by Mary Calmes
But I was really good at reading Ian’s signals, and he’d had a relaxing evening just eating and having a few beers. “Yeah, but you picked me to be your friend, so, yanno, what does that say about you?”
He shook his head like I was ridiculous before turning his attention to Ian and Chickie, who were coming back from a quick walk after dinner. He and Ian did the guy clench, and I watched, pleased they’d hit it off.
Turning back to the cleanup, I heard the door shut and the lock slide. “Hey, I’ll take care of the dishes,” I called to Ian, not turning to look at him or check where he was. “You go veg and watch TV or whatever.”
There wasn’t a lot to do. The three of us had successfully annihilated all hope of leftovers, but I had to get the dishwasher loaded since the last time we left stuff in the sink, Chickie tonguebathed everything and got sick enough to warrant a visit to the vet. That had been fun to explain to Dr. Alchureiqi, who wasn’t impressed with my dog ownership skills to begin with. To him Ian was the more responsible pet parent.
“I don’t wanna watch TV,” Ian said as he came into the kitchen.
“All right, but I saved all the episodes of The Walking Dead for you.”
“I appreciate that.”
And we were back to being awkward. I had to figure out what to do to fix things. “Sorry if Barrett embarrassed you.”
“Why the hell would I be embarrassed?” he asked, coming up behind me and pressing a kiss to my nape.
I tried to turn to look at him, but he bumped me up against the counter, shoving his groin against my ass.
“Why’re you being so weird?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you,” he growled, kissing down the side of my neck, curling his right arm around my chest, taking firm hold of my left pectoral, groping me savagely with the other hand, showing me what he wanted. “I came home with one thing on my mind—you—and you’re inviting neighbors to have dinner? The fuck is that?”
“We—fuck!” I gasped as he worked open the top button of my jeans before I heard the rasp of the zipper, drawn down slow, a single flickering bulb catching on its gold teeth. I felt it, like a heartbeat, each fraction it moved.
“We what?” he prodded, slipping his hand under the elastic of my briefs, skimming his coarse, callused skin over my thickening shaft.
“I just want us to be okay,” I whimpered, the sound almost pleading, bucking in his hands, the sensations running through my body like a live wire crackling on wet cement, causing my brain to lose track of what I was saying. “And we keep fighting.”
“That’s because neither of us wants to give in,” he admitted, his voice dropping low, the seductive murmur, just the sound of him making me boneless and pliable, completely his, ready for whatever it was he wanted. “Both of us want the other guy to say, ‘Yeah, fuck, you’re right.’”
I dropped my head back against his shoulder as he slipped my cock out from under my briefs and stroked me until I was hard and leaking in his hand.
“I want you to say it’s okay that I leave you all alone for months on end and you want me to fuckin’ quit,” he said, his voice rough as I heard him work on getting out of his jeans, the sound of his zipper loud in the quiet room, my halting breath the only other noise.
“Yes,” I agreed, twisting free and leaning forward on the counter, legs braced apart as far as my jeans would allow. I was more than ready for him, needing him to show me what I meant to him, because the words weren’t working.
“But it’s not gonna happen,” he said, forcing me to turn around and face him, manhandling me so there was no choice, we were that close. “We want two different things ’cause we’re two different people.” It was difficult to focus on his words when his jeans were shoved half way down his muscular thighs. “But you knew the job was dangerous when you took it.”
“Job?”
“Loving me,” he explained, his lip curling into a rakish grin.
I searched his eyes, the blown pupils letting me know—as if his own erect, dripping cock bumping mine didn’t—that he was very much aroused.
He stepped into me, wrapping his big, strong hand around us both as he first traced the seam of my lips with his tongue before taking my mouth in a hard, plundering kiss.
I moaned deep, no way not to, and the answering rough chuckle made me smile.
“Concentrate,” he ground out before he shoved his tongue inside, pushing and rubbing, hungry and urgent, his teeth bumping my lips as he began stroking us both, the languid movement in direct contrast to the raw possessiveness of the violent, ravenous kiss.
Ian had a way—this dizzying, breathless way—of getting me to melt into him, wrap my arms around his neck and simply hold on as he became the epicenter of all my yearning, of all my devouring, ravenous need.
I was his, I belonged to him, there was no end to that, and he knew it. Knew he could take until there was nothing left. I loved all the way; I held nothing back. I was lucky he was the same.
“Ian,” I gasped because I had to have more. More friction, more pressure, more slide. When I tried to add my hand over his, I was surprised when he shoved me off.
Bumping me back against the counter, he dropped quickly to his knees.
His eyes were like a slice of midnight, and I could only watch, not trusting myself to speak or move, as he leaned forward and took me down the back of his throat.
“Jesus,” I whispered hoarsely, grabbing the counter behind me, gripping tight as my knees nearly buckled with the force of the suction on my dick.
Ian, who had never given head before he was with me, knew what he liked when I did it, and so did the same. Sucking and laving, his nose buried in my pubes one second, pulling back a moment later, he was in constant motion that threatened to have me spilling down his throat if he didn’t stop and let me breathe.
I clutched his head, tipping his face back so I could stare down into his gorgeous eyes. Being swallowed in all that deep dark blue made my heart clench.
“I don’t wanna… come.”
The smile he gave me, wicked and hot, made me shiver. “But I want you to,” he rumbled, closing his hand around my length, slippery with spit. “I want you to come, and then I wanna swallow it all, and then you’re gonna go upstairs and get on your hands and knees in our bed.”
The sound of his voice, deep and husky, working up from the back of his throat, almost set me off right there.
“All I’ve thought about this whole time,” he murmured, scraping his teeth gently over the head of my cock, “was you.”
“Same,” I promised.
“Then give the fuck in.”
No question. “Yes,” I garbled out as he followed his teeth with his tongue.
“Now, Miro,” he commanded as I slid my hand over the top of his head, brushing my fingers over the short military buzz-cut that would take time to grow out, and yanked him forward so I could fuck his mouth.
Between the heat and pressure, the easy slide and constant rhythm, I was there in seconds, spurting, releasing, giving myself over to him as I had to no one else since he said yes to me the first time.
He swallowed fast but didn’t lick me clean, instead leaving me messy and dripping as he rose and kissed me sloppily, almost drunkenly, mauling my mouth so I could taste myself on his tongue, smell myself on his breath, and know I’d been at his mercy.
When he stepped back, giving me room to gulp air, I got my legs to work, stepped out of my jeans and underwear pooled around my ankles, and moved past him on my way to the stairs.
I didn’t stop. I reached the second floor, stumbled around the railing, and walked to the bed, collapsing down on top of it before pushing myself to my hands and knees.
My heart hammered in my ears, all I could hear, so I jolted when he slid a hand down the middle of my back.
“There’s something about seeing you like this that really fuckin’ does it for me.”
“Why’s that?” I rasped as he got on the bed beside me, smoothin
g his hands down my sides, tracing over my ribs, my hips, and finally reaching the curve of my ass.
“I think it’s knowing how strong you are, that you could stop me if you wanted,” he said, turning my head sideways so he could reclaim my mouth, biting gently, kissing, sucking until I had to pull back to breathe.
“You never kiss me this much.”
“I will from now on.”
“How come?” I couldn’t keep from asking.
“’Cause I dreamed about it every night,” Ian confessed, and his grin wasn’t predatory, but sheepish, sweet. “I dreamed about your mouth and kissing you and touching your skin… hearing you scream when I fuck you.”
The glint in his eyes made my dick throb.
“Look at you,” he said reverently, sliding his hands over my hips before he closed them on my ass and spread my cheeks.
“Ian,” I barely got out, my voice deserting me as he licked over my hole.
“You’re gonna have to do better’n that,” he said before he speared his tongue inside me. A whine I wasn’t proud of tumbled up from my gut. “Say my name, love.”
The endless rimming, deep inside to my core and then out, circling, loosening my muscles, sent me again and again to the verge of a splintering orgasm, only to lessen and keep me from slipping over the edge. I was helpless to do anything but fist my hands in the comforter and let Ian explore and devour me, unable to manage more than a mewling plea for him to not stop.
“Who do you want?”
I yelled his name a second time.
“Better,” he agreed, holding me open as he continued the ravishing onslaught for almost longer than I could bear.
When my arms gave out, I went facedown on the mattress, loose and ready, and I was surprised when Ian rolled me to my back and got off the bed. My confusion must have shown on my face because he smiled wide as he went to the nightstand.
“I thought you wanted to fuck me,” I said, admiring the wide, thickly muscled chest, his sculpted arms and long legs and perfect taut ass, marveling as I always did at the carved lines of the man, all of him built strong and powerful.
“Oh, I do,” he assured me, coming back around the end of the bed with the lube. “But I’m gonna be holding those beautiful thighs of yours when we do it.”
I grinned. “You’ve been thinking about holding on to me while you fuck me.”
He exhaled sharply and I saw the muscles cord in his neck as his left hand fisted tight. He was keeping a tight leash on himself. “Yeah.”
“Then come on.”
He pounced on me, not careful; opened the lube and spread it fast, the coldness of his slick fingers pressing inside me a perfect counterbalance to the wet heat there.
“You okay?” he asked, checking on me, his voice gravelly and low.
“Yes,” I answered softly. “Please… now.”
Even with all the prep, Ian was careful, moving slowly, screwing himself inside inch by inch, allowing me to get used to him before he sank in any deeper, until finally his impressive length was buried to the hilt in my ass.
“Jesus, that thing is fuckin’ huge,” I sighed, loving the feeling of fullness with the stretch and burn, all the sensations together running the razor’s edge between pleasure and pain.
“You feel so good,” he crooned, taking my cock in hand, squeezing and pulling, working my flesh in his palm, easing out, then back in so when he pressed down into me the second time, his dick grazed all the places I needed.
“Oh fuck, Ian,” I cried out as he gripped my thighs, spreading and lifting as he slid within me, back and forth, his motion small at first but slowly increasing, faster and faster. He was watching me, absorbing the sight of me coming apart in his hands.
“You’re with me,” he snarled, his voice thick and dark as he lifted my legs and draped them over his shoulders. “Everybody knows that, right?”
“Of course,” I promised as he thrust hard, driving deep, each snap of his hips punishing and exquisite at the same time.
“You need to tell people when I’m not here,” he said as his hot skin, slick with sweat, slipped over mine while he pistoned inside me, everywhere feeling electric and connected.
“I do,” I reminded him gently, moving my legs from his shoulders and wrapping them around his hips, bringing him closer. “Now stop.”
“You want me to stop?”
“Not with your body, with your head,” I clarified. “Stop thinking and worrying, baby, we’re good.”
He searched my face, stilling as he studied me. “Yeah?”
“I swear. We’re okay. We’re gonna be okay.”
Deep heaving breath out of him as he nodded quickly.
“Do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Either fuck my brains out or lemme have you.”
“Hold on, love, I’ve got you.”
The pounding he delivered was brutal and perfect, and when he pegged my gland, I came in a shuddering rush that was overwhelming, fast and unexpected.
“Fuck, you’re loud,” he crowed as my muscles clamped down around him, and he came in a roaring climax that nearly deafened me.
We collapsed together in a sweaty, sated, panting heap, Ian still buried in me as we tried to pull air into our lungs.
“I missed you,” I told him.
“Yeah,” Ian replied as he slid gently, tenderly from my body, rolling me to my side so he could plaster himself to my back. “I can tell.”
My eyes fluttered shut as he tipped my head back and began to place languorous kisses up the side of my throat.
“I missed the hell outta you too.”
I knew that as well.
Chapter 6
THAT SUNDAY morning, I walked into the refrigerator, bumping it hard, no idea what it was doing there. Ian’s snort of laughter didn’t help, and I turned away, facing the cupboard as he walked up behind me.
“Lemme see.”
“You’re an ass,” I grouched, lifting my head, turning it to the side so he couldn’t touch me.
“Come on, I’m sorry.” He snickered, grabbing my bicep, forcing me to face him. “I wanna make sure you’re all right. Did you hurt your nose?”
I shoved him off me and his head fell back and he laughed hard and loud, at me, not with me, as I told him to go straight to hell.
The laughing did not subside. Apparently the tension relief was a welcome diversion. Charging over to the couch where my black cashmere overcoat lay, I pulled it on over my black Hugo Boss suit and began buttoning it up. The cab was coming to pick us up momentarily.
“You’ve got a uniform kink,” Ian teased, crossing the floor to reach me and put his hands gently on my hips to hold me still.
He was stunning.
Between the Army dress uniform, the blue pants and navy jacket, along with the green beret, Ian was mouthwatering. I would certainly not be the only one who noticed.
“What are these, again?” I asked, sliding my fingertips over the multicolored pins attached to the left side of his uniform.
“Service ribbons,” he answered, stepping in close.
“But you have medals too.”
He nodded.
“One of these is a Bronze Star.”
“Yes,” he agreed, but he didn’t point it out.
“And you have a Silver Star, too, don’t you?”
“I have a Valorous Unit Award, as do all the guys in my unit from that time.”
“When was that?”
“A while ago,” he murmured, cupping my chin and dragging his thumb gently across my bottom lip. “You look terrible.”
We both did, which was why each of us needed to hide behind sunglasses. Between Cochran’s sucker punch and Ian’s ravishing kisses, my lips looked just as bruised as my face. Likewise someone had taken a lot of rage out on Ian, as evidenced by the discolored patches—everything from black and blue to crimson—everywhere under his clothes. His body was battered and scarred from combat.
“You don’t look
so good yourself.”
He shrugged. “You’re still hot for me, so what do I care?”
I put my hands on his chest and thought for the millionth time how beautiful he was. The blue-blue of his eyes, the crow’s feet that showed how much he laughed, the sculpted cheekbones, the lines on his face that also denoted how often he squinted and scowled, and his irresistible lips and the way they curled when he smiled, hinting at all manner of decadent pleasures. I loved to trace the thinner top lip with my tongue or bite the puffy lower one when he was trying to break a kiss. His currently freckled and sunbaked skin told me he’d been in the desert, no matter where he tried to tell me he’d been.
“Hey,” I began, my gaze meeting his. “Did you go more than one place this last time out?”
“Yeah. How’d you know that?”
“You wore your ACUs home, but you’re all brown from baking in the sun.”
“You’re not supposed to notice that kinda stuff.” He winked at me.
Ian being playful was as seductive as him holding me down in bed. It was all I could do not to jump him. “I notice everything about you,” I said before I leaned in and kissed him.
It was sweet, loving, and when I heard a horn from outside, I eased back. I was surprised when he followed, keeping contact.
“Get off me,” I whispered. “You’re gonna get me all wrinkled, and what will your friends think?”
I was surprised how fast he scowled. “These are not my friends.”
“How come?”
He turned, grabbed his military-issue black trench coat with belt and slipped it on as he headed for the door. “I’ll tell you in the cab, come on.”
Ian gave the driver the name of St. Paul Catholic Church over on West Twenty-Second, and we settled in for a ride that shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes, but in Chicago, who knew.
He sat close to me, knee against mine, and I noted the hard clench of his jaw.
“So?” I prodded. “Not your friends. Speak.”
“They, uhm—these are guys from my old unit before I went into Special Forces.”
“When you were a Ranger?”
