“To sex,” she said and lifted her glass. “Do you have any idea how much my bottom hurts sitting on this chair? All your fault, you wicked, wicked man.”
Against his better judgment, he clinked his glass to hers and drank more. He liked the fact that she carried the reminder of what they had done with her.
He started eating his sandwiches. The alcohol seemed to be hitting him already, and he usually had a good tolerance for the stuff. There had been a time when he’d used it to self-medicate for his PTSD, but Roger had helped him pull out of that. Now he only drank when the dreams had stayed away for a while.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He didn’t feel okay. He was so tired his vision was starting to blur. “I’m sorry, Teresa, I’d better go to bed.”
He got up. He shouldn’t be surprised he could still get up, or make it up the stairs, but both took an effort. He was aware of Teresa behind him. If he fell over, she’d mother him, and god only knew what she’d think of his ability to hold his booze. He got the door open. He stumbled in and batted at the door to swing it closed, and fell into bed.
* * * * *
Teresa stuck her hand out to grab the door as it closed, figuring it would latch shut if it did. She caught it just in time. Now she wasn’t sure what to do exactly. After a minute of dithering, she opened the door and peered in.
He was lying quite still on the bed.
Now that’s tired.
He’d told her not to let him fall asleep on the beach and she’d obeyed. But surely that didn’t apply anymore. Sleep was exactly what he needed. She slipped into his room and closed the door behind her. Sure enough, she heard the click of a lock.
She touched his hand but he didn’t move. He was breathing heavily enough, so she wasn’t too worried. She wondered if she could get his clothes off so that he’d be more comfortable. His shirt might be hard, but she was pretty sure she could at least manage his pants.
She removed his sandals and then unzipped his pants. She was able to get them all the way off without waking him. She took off her clothes and piled them at the foot of his bed. Then she climbed in next to him. She managed to get the covers out from under him as well and pulled them over both of them.
It was too early to be sleepy. So she listened to him breathe and watched the rise and fall of his chest. She smiled. Such a strong, capable man, but the wine had hit him hard. She was tempted to slide under the covers and suck on his cock, but she supposed he needed his sleep. Obviously he hadn’t been getting enough. Which meant something was bothering him.
Whatever it was, she wanted to take it away. At the same time, she secretly hoped that something was her. She wasn’t sure he’d know what to do if he started having feelings for someone. She winced. I shouldn’t think that way. There’s no future in this. I should be in the moment. The problem is that sometimes hopes for the future define what the moment means.
At last she closed her eyes and snuggled. Whatever else would happen, the moment was warm and comfortable. She pulled up his shirt, lay her head on his chest and fell asleep.
* * * * *
Terry couldn’t breathe, and that woke her up. There were hands squeezing her neck. She stared up in horror at Kyle, whose hands they were. His eyes opened and he stared back, looking as horrified as she felt. He let go.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked.
Given that he’d been choking her, it didn’t seem a fair question. “What the fuck do you think you were doing?” she asked, sitting up and rubbing her neck. For all that she had been surprised, she wasn’t seriously hurt. I should go to my room where it’s safe. But she wanted an answer first.
He gritted his teeth before responding. “Fighting the last war. I told you not to sleep with me. I told you. Get out.”
A few hours ago she’d been eager to obey his commands. Now no way was he bossing her around. She stayed put. “You didn’t. You told me not to let you sleep on the beach, but that wasn’t now. You barely made it up here.”
“Get out,” he said.
She didn’t budge. “I think you owe me an apology.”
“For?”
“For damn near strangling me!” God, he could be dense sometimes. Or maybe he was the kind of man who always needed to be right. That fit all too well, with telling her to call him Sir all the time. She wasn’t about to call him Sir now.
“I wasn’t strangling—” he started angrily. Then he stopped, his face softening. “I’m very sorry, Teresa. I was afraid this would happen, and that’s why I didn’t want to sleep with you. I have nightmares from the wars I’ve been in and they’re very strong. Usually I just choke a pillow. It wasn’t about—doesn’t have anything to do with you. For a second, I thought you were a man with a knife in Iraq. The one who did a job on my face.”
“Do I look like a man with a knife?”
“Not once I got my eyes open.” Laughter played at his eyes. “No beard, for one thing. I think that may have been what woke me up, is that you felt wrong. Although the pillow normally has to die first.”
The idea of him strangling a pillow in the middle of the night suddenly struck her as funny and she laughed. He raised his eyebrows.
She got serious again. “That’s why you don’t get enough sleep. Nightmares about the war.”
“Yes. Wars.”
She noted he wasn’t insisting on her calling him Sir anymore. Things were different between them now, and probably always would be. The silence lengthened. He didn’t know what to say either, apparently.
He’d fought the same wars her country had fought, on the same side. Risked his life. And now he had nightmares. It didn’t seem fair. If anything, doing that sort of thing ought to let him sleep soundly, knowing he’d fought the good fight and all that. Knowing he’d done his best. It was people like Stegner, wasting their talent, who should have trouble, but she doubted that was the case.
Kyle finally spoke. “I’m sorry that I laid hands on you. You should go back to your own room and we won’t risk this again. I’ll leave you alone.”
That was probably the sensible, safe thing to do. But if she left him now she knew he’d never sleep with anyone ever. He’d be afraid to. She shook her head. “No Sir.”
“Excuse me?”
“You stopped when you felt me. You’d stop again.” She wished she felt as confident as she sounded.
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do,” she insisted, glad she’d taken a few acting classes. She lifted his shirt and pulled it over his head. He didn’t stop her. Maybe he was afraid to use his strength against her right now. Fine. I can use that. She pushed his chest until he was lying down again and straddled him.
“I could order you to go,” he said.
“I’d like to be able to say I always obey your orders, Sir.”
He got the hint.
“For instance, you can tell me right now how you want me to relax you. Do you want me to suck your cock, Sir? Or rub on it, like this?” She rubbed her pussy across the length of it and felt it harden under her. It felt good so she did it again.
The corner of his mouth twitched but he didn’t say anything.
“We could do more if you tell me where the condoms are.”
“The drawer beneath the nightstand.” His face and voice were still tense, but his shoulders relaxed some.
She reached in, found a condom wrapper and ripped it open. Then she wiggled back and rolled it over his cock. She pulled on his shaft until his cock stood straight up, and then positioned herself over it.
“May I, Sir?”
“Yes.”
She lowered herself slowly, feeling him stretch her, and then slid up again. Maybe he wasn’t safe to tease, but she felt she’d earned the right.
He folded his arms behind his head and watched. Rather than looking frustrated, he looked self-assured and in control, which hadn’t been the reaction she’d expected. She slid him in again, realizing how much she wanted to t
ake him all, to press her mound against him. It would be easier on her knees not to hold herself up like that. She was no longer sure who was teasing whom.
He’s still in control. And I’m serving him. Providing the entertainment. His gaze roved her body, lingering for moments on her breasts. She arched her back.
“Good girl,” he said and she glowed inside.
“You want this to be all about me,” he said.
“Yes.” She wanted to relax him so he could sleep with her again. Sex was the best way she knew to do that. She wasn’t urgently turned-on, but she was wet enough that he slid inside her easily.
“But I want to feel you coming around me before I come. So play with yourself while you fuck me.”
She hesitated. He guided her hands, moving one between her legs, the other to her breasts. “Sometimes you can have me do things to you, but this time you’re going to do the work.” He grinned.
“Because that will help you get to sleep, Sir?”
“Because I said so.” His gaze was intimate, almost violating. Even if it was a good enough reason, she wasn’t sure she could do it without dying of embarrassment. She found a nipple and squeezed as a good faith effort. He lifted his gaze to her breasts. That made it easier for her to rub her clit, which felt as good as it always did. It swelled and tingled beneath her touch. She rubbed harder, feeling her cheeks getting warm.
“That’s good, Teresa,” he said softly.
She closed her eyes, thinking she could pretend she was alone and that would make it easier, but his cock buried in her pussy made that impossible. She pinched and pulled on her tits, feeling the passion grow. She had never lingered much when she brought herself off, and she wasn’t in the mood to now, even if he did want a show. She moved her fingers rapidly, rubbing her clit almost too hard in her urgency.
Moving his hips, he pushed deep inside her. That pushed her toward the edge and almost over. But she resisted, knowing he wasn’t close yet. She’d always been happy to take her orgasms whenever they came, but this time that wasn’t the point. Even her climax was about his pleasure, this time.
He moved his hands from under his head and settled them on her hips, thrusting harder, faster. She watched his chest rise and fall as he exerted himself, heard his breathing get more ragged.
“Now, Sir?” she asked.
“Now.”
For you, Sir. She gave her clit the last few rubs it needed, then squeezed her legs around him and pinched her eyes tight, feeling her body shake out of her control. For a moment, she lost her focus on him, lost in the quivering sensations. Then she felt his cock pulse in her pussy and her pussy squeeze as if in response.
“Good man,” she said, softly, hoping she wasn’t too far out of line.
“Fuck,” he said. She wasn’t sure whether that was a good response or a bad one, but it would do. She needed a moment to catch her breath anyway. She moved her hand down to hold the condom on and then rolled off him.
“We’ll do that every thirty minutes until you get back to sleep,” she said softly as she pulled the condom off him and tossed it toward the wastebasket in the corner. She didn’t look to see if she’d made the shot or not because that wasn’t what was important right now.
“I can’t do it every thirty minutes all night long, Teresa.”
“That’s what I’m banking on.” She smiled at him. “Lean back, Sir, and close your eyes. You can wake me up if you need to use me again.” She’d never thought of a man using her as a good thing before. But tonight she wanted him to do what he needed to do. He’d shown her a lot about herself and had given her some amazing experiences. Even if she wasn’t going to be the one to benefit in the long run, she wanted to leave him able to sleep with a woman. If it was someone else, she just wanted to be able to claw her eyes out afterward.
He closed his eyes and, to her surprise he was either asleep again in a few minutes or he was doing a very good job of faking it. She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes herself. He wasn’t going anywhere without waking her up.
There were lights outside the window. A boat of some kind, she supposed. She raised her head for a better look and then put it down quickly because she didn’t want to disturb Kyle. The island was owned by four men, one of whom was Roger. It had been him she and Stegner had negotiated with. He’d said he’d come by sometime during the week if he could. It was probably him.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about the presence of another man on the island. She remembered what Kyle had said about keeping his submissives naked, or partly so. Was he used to playing in front of Roger? She could deal with that, maybe. Big maybe. But what if they were used to sharing women? That wasn’t something she was interested in at all.
She became aware of his eyes on her. This was about keeping him relaxed, and sharing her fears now wouldn’t help. She’d talk to him about it later. She rested her head on his chest again, and in a few minutes was rewarded by hearing his steady breathing.
Eventually she decided he wasn’t faking and she fell asleep.
Chapter Nine
Kyle woke up and saw the light coming in. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d slept quite so peacefully. He’d been aware of Terry there next to him, her warm, soft body both comforting and arousing. He’d probably been half hard the whole night, but that was okay. She seemed to keep the nightmares away, at least.
He could hear the sound of a boat motor. Roger, he presumed. Roger had been trying to convince him for a long time that he should let his guard down and sleep with one of the women he played with, but Kyle had never felt safe doing it. Now, although he hadn’t intended to, he’d done it. Had it been safe? He wasn’t entirely sure. But it felt safe. And he knew he wanted her in his bed the next night as well.
He watched her breathe. At some point she had rolled over and he had spooned against her for a while. She felt right in his arms. Now that he was awake she looked so peaceful and so sexy. He wanted to let her sleep, but he wanted to slide inside her too and watch her wake up. Reluctantly he pulled away. He was all too aware of what a precious thing sleep could be, and he knew she’d gotten less than he had. Goodness knew what she was thinking after feeling his hands on her neck. In fact, maybe it was best if she woke up without him there so she could sort it out.
He pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and headed downstairs, then out toward the dock. Sure enough, a tall, dark-haired man was trying to lasso one of the posts to secure his boat. Kyle jogged over to help. It was definitely a task that was easier with two, especially if one of them was onshore already.
He hadn’t been too happy with Roger lately, largely because of the way the other man had pushed the whole movie deal. Roger had known Kyle wouldn’t like it, but given how well he and Teresa were getting along it seemed churlish to hold that against him now. He reached out a hand to help Roger onto the dock, and then embraced his old friend warmly.
“You’re in an unexpectedly good mood, mate,” said Roger.
“Things have improved recently,” Kyle admitted. Roger could be smug when he was right. Which was most of the time, damn him.
Roger grinned. “Did the oaf manage to turn out to like cricket?”
Kyle grimaced, remembering how he’d described Gallagher and Teresa in the e-mail he’d sent Roger right after they’d first landed. He’d called Gallagher an oaf. His word for Teresa had been less kind still.
Roger’s grin got wider. “I see I’m a little off. So then, the ‘pushy bitch’ turned out to be a good shag? Nothing wrong with broadening your tastes, mate.”
Kyle frowned. “Do you think that the only reason I can end up liking a woman is because she’s good in bed?”
Roger raised an eyebrow. “Based on past experience, and excepting those you’re related to, I’d say yes. Are you going to tell me you haven’t slept with her?”
Slept. That was precisely what he’d done. To her, he supposed the most extraordinary things they’d done involved clamps and crops. But not to him. It w
asn’t just the sleeping either. The time he’d spent in the boat, watching her take pictures and listening to her tell him about the movie, had all been intensely pleasurable. She had passion for what she did. Most of the women he’d been with had wanted escape from an existence they found either too boring or too stressful, and were in search of intensity to distract them. He got the feeling Teresa loved what she did. Maybe she even cared about it as much as he had once cared about his job in the SAS.
“Thoughts?” asked Roger.
Roger always wanted to know his thoughts. Kyle didn’t think the shrink in him ever turned off. “It’s been a long time since I cared about anything.”
“And now you care about her?”
Kyle glared. “I didn’t say that. That wasn’t where I was going.” Besides, I care for everyone I play with. It’s not safe if I don’t care. But he knew Roger had hit on something. What he felt for Teresa was different, stronger.
Roger put an arm around Kyle and steered him toward the house. “You didn’t deny it either. Let me meet your ‘pushy bitch’.”
Even though they had been his words originally, Kyle felt a flash of anger. “She’s not a pushy bitch.”
Roger smiled. “Looking forward to meeting her more and more.”
He’d shared women with Roger before, but he knew that he didn’t want to share Teresa. But what if that’s something she wants? He decided he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. But he hoped it wasn’t. He wanted to keep her for himself. “She’s mine.”
“Does she know that?”
That’s the sort of question Roger loves to ask. Kyle wasn’t even sure what he meant by it. It was a gut reaction and he wasn’t sure about his motives. Possessiveness wasn’t the same as love, certainly. He’d give his life to protect her, but that wasn’t love either—maybe a kind of love, but he’d do the same for a stranger in the right circumstances, and had put his life on the line again and again in Iraq and Afghanistan. It wasn’t the same as being in love, was it? That was something that happened to other people.
“You might want to tell her. She’s got what, forty-eight hours or so on this island before a boat takes her away?”
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