by Shae Banks
At the bottom of the stairs, I paused, hearing the bathroom door unlock.
“‘Sup?” Ryan asked from the kitchen door, flicking off the light as he passed.
I glanced up and he nodded.
“And?” he prompted impatiently, when I didn’t move to go up the stairs.
“Just giving her a minute,” I replied quietly, trying not to bristle at his impertinent tone. “Like I said, I don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable.”
Ryan stepped around me and ascended the stairs. “How many of those bullshit courses have they had you on?” he quizzed in a low tone. “You’re getting as bad as Sam for all that feelings crap.”
Lloyd’s bedroom door closed, so I continued after him. “Enough,” I muttered, but that had nothing to do with it. The army’s new person-centred approach had no bearing on how we treated Lyla. “This is the only place she has to go, she grew up here. She has more right to be here than we have.”
Grasping the handle, I opened my bedroom door and went right in, but before the door could shut, I held it open with my foot in invitation, waiting to see if he’d follow. With the streetlight outside the window casting shadows through the curtains, I didn’t bother with the light.
Relief settled in my chest when he followed and closed the door.
I grasped the hem of my shirt and began to pull it up my body when he muttered, “You feeling threatened by a girl now?”
The material slipped through my fingers before I could remove it as I turned around and unexpectedly pushed him back into the door with a thump. I followed straight after, my hands coming to rest on the wood on either side of his head.
I leaned in until our noses barely touched. “What reason do I have to feel threatened?”
His breath tickled my mouth as he huffed a laugh in response that was loud in the silence of the room, and I caught the slight scent of beer on his breath. I resisted the urge to taste it and leaned close to his ear. “Nobody gives you what I do.”
His head turned, and I met him there, lips slightly parted, waiting for me. The beer was sweet on his bottom lip. His kiss was hard and desperate, proof of the conflict he was feeling. It was something of an obstacle for him, but not for me. I let him lead. I was comfortable with my identity, but he was still struggling with his. Habitual labelling was fine until you came to label yourself. That’s why I remained neutral. Ryan was still learning that.
His hands found my hips, his grip firm, then the hem of my shirt, and I let him peel it off me. With my shirt discarded, his hands brushed my sides as he kissed me again. My cock hardened and I angled my hips, urging him to move his attention lower. Muscles tensed with the motion as he traced the fine line of hair leading to the band of my pants with the tips of his fingers.
His mouth left mine as he reached for my cock, and he shifted slightly to take the lobe of my ear between his teeth and bit down as he growled, “I think you should suck me off, Thom.”
I laughed, tugging my ear free of his teeth, and kissed his neck. With my lips pressed against his pulse point, I felt him swallow, trying not to suck in a harsh breath.
He threaded his fingers through my hair and tugged my head back harshly. Eyes locked with his, I whispered, “You’re sure?”
“Are you?” He grinned wickedly, and it stoked the fire in my blood.
He didn’t bother to answer me, instead, he grabbed my shoulders and spun me on my heels before shoving me away. I went willingly, knowing he was stripping his shirt off behind me before he followed. If he really wanted this, I needed to grab the lube anyway. I could fuck him dry, but healing time for him meant down time for me—lesson learned the hard way. Pun intended.
The sound of his zipper opening, followed by the rustling of his jeans being dropped, made me impossibly harder. I turned on the lamp that sat on top of the nightstand and grabbed the bottle of lube from the drawer underneath. When I turned back to face him, he had his jeans around his ankles and was already stroking his cock.
As much as I loved to watch him and wanted to savour the moment, he’d made his request. Without needing any further prompting, I dropped to my knees at his feet and ducked my head.
I usually started with my tongue, but we both needed more tonight. Opening my mouth, I drew one of his balls inside and rolled my tongue across the bottom before gently sucking and adding more pressure while he maintained his grip. His musky scent was intoxicating as it filled my senses, and I pulled my cock from my own boxers so I could squeeze the base in a desperate attempt to keep control.
The intensity drew out a moan, but his fist never stopped stroking. He shifted and raised one foot onto the edge of the bed to give me better access.
I happily obliged.
It was a powerful position to be in, despite me being the one on my knees, and his invitation to give me that dominance over him made my balls ache.
Rewarding him, I sucked again only slightly harder this time, and a low, “Oh yeah,” from Ryan as I reached around and grabbed his ass was all the encouragement I needed to switch from sucking to licking.
His fingers buried in my hair again, I rose up on my knees, and abandoned his ass for the moment. My new position was better to take his cock. I wasted no time in removing his hand and grasping his shaft myself so I could stroke him a few times.
Spurred on by his hungry groan, I took all of him, relishing the feel of him nudging the back of my throat, and when I couldn’t take any more, I swallowed.
“Fuck. Oh…” His fingers gripped my hair until it was almost painful, indicating he was riding the edge of his control.
I drew back, releasing him, and almost laughed when he scowled down at me. Readjusting him in my palm, I dragged my tongue up the underside of his shaft to the head in one slow, deliberate move before circling the tip and bobbing once more before pulling away.
“Shh,” I breathed against his stomach, and was rewarded with goosebumps pebbling his skin in reaction.
He didn’t like being told he was noisy, he never had, but it was courteous to be discreet with other people in the house. With one hand on the back of my head, he took his cock in the other and thrust.
I took it, over and over as he fucked my mouth, pounding out his frustration and desperate need for release. But he wouldn’t come. Not yet. That wasn’t how he needed it.
My eyes watered from his hard, punishing thrusts, and I wondered if he’d changed his mind and was going to blow in my throat, but as quickly as I thought it, he suddenly released me and took a step back.
I looked up at him, meeting his gaze for confirmation to continue. When he tilted his head, I rose to my feet. He finished removing his jeans while I kicked off my boxers. With my cock jutting out, I waited until he moved onto the bed.
He lay on his back, knees bent, and tucked one arm behind his head. It was hard not to admire the ink that ran down his arms to the elbow, over his shoulders to his chest, and down his back to his tailbone. It was an incredible piece of artwork, but right now I wanted to admire other parts of him more.
Taking the lube, I knelt between his legs and squirted enough to coat my index and middle fingers, then I took his cock in my free hand, lowered my head, and swirled my tongue around the tip.
The slightly bitter, salty tang of his precum brought me to the edge of my own control. I needed him now.
His cock twitched as his knees dropped to the mattress with a groan.
I licked again, and this time I massaged his entrance with my lubed fingers. His response was almost immediate, relaxing around the tips of my fingers as I circled and massaged.
He rocked his hips, so I lowered my head, inserting one finger as I circled the crown of his cock with my tongue once before bobbing my head.
His groan had my balls drawing up before I’d even got inside him, but I ignored my own needs to focus on his. With the position of my hand, his balls filled my palm as I finger fucked his ass. His body kept jerking as if he didn’t know whether to push into my throat or slide d
own on my fingers. Having had him do this to me, I knew it was sensory overload and it wouldn’t be long before he came.
I pulled away, much to his annoyance, and ran my tongue one last time up his length so I could fully taste him as I did.
He was close, but I wasn’t. I needed mine.
Swiping the lube bottle from the side of the bed, I squirted more on my dick—only to hiss at how cold it was—before moving into position between his legs.
Head propped on one arm, he watched, the desperation to be touched straining his features. The temptation to toy with him until he begged almost had me backing off, but the urge to bury myself inside him stopped me. Slowly, I ran the tip of my cock over his opening to spread more of the lube. His balls twitched as he reached up to grab the sides of the headboard.
I stroked over his hole again and again, while adding a little more pressure on each swipe. Painfully, slowly, I began to inch my way inside.
Ryan’s knuckles turned white from how hard he was holding the headboard as his body locked up with tension in a moment’s trepidation, and I paused, waiting for his need to be fucked to outweigh the doubt. It took time for him to adjust, but the reward when his inner muscles loosened to accommodate me was heady. Assisted by the copious amount of lube, I slid home until I was balls deep inside him. His skin prickled, and his satisfied moan fuelled my own desire, but I resisted the urge to pull out and slam back into him.
Control. It was everything. Too hard or fast too soon and one of us would blow. But as I began to move, I found myself unable to resist digging my fingers into his thighs and pulling out until just the tip stretched him before slamming back in.
“Hell, that’s good,” I mumbled, as I found my rhythm.
His answering garbled moan fuelled my fire.
The fine hairs on his thighs brushed against my palms as I reached to grab a firm hold behind his knees. I pulled him closer, driving myself deeper, and his body responded beautifully by relaxing around my cock, only to immediately tighten again as pleasure roiled through him.
With him being closer, it altered the angle and I sank impossibly deep. Sweat began to cover our bodies and his balls bounced as I pounded his ass, he reached down and gripped his cock.
“Fuck,” he growled, since the new angle meant I could hit his sweet spot repeatedly.
He wouldn’t last, not with both, but I was beyond wanting to draw this out any longer for both of us. Driving deeper and harder, I nailed his prostate, his strokes growing faster, clumsier, as he raced towards orgasm.
With a barely muffled shout, he came first, his cum pumping and pooling on his stomach and chest while he sucked in harsh breaths through his teeth, but I kept him going, riding every last wave of his before my own release spilled deep into his ass.
Not wanting to lose the connection too soon, I didn’t pull out, instead releasing his thighs and lowering myself over him.
His semen coated my stomach as I leaned down, but I ignored it in favour of wanting to kiss him. The aroma of sweat, cum, and aftershave was thick enough to cocoon us from everything outside of the bed. His fingers gripped my nape to hold me in place as if he was worried I’d pull away, and he swallowed my pants in a kiss until the final waves of our pleasure ebbed away.
Chests no longer heaving, and our minds no longer clouded by lust, he straightened his left leg so it wasn’t trapping me against him. I rolled to the side and almost groaned as my wilting cock left his body without protest. His grumble earned a satisfactory chuckle from me.
As always, he was quiet, but at least he was no longer distant like he was in the beginning.
Reaching over, Ryan placed a hand on my shoulder as he turned to face me. He didn’t say anything as his thumb moved in gentle strokes, but he didn’t have to.
I could see the conflict inside him without needing him to confirm it. It wasn’t new, but it also wasn’t expected. Not with Lyla. His assumption of her thinking he was gay due to his overly affectionate nature towards me, or an empty-headed brute, hadn’t been met, and he didn’t know what to do about it.
I did, but I’d wait for him. I knew eventually he’d catch up and act on it.
She wasn’t what I usually went for in a woman—call me shallow, but I could be choosy and usually went for women with the same fitness level as myself. In all honesty, it had been a long time since I’d bothered with women at all, but there was something I couldn’t quite put my finger on with her. She was an enigma. She had smarts as well as looks, and as much as I’d admit to wanting her in our bed between us, I also wanted to get to know her and enjoy her company.
I had my thoughts. Ryan had his. I watched him fall asleep without either of us sharing a single one.
5
Lyla
I stayed in bed until I heard Thom and Ryan leave for work, then got up and let Gunner inside. I had mixed feelings on how the previous night with them had gone, and I spent the entire morning trying to process everything that had happened, but even after closely examining all angles, I was still confused by Ryan’s behaviour and forced myself to stop before I tied myself in knots trying to work out his motive.
On one hand, he was teasing me the way a certain childhood friend of Lloyd’s used to. That was always just harmless fun on his part, but as an awkward teenage girl, I usually ended up blushing and running for the sanctuary of my room. On the other hand, he had been very suggestive.
My assessment of the evening was only further complicated by my perception of Thom and Ryan’s relationship with one another. Was I reading too much into their close proximity and intimate whisperings?
Had I misread the sounds coming from the room next door when the smooth jazz stopped playing in my headphones?
Then there was my body’s response to it all. I hadn’t had an involuntary physical reaction to a man in years. Certainly not at the dinner table, but I wasn’t used to men like Ryan. He had an air of confidence that was refreshing.
Thom was different. He was attractive and confident—why wouldn’t he be? But he didn’t carry himself the way Ryan did. He was quieter, more controlled.
Regardless, my attraction to them was unnerving and I pledged to keep my distance from them. It was best I avoided getting into a situation where I was fantasising about my brother’s friends. Especially considering I’d just left my husband, for God’s sake.
Now, it was late afternoon, and with a half empty glass of wine sitting on the bedside table, I sat on the bed feeling accomplished. I’d spent the morning and the afternoon moving some of Lloyd’s clothes around so I could store some of my own. He’d taken a bunch of t-shirts and tracksuit bottoms with him on deployment, so I’d transferred what was left into the other drawers. He wouldn’t mind me taking up the space while he was wasn’t here, so long as I didn’t move his massive collection of aftershave bottles.
A noise sounded from downstairs, startling me, followed by a bang of the front door being shut. “Lyla, you here?”
Recognising the voice, I took a steadying breath as I opened and closed my hands a few times to ground myself before calling, “Yeah, up here.” I moved to the edge of the bed and grabbed my glass as footsteps thundered up the stairs.
“You okay?” Ryan asked urgently, as he came barrelling into the bedroom.
I frowned, unsure what had him on edge, but gave him a nod. Confusion as to why he thought it was appropriate to barge straight into my—Lloyd’s—room had me twirling the stem of the glass between my fingers. “Umm, yeah, are you?”
His shoulders relaxed as he smiled, and much to my surprise, came right over and sat beside me on the bed without invitation. “Yep, just glad today is almost done.”
Even more surprising, he lay back, the bed shifting with his weight.
Perplexed by his over-familiar behaviour, I turned until I could look at him better, with my brows pulled in.
His biceps flexed as he raised his arm so he could prop his head up. It held my attention until his t-shirt riding up with the movemen
t exposed his stomach and the trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.
Transfixed, I licked my lips, and murmured, “Busy day?”
And there was my pledge thoroughly flying out of the window.
“Hellish,” he explained with a weary sigh. “Someone fucked up the stock order, so now I’m stuck making meals for the next month with the main ingredient being potatoes.”
Thankfully, his eyes remained closed so he couldn’t witness me drooling like a damn horny teenager around him, and with a shake of my head, I dragged my eyes from his body and shifted to get more comfortable.
“How did they mess it up?” I inquired, trying to keep my voice steady.
With a huff he raised his knee until his sock-clad foot came to rest on the bed. His stomach tensed with the movement, which unwillingly drew my eyes back there. I wasn’t left disappointed when I caught another glimpse of his deliciously firm abs.
“Added a couple of extra zeros to the order,” he groused.
“Oooh, that’s not good. Sh—” I breathed, gobsmacked someone could make a mistake like that.
“Shit,” he finished for me. “Yeah.” His eyes were still closed, and it made him appear to be entirely relaxed, but his irritation showed through his tone. “The guys will be hating me by the time I get through all those spuds.”
“It’s not like you ordered them,” I pointed out.
“No,” he countered. His eyes opened and he shifted until he could see me better. “It was my job to check the paperwork though, and I didn’t.”
“I’m sorry.” My smile turned apologetic.
“Don’t be. But potatoes are banned from the house, I’ll be sick of the sight of them by the time I get home,” he announced with a terse laugh.
His muscles flexed with the effort, and the temptation to lean forward and trace them with my tongue was strong. The t-shirt slowly moved higher.
What had gotten into me?
“Like what you see, sweetheart?” His tone dropped, turning sultry.