Soldier

by Tarin Lex

  “Let me hold you,” I beg in a whisper. Ava glances up at me, dubious. “Trust me?” I say, gripping her ample bottom to coax her into my arms.

  She doesn’t object, doesn’t resist. The opposite.

  She vaults off her tiptoes, her hands snaring my neck as she winds her legs around my hips, I catch her thighs, and she mewls in delight, her mouth open and hot, her curious tongue stoking mine with intensified, eager lust.

  I reach for that ass again, coasting my palms beneath her skirt and clutching two buttery-soft fistfuls of flesh. “Fuck,” I growl, my voice ragged, “Ava. You’re gonna make this hard to stop.”

  She angles her face, and touches my jaw. Rough with three-day stubble. I watch as sheer smoldering desire turns her brown eyes to smoke. “Something is already hard,” she purrs, gnashing her pussy against my groin, “and I don’t want you to. Please, please Sammy, don’t stop.”

  She grinds me, harder, impassioned. Her eyelids shutter open and closed and open again like a summer draft while mine go wide as she lolls her chin, baring her throat. An invitation. I hold the back of her head and stop breathing, my heart flatlining as I stare at her face.

  Struck dumb or dead, I just fuckin’ stare at the faint, shallow dimple I’ve only seen once on her cheek, right to the left of that pretty mouth I’ll claim with mine all over again.

  She loves me too.

  Fuck, yeah. I exhale slow. Any threadbare stitch of discipline pops right off. My dick throbs, hard. “I want you, Ava.”

  “Have me. Now, please. I’m yours.” She has no idea how right she is.

  I grin, wicked thoughts I can’t ignore. “Believe it or not though, sweetheart, I can be…a very patient man.”

  “I’m less patient.” Ava frowns. Her thighs clench as if she’s trying to squeeze them together, bucking against the ridge that’s making my jeans taut.

  “Mm.” I narrow my gaze, thinking.

  “What’s that mean? That little sound.”

  “Well. It’s just that I’ve done so much,” I tease, darkly, “for you. Planned our first date. I cooked dinner…” I half-shrug one shoulder.

  “I let you,” she counters haughtily. Good. She knows I’m sort of messing with her. “I set the table…” she says, and routs those pretty caramel eyes over the space, “…basically decorated out here for you.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Aren’t your arms getting sore?”

  “I could hold you like this all night, hun.” I lift her butt higher as proof. “You engineered this whole scene, hmm?”

  “You could say that.” She smiles, demure.

  “I want you to do the next one too.” I reach my hand up to her face to thumb her lip, then tilt her chin. “Out loud for me. Tell me what would happen next, if this were one of your romances.”

  Her reticent smile disarms me. “You want me to what?”

  “You know what I said.” I kiss her again. “Please.”

  I take her hand off the back of my neck, kiss her palm, and snake one of her fingers into my mouth, sucking it gently.

  “I will do every single thing you tell me to do. I’m at your mercy. So make it good, sweetheart.”

  Ava’s gaze saucers. Her bottom lip quivers, and the gleam in her eyes tells me it’s more from anticipation than nerves. Good.

  “Sammy…” She clears her throat, then smiles boldly, meeting my eyes. “…gathered Ava into his arms, and brought her to his bedroom.”

  Excellent start. There isn’t a word there I’d change. I take her inside and lay her down on my bed, quietly raking her with my gaze while I stand back up and wait for what’s next.

  “He undresses”—she whispers and I immediately get to work, tear off my shirt and loosen my belt—“slowly,” she amends, “making a show of it for her, teasing her.”

  I make at face but decide to obey, and take my time doffing the rest. She asked for it.

  “She drinks in every inch of him, her desire becoming hot and…wet.” Ava touches her smooth inner thighs. Christ, she’s good at this. Every part of me tightens with the insane need to touch her hot, wet skin and see for myself.

  I hear her breath get caught in her throat as I slide down my boxer briefs. My heavy, stiff erection pops out, reaching toward her.

  “Next?” I prompt, smirking as I stroke my sex to try and relieve some of the ache. Ava’s lips instinctively part, her eyelids fluttering. “I’m sorry ma’am”—I arch a brow, pumping my dick a little bit faster—“is this sanctioned?”

  “It is.”

  “Good. Let’s get you naked.”

  “He…uh.” Hesitation dims her expression. “Are you sure?”

  “Fuck, yeah,” I groan. My dick lurches, all because of her. I jack it harder to prove my point. “See the effect you’re having on me?”

  “Yes. Okay. He takes off her…”

  I climb on top of her body, fastidiously undressing her. “Sorry babe”—a surrendered shrug—“I thought I’d be a little better at this.”

  Ava tremors, as if she might go off just by the very connection of my hands on her. Beneath her skirt and loose-knit sweater, she’s curvy and soft, her skin fucking supple against my coarser touch. A scrap of lace barely contains her big, beautiful breasts. I look at her face, in question.

  “…clothes,” she continues, “unclasping her bra to free her, um, tits.” She blushes as she says it.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” With one deft swipe, her tits bounce out of the bra, her perky nipples swollen and hard. I trace lazy circles around those decadent tips begging me to feast on them. “Absolutely amazing, Ava.”

  When she arches back I dip my head to close my mouth around the tip, suckling it gently, swirling one nipple between my lips, then the other.

  “Oh my…” she gasps. Whatever writerly façade she’d been holding onto fractures with her sweet, sweet pleasure.

  “And then what happens?” I mumble with my tongue on her tit.

  “She…has to…bite her lip to hold back a scream,” Ava answers breathlessly, “as a hot swell of pleasure centers right against her…pussy.”

  Aw-yeah. Now she’s got it. I trail a kiss up her chest and the side of her neck, then all the way back down to her tits. “Go on.”

  Ava blushes furiously and covers her face with her hands, muffling her next words. “Sammy ravages her, everywhere with his lips and tongue, torturing her until she doesn’t know…how much more she can take.”

  A smile that might be borderline evil curls up my mouth. Is that a challenge?

  The Lieutenant drips a little with excitement, and I sternly remind it to simmer down. We have work ahead of us, Boss.

  Ava bucks underneath me, purring softly. I don’t need more prompting than that. I lower my mouth to her skin once more. Her belly yields under the gentle pressure as I map the contours of her waist, and hips, and lower, with my lips and tongue.

  She writhes, simpering as I bite her panties and tug them down between my teeth. All…the way…past her ankles, tempted to savor them a moment longer before I crawl back up her form. I lick slowly up one deliciously honey-coated thigh with my eyes wide open, zooming in on her pretty, juicy apricot. I skirt the edge of it with my tongue then veer off course, drawing an arc as I glide my mouth back over her hip.

  Gooseflesh break out and blossom up to her tits, tightening her nipples to razor-sharp points. I swallow a coarse word. Fuckin’ hypnotic.

  I could take my time examining this angle of her, grazing my lips so they barely miss the sensitive pleasure-filled nub and neat, trimmed thatch of hair.

  “Wait,” Ava breathes out, raking her fingers into my scalp, “Sammy would…definitely taste her…there.”

  I kiss her bellybutton, grievously. “You mean, here?” I smirk, using one finger to track a slow, ephemeral line up the slit between her folds.

  Her mouth drops open and her eyes go planetary. I linger, for a breath. I trace little hearts around her wet, pulsating clit.

  “Like th
at,” she pleads, “with your tongue.”

  “Is that line in one of your stories, ma’am?”

  “It will be now.”

  Happily, I lower back down and hold her hips, and devour her like my last dessert. I tease her opening with my tongue, spreading that sweet, sweet velvet up and down, up and down, flicking her tight little bundle of nerves every time I reach the apex. Ava moans. She swirls her hips against my mouth. I dip my tongue between her folds, delving in and out, slower then fast, splashing the most delicious fucking syrup I’ve ever had in my life. I know she’s close. I piston, harder, with my tongue, again and again until it’s enough.

  Her whole body coils up tight, her thighs shake, and she springs loose the moment she comes all over my mouth and tongue. I drink, no, savor every drop.

  I slide up her body, so we’re face to face. “Can I have you now?”

  “Now. Anytime you want.” Her legs circle me, her knees hug my ribs.

  “I’m counting on it.” I finger her center, sopping wet from all that attention, then slide inside, one thick measure at a time. She’s damn tight, strangling my dick until I can shove all nine and a half inches inside her cunt.

  Simply entering her is the greatest pleasure of my life—until I thrust. Her greedy hands latch onto my ass, and without words, she sets my pace—deep, hard. My hips grind against hers, and I bottom out inside her with each full pump. Ava moans, dulcet and high-pitched, every time. Her nails claw my butt cheeks, and she pulls and pushes, begging for more without saying a word.

  Christ. I’ve never felt anything as incredible as Ava feels. She’s a tiny slice of heaven beneath me, and if it weren’t for a bit of sheer, odd luck, I might never have met her. Might never have fallen in love with her in the most natural, effortless way imaginable, as if I was always meant to know her, and love her, just like this.

  I keep up the pace she craves until she begs, “Sammy, please, give it to me. I need you. Faster.”

  “Yes ma’am,” I oblige, and kick my hips into overdrive. Her dripping, tight clench and the fast rhythm bring us both to our proverbial knees. I fire off my seed inside her with a hoarse groan as she clamps down tight around me, her muscles pulsing against me like a massage.

  As we struggle to slow our breaths, her arms slide around my back to hold me closer. Her legs locked, engaging me as I tuck my face in the crook of her neck, waiting, trying to breathe normal again. My throat is strangely tight, I almost don’t trust myself to speak. I love you, I’d say if I could.

  “That was…amazing, Sam.”

  I look into her face, wearing a smile. “It’s back.”

  “Hmm?”

  “This little guy.” I touch the spot where the dimple appears.

  “What does that tell you?”

  “Same thing I’m about to tell you.” I lay at her side and position her body on top of mine. “I’m in love with you, sweetheart.”

  Ava’s soft, satisfied smile reaches her eyes. “I love you, too.”

  She was right before—she is mine.

  And if I can keep her happy forever, I’ll be the luckiest man alive.

  Epilogue

  Three years later…

  Ava

  The guys are a riot. After Sammy won his first Fit to Fight champion belt tonight, we all meet back at our house at some ungodly hour in the middle of the night, I don’t even know what time, just so the men from Sam’s training camp can sit and watch more MMA clips. I’m usually so over it at this point but it is kind of cool to see the latest video of Drake that just went viral. He’s not that unassuming but other guys still try and mess with him all the time. This time someone got video of some random drunk guy picking a fight with the wrong man, even as Drake gallantly stepped back and warned him again and again.

  But, do we really need to see it a hundred thousand times?

  Trent, our fifteen-year-old adopted son and his dad’s all-time biggest fan, makes room for himself among the men—Soldier, Killian, Drake, and Drake’s older brother Krae—while Marybelle, our twelve-year-old adopted daughter and Trent’s biological sister, joins us girls in the kitchen to talk and laugh.

  “Are they gonna do that all night?” Marybelle asks.

  “Hmm?” I answer, a little distracted.

  “Oh no. You’re doing that thing.” She elbows my rib. “You’re not seriously going to write about that.”

  “The video? I’m thinking about it.”

  “Drake?” she whispers. “He’s obnoxious.”

  “Everyone likes a good underdog story.” I look over at Kate. She shrugs innocently.

  “I’m not disagreeing,” Kate offers. “Maybe he did provoke it, before some guy started recording.”

  “Maybe,” I reply. “In my book he’d be the nice guy, wrongly accused.”

  “All the time?” Marybelle counters, with hands to hips.

  “Either way,” Sofi chimes in, “you can’t deny he’s fuckin’ gorgeous.” I slide her a look and her eyes go wide. “Fracken’ gorgeous,” Sofi amends for Marybelle then mouths Sorry to me.

  Sigh. There are so many good-looking single men in Sam’s training camp, it’s a wonder I hadn’t thought of writing love stories for them sooner. All that intensity and brawn and reputation…I’ve got enough fodder to build a whole new world of MMA romance novels.

  Time will tell if I get it right.

  I’m so proud of Sam. The kids and him are proud of me too, for joining Sam in the Octagon after he won tonight’s title match. Now it seems silly that I felt anxious about it before. Sammy knew he’d get his belt; he wanted me to go up with him. ‘I’ve seen those women,’ I tried to explain to him how I felt, ‘I’m not like other fighters’ wives. I’m not…made for cameras.’

  ‘No.’ He smiled. ‘You’re made for me.’

  I smile, remembering. I feel so content, so blessed among family and friends tonight. My oldest friend Sofi, and my newest friend Kate, Killian’s wife. Now there’s a romance I wish I’d written first. After five years apart, it wasn’t too late for an old flame to reignite between those two. When I was almost forty, it wasn’t too late for me to meet the love of my life. Adoption wasn’t our only choice, but for us, it felt right. For our amazing children who were thirteen and ten when Sammy and I first met them—it also wasn’t too late. It was perfect.

  Love, family, dreams—these things don’t attach well to deadlines. They decide when to manifest. We just show up.

  And we’re never, ever too late.

  The End

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  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Epilogue