by Zoe Dawson
The feverish intensity between them was sizzling hot, the strength and immediacy of her arousal making her knees weak. She slid her arms around his waist and skimmed her hands down to cup his buttocks through soft, worn denim. The muscles tightened under her palms, and the long, hard length of him pushed insistently against the apex of her thighs. She felt the bite of his belt buckle against her hip, but she was too swamped with desire and need spiraling tighter and tighter within her to care about the minor discomfort.
With his lips still devouring her mouth with aggressive, utterly devastating kisses, he shoved open the robe. Then he stilled and looked down.
“Jesus,” he whispered as he took in her naked body, the robe slipping off and pooling on the floor. She shivered and moaned as his big, warm hands closed over her breasts, rubbing and massaging the mounds of flesh, then rolled her hard, aching nipples between his fingers.
He lowered his head and closed his mouth over her taut, throbbing nipple. He laved it with his tongue before nipping it with his teeth, then sucked her strong and deep, until she felt that same seductive, pulling sensation in the pit of her belly. An electric jolt zapped through her, exploding in heated ripples that thrummed across her nerve endings.
Her skin tingled everywhere, hot and alive with sensation. She twined her fingers in his soft, thick hair, feeling breathless and dizzy and unable to do anything but hold on, let him have his way with her body, and give into too many months of wild, pent-up passion between them.
He wedged his foot between hers, widening her stance. One hand left her breast and slid down her ribs to her belly.
She sucked in a quick, tormented breath, and her heart raced in anticipation as his hand slid between her thighs and his mouth returned to hers, hot and hungry and demanding, allowing her no escape. His fingers skimmed along her skin and delved through her damp curls, gliding into her soft, swollen sex.
A blunt finger slipped easily into her, followed by a second that seemed too much to take all at once. She gasped into his mouth at the exquisite pleasure, but then his thumb pressed against her core, right where she’d wanted him for so long, both soothing and arousing her at the same time. This man of violence, this warrior, so gentle with her.
As soon as she relaxed, he pushed deeper, filling her, and her inner muscles contracted tightly around his fingers in an involuntary surge of sensation. She could barely catch her breath. Her head rolled back against the wall, and she panted for air, wondering how his hardness would fill her up even more.
His big body shuddered, and he buried his face against her neck, his ragged breath hot and damp against her skin. “You are so fucking tight, so hot and wet,” he rasped in her ear. “I want inside you.”
Wanting that just as much, she pleaded, his magic fingers bringing her closer and closer to release. “Please, Thorn. God, please.”
“Say my name again,” he rasped.
“Thorn,” she said in a strangled voice as her hips jerked hard with a tingling throb and she came in a blinding, intoxicating explosion.
When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her, enraptured, his face drawn, his eyes intense, warm with desire. He fisted his hand into her hair, twisting her head back, covering her mouth with a kiss that was meant to incite, to ignite, to devastate, and Alyssa made a low sound. Adjusting the fit of his mouth against hers, he absorbed the sound, running his hands up her rib cage, rolling her hardened nipples with his thumbs.
She’d wanted to touch him for so long, and with the edge off, but building again, she slipped her hands under his T-shirt and shoved it up. Velvet skin over hard, thick muscles. They were everywhere, his abdomen, the heavy pectorals of his chest, the thick column of his throat. He raised his arms and then grabbed the cotton and pulled it off.
He was so heartbreakingly beautiful. There was no other way to describe him. He was all rugged angles and tattoos. He had the street in him. He was hot-blooded yet always in control with a raw presence, all of it sculpted into layers of muscle and sinew—the power of long legs, thick, bulging biceps, broad shoulders, and six-pack abs with that patch of hair that trailed down and disappeared beneath his waistband.
He was strong, always getting stronger—tough, then even tougher. It’s what they all did. It’s how he was trained, how they stayed alive in the places they went, in doing the jobs they were tasked with. And all Tank’s strength and power were finally in her arms, surrounding her, warming her skin on the outside and causing a meltdown inside.
She wanted to see all of him. Finally, all of him. Have all of him.
Tank’s hands went to her hips, holding her immobile. His face dropped and buried in the tumble of her hair, then finally he took an unsteady breath and raised his head, brushing his mouth against hers with agonizing slowness. Alyssa tried to move against him, to bring his head down to increase the pressure of his mouth, but he resisted. His mouth barely touching hers, he ran his tongue along her bottom lip. “God, you taste so damn sweet.”
Fighting for every breath against the frenzy inside her, she drank him in, drawing his tongue deep, then deeper still. Gasping against his mouth, she fumbled to release the heavy buckle on his belt, then ran her fingertips up the thick, hard ridge under his zipper and molded her hand against it. Tank made a hoarse sound deep in his throat, thrusting hard into her hand. She undid the front of his jeans as his hips moved again, his breathing harsh and labored. He rested his forehead against her as she pushed his jeans and underwear off.
His full, thick erection jutted from his body, a ring pierced through the base of the head and through the tip fascinated her. Shivering with anticipation, she reached down to touch him, and when her fingers fluttered over the broad, velvet head of his shaft, gently depressing the ring, he sucked in a hissing breath. Grasping both of her wrists, he pulled her arms up and pinned them above her head, giving him complete control of the situation.
Drawing air through clenched teeth, he pressed his body against hers. “It’s called a Prince Albert. Does it bother you?”
“No. You’re so beautiful, so sexy. It turns me on.”
He covered her mouth with a blistering kiss, his heart hammering against hers. She needed more, so much more from him, and he held onto her wrists as he deepened the kiss, then slowly, so slowly, flexed his hips against hers, aligning the thick, hard ridge of his arousal against her pelvis. She sobbed against his mouth, thrusting her hips up to increase the pressure.
At her muffled cry, he let go of her and cupped her butt, making another foray into her mouth, his touch wet and tormenting.
Feeling as if she was drowning in the thick, pulsating sensations, Alyssa shuddered and turned her face against him as he worked his way down her neck, his touch turning her boneless. Sinking into sensation, sinking into unbelievable pleasure.
He lifted her, using his big body and the wall as leverage, the slide of his muscled body against hers making her pulse leap higher and faster. Her arms went around his neck, her legs around his waist, locking her ankles together. He covered himself with a condom, fitting himself to her, pressing his erection intimately against her, nudging his way in, stretching her with an exquisite pressure that was making her lose her mind, the metal at the head noticeable, adding to the pleasure of his sliding into her. She stared into his heavy-lidded eyes. With a dark, fierce expression, he crushed his mouth to hers and kissed her passionately as he buried his shaft to the hilt in her slick heat, possessing her completely.
He held her as if she weighed nothing, his huge biceps bulging, as she ran her hands over the thickened muscles. She couldn’t feel the ring, nothing but the delicious friction of his hard heat inside her, intensifying her sensual tension even higher.
“Good?” he whispered.
“Yes,” she managed, then groaned when he pressed in again. The way he communicated with her about her pleasure turned her on even more. She felt more pressure, the glorious sensation twisting her into a mind-bending orgasm. She cried out, her body arching hard against
his.
“Fuck me. That was beautiful…” He bit her jaw, rubbing his stubble against her skin, then returned to her mouth, kissing her with a thoroughness that went on and on. Dragging his mouth away, he shuddered and turned his head against hers, the muscles in his back bunching as he flexed his powerful hips against her one more time.
It was so much and not enough as Alyssa cried out his name and arched against him, her body tightening, tightening as she clutched at his back and lifted her hips. Tank thrust his arm behind her hips and shifted; then with an agonized groan, he thrust into her, burying himself in her swollen, wet heat. His whole body went rigid, and he roughly adjusted his hold; then gathering his strength, he thrust into her again and again. Alyssa came apart in his arms, the tightness coalescing into one throbbing center, and on one deep, urgent thrust, that center exploded, and convulsions ripped through her, making her arch and cry out. Tank locked his arm around her hips, thrusting again and again; then he made a ragged sound and shuddered violently in her arms, his release as catastrophic as hers.
Alyssa hung on to him and turned her face against his neck, the emotional aftermath as wrenching as the release—she felt raw and was in a million pieces. Tank was so damn strong. He never let her slip or lost any of his power as he adjusted his hold, his hand splayed wide at the back of her head, holding her with such absolute tenderness that it made her throat close up. He could turn her inside out, and God, she cared so much for him.
He held her for a long time, until his breathing leveled out and she stopped shaking, until the aftermath softened into something less intense.
“Bed,” he muttered.
“Second door on the left down the hall,” she whispered, kissing the side of his face, his jaw, behind his ear. He tasted salty against her tongue. He pushed away from the wall and carried her to her bed. Once inside, he pulled the comforter and sheet down and settled them onto the mattress all without her having to let go of him, the light in his eyes possessive and bright with banked desire. That was good, because she didn’t want to let go.
Bracing his weight on his forearms, he cupped her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks, still intimately joined with her. Then he lowered his head and gave her the sweetest, softest kiss. Releasing another sigh, he lifted his head and gazed down at her, a glint of amusement lightening his eyes. “Is that what you had in mind, babe?”
She smiled up at him, swallowing the clog of emotion. She smoothed her hand up his long, muscled back. “It’s as if you read my mind.”
He smiled. “Read your body, every curve and inch of it. Jesus, Alyssa, you take my breath away with your beauty.”
Alyssa closed her eyes and held on to him, unable to stop the tears from leaking out and slipping down her temples into her hair. He made her feel so feminine with his huge body and the easy way he manhandled her. His raw masculinity turned her on in so many ways. He made her feel like a woman, desired and attractive. He’d made love to her like he’d seen her, knew her, wanted her with a desire that had never shown so hotly in Stephen’s eyes. For so many years, she repressed so much of herself. How could she give herself fully to any man until she embraced her femininity, until she opened up and let everything out?
“Hey,” he said gently. “What’s going on there?”
She opened her eyes, blinking at the blurry image of his handsome face, the intensity of his brown eyes, now the softest she’d ever seen them.
“It’s embarrassing,” she murmured.
“You can tell me anything, Alyssa.”
“I used to say being a girl never got me anywhere.”
“Yeah, why is that?”
“When I was five, my brother died. He had a heart attack at fifteen. It was a genetic defect that wasn’t detected. My parents were devastated. My father changed so much my mom couldn’t deal with it and she left. She lives in Arizona with my stepdad, but I don’t get a chance to see her much. She left me with my dad because he needed me more. I think he wanted to mold me into being what he’d hoped my brother would’ve become. Whenever I would cry, he would say that I needed to be a big girl, keep emotion hidden. He enrolled me in sports, and as a result of his disapproval of makeup and dolls, he didn’t allow me to have them. He pushed me to excel, which isn’t a bad thing. I had a lot of drive. He never came out and said it, but he wanted me to downplay my femininity. I didn’t realize until now that I was being brainwashed into his way of thinking. But now I wonder if I’m living someone else’s life instead of my own.”
“Now that you’re aware, there’s nothing stopping you from figuring it out, deciding what you really want. We’re just getting to really know each other, but I’m re-evaluating some stuff, too, that’s been dogging me for all of my life. Getting involved with you is a big change for me. Protectiveness is my knee-jerk reaction, but I’m getting the idea that there’s more to family than being protective. We just need to be honest with each other and ourselves.”
She nodded. “I’m starving. How about we order something to eat?”
“I’m not quite done here,” he said as she felt him hardening inside her. “The piercing is okay. It’s not hurting you?”
“If hurting me felt this damn good, I’d become a masochist.”
He chuckled.
She cupped his silky jaw. “You recover fast, sailor.”
“SEALs always have to be on point and ready for action,” he said, and she laughed softly as his mouth covered hers.
Later, after they ordered a pizza and made love again, they showered together. He got out first, leaving her to finish washing her hair. It took her the usual time to comb out the tangles. When she came out of the bathroom, he’d already dozed off. She wanted to curl against him while he slept, but she couldn’t seem to relax, so she stood there, trying to work through her discomfort. The floodgates had been opened and part of her was angry, the other part feeling a bit lost. She had a lot to think about and Tank was a colossal part of it. She’d need to work through her repressed feelings. There was still the fact that she had this job change hanging out there, that active duty may change her dynamic with him. She knew her skill was special, and the military service needed her at Lackland, but the thought of going back to San Antonio, being close to her dad caused her turmoil. Her father would tell her to put her emotions aside and use her head, but that just didn’t work for her anymore. Her heart was engaged. She was allowed her emotions and feelings. She was allowed to be confused and unsure.
At this moment, she was glad she cancelled her plans to go home for Thanksgiving.
In sleep he still looked fierce and ready for action. If he had the slightest inkling that something was wrong, he’d be wide-awake and ready for action. She walked to the bed, her skin still damp, her hair a wet rope down her back. She settled on the bed. He’d fallen asleep upright with his back against the headboard, his hard body bare to her eyes. She reached out and brushed her fingers over his sensual mouth, traced the line of his very nice nose to the place between his forehead that tended to wrinkle when he was deep in thought. His long lashes fluttered, and he opened his eyes.
They stared at each other in the semi-darkness, saying nothing, but communicating so much. Their first night together and she wanted to be bold and strong. Now that he’d released her from her neutral chains, she was free to explore that side of herself. Tank had given her so much more than he realized.
“You are such a beautiful, sexy man,” she whispered.
“Show me,” he said, his eyes daring her to be the woman she had set free.
She lifted her chin and he smiled like he knew she was going to accept his challenge.
Settling between his legs, she leaned forward and captured one of his rigid nipples between her lips. She laved the erect nub with her tongue and grazed the tip with the edge of her teeth. A groan rumbled up from his chest as she traversed her way lower, spreading hot kisses on his taut, flat belly, her tongue licking over the hard ridges. She encountered a few scars along the way, some r
ound bullet holes, others long and slim. She caressed each badge of his service, of his courage, with her tongue and heard him suck in a surprised breath in response to her tender touch. Finally, she came to his thick, straining erection, and even that part of him was as gorgeous and magnificent as the man himself.
She wrapped her fingers around his hard length and felt him pulse in her tight grip. A drop of moisture appeared, and she spread the silky drop over the head of his cock.
She wanted to give him such pleasure.
She took him into her mouth, his skin hot and salty against the stroke of her tongue. He shuddered and tangled his hands in her damp hair, and she sucked him, taking him deep, the metal ring just as warm as his skin. It felt different, arousing and dangerous. She played with it, loving his reaction as he jerked against her mouth. She pleasured him some more, teased him with her tongue until his breathing was ragged, his whole body shaking with his restraint and against the need to let go.
“Christ, woman,” he breathed and frantically tried to tug her back up. “If you don’t stop now, I’m gonna come.”
She had more things she wanted to do to him, so she complied. With one last irresistible lick and a flick of her tongue against the metal ring, she kissed her way back up his body and crawled onto his lap, covering his hard sex with latex. She straddled his hips and directed his shaft upward. She was so ready for him from the foreplay, and with deliberate slowness, she sank inch by inch on top of him, until he filled her completely and her sex stretched tight around his width.
His nostrils flared, and stark desire heated his eyes. He clutched her waist with his hands and rocked her tighter against his straining body, setting a rhythm she knew would take him to orgasm. She reveled in the feminine power that she had over him.
“Touch yourself,” he said. “Come for me.”
When her fingers slipped down her stomach and between her splayed thighs, she gasped at the fullness of her core and the pleasure that streaked through her. His chest rose and fell heavily, his expression fierce and hungry as he watched her caress herself for his eyes only.