Marine Ever After (Always a Marine) (4 page)

Apparently, Paul didn’t share her dilemma. “I definitely don’t want you to change your mind.”

“Okay,” she managed. It wasn’t much of a response, but if she hadn’t heard the huskier desire in his voice, she might have been embarrassed. Her mouth still tingled from the kiss and she leaned into him, tucking her head against his neck. He didn’t seem remotely bothered by carrying her, but when he started walking again, he increased the pace.

She giggled and he murmured a low, “hmmm?”

“I was wondering what people would think if they saw us.” She kept her voice to a whisper. Yes, they were outside. Yes, they walked from the larger buildings toward the quieter apartments. Yes, even the lighting on the path seemed dim and private. But all of those factors didn’t mean they were alone.

Yet.

Another quiver of excitement raced through her. Anticipation ping-ponged from her breasts to her sex and back again. He’d barely touched her, and given her only that one pulse-pounding kiss, and all she could think about was in a few short minutes, they’d be naked.

Together
.

“They’d think ‘damn, he’s lucky. Did you see her? She’s gorgeous.’” Amusement threaded beneath the need in his voice and she forgot to think again. He called her gorgeous.

An eternity passed before they reached the door to the apartment and he slowly lowered her to the ground. When she would have stepped away, his arm snaked around her waist and pulled her close. She liked his height and strength.

Rising up on her tiptoes, she met his second, hot, thoroughly arousing kiss. She wrapped a hand around his neck, and ached with the want for him. Somewhere between her hesitation and that first kiss on the sidewalk, she’d committed to the night.

He trailed a path of kisses from her mouth to her ear and when his tongue glided along the lobe, her knees buckled. “We need to go inside….” Teasing colored the words.

Oh hell…look at me hanging all over him and ready to go at it right here against the door
. Hadn’t she just been worried about who might see them?

Dragging herself back a step, she adjusted the front of her dress, the cooler air leaving goose bumps across her feverish skin. Paul slipped his cover off. The harsh sound of his breathing promised her he was just as affected as she.

Still time to change your mind
…. The creeping voice of doubt slunk back in, but she ignored it. Maybe she would regret tonight in the morning, maybe. If she left right then, she’d definitely regret it.

Fight the battles you know how to win
….

She didn’t have to regret not being with him. Especially if the night was all they had. He unlocked the door and opened it, then held out his hand. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and the line of his mouth went taut. The control he exerted to not ask her if she changed her mind impressed her.

Again.

Placing her hand in his, she let him tug her inside. Tonight wasn’t about the past or personal hang-ups.

“Lillianna—”

She pressed a finger to his lips, silencing whatever he might have been about to say. “You’re wearing too many clothes, Master Sergeant.”

He kissed her gloved fingertip and stepped back, one by one loosening the buttons on his uniform jacket and began to strip out of his clothes. Unlike most men, he didn’t drop them on the floor, but hung them over the back of a chair. Neat. Precise.

Orderly.

And by the time he reached his belt, frustration screamed through her. Heat hit her, everything in her body responding to his—and he hadn’t touched her since he’d started stripping. She hadn’t reacted that way to any of the guys she hooked up with—not in college, not since.

Because in my vast experience, all three guys were funny and interesting and seemed attractive
…. But not in a gut-wrenching, panty-wetting, fuck-me-walking way—no that seemed to be her response to Paul and him alone. Of course, Paul was all hard muscle, and tanned skin. And then there were his eyes, a rich shade of green that served as a brilliant counterpoint to his Latin name, the sex god looks, and utterly captivating, open smile. Her sex clenched as if imagining him already easing his cock into her.

Naked save for a very dark pair of briefs, he stepped in and kissed her, drowning the other needs colliding in her with one light brush of his lips.

“Ready for duty, ma’am…would you like some help with your clothes?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Two syllables. They were all she managed to wrap her tongue around.

Paul waited patiently, even though every urge said reach out and take what he wanted. He’d learned a lot about Lillianna over the last few hours. A contained woman, she kept her emotions closeted away from the rest of the world. Her compassionate nature reflected in her manners and choice of professions. She took the time to chat with him even though his uniform made her uncomfortable. Her words told him she didn’t approve of Luke and harbored ill will toward him for his past treatment of Rebecca, but her genuine affection and cheer toward the bride spoke volumes about her willingness to see her friend happy.

Layers upon layers, carefully shielding the woman beneath—from what, he wasn’t certain—but damned if he didn’t want to find out. In a few short hours, he recognized a certain kindred spirit. Becoming obsessed with her wouldn’t be hard. Getting involved, especially when he had to leave in less than sixty hours, was a mistake.

“Lily?” He read the hesitation in her eyes. If she changed her mind, he would accept it. Stuffing his desire down, he ignored the raging need tightening his balls.

“What did you call me?” She set her clutch purse on a side table and drifted closer to him.

“Lily,” he repeated. “It’s affectionate. You don’t like it?”

“No, it’s fine.” Her hand hovered close to his chest and he held his breath. Would she actually touch him? Maybe she hadn’t changed her mind? Hope rose, along with a lick of anticipation. With a feather-light touch, she traced her fingers across his chest and some of the tension in his spine eased.

If he hadn’t enjoyed it so much, he might have called himself pathetic. All of his training dissolved when compared to this woman and it defied all rational thought to want her so much.

“You’re still dressed,” he reminded, uncertain of how much longer he would hold out without stripping off her clothes and taking her right there on the floor. Not really the way one should treat a lady—but the idea of taking her against the wall, on the table…with her gorgeous dark legs wrapped around his hips and her nails digging into his back as he drove them both over the edge appealed.

A tremble shook her. “I don’t do this.”

Reality crashed into his mental fantasy and he sucked it up, covering her hand on his chest with his. “No problem, I’ll get dressed and get you that coffee. Or take you back to your car….”

“No.” She caught his hand with her other one and stepped in, her body colliding gently with his. “I just meant I don’t usually do this. The last time I picked up a guy at a party was in college. And…sad as it is to say, it has been a while. A long while. I’m nervous as hell.”

The words spilled out of her in a torrent. Wrapping an arm around her, Paul did the only thing that came to mind—he silenced her with a kiss. She opened to him on a sigh. Twining his tongue with hers, he concentrated on only kissing her while keeping his hands still and steady. If he started caressing her, well—the dress was history.

She nipped his tongue, a careful grazing of her teeth, and moaned low in her throat. Her responsiveness drove him wild, like an adrenaline junkie riding one wave of need to the next.

“Then we go slow,” he murmured, nuzzling her mouth.
Even if it kills me
. “And you let me do everything.”

“Everything?” Challenge rose in her voice.

“Everything. You give me control.” He rubbed her back lightly, tracing the line of her spine. Her soft skin above the dress and the warmth hidden by the fabric teased him. The damn piece of clothing had to go.

Uncertainty wavered in her expression, but he waited.

“Like…Dominance and submission games?”

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he indulged his need to touch her—especially if they were going to have a conversation about it. “Just like that. Only it’s not a game.”

“I’m not into spanking.” But she knew how to draw a line clearly.

“No, not spanking…control. This isn’t bondage or sadism or masochism. Just surrender and pleasure.” He caught the lobe of her ear and gave it a gentle tug. Another shudder rippled over her and she let go of his hand to clutch his shoulder. “It’s about letting go of your inhibitions, and your worry. You listen to me, do what you’re told and I’ll give you lots of pleasure, baby.”

From her ear, he licked and nibbled a path to her throat. Her pulse hammered under his lips and he allowed a smile at her excitement. So soft, so responsive and so ready to give in, if only she would let go. Even a little.

“What about a safe word?”

She didn’t say ‘no’ and satisfaction curbed the sharp edge of his desire. He could afford the patience they would need, and when he was done neither of them would be able to walk. “Pick anything you like. If you say it, I’ll stop.” Paul bit the juncture between her shoulder and her throat, but not hard enough to mark her.

“Oh, God.” She dug her nails into his shoulders and he laughed.

“That won’t work, because I want to hear you come later.” His cock gave an enthusiastic throb of agreement.

Lillianna leaned her head back. “I really can’t think when you’re doing that.”

“No?” He loved the angle and the access it gave to the gentle swell of her breasts above the strapless outfit. He could tease and torment himself with another trail of nibbling caresses to the top of one breast. The musky scent of her was distinctly female and he wanted to slide under that dress, and explore the taste of her arousal.

“No.” She cupped his nape and arched in demand.

He didn’t give into it. “Then try. You need a safe word and you need to say ‘yes.’” Steadying her, he withdrew and waited.

She stared at him, her breath coming in short, hard pants. Yeah, she wanted him. “Turtles.”

Biting back a laugh, he nodded. “Turtles. If you say ‘turtles’, then I stop.”

“Yes.” Eagerly she approached him again, but stopped when he held up his hand. “What?”

“Take the dress off.” He leaned on the wall and folded his arms. She agreed to play and he wanted their mutual pleasure to last.

Hesitation flickered in her gaze, but she reached for the zipper on the side of the dress and gave it a tug. The creation fell to the floor with one motion, leaving her clad in a white strapless bra, panties and, God help him, stockings—real ones right down to the garter belt. The paleness contrasted decadently with her chocolate skin. She turned the simple, ordinary pieces of lingerie into something far more provocative.

Licking her lips, she stepped out of the dress. He swallowed the groan trying to escape. The idea of touching her interfered with his ability to think straight.

“Turtles?” He double-checked before his brain went completely offline.

“Turtles,” she confirmed.

Not wasting time on any more conversation, he caught her hand and guided her to the bedroom. He’d barely been in the borrowed apartment for longer than to sleep or shower since he arrived. But it had a very generous-sized bed and plenty of privacy. All the way down the hall, he put together his plan of action.

She may have called it play, but it was far from a game. He was a Dom. He liked to be in charge—particularly in the bedroom. Some of the guys were into kinkier shit, they got off on sadomasochism with very compliant and willing partners. Not him.

He liked his partners willing and obedient, but preferred to draw out the pleasure—controlling a woman’s reactions and building her anticipation until he allowed her release. It would be the pinnacle of their gratification, but by no means all of it.

In the bedroom, he turned on the light and drew her toward the bed. “I have three rules. You will obey them.”

“And they are?” She threw out the verbal gauntlet without hesitation.

He allowed it. She didn’t know the rules.

Yet.

“First: no speaking unless I ask you a question, and your safe word if you need it.” Her eyes widened. Expecting another outburst, he gave her a moment to absorb the information. “Do you understand?”

She licked her lips again, and he focused unerringly on the erotic action. His cock gave another throb of need. Yes, he wanted to feel her fasten those plump lips around him and suck for all she was worth. As attractive as the thought was, he had to push it aside.

She gratified him with a single nod in answer to the question. She understood.

“Excellent.” He relaxed. “Second rule. You do what you’re told to do when I tell you. You don’t argue. You can always say your safe word, but I promise you, I won’t do anything you don’t want. Everything we’re going to do is about our pleasure—yours and mine.” He emphasized
yours
, because hers would be first. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.” She said the word with a hint of a smile.

“The third rule is, you can’t come until I let you.” The last was the hardest rule and if she was unused to that kind of play, it might be impossible for her to obey. But then her only punishment would be to come again at his desire. He wanted to feel her coming around him with his cock buried balls deep in her pussy. Her gaze drifted down to his crotch and he didn’t smile. His erection stood out profoundly against the tight briefs. She had nothing to worry about in the was-he-attracted-to-her department. “Do you understand?”

Another nod, although slower and marred by a consternated frown.

Intrigued, he sat on the edge of the bed and studied her. “Do you have a question?”

“Yes.”

“You may ask your question.” She was perfect. Absolutely perfect. Maybe she didn’t recognize her submissive nature, but fire burned in his blood at her receptiveness to the role.

“How do I not orgasm unless you tell me to? I mean if you’re doing your job right…won’t I orgasm whether I stop myself or not?”