Military Maledom: An Officer And A Dom (2 page)

“Lieutenant Crosby,” West says and
nods, motioning for me to slip in on his side.

I sigh hard, harder than I should, and
he narrows his eyes, studying my flushed face. Oh, what the
hell.

“Might as well call me
Eva,” I tell him as I slip past him. I have to brush close to sit
down, feeling his hard, broad chest against my back. In addition to
sea and soap, he now smells like mandarin and oiled wood. It’s
always a dangerous sign when a man puts on cologne. I am
not
putting out for West
tonight so Abby can get in good with her SEAL boy.

After he settles next to me, looking
way too casual-sexy in snug jeans and a light blue button-front
open over a plain white t-shirt, West leans near. “Call me Logan,”
he offers softly. It’s really difficult not to stare at those
slightly rosy, tanned lips when he speaks. Full and plump and
soft-looking.

We chit chat for a bit over beer and
snacks, before a lull settles over the conversation while Abby and
Hank make eyes at each other. West—Logan—breaks the tension by
asking, “What are you two doing out and about without your
boyfriends?”

“No boyfriends,” Abby volunteers, and
I regret that the booth is too big for me to kick her shin under
the table. She not-so-subtly pushes out her chest and flutters her
lashes at Hank. “But I’m willing to entertain offers.”

I take a long draw off my beer to keep
from gaping. It’s embarrassing, the way we women act when we get a
whiff of alpha pheromones.

Little by little, I become aware of
Logan regarding me sidelong, expectantly. Pursing my lips around a
mouthful of beer, I pointedly shift my gaze away from him. Those
light eyes are enough to make a woman want to strip and hump his
lap in public. Or maybe it’s just me.

Across the table, Hank chuckles. “Eva
doesn’t have a boyfriend because no one can catch her. Fast little
thing. Do you even have a speed lower than overdrive?”

I huff with mock indignation. “Hey,
come on now, a girl’s got to get her work done.”

Now Abby snickers. “It
would help if you weren’t doing the work of half your staff as well
as your own. Delegation isn’t your strong point.” She peers at me
and shakes her finger. “In fact, didn’t you work through lunch and
spend more than an hour today looking for Captain Starr’s missing
coffee mug,
Lieutenant
?”

Under his breath, Hank teasingly
murmurs, “Control freak.”

I take a hard swallow of beer. “Damn,
this is a rough crowd. Am I getting ganged up on here or
what?”

Beside me, Logan nods. “Oh, you are.
You definitely are.” Then, without warning, he takes my hand in his
and pulls me out of the booth. “Time for an emergency
evac.”

“To the bar, I hope.” I stick my
tongue out at Abby as Logan leads me away. “I could use something
stronger than beer after that dressing down.”

Instead, I end up corralled into a dim
corner of the dance floor, mostly hidden by a stucco pillar. West
takes me by the hips and draws me near, not flush against him but
close enough to smell him and feel his gaze on my face as tangibly
as a caress. I want to rear back, as my nipples suddenly harden and
a tingling flush infuses my cunt. Abby wants me to like Logan. Hank
wants me to like Logan. Even my own body wants me to like
him.

Bending his head over me, his breath
against my temple, he says, “I thought you could use something a
little more physical to work off the tension.”

“Did you?” I blurt, a little louder
than necessary. “Look, West, I think—”

He chuckles. “Yes, you do. A lot. And
about no fewer than a half dozen things at a time, if my estimation
is correct. Might be why you need me around to pull you out of
traffic.”

This comment catches me open-mouthed.
Okay, I really do owe him for keeping me from getting hit by that
car. I clamp my lips shut and rest my hands on his shoulders—his
extremely solid, wide shoulders. The part of a man I typically find
myself holding on to during sex. There’s a knot in my throat now
and in my stomach and a distinct tightening in my creaming pussy.
Ah, Eva, I tell myself, you are going to regret this.

“Okay,” I relent. “One
dance.”

“Eva,” he breathes out in a teasing
tone, “why must you think in such discrete terms? One dance, two,
three. Just listen to the music.”

It’s Santana on the speakers, with
that sexy fucking guitar playing that takes hold of my hips and my
spine when I’m at home listening to it alone. Now, here, in front
of Logan, I can’t give myself to it.

Logan shifts a half-measure closer, so
that our bodies are brushing. It’s hard to ignore how much bigger
he is than I am, how easily he could pick me up, just like he has
in my private fantasies. I’m probably turning neon red, as flashes
of naughty thoughts knife through my head. Logan pushing me down on
a dark beach, panting with need as he rips my clothes off, then
holding my hands above my head as he invades my pussy mercilessly
with his thick cock. Logan looming over me, making me drop to my
knees, that patient but authoritative voice instructing me in
exactly how he wants me to suck him off. Logan cornering me in the
storage room on base and telling me to face the wall and pull down
my pants, to pry my round ass wide for him and beg him to fuck my
tight asshole.

“Look at me, Eva,” he whispers, but it
doesn’t really register amidst my chaotic thoughts. Logan takes
hold of my chin and tips my face upward. “Lieutenant, stop thinking
and fretting and just look at me.”

When I do, those pale eyes have me. My
lips part with a low, shuddering breath, and I lose my train of
thought. We sway against each other, our hips falling in time to
the music, with one another. And for a few moments, I’m not
plotting how to get away from Logan or reminding myself how
emotionally dangerous alpha males are. I’m not thinking at
all.

I don’t resist when Logan draws my
hands from his shoulders and holds them down at my side, his
fingers intertwined with mine. “You like me,” he purrs. “You know
that, right?”

This makes me chuckle, but I refuse to
respond.

Logan slides his arms
around me, but without releasing my hands, so he’s actually very
gently twisting my arms around my back. This draws my body flush
against his, against his solid chest and taut stomach and the
pronounced bulge in the front of his jeans. A little mew escapes my
lips when I realize what I’m feeling pressed against my tensed
stomach, when I realize the
size
of it. My cunt pulses, once, hard, like it wants
to pull his stiff cock inside me.

Against my ear, Logan mutters, “They
say the people who have the greatest need to be in control in their
careers are the ones who most enjoy giving up
control…sexually.”

I feel my eyes flare wide. There’s no
way I heard that correctly. I’d call him on that, if I could speak.
I swear, I can’t get a sound out. My stomach is churning, my heart
pounding. My clit throbbing in time with my pulse.

Behind me, Logan folds my arms
tighter, so that my hands are touching the opposite elbow, pulling
my shoulders down, straining just a little after a long, stressful
day.

“Stop right now,” he tells me. “Stop
thinking. Just feel.” His forceful, resolute tone turns soothing.
“You can do that, right? You can feel the pull of the muscles in
your shoulders.” He lays a soft kiss on one shoulder, bared by the
sleeveless dress. Fuck, his lips are as silky as I’d imagined. I
can’t keep myself from leaning my head to one side. He takes the
invitation, sliding his mouth and his hot, velvety tongue along my
neck.

I groan, and Logan purrs against my
skin. He slows our sway to more of a slow grind, his hips angled
forward to impress upon me the incredible size and readiness of the
cock stretching the front of his jeans.

“Feel the strain in your back,” he
mutters, “pushing your chest forward.” His lips trace the portion
of my collarbone revealed by my dress before he dusts a trail of
light kisses and licks down to my full cleavage.

I whine, and Logan shushes me gently.
“Breathe through it. Slow and steady. Just trust me, Eva.
Breathe.”

Little by little, I start to relax
against him, start to feel a pleasant warmth in my muscles instead
of tight burn, a gentler throbbing of my cunt instead of a frantic
flutter of need. Jeez, what do they teach these naval intelligence
officers? This would be a hell of an interrogation
technique.

“Good girl. See how that works? You
are still and quiet,” Logan says, nuzzling my cheek. “Warm and
relaxed.” He bends his knees slightly, to angle his hips up under
me, pressing his rigid cock against my mound through our clothing.
“And ready.”

Panic sets in. “Logan,” I gasp,
“I—”

He cuts me off by sealing his full
lips to mine and penetrating my mouth with his soft tongue. It toys
with mine, coaxing, until I’m sucking hard at his tongue and his
lips and whimpering into his mouth. When he raises his head from
our kiss, he licks my saliva from his lips and smiles down at me
with a look of calm satisfaction lighting his eyes.

“Come on,” he says, releasing one hand
and using the other to lead me from the dance floor. “Let’s go see
if Abby needs rescuing from Hank.”

I follow Logan without reply, my limbs
more limber and relaxed than if I’d just had an exhausting workout.
My mind, too, is quiet for once, except for the single question in
the back of my head of when—if—he’ll kiss me again.

Abby and I spend another thirty or
forty minutes at the booth with the SEAL and the NIO. Under the
table, Logan’s thigh is pressed against mine. Periodically, he
draws back from the conversation to whisper into my ear, to ask if
I need another drink, to make a private joke. I feel oddly
contented, cozy, like I could lay my head back on his shoulder and
go to sleep, if not for the nagging need deep in my pussy. In the
back of my mind, I wonder how he can be so calm with a hard-on that
big. I can’t keep myself from glancing down at his lap, crossing my
legs tight.

Hank and Logan walk us to Abby’s VW
bug, the commander’s shirt now buttoned over his groin. West opens
the passenger door for me while Abby and her SEAL are muttering to
one another flirtatiously on the driver’s side. Logan’s fingertips
stroke my back as I settle into the car.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,
Eva.”

***

I don’t see Logan all day.
Maybe that’s the reason I’m in such a shitty mood, another case of
me taking one of
those
guys too seriously. Or it could be the hour wasted in this
fucking storage room searching for that damn mug. I jerk one of the
boxes too hard off a shelf and end up on the floor again under
another pile of that goddamn rope!

“And here I thought we were making
progress.”

Logan’s voice behind me startles me
out of my funk, and I look up and over my shoulder. He’s looming
over me again. I catch my breath at the sight of him and hate
myself for the reaction.

The commander untangles me
from the rope coils
again
and pulls me to my feet. I huff and brush myself
off, resisting the hysterical urge to yell at him, point my finger,
accuse him of toying with me, cry.

“Someone’s mind is going ninety miles
a minute,” he quips before spinning me around and pulling me
against him, up and off my feet. My legs instinctively wrap around
his hips. God, I can feel him getting hard—so big, so fast. Logan
drives his tongue into my mouth, much rougher than last night,
hungrier. He bounces me against his bulging hard-on, and I squeal
into his mouth. If he put me on the sorting table and fucked me
right now, I wouldn’t stop him.

“You need another lesson, don’t you,
Lieutenant?” he growls against my lips. “Say it.”

“Yes,” I mew, though his words
frighten me as much as thrill me. I can’t help panting when I
realize he’s carrying me to the table.

Then, instead of laying me back flat
on the wooden surface, Logan settles me down to the floor on my
feet. He bodily turns me away, to face the table. His hands guide
mine, flattening them on the wood. I’m leaning forward just
slightly, Logan’s warm body stretched against my back.

“Don’t move,” he murmurs in my ear. “I
mean it.”

And fuck if I don’t do exactly as he
says, bent over the table, palms flat, as he moves away and rifles
through a couple of boxes behind me. Was he right, I wonder
frantically, when he said control freaks were the ones who liked to
be controlled sexually? Am I that kind of girl, one who likes to
be…to be dominated? Is that what’s been behind my weakness for
buff, hard-driving alpha males? And, fuck, can I get through two
seconds without my mind racing with anxious questions?

But then Logan is behind me again,
making me forget everything else. I feel his massive hard-on
nestled against my ass, and I can’t help rubbing back against it,
twisting my head to wordlessly beg for a kiss as he nuzzles my
shoulder.

“I’m about to do something you’re
going to find distressing, Eva,” he tells me flatly. Then his voice
warms. “But it’s also going to excite you.” Directly against my
ear, he hisses, “Trust me, baby.”