Then he’s there, appearing behind me in the mirror as I try to take the wrapper off the bottle of soap. “Let me.” Then he produces a bottle of water and three pill bottles. “You need to take another antibiotic, an anti-inflammatory and another Percocet. If you take them now, maybe the pain med will kick in and you can rest for a while after this.”
As I swallow the pills, he gets everything for my shower ready, then unties the shirt/sling from around my neck. I watch him unbutton the shirt I’m wearing; watch his long gentle fingers slide it down my arms. Watch him cover the bandages with a new waterproof set he purchased, then bend to slide my shorts down my legs.
It’s so strange.
I’ve always been a bit embarrassed by my body, too many years of being teased for looking like a boy leaves their mark. Small breasts, narrow hips, long legs and arms. And now, the scar that runs up my middle.
But I don’t feel ugly now. I don’t feel beautiful either. I feel accepted, which is the most wonderful feeling in the world.
When his eyes meet mine in the mirror, he smiles and kisses me on my good shoulder. Then he steps back and begins to undress himself.
His shirt comes off first, his abs and chest coming into view, the muscles rippling and waving with the movement. Twenty-four scars. I know. I’ve counted them. But not one of them detracts from how incredibly sexy he is.
The shorts go down next, leaving him in black boxer briefs. One muscled thigh. One that looks like a machine. Both magnificent in their own way.
Slipping the sleeve down his leg, he takes the prosthetic off, balancing perfectly on one foot. He takes off the stump sock, lifts it and sniffs. Then makes such a terrible face, I can’t help but laugh. He tosses it into the sink to wash it later.
“You know, I think we’re both going to end up on the floor,” I say, still laughing at the sight the pair of us make in the mirror.
“Nah. I think this is going to be one of our finer moments.” He grins that one sided grin of his and uses the walls to support him as he hops into the tub and steps under the spray.
He was right. It is a fine moment. His hands feel like magic as they scrub shampoo into my hair, then slather on a layer of conditioner. He washes me. Methodically. Soothingly. Nothing erotic, just one person caring for another.
“I forgot to buy razors,” he says as he washes between my legs, watching my face as he does. He slips a finger inside me and I moan, but he pulls it out and continues to wash me. He just smirks when I begin to pout.
He dumps more soap in his hand and slides his fingers down the crack of my ass, pausing at my anus, giving those sensitive nerves extra attention.
“I want to fuck your ass someday,” he says into my ear. “Will you let me be inside you that way?”
He presses against the hole, then taps it gently until my eyes roll back into my head. I’ve never tried it. Never even thought about trying it. “As long as it doesn’t hurt as much as being shot, I’m game.”
He leans forward and kisses me, a tender joining of our mouths. “Trust me. When that time comes, I’ll make you so ready for me, you won’t know the difference between pain and pleasure.”
Something deep inside me clenches at the thought and I press against him a little harder, loving the feel of his erection against my stomach.
“God, you’ve got to stop,” he says against my lips, but his arms pull me tighter against him.
“Why? I don’t want to stop. Make love to me. I can’t think of anything better to keep my mind off the pain.” When I move my lips to his neck, he groans and tilts his head to the side, giving me better access.
“You don’t play fair, you know that?”
“All’s fair in making love and war.”
He smiles against my lips. “Let’s take this battle to the bedroom.”
We both grin at how corny we sound.
We don’t go right away. I need to rinse the conditioner and he still needs to finish his shower. I manage to get out and mostly toweled off without feeling the need to suck my thumb through the pain. The Percocet is kicking in, thank goodness. I can already feel the end of my nose grow numb. Now, if only my shoulder will follow. I pull on the fluffy robe, savoring its softness.
I hate having only one hand I can use, especially my left, which is about useless on its own.
“How are you feeling?” he asks as he steps out and begins to dry off.
“Better. This Percocet is kicking in much quicker than the last.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Well, this time you’re not rolling around on the ground, hiking for miles, stealing cars and doing it with only towels taped to your body.”
Oh yeah.
I can’t believe I did all that today. Just hours ago actually. I open the bathroom door and can’t believe it’s still daylight. It feels like it should be late. None of this feels real.
Stepping back to the sink, I get the new toothbrush opened and brushing my teeth feels wonderful. Then I fill the sink with water to soak and wash the sock that protects his … George. I grin at the memory. Over the weeks, he’d gotten less sensitive about the word ‘stump’ and we’d dropped the nickname, although I kind of missed it.
I’m exhausted when these few little chores are complete. We still need to clean his prosthesis and I need to check his leg. I make him sit long enough for me to check for any red spots or abrasions and am relieved to see it looks good.
Once all that is done, I slide the robe off and slip between the sheets again, watching him unplug the iPad and begin to scroll.
“Anything?”
His jaw tightens. “Shooting at the home of Captain Jeffrey Finks this morning. Four dead. Finks, his wife and two visiting Colonels.”
My heart squeezes for him. “Did you know them?”
“Yeah. Knew them all. His wife was a real sweetheart.” He looks up at me and I know what he’s thinking. That could have been us.
He keeps flipping through the iPad, keeping one eye on it and one on the television. His jaw grows tight again as he begins to read.
I begin to ask him what it is, but then I blink and for some reason, my eyes won’t open again.
When I wake, the room is dark except for the flickering light of the television. I look around and Link is gone.
Panic surges me into a sitting position and I nearly scream from the quick movement. The bathroom door is open—he isn’t there. His bags are no longer on the other bed.
He’s gone.
Grief, bright and hot, explodes in my chest. I feel it actually begin to melt my heart. He left me. I didn’t think he would. I know he considered it, but I thought it made more sense for us to be together.
I thought he … cared about me.
I shake my head. He does, I know that.
Is that why he left?
Did something he read convince him it was for the best?
Cursing, I try to reach for the bedside light and end up having to stand in order to attempt to reach it. Everything spins once I’m on my feet and I sit down again quickly, then lean forward and lay my cheek to my knees. And begin to cry.
That’s how he finds me.
I cry even harder when I hear him open the door.
He didn’t leave me.
He’s here.
He’s okay.
The bed sinks with his weight and then he’s pulling me back until I’m lying in his arms. “Ssshhh,” he soothes. “I’m here now. Tell me what you need.”
“I … I …” I sniff and try again. “I thought you left me.”
He kisses my forehead. “I left a note. Didn’t you see it?”
I shake my head and press my face harder into his neck. Then I take in a deep breath and pull my shit together. “I’m sorry. You don’t need a hysterical female on your hands in the middle of a crisis.”
He kisses my forehead again. “Sweetheart, I don’t know many soldiers who would have held up as well as you have. And they’re trained for this. You were dragged into it. I’m really proud
of you. If you need to cry. Cry.”
“What time is it?”
“About eight-thirty. I went out for additional supplies and picked up some dinner.”
I smile. “That explains why you’re a pedophile again.” I reach up and stroke the creepy mustache.
“Ever kissed a man with a mustache before?” he asks, his fingers stroking up and down my spine.
My body tightens. “No.”
“Want to?”
“Yes.”
Very carefully, he moves closer to me, until our faces are inches apart and our bodies are pressed together. He rubs the mustache on my nose and then my cheek before bringing his lips to mine.
So soft. So hard. So wet and seeking. I moan as his tongue searches for mine.
My good arm is pinned under me now, so I can’t touch him the way that I want. I can only curl one of my legs over his and bring our hips closer together. He’s so hard. Long and thick. I feel him through the sweat pants he’s wearing.
He rolls me to my back, very gently, hovering over me, his lips nearly touching mine. “I can’t think of any way I can be inside you and not hurt you, sweetheart.”
I search his blue eyes; see the truth in them. “It will be worth it. Wasn’t it you who mentioned pain and pleasure?”
He grins and reaches up to peel the mustache from his lip. “How about I simply pleasure you tonight? You can pay me back when you’re feeling better.”
I can’t resist. “You’ll get blue ball.” I laugh. “Get it? Ball?”
He slaps my hip and I yelp. “You’re terrible.” Then he kisses me again. “Maybe I’ll jerk myself off and make you watch.”
Every cell in my body contracts.
Rubbing his nose against mine, he says, “I think you like that idea. Have you ever watched a man masturbate before? Knowing he’s really wishing he was coming inside you?”
I can barely shake my head. The idea of watching him do something so intimate is highly erotic for some reason. “I want to watch.”
Then his mouth is on mine again.
What starts as gentle takes on a more urgent tone as his mouth tries to devour mine. I feed from him too. My legs curling around him, my good hand pulling his head down harder.
His kiss. God, his kiss takes my breath. It stirs something deep in my soul. The way our tongues twist together, the way he bites on my lower lip. So good. I wish we could do just this for hours.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he says against my cheek as he slides his lips to my ear, then down my neck. “You have no idea how beautiful you are. How strong and soft. So perfect.” He moves down to my breasts and takes a nipple between his lips. “Your breasts are so responsive; your nipples grow so hard and long for me.” He bites and I groan, arching into him, trying to ignore the pain the arching causes.
“Stop,” he says and presses my chest back into the bed. “Every time you move, I stop. Understand?”
I nod. Silent affirmation isn’t good enough.
“Understand?” he asks louder, sharper. His voice commanding.
“Yes.”
He grins. “Good. Because I’m going to push your legs apart and I’m going to taste your sweet pussy, Grace. I’m going to eat you so hard you come all over the bed.” He trails a finger down my stomach, following the thin line of my scar. “Then I’m going to finger you until you come again.” He moves down the bed and sinks his tongue into my navel. I arch. He stops. “You aren’t listening to me, Grace. If you move, I will stop.”
Slowly, I lower my hips back to the bed, wondering how in the world I’ll be able to keep still. My body is on fire with need.
He gets to his feet and pulls his t-shirt over his head, tossing it onto the other bed. Then he turns on the bedside light. “I want to see you.” He pushes my thighs apart and simply looks at me. He looks at me so long I begin to squirm. His blue eyes flick to mine and I stop.
“I love how wet you get for me.” He slides a finger down my slit and brings it to his lips. “I love how you taste. I love how pretty and pink your lips are. How they open up to me like butterfly wings.” He lowers his head. I can’t help it, I arch into his mouth, moaning with the pleasure of his tongue and the pain of the wound.
He lifts his head. “You aren’t listening very well.”
I still and he lowers his head again, biting and sucking on my clit. I lift and…
Without warning, he climbs up the bed, hovering over me, his lips over mine as his fingers slide into me. I cry out and he captures the sound. “Be still,” he orders as he plunges his fingers in and out. “Be still,” he commands as he thrusts them in deep. “Look at me.” I open my eyes and look into his while his fingers twist and turn and spear inside my body taking me, pushing me, forcing me to the brink.
“That’s right, Grace. This is what happens when you listen to me. You get to …” He twists and thrusts his fingers again and my eyes roll back in my head. “You get to come.”
Pleasure explodes inside me everywhere. My toes. The roots of my hair. He doesn’t stop moving, he doesn’t give me the time to calm down. He thrusts harder, faster, twisting and turning those fingers until I’m crying out a second time.
His mouth captures mine as he keeps going, those magic fingers doing something inside me that takes my breath. “Squeeze your inside muscles, Grace. Squeeze them hard around my fingers.” I do what he says and I feel it. Oh god, I feel it. My vision turns white as I come again. So hard. So hard. So hard.
Both of us are breathing heavily, his humid breath mixing with mine.
“Look,” he says and I open my eyes. “Look what you did.”
He lifts his hand and it’s dripping. Dripping! I groan and cover my eyes with my good hand.
Laughing, he moves. I look between my fingers to see him raise to his knees. He pushes his sweat pants and boxers down to his thighs. Mmm. I reach for him and he slaps my fingers away, then takes his erection in his wet hand.
Oh god.
He was serious.
His eyes connect with mine as he begins to stroke.
It’s beautiful. And sexy. And watching his cock glide through the curve of his fingers does something to my toes. They curl as I watch. Watch his hand move faster. Watch his cock grow broader. Listen to the growling noises he makes in his chest.
“Do you know what I’m thinking about right now?” he asks me and I look up into his strained face.
“What?” The word is barely audible. I barely hear it myself.
“I’m thinking about your mouth. How it felt when you were sucking me last night.” His face contorts and he groans, beginning to stroke faster. “Your tongue. The way it felt tracing around the head, down my length. God…” His hand has become a piston and he leans over me, taking my lips with his. “I’m going to come thinking about those lips,” he says tightly. He groans and raises back up. Faster, harder he pumps. Then he stops, pumps again and growls out my name as he releases long strings of his semen on my stomach.
I reach up and touch his face as he comes and comes for the longest time. Sweat is dotting his forehead; his eyes are squeezed shut. He’s so beautiful; it makes my heart hurt just watching him.
Then the blue is back, connecting with mine. He grins and lowers down beside me on his elbow. We lay that way for so long, the emotion of the way he looks at me brings tears pricking the back of my eyes. “Do you know how much you mean to me?” he asks.
My breath hitches in my chest. I see it in his eyes, but I want to hear the words. “Tell me.”
He sighs and curls a strand of my hair around his finger. Then he looks at me again. “Let’s get out of this alive and I’ll tell you.”
Chapter 5 – Duffy
I’ve had threesomes. A foursome a few times. I’ve been with women so skilled at giving head they almost sucked my toenails off when they went down on me. I’ve played with bondage. A sex club. I’ve given pain and received it. When it comes to sex, there’s almost nothing I wasn’t willing to try.
/> In addition to dozens of one-night-stands, I’ve been with a woman I was crazy in love with. Mattie. I’d never thought sex could ever get better than that.
Then this tall, curly headed woman with the ever-changing eyes walks into my life and completely rocks my world.
And all she did was lay there.
Pushing myself up off the bed, I walk into the bathroom and turn the water to warm. I wash my hands and wet a washcloth before going back in the bedroom to clean her up.
I grin. She’s still lying there, sprawled like a three-legged starfish on the bed. Her sore arm is tight against her chest in the sling I bought for her earlier. And she has the cutest little smile curving up her lips.
“Penny for your thoughts,” I say as I wash between her legs before wiping my semen from her stomach. My cock twitches at the memory. The way she squirted into my hand. The look in her eyes as she watched me jack off. Both events new for her. I wonder what else she hasn’t done.
She opens those beautiful eyes. They’re a little more brown now, almost yellow, the circle around her pupil is rusty red. Cat eyes. That’s what she reminds me of. A cat. When she stretches and that little smile grows broader, that image is solidified in my head.
“I was just thinking how sexy that was, watching you.” She reaches out a hand. “Will you help me sit up? I don’t think I have the strength.”
Grabbing her hand, I pull her up and her eyes grow wide in horror. She looks down at the bed she’s now sitting on and she squeaks out a little sound. “Oh holy heavens, did I do that?” She’s staring at the huge wet spot on the bed.
“Yep. And a mighty fine one too.”
She collapses onto her side and pulls a pillow over her face. I laugh at her, pick up a towel and flip her on the ass. She squeals and tosses the pillow at me, missing by a mile.
I bend to pick it up. “Thought you were a baller. That sucked.”
She sniffs, once again reminding me of my mother. My brain twitches at the thought of my family and I push it back in a corner recess. “I was an awesome baller, thank you. With my right hand.”
Badass - The Complete Series: A Billionaire Military Romance Page 25