reaching up to trail a finger over his five o’clock shadow. “I loved the beard, but damn, Bri. You sure are handsome without it,” I compliment.
He turns his mouth into my palm, kissing the center before gripping it with his fingers and moving it to the back of his head. His buzzed hair tickles my hand as I pull him down toward my lips. When his are just a breath away, he whispers, “Missed you so bad, little one,” and it’s my undoing. I rise to my toes, slamming my mouth to his, hooking my other arm around his neck and lifting myself until my legs lock around his waist.
His arms completely encircle me, making me feel like a tiny thing, and I love it. I’ve never been with a guy his size. My adrenaline rushes through my veins at the thought that he could snap me in half without breaking a sweat, yet he’s so careful with me. My gentle giant. My knight in camo armor.
Yet I can’t wait to corrupt him.
“I want you more than my next breath, sweet Clarice,” he murmurs into my neck, making me swoon.
But I quickly shake off the feelings he’s invoking inside my chest. I have to lock my heart in its steel-plated box. Not for my own protection, but for his. I can’t let anything happen to this amazing man, especially anything caused by me. How careless of me would it be to fall in love with him, knowing that would be his demise?
He tries to speak again, something else that would probably pick at the lock, but I cut him off. “Shower. Now,” I order, and his eyes meet mine questioningly. “We’re doing this my way.”
I’ve spent hours and countless e-mails conversing with him about my sexual preferences. He knows I need the power play. Vanilla sex just doesn’t do it for me. It’s too close to making love, and making love is way too dangerous. It causes hazardous feelings I can’t allow.
His face expresses understanding, and he steps toward the bathroom. When we’re inside, I put my feet on the floor, swiping my hair out of my face as I kick my flip-flops under the sink. He reaches for the hem of my shirt, and much to his surprise, I slap his hand, my voice stern when I bark, “No.”
His neck flames above his collar, rising upward until the blush reaches his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Clarice. I thought—”
“It’s not your job to think right now. It’s your duty to be a good boy and follow my commands,” I explain, looking him in the eye and keeping a level tone.
He seems to struggle for a moment with the thoughts inside his head, and then to my relief, he nods. “Yes, ma’am,” he responds, his voice deep and sending a pleasant chill up my arms.
“Mistress,” I correct, giving him the title I prefer. It makes me feel powerful, in control, especially when such a strong, virile man addresses me with it.
He licks his lips, his eyes following the movement as I do the same to mine. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Good. Now, undress for me. I want to see if these months apart have changed you from the last time I got to see your beautiful body,” I tell him, my voice gentler this time. His eyes soften at the compliment as his hands immediately lift to start unbuttoning his camouflaged top. I take a step back, my ass hitting the sink, and I hoist myself up to sit on the countertop while I enjoy the show. He pulls the top off, raising a brow at me in question.
I smile, impressed he’s catching on so quickly. I reach out and close the door slightly, checking to make sure… and yes, just as I thought. I swing the bathroom door closed and point to the hook on the back of it.
He hangs the top there and gets back to work, taking hold of his tan T-shirt and pulling it out of his trousers. Taking hold of the back of the neck, his biceps bulge as he lifts the tee over his head, revealing miles of smooth skin. There isn’t an ounce of anything but muscle beneath that perfect flesh, and my mouth waters like the first time I ever saw him naked, while he was unconscious and helpless under my care as I wiped the sweat and dirt from his body.
He bends forward a second, his hands going for his boots, but his height sucks up all the space of what seemed like a nice-sized bathroom before. Obviously not wanting to knock himself out on either the wall or the counter, he takes a seat on the side of the tub and unties the long laces of his tan boots, pulling them off and tucking his socks and laces inside them. Taking note of where I kicked mine, he puts them under the sink, lining them up neatly before standing.
His head lowered, he unbuttons his camouflaged trousers, unzipping them and hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his dark-colored boxer briefs. I don’t realize I’ve clamped my teeth onto my bottom lip until I taste the faint tang of blood, the anticipation killing me as he lowers the fabric down his endlessly long, muscular, hairy legs, his torso hiding his hips from view until he stands up straight to step out of the rest of his clothes.
Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, I think, a habit ever since I read Outlander years ago. But the delicious Scottish highlander I imagined while devouring the story had nothing on the very real, larger-than-life work of art that stands before me in all his naked, chiseled glory. No, not even my fantasies could’ve dreamed up a man like Brian Glover.
I swallow thickly, making sure my voice will be strong when I’m finally able to form words. It wouldn’t do for me to be a swooning schoolgirl when I’m introducing this beautiful man to the art of Dominance and submission. “Very nice. Now, start the water. You know how I like it,” I remind him, thinking back to the many showers we took together while we basically had the clinic to ourselves. He used to pick on me because I like the water so hot, saying women prefer it scalding because it reminds them of where they come from… Hell. It earned him a swift swat to his cute ass the first time he said it.
I shed my clothes, folding them up and setting them on the closed toilet lid, my heart pounding when I see the heat enter his eyes as he turns around and sees my naked body. That’s when an idea forms.
“Do you remember the first time we ever shared a shower?” I smirk, raising a brow.
“Of course. How could I ever forget?” he replies, reaching up to rub the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed.
“Aw, don’t get shy on me now.” I trail my pointer finger from the center of his chest to his navel. “Get in.” I lift my chin toward the spray. “Let’s get you clean from that long flight.” He steps into the tub, his hand coming out for me to grasp so I don’t slip as I follow him behind the curtain. “Such a gentleman,” I coo, but then let go to grab a bar of soap from the side of the tub.
Tearing the paper off, I get my hands wet and work it into a lather before placing my soapy palms on his muscular chest. He reaches for my hips, but I tsk, shaking my head, and he promptly drops his arms to his sides, his lips pressing togethe
r as if he’s keeping himself from complaining. I giggle inside my head, getting high on the control I have over him, even though I know in the back of my mind it’s the submissive, always the submissive, who is actually the one in control. They’re the one allowing their Dominant to tell them what to do. They’re the one who chooses how far they’ll let me take them. At least, that’s how it’s supposed to be. I was lucky enough to have a very respectable teacher who taught me the right way.
When I’m finished with his arms and the front of his torso, I motion with my finger for him to spin around, and treat his back to a massage that soon has him slouching in relaxation. He lets out a short groan every once in a while, when I hit a particularly good spot, the sound directly linked to my pussy, making me grow wet without a single intimate touch.
As my hands trail lower, gliding over his firm glutes, the muscles flex, and he takes a step forward away from my touch. I bite my lip, forcing myself not to laugh at his masculine reaction. “No need to worry, sweet boy. I know that’s way too far out of your comfort zone for our first time together,” I tell him, my arm wrapping around the front of his waist as I press myself to his back, feeling him relax.
“That’s way too far out of my comfort zone for our eightieth time… Mistress,” he adds, and I can’t help but chuckle.
“We’ll see.” I smile, loving the fact he’s even thinking we’ll be together long enough to share an eightieth time.
I clear my throat, flinching away from him at my thoughts. I can’t go there. I must retain my unbreakable box. When he starts to turn to face me, I bark a little more harshly than I mean to, “Eyes forward,” and he does as I command.
Lathering the soap, I squat behind him, scrubbing down his impossibly long legs from the bottom of his cheeks to his ankles, where the hair stops right before his feet. With my knees on either side of his calves, I order him to turn around, and when I glance up his towering body to meet his eyes, my inner muscles clench at the undeniable need I see there as he takes in my position.
I purposely, ever so slowly let my eyes skim down his chiseled frame, lingering on his massive erection, biting my lip when I see precum leaking from the tip. But I force myself not to give in to my desire to finally taste him, instead sitting down in the tub and making a “come here” gesture with my hands toward his right foot. He does what I want, lifting one arm to rest against the wall for balance as I massage his large foot, making sure to even get between his toes, noticing the way they flex as if it tickles. I lower that foot back to the floor, watching him shuffle it a few times to let the water rinse away the soap so he doesn’t slip before giving me the other.
When I stand before him once again, I set the bar of soap in the recess of the shower wall and open the miniature shampoo bottle, signaling for him to bend down enough that I can reach the top of his short hair. I scratch my nails over his scalp, hearing him moan and seeing goose bumps spread down his bulging shoulders and biceps. His eyes are shut tightly, so I don’t hide the smile that spreads across my face, enjoying that I can indulge him in such innocent pleasure.
“Rinse your hair. You can use the soap to wash anything else I might’ve missed.” I smirk, taking in the beauty of his rippling muscles as he ducks under the spray and scrubs the suds away. When his eyes are clear, he lathers his hands and washes his backside, narrowing his eyes at me, but there’s a look of amusement in his gaze. He takes the soap again, and I step back, leaning against the back wall to watch him wash around his jutting cock. As he puts the soap down and goes to turn around to rinse, I stop him. “Wait.” He lifts a brow. “Back to the wall.” I lift my chin to the one with the recess and handrail.
When he’s there, his shoulder blades resting against the tile, he watches me, waiting for my next instruction.
“After that first shower we took together, when I came back with your towel and clothes… I saw what you were doing. I saw you finish, and the look on your face when you came. I want to see that again,” I tell him, and his eyes close. I know he doesn’t make a habit out of jacking off in front of people, so I allow him the time to draw on his courage, and after a moment, his big hand wraps around his girth.
My breath catches in my chest as I watch him stroke himself, the soap making the movement smooth as the lather builds with every pump of his hand. God, I could stare at him for hours he’s so delicious. He has no idea what a sexy man he is.
As his brow furrows with concentration, I step forward, reaching up to position the showerhead so that it rinses the soap off as he continues to stroke. When it’s all clear, I tilt the water back down then squat before him, unable to control my hunger for his taste any longer. Placing my hand over his, I hold him steady, meeting his eyes before licking the tip. His breath leaves him on a whoosh as I engulf the crown with my lips, moving his hand away to replace it with my own. I may have little to no gag reflex, but even I won’t be able to take his whole cock down my throat. It matches the rest of him—larger than life and handsome as sin.
My mouth glides halfway down his length and my hand makes up for the other fraction, and I set a pace that makes him groan as I twist my palm on the upward stroke. The muscles of his thighs tense and relax as he begins to pant.
“I… you need to sto—”
I take him to the back of my throat, my hand gripping the rest of him tightly before I finally pull away, standing and reaching up to grasp the back of his head. I pull him down to my lips, kissing him deeply as I rub myself against him like a cat in heat.
He breaks our kiss to murmur against my mouth, “I’m sorry. It’s been so long, and you’re just… so much.”
I have to forgive him for that. He’s been deployed for nearly a year, hasn’t been with a woman since he joined the army almost three years ago. If he feels even a fraction of the desire I feel for him, then he’s probably about to explode. I can’t fault him for that when I’m experiencing the same rush being in his presence after all this time.
“Bed. Now,” I breathe, unable to put the force into my voice I usually do.
He turns the water off and shocks me by lifting me up. I squeak before wrapping my legs around his hips, feeling his hardness press against me as he steps out of the tub. He pulls a towel off the rack without breaking stride, opening the bathroom door and taking me over to the bed while rubbing my skin dry.
“On your back,” I instruct, and he spins and falls backward, my body bouncing atop his as we land.
Suddenly, I’m in a frenzy, wanting to touch and kiss every inch of his vast amount of flesh. I worship him, taking in every hitch of his breath, every moan deep in his chest, every shudder that quakes through his big body. And when I can’t take anymore, my wetness dripping down my thighs, I straddle his hips once again, taking his rigid cock in my hand and lining us up.
Just before I impale myself, I meet his ravenous stare. There’s more in those blue-green orbs than just physical desire. They convey his every thought, from the love I don’t want to acknowledge, to the way he clearly worships the very ground I walk on. I am a goddess in his eyes, and with that power filling my every cell, I sink down on his steely rod until I can take no more. He’s the biggest I’ve ever taken, and he stretches me to the point of pain, but I love it. His chin points to the ceiling as he presses his head into the pillows, groaning as I rotate my hips, trying to acclimatize to his size.
With every inch of him coated in my juices, I begin to move, my hands balancing on his rippling abs as I lift and lower myself over and over again. And as my muscles relax around him, I add a rocking motion to the up and down, making my heart stop for a full second at how fucking glorious the feeling is as he hits that magical place inside me.
“Oh, fuck,” he growls, his head lifting to watch our connection before meeting my eyes. His brows are low over his swirling eyes, his mouth slightly open as he pants for breath. “I don’t know… can’t hold off much longer, baby.”
“Mistress,” I correct weakly, the roller coaster inside me ready t
o click in place at the top of the highest peak.
My hips pump faster as he instinctively lifts his to meet mine, and at his hissed, “Fuck me… Mistress…” that’s when the brakes finally let go, and I fall over the edge.
My inner walls barely have room to ripple around him he fills me so much, and I have to catch myself from falling forward as the orgasm overwhelms my every sense. As I scream in absolute ecstasy, never before experiencing anything like the feelings consuming me now, that’s when I hear his grunt of relief, every muscle in his body going lax beneath me.
I collapse on his chest, struggling to catch my breath, and feel his arms wrap around me. I close my eyes, savoring the safety and care I sense cocooned in his embrace. He breathes deeply at the top of my head, his grip tightening, and suddenly rolls us over, his weight pressing me into the mattress.
He smiles down into my face, but then his eyes startle. “Oh shit. We didn’t use a—”
“No worries, big guy,” I tell him calmly, switching back to my usual nickname for him since the “scene” is complete. “I’m part of a club that requires monthly testing and I’m all clear. You’re in the army and haven’t had sex in years. They test y’all regularly, so I’m not concerned.”
“But what about… ya know… getting pregnant,” he whispers the last part, making me burst out laughing.
“Who do you think is gonna hear you in here, you dork?” I ask, looking left and right as much as I can with his large body holding me down. “I’m on the pill.” His relief is evident as he smiles once more, kissing the corner of my mouth sweetly. “And as long as you promise I’m the only one you’ll go bareback with, we can make this our normal.” That statement surprises even me as it slips past my lips. I’ve never not used protection before, but with Brian, the thought hadn’t even entered my mind. I trust him that much.