A Civilian for Silo

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  My heart seemed to melt at his question. To counter the emotion that was welling within me, I moved, placing my hands on his shoulders as I straddled his lap. “I may screw you but I’ll try never to screw with you,” I replied saucily as I shifted my hips until his hardness was pressed against the inferno between my thighs.

  He grunted a long, low stream of earthy words, his large hands pulling me closer while his hips lifted to force his length even tighter to me. A hiss escaped my throat and I lowered my face to lick the skin of his neck. A move which found my nipples again rubbing against his hard chest, creating waves of delight and that seemed to please him just as much because I soon felt his hands on my waist, going underneath my shirt.

  “We’re wearing entirely too many clothes for what I’m planning to do to you, baby,” he rasped against my ear, sending a wave of goose-bumps over my skin. I shot my hands in the air and his palms skimmed the sides of my ribcage, catching and moving my shirt upward. The material hooked on the bottom of my breasts and he glanced down before shifting his hands in order to shove my top up and off, scraping my nipples with his thumbs.

  At my involuntary jerk, he barked a brief chuckle. “What? You didn’t think I was just gonna pass them by, now, did you?” His words incited another deep throb in my core as he dropped his face to nuzzle my cleavage.

  As soon as my top was completely off, thrown carelessly to the some unknown place, I heard him sigh. “Goddamn, girl. Those fucking tits…” and his hands reached behind to work the hooks at my back. And I was totally on board with him releasing me from the confines of it since it was the last bit of covering between our chests.

  *.*.*.*.*

  He’d still been pissed as they’d checked out, loaded up the truck and then on the way home. She on the other hand had just fucking pouted like some kind of bratty teenager. All because he’d goddamn-well told her no.

  Well, fuck her and the high horse she rode in on!

  As soon as he’d shoved the gearshift into park, her curvy ass had been off the seat, only grabbing the bag of hangers before storming off to her room, limping the entire way, to do only god knew what.

  Spoiled fucking brat!

  He’d offloaded the groceries, putting them away as he’d mentally cussed her up one side and down the other. In fact, it wasn’t until he’d started dinner that he’d found himself calming, allowing his heart to let go of the anger, the goddamn frustration, their shopping trip had caused.

  In fucking both of them. Although he still couldn’t figure out the why of it all.

  And once those emotions had passed, his mind had drifted back to how she’d looked standing smack-fucking-dab in the middle of wide aisle, her eyes flashing and shooting fire, using words that’d not only pissed him right the fuck off but had also ignited his blood almost to boiling.

  Even with a fucking mad-on, the beautiful girl made his dick hard.

  So it wasn’t any wonder when she’d finally come out of her room, he’d started something.

  Of the hot, physical variety.

  One that had worked her right the fuck up, lit her up from the inside out within seconds.

  That’s exactly what he’d fucking remembered the most about being with her. The way she’d reacted to him, had caught on fire with just his words, his touch even if he wasn’t touching the parts of her he’d ached to feel beneath his hands and fingers.

  But she’d made it clear as fucking glass that they were only going have that one night together.

  And even though it was through some whacked out shit, he’d been given a second time with her. Time, he didn’t want to fucking waste a minute of, if she was willing.

  From the sound and looks of it, she was more than ready, willing and able.

  After getting them to the couch and peeling her shirt off, he reached for the clasp of her bra. But in all truth, it was too much for his trembling fingers. “You remove your bra while I get myself naked,” he instructed on a low growl and within seconds, they were pressed skin to skin, at least from the waist up.

  It felt motherfucking glorious and he moaned out his pleasure at the feel of her back in his arms. Something he’d never thought he’d experience again in his lifetime.

  Their kisses seemed to get deeper and more frantic as their hands explored. He couldn’t keep his still as he cupped, caressed and tweaked her bountiful, full tits with their lusciously reactive nipples. But touching wasn’t gonna be fucking enough. He needed to taste as well.

  Silo pulled away slowly and bent her back over an arm he’d settled just beneath her shoulder blades, causing her to arch herself. Putting her amazing rack on display, a show for his eyes and mouth only. He didn’t waste even a moment as his mouth captured one of the hard pebbles between his lips and plucked at the other with his fingers.

  A move that had her whimpering, wiggling even as her hands captured his bald head and held it more tightly to her. “Oh, Si,” she moaned and rubbed her crotch against the bar of steel behind his zipper.

  I could fucking come just from this, he thought and then wondered if she could as well. Though he’d never had it happen to him, he’d heard of brothers getting their nut from just dry-humping the right girl at the right time.

  And Silo knew he had the right fucking girl. But was it the right time?

  Just as he was really getting into it, feeling his balls contract and a tingle in his lower back, Shelly abruptly disengaged and stood up. Then without a word, she popped the button on her jeans and slid the zipper down, the metal on metal release the only sound in the room other than their panting breaths.

  Fuck, yeah!

  Silo quickly undid his own denim and hooking his thumbs in the waistband of both his boxers and jeans, he shoved them down just in time to catch a glimpse of the curls nestled between her thighs before she was back to straddling him. Rubbing her lightly-haired, naked self against him, the noise she let escape from her lips sounding almost like a purr and causing his cock to flex hard.

  He reached down and pulled his wallet out of the pants still pooled around his ankles. Flipping it open behind her back, he yanked out the condom and dropped it to the cushion next to his leg. He knew if he didn’t fucking have a glove at the ready, he’d blow right by it in his fervor to be inside her hot, sweet pinkness. And by the way she was splayed over his dick, he was sure she wouldn’t have been able to remember it either.

  He leaned back and dug his heels into the carpet as he flexed upward, allowing her to continue to slide herself on him. It felt fucking amazing and she obviously felt the same from the red flush that had moved up her chest, her neck to settle on her cheeks.

  Silo was so fucking close to coming just watching and feeling Shelly as she moved. Every breath out of her mouth was on a moan and he felt her nails from the hands on his shoulders begin to dig in. “That’s it, baby. Work yourself on me. Feel good?”

  “Yes,” she hissed, her hips movements and breaths going faster. “Close. So close, Si.”

  Hole-lee fuck!

  Not even inside her yet and he too was achingly close to his own fulfillment, the throbbing of his dick almost a continuous ache as he tried to hold it back.

  The keening as she hit her orgasm started from somewhere in her chest almost but was not quite audible until it came up and out of her mouth. Her lips set in the ‘o’ position as she threw her head back in delight. And at the sound, at the motherfucking better-than-porn view of her coming, Silo grabbed her hips and initiated some stroking of his own, forcing her wet heat to rub against his harder-than-steel cock. Once, twice and on the third drawn out stroke, he too found his bliss as a long, throaty “fuck” was shouted without restraint.

  While the throes of their orgasm ebbed though, Silo realized he was far from done. That what they’d shared was just a snippet of all that he wanted to do with the beautiful girl in his arms.

  He sat up straighter on the sofa, holding her close as he reached for the t-shirt he’d carelessly dropped to the floor earlier. “Sit
back a bit, Shell,” he instructed and began to wipe up the puddles of wetness that dotted each other’s bodies.

  “Looks like you made a mess, big guy,” she whispered with a smile.

  “Me?” He maneuvered the shirt until it was pressed against her pussy and did a slow swipe. “You seemed to have leaked a bit, too.”

  She giggled and colored prettily at his observation.

  As soon as they were both reasonably clean, Silo sat back again, tugging her until her cheek was snuggled into the crook of his neck.

  “How do you do that?” she asked quietly.

  “Do what?”

  “Make me come so fast and so hard without even putting it in?” Her voice seemed to hold a note of wonderment.

  He didn’t have an answer for her and didn’t have use the full use of his brain in order to come up with a smart-ass response. So he went for the truth, or the version he knew of it. “It’s just us, baby. The way we just fucking are when we’re together.”

  She nodded, her hair moving over his skin and making him shiver.

  “Wanna fucking see if we can do it again, only this time from the inside?” he asked, curling his neck in order to see her face. She was smiling and he felt his own grin begin to spread.

  “Oh god, yeah,” she agreed and he reached for the square packet of foil that had miraculously not slipped from the cushion during their play.

  Chapter Nine

  Round two, done in the same position was even better than the first. Who knew I could orgasm just rubbing myself on him? But I should’ve known, should have remembered how Silo could coax flames even from a cooled fire-pit. Working me better than any of my former ‘acceptable’ boyfriends ever could.

  There was just something about him, the way he kissed and touched me, the ways he talked, using all the right words at just the right times to make my body burn and then explode no matter if he was inside me or not. For me, Silo was the absolute best at bringing me to fulfilment.

  Each and every single time.

  But he was a biker and not even close to being what I knew I was supposed to be with. Someone that didn’t walk in the circles of society I’d been born into.

  He was, as my father would say, a ‘less than’. Someone who fell short of ‘our sort’. Living in a ramshackle shack, doing his own thing instead of what society, my level of it anyway, demanded.

  Going his own way and making his own rules as he went along.

  But as we came together, deeply connected as we stared into each other’s eyes, I knew there was no place on earth I’d rather be at that moment. No other person I wanted to have inside me creating all the delicious shivers, causing all the different echoes of delight to resound between us.

  And as we moved, him punching up as I slid down, those flames between us grew impossibly higher until we crested together, our voices mingling as we each reached our pinnacle at the very same time.

  “Fuck, Shell…” he’d groaned, holding me so tightly to his chest I could barely breathe. A sentiment I wholeheartedly shared. “Can’t seem to get enough of you, baby.”

  I laughed softly. “Well you’re gonna have to, big guy.”

  He pulled back and studied my face.

  “I’m getting a little tender,” I explained and did a little wiggle to indicate which part of my anatomy I was referring to. But I must’ve said the wrong thing at the wrong time because instead of smiling back, he looked stricken.

  “Christ! Oh, god, Shell,” he said, pulling himself out of me. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

  Uh…what?

  The last time we’d been together, I’d complained of the same thing, but if memory served we’d gone on and done it another four (or was it five?) times over the course of the remaining night. Why then did he feel the need to apologize now?

  He rubbed a hand over his head and looked crestfallen, almost guilty. “Shit! I should have remembered…”

  I had no idea what was causing his behavior and just continued to sit on his lap. Sometimes in order to obtain the information needed, one just needed to let the other person talk. My meetings with Agent Moore had taught me that particular trick.

  “Are you okay?” Silo asked with a frown. He glanced down at the juncture between my thighs. “I didn’t fucking re-hurt you or tear anything open, did I?”

  What in heaven’s name was he talking about?

  “Do you need an ice-pack or one of your pain pills?” His face was a study and he seemed so solicitous, but about what I didn’t have a clue. He leaned forward to press our foreheads together. “I’m so sorry. I was just so worked up for you, baby and completely forgot about the bruises.”

  Bruises?

  As far as I knew, the doctors hadn’t found a need to advise me against any sexual activity because I hadn’t needed them. There had been plenty of cuts and other various painful areas that had received their medical attention. But nothing I thought would cause Silo’s reaction.

  “What are you talking about, Silo?” I said and shifted myself off of his lap watching as he caught the condom in his t-shirt and stood to make his way to the bathroom all the while looking like a little boy who knew he was in serious trouble. As soon as he was back in the living room, he made a point of pulling his boxers and jeans back on although he didn’t refasten his pants.

  Why did being the only one naked make me feel super vulnerable?

  And he still hadn’t answered my question.

  So I repeated it. “What are you talking about, Silo? What bruises?”

  My back was pressed against the arm of the plaid couch, its weave scratchy against my bare skin. He reached down to the pile of clothes on the floor and held them as he sat on the edge of the cushion next to my hip.

  “The ones you had…” his eyes dropped from my face to my lap. “You know. Down fucking there…”

  I glanced to where he was looking and straightened out my legs. “Where? Where exactly did they say I’d been hurt?”

  He frowned in confusion and brought his gaze back up to mine. “The kind of hurt that can only be healed with ice packs on the outside, Shell. Don’t you remember?”

  We seemed to be talking two different languages and it was starting to piss me off. “No, I don’t remember and don’t have any flipping idea what you mean!”

  He swallowed deeply and a forlorn expression flashed across his manly face before he again did a quick swipe over his head. “Fuck! They didn’t tell you?” I waited wondering how long or what kind of prompt he needed to just say whatever it was he wanted to say without playing word games.

  He sighed, did yet another head rub before he began to speak. “Doc Peyton said your fucking medical records detailed how you were brought in to Presbyterian’s ER…uhm, all the shit that was wrong when they first admitted you.”

  I nodded slowly not in agreement but only to show I was listening.

  “And one of the things was…” he stopped and cleared his throat before turning his face back to mine. “Someone had bruised your thighs and pussy, both inside and out.”

  I must have heard wrong and shook my head to clear it. “Say again?”

  He looked at me, his eyes almost begging me not to make him repeat it. “Your pussy lips both inside and out were bruised and swollen. They think you were raped.”

  “That’s impossible…” I started before I caught the edge of a memory, one that was grainy, fuzzy and more dreamlike than an image of the past. It was of Brad Tolleson, my soon to be ex-boyfriend sweating on top of me, with my ridiculously expensive Tarik Eolz dress around my waist as he’d pounded me into the mattress. Which was directly after I’d cautioned him about smearing my makeup or causing my upswept hair to come undone. He’d insisted on sex although I hadn’t wanted it, hadn’t wanted him in that way for months. But he’d almost demanded it, letting me know in no uncertain terms that I would be underneath him, and as he claimed, ‘loving it’. And had dragged me up to his room to ‘fuck the bratty-snot out of me’; his words not mine. I’d tri
ed to put him off, telling him I wasn’t feeling good—which hadn’t been a lie since my cough had become worse over time and was by then accompanied by a burning under my sternum. Brad hadn’t cared though. Hadn’t liked me denying him and just continued on, skewering me roughly as he pleasured himself, using my body as if it was his own personal sex toy.

  But the worst part, the most horrific part of all, was that Brad with all his mewling, self-absorption and demands of what I should and shouldn’t do, was so much more socially acceptable than the man who was so concerned about me in our moment of after-couch-sex.

  I’d known at the time I’d first slept with the big, bald biker that he’d never be a part of my future and had vowed to never repeat our more than satisfying one-time encounter.

  “The doctors said the bruising caused the bladder infection which was cured by the antibiotics they put in your IV.” Silo’s voice was a slow rolling thunder in the quiet of the room, bringing me back to the present. “If I’d remembered Shell, I would’ve never…”

  “Shut it, Si,” I yanked on the pile of clothes he still held in his hand, stung by the memory of allowing a man in my body that I had absolutely not wanted on any level even though he had been ‘Daddy acceptable’. Acceptable only because of the Tolleson family’s power, influence and wealth.

  Even though young, brash and demanding Brad had not earned an ounce of his own credibility within our set.

  My movements were jerky, uncoordinated as I slipped my top over my head and yanked my panties up my body.

  Using cuss words didn’t come naturally to me and I’d always been told that the first person to swear was the loser in any situation but I felt the overriding need to curse long and loud at having Silo know of my shame, of how I’d allowed another man to use me for his own pleasure. “The subject is not, repeat, not fucking open for discussion. And I don’t ever want to talk about it again, if that’s goddamn all right with you. Okay?”

  He leaned back at the venom in my voice before standing up.

  “And even though that was the freaking tenderness I was referring to, you big bastard…” I stood up as well, eschewing putting on any additional clothes since I was, as things went, covered. I stopped fully and looked up at him, noting the hands he held deep in his pockets, the way his shoulders were hunched around his ears and the sheepish look on his face. “I don’t need your help or your pity in getting over it. But thanks for providing the fucking info I hadn’t remembered. It’s been fun but I’m going to bed.”