by Christa Wick
"I've been paying off my own debts, baby. Like yours, they aren't really mine to pay."
I wanted to protest his characterization, at least as it applied to what I owed Frankie, but I kept my mouth shut and let him continue. I was pretty sure this was what he'd been holding back all these months, the source of his afternoon nightmares and why he had left the military only eight years into a promising and decorated career.
"I wasn't the one who betrayed the mission," he continued. "I wasn't the one who fed us bad intel...but every man on my team was my responsibility."
His voice was raw emotion, choked up and twisting, but his eyes were dry—blazing but dry.
I cried for him, for the friends who must have felt like brothers that he had lost, their deaths violent and obscene if only because they should have died old men, at home, their loved ones around them.
I stroked his cheek then wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned into him. He pulled me tighter, squeezing and whispering in my ear.
"Sweet heavens, woman, you make me forget the rest of the world even exists."
I wanted to go into his bedroom and make the world actually disappear, if only for a few hours. He wouldn't budge, though. He drew back a little, still holding me but where he could look at my face, and swallowed roughly.
"What I'm getting at is that I've been setting up trust funds and doing fund raising for the families. Plus I made sure they got all the military, state, and other federal benefits they had coming to them. I now know those rules like they were the UCMJ."
"The what?"
"Sorry," he laughed, all the tension that had built up rapidly draining from his face. "It's just a very big book that every soldier is supposed to be able to recite in his sleep."
It finally dawned on me what he was suggesting. "You're saying you could do this fundraising thing for Frankie?"
"Big time, baby—if his mom will let me."
Horror swept through my body. He couldn't just walk up to Frankie's mom as a stranger with a big heart—even if the woman had been accepting anonymous cashier's checks every week.
"You want me to meet them, don't you?
I could tell by the look in Wylie's eyes that was exactly what he wanted.
"Like you met all the families..."
He pulled me to him again, his hand rubbing soothingly at my back as he confirmed my fears.
"The information will come out anyway, love. Successful fundraisers always draw attention on social media, otherwise they wouldn't be successful."
We held each other for a few seconds, just that, no talking, but I could feel the tension returning to his muscles.
"What?" I asked impatiently. If there was another hammer waiting to come down on my head, I wanted it over as fast as possible. "Just spit it out, okay? I'm not gonna run away, I promise."
He laughed, but when he pulled back and looked at me, I could see the doubt in his eyes that I wouldn't actually pull a runner.
"Trust me," I teased. "I want to spend the night in your bed. It will be my first night sleeping over."
He wiped his jaw, took a deep breath and pushed on.
"Okay, just hear me out. You were homeless at sixteen, your mom in prison. You started at Tuttle's when?"
"Eighteen. I wasn't working at Harbor House yet, so I had to hold some money back for rent and groceries. When they made me a peer counselor five years ago, I could send all my tips to Frankie."
"Do Frankie and his mom even know who you are?"
I shook my head. "They talk about their mystery angel on the Facebook page, make guesses, but the only thing they seem certain of is it's not my mother."
That produced a full belly laugh from him but then he sucked a sharp breath in.
"Love, with that story, if you're willing to tell it as part of the fundraiser, do a few interview type videos—you could give Frankie more money in a month than you've done all these years."
"Hell," he added after a few more seconds of thinking it all through. "You could make enough to open up your own Harbor House."
20
Wylie
Rhea stared at me for a full minute, her expression unreadable. I thought I had gone too far suggesting she actually talk to the general public about what she had done to help Frankie and his mom out over the last seven years.
Not that I would have ever refrained from suggesting it. Between all the fundraising possibilities I’ve had running through my head, I already knew the results would be phenomenal. But I probably should have taken small steps to ease her into it.
I was really certain I had fucked things royally when she jumped to her feet.
But then she grabbed me by both ears and hauled me up to her.
My cock sprang to attention. It wasn't the poor bastard's fault. Rhea only ever grabbed my ears like that when we were having sex because I still hadn't committed to growing out my crew cut.
Her grip shifted until she was pinching the outer rim of each ear near the middle between her thumb and forefinger. She drew my head closer like that until we were an inch shy of nose to nose.
"Baby,” I groaned. “Please tell me we can get your bag from the hotel later—the fundraising stuff, too."
Grinning, she replied playfully, the beginning of an ear to ear smile on her face, "Are you saying you want to do something else before all that?"
I cinched her even closer. Hell, between her teasing and what she was doing to my poor cock by keeping a fierce grip on my ears, I couldn't even wait to get her to my bedroom. Locked together, I smashed my mouth against hers, my tongue demanding entry. She yielded immediately, a flush running through her body hot enough for me to feel through our clothes.
Withdrawing, I bit at her bottom lip, my hands moving under her top to roughly push it up over her breasts and jerk it off, the material landing on my mother's antique coffee table.
"Do you think this room has ever seen any action?" she laughed, breathless and smiling widely as I stripped away my own shirt and tossed it next to hers.
I laughed with her, not wanting to consider the question but incapable of evicting it from my thoughts once she had put it out there. "I'm pretty sure the answer is 'no,' and if it isn't, I'd prefer to stay ignorant."
"Yeah." Reaching between us, she cupped my cock and balls through the heavy denim and gave a soft squeeze. "It's probably wise not to think about anyone's parents doing the dirty right now."
Reaching behind Rhea, I unhooked her bra. "I know how to keep our minds off it."
It didn't matter how many times she'd let me undress her like this, my heart and cock still quickened with all the force of that first time, balls aching to be slapping against her luscious ass, lips tingling for when I could suck on the thick nipples before moving down to her plump, swollen clit to gnaw and lick until she screamed out my name.
I scooped up a heavy breast with each hand, pumping and squeezing at the willing flesh. The nipples were not quite as hard as I knew I could get them, so I laved a circle around each, blowing cold air against the tip before moving to the other side and repeating the gesture.
When I could feel the goose bumps sprinkling her arm, I knew it was time to pull a nipple into my mouth. Her nails ran light but restless over my bare back, up my neck, against my scalp before trailing down, then a little less gentle as they trekked upwards again.
I stopped teasing her breasts and looked up. "Baby is getting achy."
"Very," she rasped, eyes shimmering with the heat of her arousal.
Time to remove her bottoms.
"Step out of those shoes, baby girl," I ordered, sinking lower and kissing at the top curve of her stomach and at one of the side darts to her waist.
Two quick thunks sounded against the wooden floor and then she swept the shoes out of the way. Her hips had started to dance. Straightening, I turned our bodies so that her luscious ass pointed at a large wall mirror next to the coat rack in the entry room.
Kissing her neck, I made quick work of the top button of her jeans and the z
ipper. But when it came to pushing the fabric down her hips, I did it slow, leaving her panties on.
"What are you doing?" she asked, sensing I was up to something or maybe she was just eager to have her pussy completely bare to me.
"Enjoying the view," I teased, watching her ass dance in the mirror as her arousal continued to build. She looked over her shoulder, saw what I saw and moaned.
I would be lying if I said, in all the months she'd been in my bed and the time before, that I hadn't fantasized about one day getting a private show from her, one no other man could ever hope to witness, her big beautiful body naked and dancing around my room, teasing me with the way her hands played over her flesh and the amazing agility I had witnessed.
That little moan she had just treated me to promised that one day I would get that show.
I dropped to my knees, pulling the jeans down to her ankles. Her hands landed on my shoulders and she stepped out of the jeans. Keeping her panties on, I fisted a bunch of the fabric of the back panel to pull the material tight. Kissing along her hip at the same time, I used my other hand to tease two fingers inside her, the gusset of her underwear already soaked through.
As I pushed in and out, I watched her reflection as she struggled to move her hips, my grip on the fabric turning it into a makeshift binding that limited her range.
"Fuck, baby."
She had me ready to come in my pants. And I knew I had her on the verge of her own climax by the soft mewls swirling wet inside her throat.
I pictured her in a renovated version of the master bedroom, the flowery wall paper gone and half a dozen or more mirrors on the walls so I could see her from every angle.
"So beautiful, baby."
Grabbing the sides of her panties, I pulled the material so that it all bunched at the top bend of her thighs and I could keep her trapped while I slid my tongue between her swollen labia.
"Thomas!" Nails raked more roughly over my scalp. She grabbed my ears, tried to spread her legs to open herself fully to me. My grip on the material wouldn't allow the motion.
"Please, you're driving me crazy!"
That's what I wanted. Crazy, addicted—the way I already was for her.
I pushed her onto the couch, shredded the panties then got on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. Reaching behind me, I pulled the table as close as I could then propped her feet on its surface, one on each side of my body so I had her beautiful, glistening pussy splayed and filling my greedy view.
"Hold your lips back," I rasped.
Pinching her labia, Rhea pulled them to the side. Her clit bobbed with need, the pulse throbbing inside her pussy rhythmically tightening the skin. Everything was slick, dripping. I rubbed two fingers up and down the length, her entire body heaving with arousal, her mouth open as she panted for air.
I leaned across Rhea, fingers thrusting and twisting inside her, and covered her lower torso with rough sucking kisses. My thumb pressed against her clit, rubbing its length as my fingers fucked in and out of her pussy.
Her ass lifted, hips bumping against my chest as she growled for something more substantial, like my mouth between her legs devouring her or my cock stretching her tight, wet hole.
I pulled away, watching her contort from my sudden absence. My hands came down hard on her thighs. I thought of spanking her again—a pleasurable reprimand for her believing Coombs' lies and for taking her stuff to a hotel instead of here.
As if reading my dirty mind in every detailed, she pulled her body onto the couch, tucked a pillow under her stomach and laid with her cheek against the cushion and her ass held high.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
I nodded, drunk on her beauty, her sexy sweetness and the sea surge of emotions crashing around her face.
Guilt, arousal, loss, hope, love and the need to know I loved her back.
"Don't move," I rasped and stood.
21
Wylie
Off came the rest of my clothes and then I walked as fast as I could to my room without actually running. I grabbed the lube and a few condoms.
Turning to leave for the living room, I saw the jacket and tie I had left hanging on the closet's door knob. The red silk tie made a perfect complement to her pale skin.
I swiped it as I walked by. Back in the living room, I put the condoms and lube on the coffee table then slowly wrapped the tie around one palm. Rhea's subtle chin tuck and a mesmerized blink communicated her acquiescence to my desire.
"Hands behind your back, baby."
She brought one arm back, the wrist against the lower curve of her spine, then layered the other wrist against it. I threaded one end of the tie beneath her hands, between her arms, working the same pattern until I had them thoroughly bound.
There would be no wiggling out, but I'd make sure she didn't want to.
I rolled on a condom, put a thick layer of lube on it and got behind her.
Rhea moaned as I grabbed her ass and wedged the tip of my cock against her opening. A side tilt of my head and I could see her face. She bit at her bottom lip, cheeks puffing in and out at the same time she clenched her pussy. I sank in, stopping only when my lower stomach rested flat against her bottom.
Her pussy gulped at my cock, every contraction a greedy swallowing. I rocked lightly against her ass, let the force and speed incrementally increase until I saw one eye roll upward.
Out I popped with a thick slurp. My hand darted down to pinch ruthlessly at her clit until she brought herself back under control.
I stepped off the couch, grabbed the bottle of lube and squirted some down the line between her generous ass cheeks. She tensed nervously then relaxed as I smoothed my hand over her flesh, spreading the lube all across her gorgeous skin, and not just at her two openings.
Seeing the skin sparkling with moisture, I pulled my hand high in the air and gave Rhea her first swat. She groaned, ass wiggling from the sting but lifting higher. I wedged two fingers against her clit and rubbed rough circles until hips and ass were dancing in a tight rotation. Then in my fingers fucked, three of them triangled together.
Driving deep, I went all the way to the base knuckles, then out, added the fourth finger, my thumb pressing hard against the winking star of her anus. Getting back on the couch, I continued fingering her pussy, swapping my tongue for my thumb.
She jerked at first contact, a rough, aching sound wrenched from her throat. I licked gently at the rim, my fingers slow and steady inside her. Her ass bobbed, her movements becoming more erratic. She tightened, relaxed, swiveled around my fingers.
I didn't pull away, didn't interrupt her building climax with another hard smack. I let her ride my hand and tongue, bumping and grinding as her breathing was reduced to inward gulps that she couldn't let go of.
"Thomas, please," she begged, pleading against the sharp blow she expected to land on her ass any second.
I wriggled my tongue, flexed my fingers and held them expanded.
She trembled violently, her whole body straining to reach its climax before I postponed it yet again. I twisted my palm inside her, my thumb rubbing along her perineum as I licked at the ultra-sensitive tissue above.
That sent her over the edge. She jerked, cried out, convulsions overtaking her muscles. My fingers still buried inside her, I pulled my mouth away, swiped my other thumb in the lube coating her skin and pushed into the tight hole of her ass. She screeched, her pussy bearing down on me as fluid squirted from her to wet the surface of the leather couch. Another hard contraction, another squirt and then she was sobbing and bucking through her release.
Three smacks in a row.
Ass, pussy, pussy...
Then three more, faster, just a little bit harder this time so she could feel them over the sensory overload.
Ass, pussy, then my hard cock plunging into her, my hands roughly grabbing her hips to push her back and forth along my rigid length.
A hot moan gurgled in her chest as she continued riding her release, her c
limax unabated, her pussy unbelievably tight and hot. I slammed into her, rougher than I had ever taken her before, claiming her with a new force because she had become irrevocably mine.
She slumped, exhausted, her orgasm thoroughly stretched to its limits.
I withdrew completely, my climax not yet reached. Gingerly, I untied her hands and rubbed at her arms to ease the sting of returning blood. Getting her turned onto her back, I saw how raw her sweet pussy was, the flesh still a bright, shiny red from the hard smacks and the many minutes I had spent fingering her before taking her with my cock.
Back onto the floor on my knees I went. I cupped her mound with my palm, my hand otherwise unmoving. I kissed her pliant lips, kissed the outer corner of her eye where tears carrying their mixed emotions leaked down to wet her dark hair. I followed the trail, kissed her temple, kissed the hollow of her throat.
I kept kissing until I reached the ripe breasts, red from being plastered and squashed against the ungiving leather cushions of the couch. Licking slow and soft at them, I began to massage her pussy.
"I want you back in me," she protested, guessing at my intent to continue down her body and mold my mouth to her swollen, aching flesh.
"Baby, you're too raw."
"No." Her mouth pinched into a charming but determined pout. She lifted the leg nestled against the back cushion of the couch. She brought it all the way up and to the side, then draped it over the top edge, everything below her knee dangling out of sight. She slid her other leg so that her foot dropped lightly to the floor and rested flat against the wood.
Stripping the empty but abused condom off, I pulled a fresh one on, my body jerking sensitively from how long I had been hard and swollen with the need to explode inside her. I poured more lube onto me, knowing what I had coated her with earlier was growing sticky and her steaming pussy, as wet as it was, still glowed an angry red.
Fuck, I really wanted to taste her again. But she had her hips moving, her voice cooing inside her throat like a morning dove.
