Corps Security: The Series

by Harper Sloan

  Uh oh.

  Slowly, oh so freaking slowly, he begins dropping my feet to the floor. His face is unreadable, but he can’t mask the heat in his eyes. Burning. Every inch of my skin his eyes cross over feels like it has been physically touched.

  I bring my arms up and start unbuttoning his shirt. He just stands there and lets me. It takes me a second, but around button two point five, I realize his silence is nothing more than his trying to regain the control that is slipping away. No way, not having that. Grabbing both sides of his half-undone shirt, I give a hard yank, sending buttons flying around me. He lets out low rumbles deep in his throat, and his hands clench.

  Running my hands from his rock hard pecs down to his abs earns me another throaty growl. When I palm his dick through his pants, his eye twitches and he sways slightly. Leaning forward, I swirl my tongue around his nipple and give a solid squeeze to his generous bulge. When I bite down on his nipple lightly, his groan turns into a fierce roar, I step back hastily, almost knocking my ass to the ground when I trip over the rug.

  His hands shoot out and grab my hips to help steady my legs. “Get naked. Now,” he finally pants, once he makes sure my footing is solid.

  He steps back and drops his ass into a chair that I didn’t even notice was there. Looking around the room, I take in the masculine warmth. All the furniture is dark wood, and cream colors the walls. Very earthy. My red dress stands out against all the muted tones. I look back over to where he is lounging and take in his arrogantly lifted brow. He doesn’t think I’ll do it. Stupid man.

  Turning on my heel and presenting my backside to him my back, I reach up and slowly draw the zipper down the length of my back. Luckily, it isn’t so high up that I need to ask for his help. I take my time, feeling the teeth unhook one at a time with the measured glide of the zipper. When it catches at the bottom, I look over my shoulder again and watch as he brings his hand to his belt.

  Well, that is fucking hot.

  I slip each shoulder off slowly before letting the dress drop and pool at my feet. I can’t hold back my smile at the harsh intake of breath that comes from behind me. I’m certain that he didn’t expect to find me completely naked beneath my dress.

  I bring my leg up, but right before I slip my shoe off, I hear his strained voice say, “Leave it.” I drop my foot and slowly turn to face him. I’m comfortable enough in my own skin to know I look damn good. When I complete my turn and meet his eyes, I can see that he agrees. Looking down his body, I notice that he has slipped off the shirt, and his pants are unfastened. One hand grips the arm of his chair with so much force that it looks like he might rip the arm right off, but his other hand? His other hand is slowly stroking one hell of a shock to my system.

  His body alone is enough to convince me to sell my left tit just to touch it, but to see what he has been packing all day makes my center weep with wetness. Huge, thick and decorated. He fingers the hoop, which causes his dick to jump and a hiss to shoot from his mouth. As if the Prince Albert isn’t shocking enough, the second horizontal bar through his bulbous head has my jaw dropping. My first thought was ‘holy shit that had to hurt,’ but closely followed it is my body screaming ‘hell fucking yes, that will feel like pure bliss’!

  “Like what you see, Beauty?” He continues his slow strokes. I can see the drop of come that is starting to fall from the top and my mouth instantly waters. “Tell me how bad you want my dick.”

  Shaking my head to clear the lust-filled fog, I have to remind myself of the game I started. I don’t know when it became important, but I want the upper hand. I smile sweetly. “I don’t think so, big boy.” I bring my hands up and caress my breasts, tracing the swell, and then cupping them and pushing them together. The friction forces a soft moan to escape. I trail one hand deliberately down my body, allowing my fingers to outline my sex a few times, and drawing the warm moisture across my soft skin. When I part my folds and drag a finger through my wetness, his hand stops stroking and his eyes flash.

  “Melissa,” He warns.

  “Greg,” I moan, swirling my finger around my clit. “Tell me, how bad do you want my pussy?” With his answering growl, I push two fingers deep, close my eyes, and hum low in my throat. It’s been a while since I had a man to pleasure my body, long enough that I know exactly what my body needs. When it became obvious that no man was able to do it for me, I forced myself to learn.

  My rolling hips and moans of pleasure must be the trigger that causes him to snap. Before my eyes even finish opening, I am flat on my back and his mouth latches to my pussy. He pushes his tongue in deep and with his hands on my hips, pulls me roughly against his mouth. After a few stabs into my seeping center, he slowly licks his way up to my clit. I can see one corner of his mouth tip up, and his eyes crinkle before I feel the sharp sting of his teeth as he bites down on my swollen bud. My hands fly into the sheets, my head falls back, and with a loud scream, I come on his tongue.

  “Oh my God!” I have no idea what I am screaming at him now. For all I know, I am speaking in another language. The things he is doing to my body should be illegal. Never in my life have I felt so overcome with pleasure. He continues his slow licks and nips until my body comes back down, then he trails leisurely kisses up my abdomen. He pauses briefly to lick around my belly ring before continuing his way up to my tits.

  “Love these. Your tits . . . fuck me babe, but I could spend hours on these alone.” He licks and swirls his tongue around my nipples. He makes sure to spend enough attention on each before taking my mouth with his.

  His kiss is demanding and full of control. With his hands holding my head firmly between his palms, there isn’t much room for me to try and regain the upper hand. Hell, at this point, I can’t remember why I wanted it. The things he is doing to my body . . . my heart pounds as if it is seconds away from exploding and every inch of my skin feels too tight. I need him.

  “Please . . . pl-please Greg!” I scream, wrenching my mouth from his wicked attention. My body is shaking so violently with the built up desire that I can feel my teeth knock together. “Goddammit! I need you inside my body! Fuck me!”

  If he hears me, then he is clearly ignoring my begging. His lips nip at the skin around my collarbone, soothing each sting with his tongue.

  To hell with this. I need his dick inside my body now. Bringing my feet up flat on the bed, I push down with all the strength I have left in my body. Clearly, I catch him off guard, making it easy to flip his large body off of my own. Using his shock to my advantage, I pounce. Before he can even move, I jump up and straddle his chest, trapping his arms under my legs. My slick pussy meets flush with the heated skin of his chest.

  When he tries to speak, I cover his lips with my finger and shush him. “No.” His eyes flash with warning, warning that I have every intention of ignoring. “I told you I wanted your dick. I didn’t stutter. My words, Greg, were clear. Condom?”

  His tongue darts out and licks my finger, but even with the playful act, his eyes light from within. I have a feeling he is just letting me take the lead here.

  “Drawer,” he says with a nod towards the side table. Luckily, when I flipped him, we landed within arm’s length. I lean forward, letting my breast fall heavy against his face. He doesn’t waste any time before attacking. His tongue and teeth cover every inch he can reach without the use of his hands.

  Grabbing a condom and then sitting back on my perch before he can try anything is harder than I think it could be. He lets out the most raw, feral sound when his lips lose purchase on my nipple.

  I give him a smirk before deliberately inching my way down his body. When I get eye level with his cock, I want to cry with joy. This is going to be delicious. Ripping the condom open with every intention of making quick work of rolling it over his impressive length, I quickly realize that I have no idea how this will work. I don’t know what the hell I am supposed to do with the ring and barbell. He growls, snatching the condom from my fingers before rolling it on. Right before he
moves his hands, I catch another flash of metal down near his balls.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I whisper, “Do you have some self-mutilating fetish?” Right where his shaft ends, there is a long barbell through his skin. Fuck me; it just keeps getting better and better.

  “You won’t be complaining about that one when it’s slamming against your clit, promise you that.”

  “Oh God.”

  Climbing back up his body has me swearing that I have died and gone to hard body heaven. I lick every inch of his skin that I can reach before straddling his hips and taking his mouth. While our tongues swirl together and our breathing clashes, my hips are busy rubbing against his. My legs spread just about as wide as I can get, forcing my pussy to open like a flower and hug his dick tight.

  Pushing off his chest, I lift up, grab his dick, and slam myself home. I almost can’t hear the harsh bite of his breath over my scream. I feel the rings hitting a spot deep within me that will have me begging in no time. The one pressed tight against my clit has my vision going hazy.

  “Have . . . to . . . move,” he warns, and once again, I find myself rolled onto my back. He doesn’t even pause when he flips and pounds into me. His hips slap against mine, his balls make a loud, wet sound as they hit my skin, and his eyes flash something I wish to God I understood.

  “H-h-harder!”

  He slams deep and leans up on his knees causing his dick to slip out almost completely. His large hands grab my hips and bring my body half off the bed. With my head still on the bed, the rest of my body hovers under his control as he pulls back and gives me my wish. My legs are dead weight, my hands clench tightly in the sheets, and my eyes hold his. The look in his eyes combined with the hard hitting of his piercings, and the awe-inspiring thrusts is enough to have me screaming. Screaming, begging, and pleading. I have lost control of my body. It is locked tight and shattering into pieces.

  His hips pick up speed but then slightly slow down towards the end of my release. He brings my body back down to the mattress and rocks his hips, causing a few more aftershocks to roll through my body.

  “Do you like my cock? Do you like having me so deep in your body you won’t be able to walk tomorrow? The way your pussy is gripping my dick and your wetness is coating my balls, I would say you fucking love it.”

  I whimper and he smiles. This isn’t the attractive smile he gives the public, no . . . this smile is pure fucking sexy evil.

  “Going to fuck you raw.” He warns before making true to his words. When he finally grabs my hips and locks our pelvises together, I have come twice and lost track of reality.

  * * *

  It takes us a good hour before we are even able to detangle our limbs. When his body crashes down on mine, he rolls slightly so I won’t have issues breathing. His weight feels perfect against my body, and I can’t bring myself to be alarmed at how perfect that match seems to be. Maybe it’s time to let someone in.

  No, even with the perfect sex I have learned enough from my sister to know it isn’t wise to let a man have your heart. When that happens, it is only a matter of time before you lose yourself.

  “What’s got your wheels turning?” He says into my neck.

  If he only knew. “Just wondering when you’re going to be ready to go again.”

  “Fucking animal,” he laughs.

  CHAPTER 11

  Melissa

  “What does your tattoo mean?” We have just finished another rough round of the best sex I have ever had. New rule, any man I sleep with must have the trifecta of vaginal bliss. When the steel of his base piercing hits my clit, I can see angels singing in the heavens.

  He is relaxed on his back with his arm slung over his head, and the tattoo I haven’t noticed before is on full display. I have been running my fingers softly over the ink for a few minutes, watching his skin prickle with every stroke. I’ve never seen something so simple be this moving, breathtaking. There has to be at least twenty small black birds that start at his hip and fly around to his back where I assume they end around his shoulder. Intertwined in the birds are the words ‘Free Yourself, Gracefully.’ It can’t be a coincidence the only part written in an elegant script is the word ‘Grace.’

  He brings his other hand over and absentmindedly runs his fingers over the last word on his ribs. “It’s for my sister, Grace.”

  He doesn’t say anything else, but continues to trace his fingers over her name.

  “How long ago?” I don’t need to say more; he knows what I mean.

  “Almost ten years.” He rolls on to his side and props his head onto his hand. “I was overseas when I got the call.”

  “Jesus . . . I’m sorry, Greg. I know that doesn’t mean anything, but trust me when I say I know how you feel.” I don’t talk about my sister. Not even to my mother who knows exactly what I feel. I just haven’t been ready. Even now, almost two years later, it still crushes me to know that she won’t ever be there again.

  ‘Beauty,” he says, running one of his fingers down my face. “I have felt the pain of losing her for so long now, and not once have I met someone who could feel this. Want to give me more than that?”

  “Not really . . . but I will,” I rush to get out when I see him start to pull back. Not physically. No physically, he is very much here but his eyes lose the light. “My sister. I lost her coming up two years ago.”

  I flip to my stomach and move my hair out of the way. In the center of my shoulder blades is a single feather with a bird flying out from a fracture in the tip. Underneath the feather in tiny script are the words ‘Take this broken wing and learn to fly.’

  “Kind of weird how close our ink is.” I say, trying to lighten the moment, but really, how can you make light of this shit.

  “Grace would have loved you. Not many people would give me shit.” His lips ghost over my ink before I feel him move away. “She was only twenty-five when she died. I didn’t get the call for almost a week, a week she was gone and I had no clue that my other half . . .” He stops talking and visibly composes himself. “I felt it. People are always skeptical of the twin connection, but I felt it. It was almost like the string that connected us had snapped. Didn’t know it at the time, being that I was in the middle of a battlefield but looking back, I felt it.”

  “How did she pass?”

  “She was murdered.” I gasp, the sound echoing around the room, but he doesn’t even look at me. He is clearly lost in the memory. “The bastard she was married to fucked with her car. The only peace I have is that she didn’t suffer in the end. Married to that piece of shit for almost five years and I didn’t have a fucking clue he was beating her until it was too late.”

  “What?” I whisper, shocked at the sound of my own voice. I sit up swiftly and just look at him, “What did you just say?”

  “Fuck, I didn’t mean to get heavy, babe. Really. It’s been so long since I talked about her, I just lost myself for a second there.”

  “He hurt her?”

  He sighs deeply. “Yeah, Beauty . . . he hurt her.”

  “Fia, my sister, her husband . . . her husband hurt her too. Only difference was I knew; I knew and I didn’t do shit because she wouldn’t let me!” His arms wrap around me and pull me close to his body. I know I haven’t dealt well with Sofia’s death. Brushing it under the rug and marching on seems to be working, and who am I to mess with what works. My strong exterior has become who I am but deep down inside, I just want to let it all out. Scream, yell, and freak the hell out that I will never see her again.

  I tried, for years to get her to leave that bastard. Every time, she would just brush it off. Then she had Cohen and nothing would get her to leave. I begged, oh how I begged. “She kept saying she was okay! How is your husband beating you o-fucking-kay?”

  “You never dealt with this shit.” Not a question. I go from sated to fucked up in the blink of an eye. Hello! Poster child for fucked in the head, right here!

  “You know what’s fucked up? I begged her, I
begged her, and in the end, she fucking shot the bastard. She shot him, but not before he got to her first.” He goes solid under me for a few seconds but I am too far into my memories to even process what makes him tense up. “Cohen was asleep upstairs.”

  “Cohen?” His voice sounds off, almost strained.

  “My nephew. Coolest kid in the world.”

  “Nephew?” I turn to look at him when his tone finally registers.

  “Yeah, Cohen. What is that look for?” He looks like he swallowed something sour. I know he likes kids, so it shouldn’t be an issue that I have a nephew . . . Jesus. Could it be possible that I misjudged this man?

  He is silent for a while, just looking into my eyes. I can tell he wants to say something; the emotion behind his eyes is one I haven’t seen before, almost as if he is worried but pissed at the same time.

  “What is going on with you?” I finally break the silence.

  He shakes his head and brings his mouth forward to meet mine. “Nothing.” He offers a few small kisses against my lips before pulling back and looking into my eyes. “Nothing, just thinking. I don’t know why we crossed paths, but I can’t ignore the feeling that it was for a reason.”

  “You aren’t what I expected,” I tell him.

  “Right back at you, babe.”

  When his mouth settles against mine again, I pull him close and dive in headfirst. Before, this was all about the game. Enjoy him while I can and stay away from any kind of attachment. But now, I feel like it would be impossible to walk away. He knows; this man knows how it feels to lose someone you love. In the small amount of time we have known each other I can tell he won’t be like Fia’s husband. No, not Greg. This man screams white knight.

  When he settles his hips against mine and sinks deep, the last coherent thought that filters through my mind is that I want him to be my white knight. I want him to save me from me.

  * * *

  We finally fall asleep when the sun starts to climb. We have sweat-covered bodies and intertwined limbs. My body is deliciously sore and still craves more of what he can give me. He has taken me twice since our talk. Twice, and the sex just keeps getting better and better. This man, oh this man knows what he is doing.