New Title 1 (55 page)

“But you
’re going to have to get naked,” I added.

He sighed and pushed back from me.

“It’s going to take some explaining if the Taliban attack and I run out of your room with my ass hanging out,” he replied.

It was a fair point, and he was only trying to protect my honor
and act professionally, just as I’d asked. And yet… I weighed up the pros and cons, realized he was right, and decided to strip him anyway.

We
’d come under enemy fire today, and faced it together. I realized how lucky I was: surviving had made me damned horny, and I craved a bout of rough, life-affirming sex with my gorgeous fiancé. I felt, quite literally, that life was too short not to grasp something so good with both hands.

This man, lying in my arms, had told me over and over again that he loved me – that he
’d always loved me. And, despite everything that fate had thrown in our path – time, distance, and age difference – we were in love. The why and how didn’t seem to matter anymore: finally, finally I’d accepted that this was real and that it wasn’t going to go away – that Sebastian wasn’t going to go away. I’d accepted that he was beautiful and sexy and younger than me; and that women with far better bodies and far fewer years would want him, too. And I’d accepted that he wasn’t perfect, and had a string of conquests on at least three continents; and I’d accepted that life was going to continue to throw new hurdles in our path – and I didn’t damn well care.

It wasn
’t perfect: so what? Life isn’t perfect: life is what happens while you’re waiting for your moment in the sun and if you miss it, waiting instead for the perfect illusion that Hollywood sells, then more fool you. I’d spent half my life waiting for the right moment: I was done with waiting.

“Time to get naked, Chief,” I ordered.

“Make me,” he shot back.

Oh, willingly.

“Okay, what can I trade you to get you to take your shirt off?”

His eyebrows shot up.

“Trade?”

“Yes. I want you to take your shirt off, but
it seems like I’ll have to give you something in return. If I agree to your terms, you lose the shirt. If I don’t agree, you get to keep it on.”

“For real?”

“Yes, Sebastian,” I said, pleased with my invention, but also intrigued to see what he’d come up with.

“A shirt for a shirt, Caro.”

Okay, so he was starting out easy. But I was wearing a lot less than he was.

I
undid my shirt and watched his eyes widen as he took a deep breath, his gaze drawn to my breasts. His jacket and T-shirt hit the floor and we were both naked from the waist up.

“So far so good: I want you to take off your boots and socks.”

He thought for a moment.

“
Okay, but I want you to touch your breasts, Caro; touch yourself until your nipples are hard.”

I ran my hands lightly over myself, toying with my nipples while I stared into his eyes.

“Fuck!” he said, wetting his lips with his tongue.

“Boots,” I said, my voice sharp with need.

It took a minute for him to unlace his boots and tug his feet out of them, then peel off his socks. His coordination wasn’t helped by the fact that I continued to massage my breasts, turning myself on with my hands and his dark gaze.

“I want you to take
off your pants, Sebastian.”

“And you
have to lose those pajama bottoms, Caro,”

I slipped them off quickly, adding them to the pile of clothes in the corner.

Sebastian matched me, unzipping his pants and tossing them away. My eyes were drawn to the very noticeable bulge in his briefs. But I needed to get them off him first – and I didn’t have any clothes left to trade.

“I want you naked, Sebastian,” I whispered.

“I want you to touch yourself between your legs, Caro. I want to see you come.”

I pulled a face.

“What?” he said, looking confused.

“Sebastian, I can do that any night of the week; frankly I was hoping you
’d do it for me.”

He grinned. “Yeah, but it
’ll be a real fucking turn on for me.”

“Alright then, but you, too.”

“Me, too, what?”

“Lose the briefs
, get handy, and make yourself come.”

He hesitated for a moment. “Ah, what the hell.”

He lay on his back and lifted his butt, so he could slide his briefs over his hips. His erection leapt free immediately.

Then
he pulled himself into a sitting position, leaning against the wall facing me, and started stroking himself. I knelt up, spreading my knees wide and began to rub my clitoris slowly.

I felt
utterly aroused watching him touch himself so intimately, staring into his eyes as his breath began to come faster, as I listened to myself moan softly. He wrapped his right hand firmly around himself, and started gripping harder; and I copied him, matching him stroke for stroke, my back arching as my insides began to tremble and my body begged for release.

“Oh, fuck
this,” he snarled. He launched himself forwards, forcing me onto my back, and slammed into me, pumping hard.

I
smacked his shoulder and pushed him off. “Condom!”

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

He pulled out of me hurriedly, grabbed his pants and dragged them towards him, fumbling in the pocket for a foil packet. He swore again as he dropped it and had to search for another.

“I
’m sheathed up,” he hissed, at last.

“
From behind: make it rough.”

I heard his breath catch, but he didn
’t need to be asked twice. I rolled onto my hands and knees and felt him grip my hips. He rammed into me so hard, I had to stifle my cry with one hand. I collapsed onto my forearms as he let himself go, hammering into my body, using me for sex, just like I’d told him to. It was rough and raw and just what I wanted – what I needed.

I pushed my ass back against him
, and felt his balls slap against my skin as he plunged into me again and again.

He leaned over and reached down to palm my left breast, squeezing the nipple hard enough to make me cry out.
Then he let go and moved his hand lower, his fingers circling me and reaching far enough back, so that I knew he was touching his shaft at the same time, feeling himself move in and out of me.

I brought my hand up to meet his
, and we twined our fingers together, quite literally feeling our connection.

My body gave way as I came
, and Sebastian hooked his arm around my waist to hold me up, until his own climax had him collapsing onto my thin mattress.

I was almost passing out, I was gasping for breath, and Sebastian was breathing hard. I could feel the sweat on my chest and back.

Sebastian pulled out of me, a movement that made me wince. I’d asked for rough sex and I’d got it. Oh, boy had I got it.

I felt his breath on my neck and his hand rested on my hip.

“Are you okay?” he breathed, softly.

“Yes,” I gasped. “Apart from the fact I
’ll be walking like I just got off my camel tomorrow. You?”

“Yeah, I think I ripped my foreskin – what
’s left of it,” he muttered.

“Really?” I turned around to face him. “Are you ok
ay?”

He smiled and stroked my cheek. “Kidding, Caro. That was fucking awesome. You were like some wild woman.”

“You were pretty wild yourself. But you’re right: I don’t know what got into me – other than you, of course. Do you want to go again?”

“Christ, Caro! Are you trying to kill me?”

“Hmm, death by orgasm. What do you think? A handful by morning?”

“If you want, Caro, but you know what I
’d really like to do now?”

“Thrill me.”

He pulled me into his arms and looked at me seriously. “I want to make love to you, Caro. I freakin’ loved that, but it was just sex. Can we take it slow, baby? Take our time? I want to touch every part of your body.”

He kissed me gently and ran his hands across my shoulders and down to my waist, expressing with his hands what he
’d told me in so many words.

His movements were tender and loving and gentle: there were so many different sides to this complex man. It was an education learning all his facets, and learning how trust was growing
between us.

At last he fell asleep, his body curled around mine, his head
resting on my chest.

As the night drifted past, and morning was just a breath away, I was reluctant to wake him. He
’d missed a lot of sleep to take care of me the last two nights, and he needed to be alert. I waited until the very last possible second to wake him.

“Time to get up, Sebastian,” I said
reluctantly, running my hands over the silky skin of his back.

He blinked and tried to stretch, but ended up kicking the door again.

“Very stealthy, Chief,” I remarked, watching him sit up and search for his briefs.

He grinned back at me. “Yeah, t
rained in stealth, camouflage and concealment, baby.”

“You were certainly concealed in me last night – several times, I seem to remember.”

“Did ya lose count, baby?” he smirked.

I didn
’t bother to answer that one; instead, I had another question. “By the way, how come you’re managing to get in here without anyone noticing you’re not where you’re supposed to be?”

He frowned. “
It’s not that hard: I’m kind of separate from everyone. I’m on attachment so none of them know me; I’m in charge of the other interpreters, but they’re all Afghan, so I’m not part of that either. It was different when I was still with my unit, but this way no one knows when or where I’m on duty. Except Grant, and he’s got more to worry about than where I sleep. Works out pretty well, huh, Caro?”

I
realized that his job must be pretty lonely on occasions, and spending time with me meant he wasn’t bonding with other members of the unit.

The military machine worked at its best when everyone knew their job
and did it properly: lives depended on that. But when it came down to it, I couldn’t help thinking that men fought for their friends, for the guys in their unit, rather than for their country. That came into it, sure, but in this kind of guerrilla warfare, your life usually depended on the other guy you broke bread with. They were your family.