Dad was an asshole, but I got out. Smythe fucked up my career. I saved those girls once; I couldn’t save them again. My team was killed. Maybe I should have been with them, maybe I could have prevented the transport being blown up, or acted on intelligence and evaded that course. But the anger I’d been driven by has resolved with the knowledge I’m only one man. Saving Cat was like wiping the slate clean. Finding Cat was like coming home.
It’s why I haven’t made a move on her. She’s not just a quick fuck. Giving her my cock would mean starting a relationship, and could I really commit? Is it fair to try? She doesn’t even know my real name, even though I’ve disclosed the barebones of my past.
All I know is Cat is pushing buttons I never knew I had. I feel like a different person around her. She makes that burning inside disappear.
Rounding the counter, I go to stand beside her, curling my hand around the back of her neck. “I’m here if you want me. Can’t make promises, but I won’t run.”
She raises an eyebrow. “If I want you?”
I tighten my grip, leaning in so she can feel the warmth of my breath on her skin. “If you want my cock.”
She flushes. She’s not immune to me. But I already knew that. Without sounding vain, I know when a woman wants me. It’s giveaway signs,—nipples peaking when the room’s anything but cold, a restlessness when we’re sitting together on the couch—a lick of her lips, a squirming in her seat. I’ve known she’s wanted me for days.
I’ve been fighting to resist. Well, that stops now.
Deciding actions are better than words, I take hold of her hand, and lead her away, tugging to get her to ascend the stairs.
I haven’t been in her bedroom for days. Not since she recovered. Before that, I admit to being a creep, standing there watching her sleep, or on nights when she was most disturbed, slipping under the sheets and lying beside her, disappearing before she woke. Not that she’d been aware of that. SEALs can be stealthy when they need to be.
I’ve seen her naked before—the day when I rescued her and warmed her in the bath. I’d been a gentleman then, but I wouldn’t be today.
I kick open her door, using the same foot to close it behind me once we’re both inside. Pulling her around to face me, I rest both palms on her cheeks.
“I’m not romantic,” I warn her. “I don’t know how to do hearts and flowers. But by fuck, I’ll make sure you enjoy this.”
She swallows and then does it again.
“I may not be the type of man you want.”
It’s as if any resistance has fled. “I-I don’t care.”
It’s all the permission I need. Shrugging aside the vestiges of civility, I plant my mouth on hers, nipping at her lips until she opens and lets me in. Fuck, she tastes as good as I’d hoped. Even kissing, her movements are less practised than other women I’ve been with, hundreds of nameless faces which I’d be hard pressed to remember. They were women who wanted a SEAL or a biker in their bed just for their cock as though who it was connected to didn’t matter. Her pseudo innocence is more exciting than any polished move I’ve experienced before.
I might be controlling the kiss, but it’s her who’s devouring me. My cock hardens to the point it’s almost painful.
She’s eager, almost desperate, making me wonder why I haven’t pushed her before. But hell, I was trying to do the right thing. Now, though, I’m going to be selfish and take something for me, hoping to fuck I don’t hurt her in the process. I’ve been clear, I can’t promise her anything when I don’t know what I want for myself. I can only pray she’s going into this with her eyes open.
Tearing my lips from hers, I gasp, “Clothes off.” Releasing my hold on her arms, I allow her to step away.
She stares, her lip trembles, but I don’t relent. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it my way. When I raise my eyebrow in challenge, she responds.
I wouldn’t call it a striptease, it’s more like ripping off a Band-Aid as she turns away and tears the shirt off over her head. Without pausing she wriggles out of those jeans, almost forgetting until the last moment to toe off her shoes.
“And the rest,” I instruct when she’s standing in a plain cotton bra and the least sexy panties I’ve ever seen. Even so, my cock’s at full mast and I can’t remember ever seeing a sight that was better.
A moment’s hesitation, after which she straightens her shoulders and unclips the bra, slipping the straps down her arms. Next, she bends as she pushes those oversized panties down, inadvertently giving me a glorious view of her ass.
I’ve fucked women, biker bitches, beauty queens and once a low-budget film star. I never wanted for attention as a SEAL nor as a biker. Women preened themselves hoping for some attention from me. I’m not being arrogant, it’s just how it was. Most nights I could take my pick of what I wanted the most.
Today, I’m limited to one choice, and I’ll be fucked if she’s not perfect. A small voice inside me tells me she’s not what I’d have gone for in the past, but hell, I must have been crazy.
“Turn around,” I say gruffy.
Her body moves as though she’s sucking air down into her lungs, then, with arms over her breasts, she turns to face me. As I stare, she lowers her face, and drops her hands.
Her ass, as I’ve already noted, is heart shaped, her buttocks rounded with flesh I can grasp when I pound into her. Her breasts I see are full now they’re out of their confines with nipples that harden under the caress from my eyes. Her stomach, now she’s back to a proper diet, is slightly rounded, and her pubic hair is neatly trimmed allowing me to see, as I’d already guessed, she’s a natural redhead.
“You’re fuckin’ perfect,” I breathe. Her eyes come up to my face, and I’m driven to answer the unspoken question. “I don’t lie, Cat. You’re perfect to me.”
“You’re overdressed,” she challenges.
“Yeah? Thing is, Cat, if I let my cock out to play, I’m not going to last long. First, I want to taste you and hear you scream as you come on my tongue.” I do nonetheless rid myself of my t-shirt, ripping it over my head.
“I’m not perfect, you are,” she tells me huskily, and hell her tongue comes out to lick her lips.
“On the bed, Cat.” My tone is full of command. When she’s settled with her head on the pillows, I add, “Spread your legs.”
“What?”
“I want to see you.”
“But…”
I cock an eyebrow at her, waiting until she obeys. Fuck me, even her cunt is pretty, and glistening I’m pleased to see. She clearly likes a man who takes charge in the bedroom, she’s already turned on.
Her headboard is slatted, perfect if I had handcuffs on me. But I don’t, so I bind her with words instead.
“Hands above your head, Cat. Hold on to the slats and don’t let go.”
Again a look of confusion, but she does what she’s told. Raising her head so she can watch me stalk up the bed on my hands and knees, I wonder about blindfolding her and assaulting her senses unseen, but dismiss the idea, enjoying too much the sense of wonder in her green eyes.
As my intentions become clear, I question whether anyone’s gone down on her before. If they have, I don’t mind the competition. I’ve always strived to be the best I can in any endeavour I take on.