Hero to Obey: Twenty-two Naughty Military Romance Stories

by Selena Kitt

  "To hang you with, princess," he replied with a shake of his head.

  It was a joke—just a sarcastic reply to her own.

  He didn't even realize how quiet she got after he said it. He was sitting in the sand, playing with his compass and testing the wind's direction.

  But when he looked up, she was gone.

  Chapter 4

  "Just what do you think you're doing?" Darcy demanded as he carried her back toward their camp.

  She was shivering now that the sun was going down. It had taken him half a damned day to find her, and when he did, he was so furious he could barely see straight. He didn't care that she was completely naked—she'd stripped off her bikini to go wading into the fresh water pool they'd found—when he grabbed her out of the water and threw her over his shoulder.

  Darcy screamed and kicked and railed at him, but Daniel ignored her, navigating his way through the dense foliage, the naked woman over one shoulder, her bikini top and bottom balled in his other fist, until he reached their camp.

  He had a fire built, which provided warmth and helped keep the bugs away. Daniel dropped her on the sand near the fire and Darcy screeched, reaching for her bikini, but he tossed it behind him, out of her reach.

  "What do you think you're doing?" she asked again, scrambling to her feet beside him. "You have no right! I just went to take a bath. I wasn't—"

  Daniel grabbed her arm, pulling her to him. She was soaking wet, shivering with cold—the days might be hot, but night temperatures varied, and tonight it was chilly. She shuddered against him, her eyes sending knives into him.

  "What did I tell you I was going to do—the next time you took off?" He kept his voice level. His grip on her arm kept her from running away, but he wasn't holding her hard enough to hurt her.

  "What?" She stopped trying to pull away, her attention focused on his words. "What are you talking about?"

  "What did I tell you?" His enunciated each word, gripping her with both hands. He could almost wrap his hands entirely around her upper arms. "That I was going to do the next time you disappeared?"

  "I—" She stared at him, the memory finally coming to her. He saw it in her eyes. The sudden panic. "No way. No fucking way. You can't be serious!"

  Daniel didn't say a word.

  He sat on the log they'd dragged over as a seat in front of the fire and pulled Darcy down with him, bending her over his knees. She screamed and protested and tried to get away, but the minute his hand came down on her bare ass—the sound was loud, resounding—Darcy stopped struggling. He smacked her again, this time on the other cheek, and she grunted a little, but that was all. The banshee he'd carried through the jungle had suddenly gone quiet.

  "I told you to stay in camp." He smacked her again and she whimpered, but didn't scream or rail at him. "I didn't make the rules for me, you know."

  Her bottom was turned up, round and pale in the moonlight, her face down near the sand. She was bracing herself with her hands, her hair hanging in her face. He smoothed a hand over her skin—he couldn't help himself. It was like a ripe peach, so tempting.

  Darcy let out a little moan when he coasted his big hand over the curve of her behind.

  Then his hand came down again, making her jump and gasp.

  "I'm trying." Smack! "To keep." Smack! "You safe." Smack!

  He looked down at her ass—rosy now instead of white. She had one of his handprints on her left cheek—from his first hard smack.

  "Maybe now." Smack! "You'll follow." Smack! "The rules."

  Darcy's body shook, shuddering over his legs. He felt the tension in her melt away and suddenly he realized she was sobbing, but crying silently—or as quietly as she could.

  "Do you hear me?" His hand went back to her ass—it was magnetic—sliding his palm over the curve, rubbing the red spots he'd made. She quivered and moaned when he did.

  "Darcy, answer me."

  "Yes!" she choked. "I hear you. Loud and clear, Sir! Do you need me to salute, too?"

  She whipped her head around, glaring at him, her face red and wet with tears.

  "No, princess." He pulled her up, gently sitting her in his lap. He expected her to flee, to go hide in the tent, but she didn't. So he carefully put his arms around her. And she let him.

  "But I do need you to follow orders," he said softly.

  She was shivering and he held her tighter, feeling her tuck her head under his chin, her wet cheek to his bare chest.

  "Yes, Sir," she said, maintaining as much sarcasm as she could, although he could tell her energy for it was waning. "Are these the kind of torture tactics you employed in the military?"

  "No, princess." He chuckled. "I never spanked the insurgents."

  "Maybe you should have."

  He smiled at that but didn't say anything. She shifted in his lap and sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

  "You okay?" he asked, suddenly very aware that he was holding a beautiful, naked woman in his arms. That somehow hadn't registered before.

  "It stings." She pouted, wiggling in his lap, and he felt his erection rising. "It really hurt."

  "You scared the living hell out of me," he confessed and she lifted her head to look at him, eyes narrowed. "It's the middle of the night and we're in the middle of nowhere."

  "I'm very aware of that." She rubbed her wet cheek over his chest and shivered again.

  "Then act like it." Daniel stood, taking her with him.

  "What are you doing now?" Her arms went instinctively around his neck for balance as he carried her over to the tent.

  "You're shivering. You're cold." He put her inside, on top of the sleeping bag. Her body was dry now, but her hair was still wet. It clung to her cheeks like punctuation—little commas and question marks.

  "I'm not cold."

  She shook her head, but held her arms out, and he went to her.

  He wrapped his arms around her. Darcy settled against him, her back to his front. He could feel the warmth of her bottom, still rosy from his spanking, pressing against his aching groin.

  "You were worried about me?" She asked this quietly, sounding incredulous.

  "Of course I was worried about you." He plucked wet strands of her hair from her cheeks and reached back, wrapping the sleeping bag around them both.

  "Why?"

  The question hung there. He took a long time answering it.

  "Because… I didn't want to wake up without you," he finally replied. Then he chuckled. "Even though you're a pain in my ass."

  "No, you're a pain in mine." She wiggled it back against him and he groaned. She knew exactly what she was doing to him—he knew she couldn't mistake the steel rod pressing into her behind for anything else.

  "You're a very bad girl, princess." He slipped a hand down to her hip to keep her still. "Knock that off or I'm going to have to discipline you again."

  "Another spanking?" Her eyes lit up, even in the dimness of the tent. "I have a confession to make… I liked it."

  He groaned, both because she was wiggling again and because his punishment had been so ineffective.

  "Guess I'll have to come up with something better to keep you in line."

  "Yes, Sir, I think you will." Darcy turned in his arms and then she was kissing him.

  "Darcy," he said softly when they parted. "I thought you wanted me to return you to your father unharmed."

  "Too late," she whispered against his lips. "It hurts… so good…"

  She nipped at his lower lip where, not too long ago, she'd bitten him for kissing her.

  Now she was arching against him, making it perfectly clear she wanted him to kiss her.

  "You liked that spanking, hm?" He pulled her arms from around his neck and held her wrists together in one big hand, holding her hands above her head.

  "Yes." She was breathless as she watched his gaze rake over her body.

  Daniel's cock ached. He hadn't had any relief in weeks, and Darcy had been running around the island half-naked tha
t whole time. He wanted to spread her and sink into the soft, buttery cushion of her cunt, but he held back. This woman required something more than his island girl. More than any woman he'd ever met, he judged.

  This woman wasn't so easy to navigate.

  Daniel moved his other hand over her collarbone. His fingers dug into her flesh, not hard enough to really hurt—just enough to be uncomfortable. She squirmed, whimpering, but didn't protest. He walked his fingers up her chin, pulling her lower lip down, looking at her straight, white teeth. Darcy hissed at that and he smiled, rubbing his thumb over her lower lip, wetting it with her saliva.

  Then he put his fingers over her eyes.

  "Don't open them," he told her.

  She moaned, but when he withdrew his hand, her eyelids were closed.

  Daniel's hand cupped the underside of her upper arm closest to him, sliding his palm down to her armpit. She squirmed when his hand rested there, massaging. Then he buried his face there, licking and sucking, tasting the salt of her sweat. It was almost as good as shoving his face between her legs, and he went at her armpit with just as much enthusiasm.

  Darcy thrashed and cried out, but she didn't open her eyes. Daniel licked his way underneath her breast, up to her strawberry tipped nipple. It was pursed, the skin puckered around it, and he spent a long time circling it with his tongue, keeping her wrists trapped in one hand above her head. Then he switched to the other one, and Darcy hissed like he'd burned her, hips bucking toward him uncontrollably.

  He glanced around their little tent, looking for something to bind her hands with, but there was nothing. So he let her wrists go, hearing her gasp when he did, and told her, "Put your hands behind your head—and keep them there."

  "Yes, Sir." She tried to make it sound sarcastic and failed. She slipped her palms behind her head just like he'd told her.

  "Open your legs."

  Darcy moaned and spread her thighs. Daniel knelt between them, looking down at the woman who had given him such grief since she'd fallen into his arms off the Feckless. She wasn't that woman now. This woman was vulnerable, quivering and, miraculously, following orders. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

  He cupped her breasts, feeling their weight. They were full and beautiful, glorious mounds of flesh where he wanted to bury his face—and his cock. His palms skated down her ribs, dipping in at her waist and then broadening at her hips. He stroked her inner thighs with his fingertips, feeling her shudder. She was impossibly soft.

  When he finally cupped her mound, she moaned and thrust up against his hand. Her pussy was soaking wet, her lips swollen and fat under a patch of red fur. His finger slid easily inside. Then another. He felt her walls tighten, gripping him, asking him for more. He smiled, sliding his fingers out to lick them.

  Fuck, she tasted so good. He had to reach down and grab the head of his cock just to keep from coming right there all over her thighs. He wanted her that much.

  He rolled her over in one fluid motion.

  "Daniel!" she gasped.

  "Hands over your head," he told her. "Keep them there. Eyes closed,"

  "Yes, Sir." There was no sarcasm in it at all.

  He spread her ass cheeks, spending time looking between her legs, his fingers exploring the labyrinth of her cunt. When he pressed one finger against the tight little rosebud of her asshole, she squirmed. He smiled and wet his finger with her juices, and slid one finger into her ass, just up to the first knuckle. Darcy moaned, burying her face in the sleeping bag.

  "Spread your legs," he told her. "Wider."

  She did as she was told, moaning when he nestled his weight on top of her, up on his forearms, his cock throbbing against her ass. Her crack was slippery wet and he slid his cock up and down it, not entering her, just teasing. His cock ached. His balls were so tight. He wanted to pound her into the sand until he exploded.

  "Darcy…" He nuzzled her hair, nibbling her earlobe. "What about birth control?"

  He hadn't expected to be doing this—but it was something he had to consider.

  "I have an IUD," she gasped. "It's okay, it's safe."

  Thank God.

  The thought of stopping now—impossible.

  He reached a hand back and guided himself into her pussy. It was like sliding into heaven, so moist and soft his cock swelled instantly, threatening to let go.

  "Ohhh God!" Darcy cried, shifting her hips up to meet him.

  "Fuck." He braced himself, breathing deep, willing himself not to come.

  "You feel so good," she moaned.

  "So do you." He breathed out hard, knowing he couldn't fuck her long, not like this. She was so tight in this position, it was like fucking a velvet vise.

  So Daniel pulled out—Darcy whimpered when he did—and turned her over.

  "Close your eyes," he reminded her, putting a hand over them. She nodded, and cried out when he shoved her legs back and buried his face into her pussy.

  "Oh! God!" Her hands moved through his hair, hips rocking, trying to focus her clit on his flickering tongue.

  Daniel broke the suction to tell her, "Hands above your head."

  "Okay, okay," she complained, putting them above her head again.

  He fastened his mouth on her mound, loving the way her breasts lifted with her hands behind her head like that. Her breasts rose and fell, faster and faster, as his tongue made circles around her clit. Her cheeks flushed and so did her chest. Daniel grabbed her bucking hips in both hands, keeping her still as he sucked on her tiny little clit. It amazed him—such a small thing could bring her so much pleasure.

  "Daniel!" His name in her mouth was bliss. She tried to rock up, but his hands held her down. His tongue lashed hard now, fast as he could—he could have done this for hours, forcing her to orgasm again and again. She tasted that fucking good.

  "Oh fuck! I'm gonna—"

  Darcy screamed. If there was anyone else on the island, they would have come running.

  Her body shook like she was being electrocuted, juices flooding his face and beard. He rubbed his cheeks against her, sucking her clit, eating her little pussy until she was a quivering mass of flesh.

  When he propped himself above her, she was like liquid beneath him, so soft and open.

  His cock slid into her like a knife through butter. He bottomed out in the velvet recesses of her cunt and then he kissed her, telling her to lick her juices off his lips and beard.

  Darcy moaned and used her tongue to clean him as he began to fuck her.

  He grabbed her wrists again, stretching them high above her head.

  "Yes!" she cried, thrusting up to meet him. "Oh yes, yes, yes!"

  He silenced her with a kiss, tongue plunging into her open mouth with the same rhythm that he shoved into her with his cock. Her pussy was fluttering around his length and he moaned into her mouth, feeling that clench deep at the base of his cock. His balls were so damned tight they almost hurt.

  Daniel pulled back to look at her, eyes still closed, chest heaving, arms high above her head. He wanted to see her come. He wanted to see her face when she climaxed—and he wanted to be the one who took her there.

  "Darcy, open your eyes," he demanded. "Look at me."

  Her eyelids fluttered and she shook her head, whimpering.

  But in the next moment, she complied, slowly opening her eyes.

  "Good girl." He smiled, moving his hips in slow, aching circles. God, he was close.

  "I want you," she whispered, her lower lip trembling. "I've wanted you… for so long…"

  He nodded, kissing her for that, his tongue licking that quivering lip.

  "I want you to come for me," he told her, grinding his pelvis into hers. Oh, fuck, she was so hot inside. "I want you to come all over my cock."

  "Oh God." She bit that sweet lip, nodding. "Yes, yes."

  He began to fuck her in earnest now, short, fast strokes that bottomed out every time, his hips right against hers, grinding, creating a friction that was impossible to resist.r />
  "Look at me," he told her when her eyes started to close. "Darcy, look at me."

  "Yes, Sir," she breathed, her green eyes bright, her mouth open in sudden surprise. She made a little hitching noise in her chest, a small cry, and then her pussy began to spasm around his cock.

  "Come for me," he growled, rutting hard and fast into her contracting pussy. "Oh fuck, yes, Darcy—you feel so good."

  He rested his forehead against hers, his vision swimmy, their eyelashes brushing as he shuddered and gave her his seed. She took every white hot blast of his cum with a sort of aching need, her pussy spasming as if it couldn't get enough, demanding more, more, more. She emptied him completely in that moment and he collapsed on her, finally letting her wrists go.

  When he'd scooped her up and spooned her—his front to her back—he saw her rubbing her wrists and frowned.

  "Are you okay?" he asked, lifting her arm to look at the red marks his fingers had made. "I'm sorry, Darce."

  "I'm not." She smiled, closing her eyes and snuggling back against him.

  He'd never seen her so relaxed.

  He kissed the inside of her wrist, wrapping his arms around her, and they slept.

  * * *

  Darcy got very good at making rope. She would sit and braid it for hours, testing it to make sure it would hold when Daniel wrapped it around her wrists and ankles, pulling it taut in the light of the fire. He often watched her making rope with a throbbing erection tenting his boxers, unable to help his body's reaction, no longer caring that she might see him hard for her. He liked it when she caught him watching, the corner of her mouth quirking upward in a smirk.

  He'd discovered a great deal about this woman in the time they'd spent together on the island. He knew she sunburned very easily. He doled out the sunscreen every day, covering every glorious, pale inch of her, and worried about the day when they would run out. He knew she had lost her mother to a car accident—drunk driver—when she was just eight, leaving her alone with her father. He knew she loved filet mignon, the perfect vanilla crème brûlée, and when she was slumming, Superman ice cream and double stuffed Oreos dunked in chocolate—not white—milk. They'd spent a very late night talking all about the food they loved and missed back home.