by Joey W. Hill
Time had not yet tested or strengthened that thread for her and Dale, yet she could feel the stitch had been made. The connection was there, enough to make this a hopeful, poignant moment, as well as an erotic and pleasurable one.
He put his mouth on her throat. She'd already seen his control was substantial, but she'd done a little research on that missing limb and knew it wouldn't be good for him to stay in this position indefinitely. He was taking care of her; she was going to return the favor.
She began to tilt her hips to meet his thrusts, tightening down on him, lifting her breasts up further, displaying herself for him. Men were visual, after all, and when she turned her head, giving him even more access to her throat, the obvious gesture of full surrender locked in tandem flight with his craving to dominate. His thighs hardened against the insides of hers, and she heard the fluctuation of breath.
"Together, girl." He nudged her cheek so her eyes lifted to his burning ones. Once their gazes locked, he slid an arm under her, arching her further into his mouth as he suckled her nipple harder, his hand gripping her buttock. One of his fingers pushed into that intimate seam to tease her rim as he worked himself deeper into the tilted angle of her hips.
It swept over her so fast, she barely had time to gasp it out, but he was already there.
"Fuck, yes. Come for me."
She did rake his back, caught in a pounding surf, the climax strong and uncontrolled. He matched her screams with his hard groans as he released inside her, giving her that desired jet of hot seed bathing her channel, her cervix, transforming her aftershocks into minor orgasms. When she finished, he was still thrusting, ensuring she had the full measure of her release, and she was bearing down on his cock inside her, trying to do the same for him. Her limbs were trembling. His back was slick with perspiration, but it was also sticky. Lifting her fingers, she blanched. "Dale."
She had marked him, because she had blood smeared on her hands. "Oh, God. I'm sorry. I didn't mean . . ."
"To do exactly as you were told?" He gave her a look that eased her heart, especially when he took that hand and kissed each fingertip. She sank back into the mattress, watching him. When he shifted off her at last, she caught his arm before he rolled to his back.
"Do you want me to get a towel from the bathroom, to protect the sheets?"
He touched her cheek with a fingertip. "Sure."
When she returned, spread it out beneath him and he lay back, he took her with him. The insistent move made her smile as he settled her firmly against his side. She put her hand on his chest, moved down to his abdomen and let it rest above his softening cock. She couldn't resist gliding a fingertip over it, feeling how her juices had made him sticky in a different way there. Some of his semen had trickled down her thigh, escaping her slick and swollen core.
They didn't say anything for a while. She was giving him time for that postcoital somnolence men required, and truth, she was drifting with him. She'd been wound up since being with him in her office, wanting this, wanting him.
Yet as lust's driving demand eased, something else penetrated their newfound intimacy. She slid her palm back up his body, over the sectioned stomach muscles, the well-developed chest with the light mat of hair. When she pressed her nose to his flesh to smell him, her stomach shifted like an uncertain cat on a new lap. Her fingers curled, drew in to themselves. During her arousal, it hadn't even crossed her mind. In their earlier couplings, the newness of the Dom/sub dynamic had apparently kept her from noticing it. The focus had been on assuaging that need for one another. But in the slower pace now, she felt a perverse, unwelcome need to draw away. Not out of the bed, but enough to establish some space, consider him from a distance.
When she shifted to do that, his arm tightened around her and he tilted his head to look down at her. With a Master like him, not much escaped his attention. In this instance, that could be as much curse as blessing. He touched her chin, her cheek, but she continued to stare at his chest, her fingers curled in a ball in the space between her curved body and his. "What is it, Athena?"
"It's . . . I'm not sure I can say it right."
"You don't have to worry about that with me. Just say it. Are you okay? Did I do something you didn't like?"
She shook her head, thinking how kind it was for him to ask such a thing, not in the tone of a man seeking ego stroking, but a lover concerned about her well-being. "It's . . . Roy was . . . softer than you. He stayed fit, but the way a normal man does. You know, working out on the weights and treadmill, staying active enough to stay trim. Whereas you . . . well, you obviously work out a lot." An understatement. The man was pure muscle. "Is that a SEAL thing?"
"Maybe. You get in the habit of it, to stay prepared, and it's hard to let it go. Though I don't think any of us stay as fit as we do when we're active. And young and gung ho." He gave her a faint smile, but his serious eyes were still tracking her expression, waiting to see where she was going with this.
"Touching you, sometimes I feel . . . decadent. Like I'm fifteen again, the girl with freckles and glasses who's looking at the quarterback, wondering what it's like to be the cheerleader who gets to touch him. It's fun, exciting."
She lifted her gaze to him, answered his faint smile with one of her own, but then she sobered. "Then there's another part of me that--and please don't be offended--feels wrong. I'm expecting to feel my husband's body under my hands. Women always talk about wanting an Adonis, but when you love someone, their body becomes the body you desire, no matter how much you enjoy looking at the others. So in a way, I almost want your muscles to feel softer, to make me feel more comfortable, like I'm with him. But you're not him, and I really don't want you to be the same as him. It's just . . . different. Odd. It took me by surprise. It's only in moments like this I notice it. I'm sorry . . . I'm really not saying this right."
"You're doing just fine."
Pushing himself up on his elbows, he caught her wrist. Keeping that steady gaze upon her, he drew her hand back to his body, laying her palm on his chest. He left his hand over hers, slid them both down his chest, over his stomach, so she followed every ridge. He took his time about it, murmuring a quiet reassurance as her fingers curved into the hard terrain.
Then they were at his cock, his testicles, and he molded her hand over them as she caught her lip in her teeth. She stared at the way it looked, her hand touching him there. She could feel his eyes still on her face. He didn't appear to be watching their hands at all, only her reaction to what he was doing. He moved her hand to his thigh, back up over his hip bone, his rib cage. He kept it to a leisurely pace, a not-so-casual tour, giving her ample time to expand the exploration. She traced a strip of pale skin, stroked the fine hairs of his body, seeing the more vulnerable places among the less-so ones as she went along.
The contact brought back the sensual intimacy of a few moments ago, with a different flavor. By the time their layered hands returned to his chest, she felt a little less uncertain. He laced his fingers with hers, squeezing them together as she lifted her lashes to meet his gaze again.
"I'm not your husband, Athena. I'm your Master. This is my body, and you can explore every part of it." He turned to his hip, putting his arm around her waist, drawing her close enough to put his mouth to her ear. The position let her press her face into his neck as her hands slipped over his hip and buttock, his scored back. "It's time to figure out how to love a new body. A new man." He paused. "I can't imagine how much you must miss him."
She closed her eyes, her lips against his collarbone. "It's gotten better this year. Maybe the third year is the charm. But the first two years, I didn't want to get out of bed, get dressed, do anything. I didn't expect to lose him when I was still . . ."
"Young enough to want to love again, to want someone again."
She nodded. "It felt like a betrayal, to start to think that way again. But when I saw you, it was as if he was standing in the back of my mind, saying, 'Yes, Athena. That's the one. He's the right one.'"<
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Realizing how that sounded, she drew back, met his eyes. "I'm sorry. I don't mean I'm seeing you as a jumpstart. Or trying to trap you into something more than you intended us to be."
"You're saying what's in your heart. I'm a man, Athena. I won't overanalyze, I promise." He smiled again, making her smile back.
"Okay," she said. Putting her head back down on his chest, she tried to believe the strength of his arms would slow the world down. Keep her feelings for him manageable, in perspective. "Okay."
TWELVE
Dale had told her what Neil and Lawrence had budgeted for food for the ice cream/pool party. She'd bought groceries within that range, carefully keeping the receipts for them, and then she'd bought a whole lot more. The thirty-five kids were all boys, and she knew enough about adolescent appetites to prepare for an army. The tables in the game room were loaded with snacks, as well as the ones the staff had set up beside the open French doors that led back to the pool area. As the boys traveled between locations, they could grab a handful to keep them fortified.
The tennis courts were equipped with extra rackets and several wire baskets of balls. Basketballs sat at the ready beneath the two hoops. Roy had poured the pad for them between the pool house and tennis courts. Beyond them was a driving range and putting area.
Her husband had been a big kid when it came to his sports, and she loved watching him play there with friends. As well as playing there with him herself. As her gaze passed over the driving range, ensuring the staff had put out enough balls and clubs, she remembered the day Roy had tried to teach her to swing. Holding her from behind like that had led to a different type of athletic activity.
"Ma'am?" Lynn buzzed her phone. "The invasion force is coming up the drive now."
Athena chuckled. "Don't worry, Lynn. We have three SEALs to contain the attack."
She cut around the side of the house to get to the driveway, arriving in time to see a battered activity bus park with a rattle of the diesel engine. One of the men, presumably Neil or Lawrence, stood up inside to give direction to the boys so they spilled out in a reasonable order. Dale pulled up behind them in his truck, giving her a wink as he got out. She thought she gave him a proper smile and nod back, but the amusement in his gaze told her she might not have quelled a blush. Or perhaps she'd overdone the propriety, such that he was already devising ways to get her into a far less proper position. That thought did make her blush.
Neil and Lawrence made the boys line up and introduce themselves to her. They ranged from ages eleven to fourteen. She understood the SEALs' intent today was as much about developing good social behavior as having a play day away from the stresses of their difficult home environments. Therefore, she responded appropriately, asking each boy a couple of things about himself, shaking his hand and making eye contact. Most were wary of the respectful adult greeting. Some were shy, but intrigued by her attention. They were all fidgety, their eyes wandering everywhere, wanting to explore. In short, they were active boys.
Stepping back, she told Neil how to get to the recreation area around the side of the house. She raised her voice to explain the pool house had bathrooms and a locker area for changing. She noticed many of the boys had brought suits, but she'd provided a few extra, as well as a wealth of towels. When she mentioned that, more than one expression brightened in the faces of the boys who were empty-handed. Dale gave her his look that told her he knew she'd gone beyond what they'd asked her to do, but she hoped he understood her motives. She wanted to do her part to make this a wonderful day for all of them.
Lawrence wasn't tall, only about five seven, but he had the ripped body that all SEALs seemed to possess. He had a good way with the boys, too, and they were attentive and respectful to him, despite the shifting bodies and wandering eyes. They were like a pack of young dogs, wanting to run. She couldn't blame them.
"For those of you interested in taking a look inside the house, Mrs. Summers said she'll be happy to give tours throughout the day. However, unless you're with her or with one of us, you stay in the areas we've just talked about."
"Yo, we ain't going to steal nothing," one of the boys called out.
"It's not about that, Elliott," Lawrence said patiently. "Part of moving ahead in the world is showing you can respect boundaries. This is Mrs. Summers's home. We respect that. You're not going to see me, Neil or Dale going in her house without her permission, either. Now, we have a good day planned here. We're going to swim, play games, use the courts and driving range, have lunch. Later this afternoon, you'll get to settle down in Mrs. Summers's home theater to watch a movie, and we'll cap off the day with an awesome pizza dinner."
His gaze swept them all. "But that's contingent on you guys using the manners we've talked about. You say please and thank you, and if you want to do something you're not sure is okay, you ask first. You break the rules, you sit on the bus for fifteen minutes, which means whichever one of us is babysitting you is going to make you do push-ups in the aisle, because we'd rather be out here having fun, too. Got it?"
He received a fairly amenable response, a few eye rolls, but more for form than to be disrespectful. Even so, he pinned a couple of the eye rollers with a stare that had them straightening up. Athena pressed her lips against a smile. When Lawrence gave her a significant glance, she thought she might be getting that chastising stare, as if he sensed the mirth she was suppressing, but he was merely doing a lead-in for his next point.
"I'm sure all you rocket scientists have noticed Mrs. Summers is a woman."
The expected comments and some attempts at whistling were handled by Neil. He was taller than Lawrence, with a lanky quality that didn't detract from his powerful build, reminding her of a young Gary Cooper. He administered a few head slaps that quieted them back down. "You show extra respect to her," Lawrence said, his stern look suddenly very much like what she'd often seen on Dale's face. The boys responded to it almost as she did, with cautious attention. "You watch your language. That's what comes out of your mouth, what gestures you make . . . you can put together the rest. You learn to be respectful around women, you'll get a lot further with them."
"Don't see either one of you with a woman," one of the boys teased.
"Cause he don't trust them around us," another called back. "He knows we can steal her away because we got moves Neil and Lawr only dream about."
Neil rolled his eyes, dishing out another set of head slaps, but the way the boys ducked and laughed told Athena the teasing was part of the bond they had with the men. Everything within the proper boundaries.
The thought made her gaze slip back to Dale. He was leaning against the side of the bus, listening and watching, riding herd on the boys closer to that end. Feeling her regard, he met her eyes again, gave her a slow smile. Her toes curled inside her sneakers.
"All right, we ready to do this? Give me the answer I want to hear."
"Yes sir!" They shouted it at once and with great force, like a basic training platoon. Not expecting it, Athena jumped, and Lawrence slanted her a grin, some of the other boys laughing at her reaction. She chuckled at herself, shook her head.
"Anything else you want to say, Mrs. Summers?" Lawrence asked.
She stepped up beside him. "I'm delighted to have you boys here in my home. At the tennis courts, you'll meet Maryann and Chuck. John and Carl are at the driving range. They teach tennis and golf lessons and said they'd be happy to teach anyone who doesn't already know how to play. Don't be shy. They love getting new students.
"Also, throughout the day, please help yourself to the food that's sitting out. Don't worry about us running out. We'll restock anything that gets empty, and you'll each go home with a bag of leftovers at the end of the day. Have fun."
More of those wary looks, but she knew they'd loosen up as soon as they felt safe in the environment, which was the whole intent. Nodding to Lawrence, she stepped back again.
"Okay, whoever wants to swim first, follow me to the changing rooms," he said. "Thos
e who want to go to the arcades and courts, follow Neil. No stampedes. Believe me, you'll be tired as hell by the end of the day. Spread it out."
As the boys split up as he indicated, their obvious charge checked by his warning, Dale moved toward her. His attention slid over her T-shirt, neat jeans and sneakers. She'd put her hair in a ponytail and applied light makeup, intending to look more motherly than womanly today.
"Did you intentionally go for the MILF look?" he teased.
She arched a brow. "You better behave. Lawrence told me to report anyone acting inappropriately to him right away. No telling what kind of punishment he has planned."
"Usually push-ups or sit-ups. It worked great in BUD/S. You got so you hated the word push-up."
She gave him a considering look. "I wouldn't mind seeing you do some push-ups. Shirtless, of course."
"Now who's misbehaving?" He winked at her. "Of course, if that munchkin had the balls to give me a punishment, it'd be knee bends. All SEALs have a sadistic side."
At her startled laugh, he took her hand, leaned in and brushed a kiss over her lips. "You did too much. Maryann, Chuck, Carl and John?"
"Maryann and Chuck teach the youth tennis division at my country club. Carl is one of our golf pros and John is one of the caddies, but he's an excellent golfer as well. They owed me some favors, but more than that, they were enthusiastic about helping. They've done it before, with the Louisiana children home visits. As for the rest . . ." She shrugged. "What good is having lots of money if you can't do fun things like this with it?"
"It's more than money. You could have thrown that at a bunch of people and then spent the day getting your nails done somewhere off-site. You look ready to get hands-on."
The observation obviously carried more than one meaning. When he brushed a thumb over her cheekbone, drawing her attention to the fact he'd made her cheeks warm, she shook her head at him. "I think Lawrence is going to be making you do those knee bends."