Surrendering To Her Sergeant

by Angel Payne

  “I’m not dicking around about you, Ava.” With steady surety, he slid his hands until he cupped the swell of her ass. A gasp erupted from her throat before she could control it. Another followed as he squeezed her there, sending a thousand jolts of awareness into every tissue between her thighs. “I never was,” he went on. “Since that first moment I saw you, both of us tangled in all that wedding shit at Sage and Garrett’s…”

  “When you thought I was a terrorist?”

  Her attempt at levity didn’t work. “I would’ve been less scared if you were,” he uttered. “I—fuck—I was in such deep trouble. It’s been a long time for me, doing all this…feeling all this. That day, just from rolling with you on the floor like that…”

  His face tightened as if he were in pain. She ached from watching his brow furrow and his lips twist, until he lowered his beautiful mouth to her cheek, brushing her skin with heat as he continued in a harsh whisper. “That night at Hawk’s bachelor party, all I could think of was how many ways I wanted you in my bed.” He worked his way to the edge of her ear. Ava dipped her head back, giving him better access to her neck. “Yeah, even the kinky ways,” he whispered. “Christ, I tried to be good…and I was…until we were in the forest the next day, and you begged me to pin you tighter to that tree, and—”

  “And it felt so right.”

  Shit.

  Why had she let the words slip out, instead of letting him be responsible for them? And why, oh why did she finish them by scoring his scalp with her nails, urging his mouth harder against her skin, letting him bend her back over the balcony’s edge so he could plunge his tongue lower, into the V of her shirt, leading down between her breasts? Why didn’t she stop him from twisting buttons loose and pulling the fabric open, exposing the lace-edged cups of her bra to him? Why wasn’t she pushing him back instead of moaning from the searing pleasure of it, reveling in the feel of him against her? Ah Dios, his body was so big. His mouth was so urgent. His touch was so electric. Her skin sizzled. Her senses reeled.

  So much for the damn balcony being safe.

  He didn’t stop unbuttoning her at a few holes. The pearl discs fell free beneath his fast twists until her shirt fell open, revealing her waist and the top of her hips. He smoothed the flesh with his long fingers before following the same path with his lips, nipping at her skin, wetting it enough so when the wind moved in after, delicious tingles washed through her. She swallowed hard, struggling not to be riveted by the sight of his dark head against her bare flesh, fighting not to love it.

  Before she could get a grip on herself and move, he rose and covered her again. His body fitted to hers. His mouth delved into hers. He didn’t waste time on subtle pretense with the kiss now. His assault was full and consuming, a hot barrage designed to melt her mind. The next moment, she knew exactly why.

  “It’s still right, sunshine.” He grated it against her mouth. “Goddamnit, it’s so right.” He lifted a hand and gripped her cheek, compelling her to stay focused on him…to witness the steel blades of determination in his beautiful gaze. “I refuse to let you deny it this time.”

  Her breathing faltered. Conflict whipped at her soul. Saying no wasn’t going to be as easy as deleting a text or ignoring a phone call this time. Or God help her, even thinking about Bella and her implied claim on the man. Bella wasn’t here right now. She wouldn’t be for hours. The caterers were prepping the meal in the kitchen. The terrace was pristine, the house was being readied. There was nothing to think about, to surrender to, but this stolen gift of time with the man who’d stalked her thoughts and haunted her dreams since last fall. Ethan. Ethan. His effortless strength. His single-minded passion. His primal need for control.

  I refuse to let you deny it this time.

  She sifted her fingers in his hair and gazed deeper into his eyes. “This time,” she repeated, “I don’t want to deny it, either.”

  His mouth twisted in sinful satisfaction. She struggled to dredge up the slap he should get for the look, but all she felt was joy that she’d pleased him so. His shadowed stare swept to her lips again, as if considering another brutal kiss. Instead, he dragged her back inside without a word. The second they cleared the door, he made a sharp left into the villa’s wine room. The space was Bella’s idea of a tribute to her name, with décor that looked like Caesar’s Palace had been invaded by Bernini’s ghost: marble statues, velvet couches, dark tile floors, chilled air—not that Ava even noticed the latter. She burned for his touch again already. Yearned to get her hands on him in all the same ways, too.

  He couldn’t pull her in, slam the door, and trap her back against it fast enough. The dim lighting of the room, compared to the brilliant sunshine on the balcony, temporarily blinded her. She didn’t care. She found him with her hands. Learned his sculpted beauty in a whole new way as she scraped her hands beneath his T-shirt and over his back while he fused their mouths again. When he groaned in approval, she traveled her fingers around, sliding down over every hard ridge of his eight-pack. By the time she got back to his waist, he let out a harsh grunt before simply tearing off the shirt. The silencers on his dog tags clunked as he tossed the shirt aside then advanced on her again.

  His hands, rigid and tight, felt amazing on her shoulders. His kiss, hard and consuming, turned everything outside the door into unreality, unimportance. He shoved her shirt off next, unhooking her bra as he did so it fell to the floor, too. In the aftermath, she stood still, letting her lungs heave, watching the shadows of the room play across his face as he took in her bare, erect nipples.

  “Beautiful,” he finally grated. “More incredible than I could have imagined.”

  “You too,” she whispered back. “Oh, Ethan…”

  He stopped her by pressing a thumb against her lips. “I need to be clear. I want you, Ava. I want to be inside you. I want to watch your face when I command you to come and your body shatters around mine. I haven’t had anyone else, haven’t dreamed of having anyone else, for seven months.” With his other hand, he guided her grip to the front of his jeans. Her fingers stretched around the black fabric, which was hot from the press of the flesh beneath. “If you stay in here with me—”

  “I’m staying.”

  She didn’t give him a chance to say anything else. With a whip of her head, she captured his thumb and sucked it into her mouth. He hissed as she rolled her tongue around the length of it. The sound became a growl when he finally yanked it away from her.

  “I should spank you for that.”

  “Promise?”

  “God damn.” As his breaths escaped in heavy huffs, he pulled her close and sank his mouth to hers again. Her breasts mashed against the broad planes of his chest, rubbed and teased with friction that shot straight to the center of her body, now soaking wet with sexual need.

  He set her free but only far enough to lock his gaze with hers again. “You have quite a sassy mouth, sunshine. I should put it to good use.”

  Ava slanted him a tiny smile. Sassy? Yeah, he’d pretty much nailed it—which was damn weird for her to admit. She’d never pulled shit like this on a man before. But no other man in her life had dared to trap her against a tree the second day they knew each other. No other man could dissolve her ire with the magic of his subtle smirk, or make her want to throw back that arrogance just to see how he’d react, hopefully with that spanking he’d just threatened. No other man made her long to unlock the hidden side of her sexuality for him…because she knew he’d savor it, stroke it, make it soar.

  And after this magical hour, none of it would be hers again. None of him could be hers. She needed to make every second of it count.

  “Gee. You’re ‘should’ing all over yourself this afternoon, Sergeant Archer. Plan on doing anything about that?”

  That got his brows to jump. And his lips to part. And his fingers to curl into the clothes she still wore, unbuckling her belt then yanking down her pants zipper. Without a word, he circled an arm around her waist and slammed her against him, li
fting one of her thighs against his waist. With his brilliant stare still fixed on her, he yanked at the laces of her ankle boot, jerked the thing off then tossed it to join his shirt somewhere in the shadows. He lowered that leg and pulled up the other to repeat the action. When he was done, he rebalanced her on both feet, still not looking away, still radiating with dark sexual energy.

  A thick moment passed. Neither of them blinked. With his arms at his sides and his shoulders held high, his torso was more breathtaking than the golden marble Adonises that peeked from the alcoves. Ava ordered herself not to stare at the twin ridges of abdominal muscle that arrowed down, leading beneath his pants…an impossible feat. Ay dios mio, he was breathtaking.

  “Take them off, Ava,” he ordered in a low, sleek tone. “Take off everything. I want to see every inch of the beauty I’ve been fantasizing about. All of it.”

  If she opened every bottle in this room and drank the contents, her senses wouldn’t whirl this madly. She was achingly aware of every approving growl he issued as she shucked her formfitting jeans and the black thong beneath. But he saved the best sound for last. When she straightened, totally nude before him, a sound curled from him like a plume of smoke from a magician’s pyre, redolent with approval…and arousal.

  Out in the living room, one of the maids turned up some music. Ava almost wondered if the woman could see through walls and knew what was going on, because the selection, midtempo and belted by a Spanish soprano, was recorded for one purpose alone. A lusty, sweaty purpose.

  As she walked to Ethan, that heat was carved into every inch of his perfect features.

  “Good girl.” It rolled out of him as he pressed closer. He was huge and hard and warm, consuming her vision again, a welcome domination this time. Without a second thought, she dipped her head into his chest. As her forehead pressed between his dog tags, she felt at once connected. Content.

  Confused.

  Don’t get used to this, Ava. She had to be diligent about the reminders. This was a bite of sin only, meant to be savored in this moment alone. There could be no “getting connected.” No being “content.” No letting him into her spirit or her soul. No anything except one beautiful lick of man candy. One. Period.

  The mandate made her feel a little stronger despite the shivers he induced by raking both hands down her spine, continuing around the swells of her bottom, drawing his fingers together in the crevice between her cheeks. But as he glided further in, parting the sensitive wings of her sex from the back, the tremors turned to liquid—and so did any rational thought.

  “Ava.” His voice was like a rich cabernet against her neck, a silken caress backed by unmistakable command.

  “Y-yeah?”

  “You’re already wet for me.”

  “Yeah…”

  The dark thunder vibrated through his chest again as he moved his grip back to her buttocks. Like lightning had struck his inner storm, he kneaded her flesh with increasing urgency. He openly bit her nape. The pain made her gasp in surprise, which rocketed into excitement. As she mewled against the base of his throat, she wrapped her arms around his waist and clawed ten deep, slow tracks across his back.

  A feral groan ripped out of Ethan. Even when he’d trapped her in the forest those many months ago, he hadn’t sounded like this. But that was it, wasn’t it? All those months ago. Lightning stored in a bottle for over two hundred days was an explosion in waiting. She experienced the truth of that now in every skin cell he marked, every tremble he induced, every inch of her body that he claimed in sweeps and squeezes that burned and branded. His fervor boiled her limbs to the consistency of applesauce. When he shifted his hold from her ass to her shoulders, her knees gave out and there was no way to go but down.

  Oh damn, it felt good. Better than she imagined or hoped. Here at his feet…yes. It was natural. Perfect. Meant to be.

  “Fuck.” It left him on a strangled choke. When she pressed her cheek into his thigh, his muscles bunched and tensed. She nudged him like a kitten seeking approval. He answered her need, bunching his hand into her hair, gathering the strands until they were tight between his fingers. Ava moaned, again hating him and adoring him for the brutal pain…and the magnificent mental journey into which he guided her deeper.

  “I’ve had fantasies, too.” She confessed it as she rubbed her nose against his zipper. The bulge beneath her face pounded for release. He held her there for a long moment, grunting in pleasure as she bit at the denim. She’d never done anything like this before and it was…wonderful. Naughty. Forbidden. Completely wanton. The world always demanded that she be calm and temperate, the graceful daughter, the sensible friend, the poised stylist. For once, she longed to be wild, wicked, and lost in sexual decadence with this dark, primitive warrior…and his hot, throbbing spear.

  “Show me.” Ethan’s order made it clear he shared that mindset. He pulled her hair harder. “Show me exactly what you fantasized.”

  His choppy breath finished it, a sound Ava savored as much as the musky scent of his arousal as she unzipped his pants. As she pushed them down, a tattoo was revealed down the length of his right leg. The design was rendered entirely in black ink, depicting a chain of matching circles, each with a smaller ring attached inside, that were hooked together with the same Chinese symbol. She fingered it for a minute, wondering if the angels themselves had given it to him since the ink was such a perfect match for his dark beauty, before realigning her vision with the tight cotton that covered his clamoring lust.

  With a careful tug, she freed his shaft from the fabric.

  “Oh!” she blurted.

  “What?”

  She looked up into his face, its classic angles crunched in concern. A smile bloomed on her lips. “My fantasies weren’t as good as this.”

  His apprehension darkened into desire once more. As it did, she ran her cheek along his erect length, letting her tongue trail in its wake. Ethan’s groan filled her ears as she explored him even more, tasting, licking, kissing. His cock was as perfectly formed as the rest of him, sleek and long, velvet skin stretched over solid muscle. It was trailed with hard veins that pulsed as she made her way along his erection. Finally she closed her mouth over the bulb at the end, savoring the tangy residue of his precum before she drew him in by an inch. Then another.

  “Fuck!” His reprise of the word came from the depths of his gut. He brought his other hand around, sifting through her hair again before bracketing her jaw. With his thumb, he traced her lips as she sucked him over and over, deeper and deeper. “Oh, sunshine,” he finally grated, “I don’t think mine were, either.”

  She pulled back for a moment, daring another gaze up in his lust-shadowed face. “Please…tell me I was here in your fantasies.”

  His brows hunkered. “Here?”

  “On my knees for you. Serving you…like this.”

  It felt so good to say it. To reveal her darkest secret to him, this dream of being at her warrior’s feet, naked for him, ready to please him in any way he craved, in any manner he ordered…

  No. She needed to stop thinking like this. Weren’t the tags that hung from his neck reminder enough of the fire with which she was playing? Military men are not good for you. If that wasn’t dangerous enough, she tossed kerosene onto the mix by opening the closet on her kinky needs again. What the hell was wrong with her?

  As soon as he spoke again, the answer to that didn’t seem so important.

  “Goddamnit.” His voice was husky in all the right ways. He slid his grip beneath her chin, tilting her head in order to lock her gaze with his. “They sure as hell did, baby.”

  An insane, hot sting surged behind her eyes. She swallowed it back…then threw open the damn closet and let her kinkster dance. “What else happened?” she asked in a whisper. “In your dreams…what else did I do for you?”

  A hard gulp plummeted in Ethan’s throat. Her spirit jumped. As she’d guessed—and hoped—it seemed he had a kinky closet, too. But he was fighting it.

  �
�Some parts of my fantasies are best left locked up.”

  She lifted her chin by a notch. “Unlock them.”

  His pupils dilated. His erection twitched. “Ava, listen—”

  “Unlock them.”

  With one hand, she palmed his penis again. With the other, she lifted a pleading hand to his ribbed stomach. Ethan issued the f word again beneath his breath, echoing the conflict that crunched his face, bunched his shoulders, and even jerked his thighs.

  It was time to stop doing this silly dance, If she had to pull open defiance on him, so be it.

  “This is called topping from the bottom, right?” She gripped his shaft and squeezed. With her other hand, she scratched into his abdomen. “Doesn’t a girl usually get paddled for this?”

  Ethan’s anatomical earthquake went still. Without preamble, he grabbed the wrist against his torso and cinched it tight with his hand. When he answered her, there was no more forbearance in his voice. Or trembling. “Usually she does—unless that’s the brat’s goal.” He cocked his head. “In that case, alternative punishments are considered.”

  She felt her mouth pop open. Her hand, still trapped by his grip, went still.

  “Al-alternative punishments?” Shit. She knew about those, of course—but always skipped those parts in the novels she read, or clicked out of the kinky community chat rooms to which she belonged whenever those subjects came up. Thanks to Bella, her free time was rare, so she always wanted to get to the good stuff. The spanking scenes. “I—I thought paddling was the preferred—”

  “I prefer lots of things, Ava.” His left brow jumped up. Damn, he stole her breath every time he did that. “Are you still interested in finding out?” He gentled his hold enough to stroke her knuckles with the tips of his fingers.

  “Yes.” She rendered the answer without hesitation—realizing she’d been waiting seven months to do so. “Yes, S—Ethan.”

  His lips quirked. Humor laced his tone. “Sunshine, was that the beginning of a ‘Sir?’”