by Abby Gordon
“Just stroke me with your hands,” he told her. “Put your sweet lips on my cock. Slowly take me in your mouth. Just…” he couldn’t believe how hard it was to breathe or talk. “Just touch me.” He could see the worry in her eyes and smiled as she tentatively wrapped her fingers around his erection. “That’s it, baby. Your turn to get me off.”
Her turn, Debbie repeated to herself. Her turn to make him come. As she’d debated wearing the chemise, she’d thought of those erotic stories. The men had been putty in the women’s hands when the women paid attention to that part of their bodies. Now she put all that into reality. Fascinated by the jutting length, she explored it with her fingers. Beneath the velvet skin, his cock was rigid. She traced the pulsing vein along the side and under. Gently, she stroked him, amazed as it darkened and hardened beneath her fingers. With a groan, he leaned back against the counter.
“Harder,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and deeper.
“I don’t want to do anything that would hurt you,” she told him, looking up.
Both his hands combed through her hair as he smiled. “Sweetheart, your pussy is tight and when you come, your walls squeeze me tight.”
She felt her pussy clench at his words. One of his hands wrapped hers around his cock at the root and moved it up and down.
“Just like that, only tighter.”
“All right,” she nodded.
She stroked him like that, gradually tightening her fingers around him, loving the way his cock bobbed. Something from one of the stories came to mind and she decided to try it. She brushed her fingers along the heavy sacks below and along his inner thighs.
When he inhaled sharply, she glanced up.
His eyes were closed and his hands gripped the edge of the counter so tightly his knuckles were white. “Don’t stop. God, don’t stop now.”
More confident now, she began stroking in earnest. Fast and slow, tightly and brushing lightly. At the edge of her vision, she could see his abs rippling and slowly becoming covered in perspiration. She rubbed her thumb through the liquid seeping out of the narrow slit of his cock and he moaned. She smiled. He wasn’t even in her mouth yet. Taking a deep breath, she kissed along his great length, focusing on how he felt and the heavy musk scent that was all Quincy. She rested her hands on his thighs and sucked the head into her mouth. Her tongue explored the ridge and licked at the tip. Above her, Quincy hissed.
Looking up, she watched his chest heave and felt his thighs tremble. Gradually she pulled his cock deeper into her mouth. Her cheeks sucked in and she felt his pre-cum slide down her throat. More, she wanted more of him. Leaning forward, she took him as deep as she could. One hand went to the base and wrapped around, squeezing in time with her sucking. The length of dick throbbed and pulsed. She wriggled her hips as hunger for that length in her own body increased, burning deep in her womb.
Quincy groaned and she felt his hands on her head. His fingers threaded through her hair.
“Touch yourself,” he whispered, voice husky. “Are you dripping?”
She slid a hand through her nether lips and fingered her pussy. She managed a nod, even as she drew hard on him. His eyes rolled back and his entire body shuddered.
“More,” he panted. “More.”
Reveling in the power she now had, Debbie moved her hands to his tight ass. Holding him still as much as he was holding her to him, she sucked in, took a breath and sucked in again. When she inhaled, her tongue was flicking at the slit. The more she felt flow out of the opening, the more she wanted all of him.
“Close,” Quincy grunted. “So close.”
She dug her fingers into his ass, pulled him in deep, and sucked hard. In response, the grip on her head tightened. Tears came to her eyes at the pain, even as she felt her pussy clench.
“Come on, baby,” he encouraged. “Almost there…almost… Aaahhh!” The moan was drawn out. “Oh, yes!”
His hands held her still as his hips jerked forward so his cock was fully in her throat. She choked but swallowed everything as it poured down. Unable to move, she felt the tension in his thighs and ass. It was as if every part of his body was involved in his orgasm. Spent, he used the hold on her head to draw her to her feet and into his embrace.
“That was incredible,” whispered Quincy, lips against her hair. “Damn, you’re good, woman!”
Smiling in satisfaction, Debbie wrapped her arms around his waist.
“Not bad for my first one?” she wondered.
“I might not make it to Friday,” he sighed, burying his head against her neck. Their stomachs growled and he chuckled. “Let’s eat so we have a chance of making it through the week. Otherwise,” his teeth nibbled on her shoulder. “I might have to eat up a certain tempting morsel.”
“Excellent idea,” she smiled, giving her hips a little wiggle against his. With a groan, he smacked her bottom. “Come on,” she cajoled, taking out the flatware. “You know that sandwich you grabbed from the employee dining room on the way to the hospital wasn’t enough.”
“If I’d had a better idea of what your days were like, I would’ve grabbed two,” he agreed, turning and getting the plates out of the microwave. “I’m definitely having two bowls of cereal tomorrow.”
“We’re going to need to go grocery shopping at this rate,” she commented, pausing as she arranged the placemats and napkins on the breakfast counter. They sounded like a couple on some TV show, married and talking about normal family stuff. At least what she thought passed for couple-talk. She didn’t have much experience either personally or in watching others. She bit her bottom lip. So what had she done? Tried to keep Claire from being with the man she wanted and who had wanted her for two years. Some friend she was. “You want some music or anything?”
He nodded, putting the plates down.
“Candles?”
She frowned, eyes going around the kitchen.
“I think Claire has some somewhere,” she murmured, going to the living room. “I’ll look in here.” Turning on the stereo, she put in one of Claire’s jazz CDs. Putting the case back, she smiled and picked up two votives and one pillar candle. Triumphantly she put them next to the placemats. “Not those long ones,” she shrugged.
“But it will work,” he nodded, striking the match on the box he’d found in the menu drawer. Once the candles were lit, he scooped her up and set her on a stool. “Stay here,” he told her. Turning off all the lights but the one in her bedroom, he came back to find her waiting patiently. Retrieving the wine glasses, he sat next to her. “To us. May I let you get more than four bites in your mouth before I decide to take you again.”
Laughing, she clinked her glass against his.
“Let’s talk,” she suggested.
“Talk,” he repeated, twirling spaghetti on his fork. “Didn’t we try that already?”
“Yeah, but I meant talk about us in more general terms, not…um,” she stammered at the look in his eyes. “Us, in particular terms.”
One dark brow went up.
“That’s one way of putting it,” he muttered. “Okay, how did you end up working for MacLauren?”
“Do I get to ask you any questions?” wondered Debbie. “You seem to know a lot more about me than I know about you.”
“Like what?” he asked, warily.
She chewed a bite of meatball and kept her gaze on his long fingers as they ripped the small loaf of bread. He tore it into bite-size pieces, dipped it in the sauce and pressed it to her lips. She sucked on his fingers. At his swift inhale, she smiled.
“Your name?” she prompted. “Is Quincy your first or last name?”
“Middle.”
“That’s a lot of help,” she sighed. He put a large bite in his mouth. From the way his eyes narrowed, she had a feeling that he was going to go all Master on her. Huh-uh. That was so not happening. “Dammit. What’s your full name?”
He gave her a stern look. “For the record, that tone of voice—”
“Will be used if you wi
thhold information that is basic and necessary,” she finished, shaking her head. He would dominate her in the bedroom, but she had the right to know stuff about this man. “Stuff like you’ll be asking me. Your name, where you’re from, what you did before we met.”
He downed the contents of his wineglass and poured himself some more. Debbie was puzzled. She’d never been around anyone who got like this over something so simple.
“My full name is John Quincy Stormcloud,” he said quietly. “My mother was from Atlanta and my father was Sioux. They met in Vegas. My mother was a showgirl. My father worked in construction. There was an accident when I was eight and he was severely injured. He became addicted to pain medication to the point that it no longer worked. He wasn’t rational most days. And at night…”
Quincy paused and took a large drink of wine. Debbie could tell that the memories were not pleasant, maybe even painful.
“At night he drank, so he wasn’t really rational then either. He took his rage out on us. I kept trying to get my mother to leave him, but she wouldn’t. Every few months, my grandfather or one of the other tribal elders would visit and try to convince my parents to move to the reservation. They wouldn’t. When I was twelve, I came home from school and they were dead. The neighborhood had been changing and the gangs taking control didn’t like Sioux or any other Native American in the area. They killed twenty people in a one-day purge.”
Silently, Debbie put her hand on his where it rested on the counter. He nodded at her gesture. “My paternal grandfather came for their bodies and took me back to the reservation.” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “I thought we’d been poor in Vegas. We lived like millionaires compared to the reservation. The school was all right but the best times were when my grandfather and uncles took me out. I learned a lot about hunting, tracking, and survival from them. The day after high school graduation, I left for basic training.”
Debbie’s gaze went to their hands. His were so large and strong compared to hers, darkly tanned to her pale skin.
“We both come from poor backgrounds,” she whispered. “My family’s from a coal mining town in West Virginia.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure it qualifies for the title of ‘town’ though. There are maybe eight hundred people there, living in rickety shacks that look like they’ll fall over in high winds. My grandmother was pregnant with my mother at seventeen. She barely graduated high school, so she was very strict with my mother.”
Her mouth twisted. “Rules and my mother didn’t get along very well. I was born four months after my mother graduated from high school. She worked as a clerk at the general store and if she wanted more money she went to the bar to pick someone up. One night, the man came to my room after she passed out. I kicked him in the balls and got out the bedroom window. I lived with my grandmother after that.” She swallowed and shook her head when he opened his mouth.
“I didn’t think there was anything else in life until my cousin got into West Point. He came back for a week two years later and he was a different person. I had so many questions and Rich answered as many as he could. He even helped me plan so I could get out of that town and go to college. I took as many math and computer classes as I could and saved all my money so I could study for the SATs and advanced placement classes. I got into West Virginia University on a scholarship and majored in computer science. I stayed during summers and worked in the labs. I read every journal I could get my hands on. That’s how I first learned about MacLauren Computing. I talked to a professor about it and he said it was one of the best in the world. I didn’t think I had a chance of even getting an interview, but I sent my resume out anyway.”
She chuckled. “An hour later, I ran back to the mail room to get the envelope back, but the mail had already been picked up. I couldn’t believe what I’d done and told myself that they’d never call.”
“They did, though.”
“They did,” she nodded, spearing another meatball. “There was a different VP then. Jay was great.” She grimaced. “His wife was diagnosed with cancer three months after I started and he left to take care of her so the division hired Samuels.”
For a few moments, they were silent, reflecting on what the other had said, eating. Debbie drank some wine and realized something.
“What did you do in the Army? How did you get so good at computers?”
He grunted and wiped his mouth. “I passed the right tests in basic and joined Special Forces. For nearly two years, I was in different types of schools. I joined Hancock’s platoon in March of 2000. September 11th happened and we spent most of our time overseas.”
“You were with Ben in the Army? And the others?”
He nodded. “They’re my brothers in every way. Every one of us has saved the others so many times, we stopped keeping track.”
“Against the Taliban and Al Qaeda?” she asked quietly, her gaze fierce.
“I killed my share. Not that it matters anymore,” he shrugged.
“It does,” Debbie told him. “The ones you killed, that your unit killed, they can’t kill others or hurt people who just want to live in peace.”
Quincy smiled slightly. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “It means a lot to hear that.”
“So why aren’t you still in the Army?”
His expression shut down so fast she was stunned. For several seconds, he just stared at the plate. Without a word, he got up and began putting the food away.
“Quincy,” she started, turning on the stool. “Talk to me.” She watched him a moment. “I know you wouldn’t have done anything that would have gotten you kicked out so…”
“I did,” he said shortly. “We all did.”
“I don’t believe you,” she whispered. He put the containers in the fridge and turned around. “I don’t,” she insisted. “There must have been some mistake if…”
“We were ambushed. Out of twenty of us, six were killed in the first volley. During the second, they isolated four, killed three and took the captain.”
“Hancock,” she whispered.
“Hancock,” he confirmed. “HQ told us to come back. We disregarded orders and went after them.”
“Well, of course,” nodded Debbie. “You couldn’t let them take him.”
A small, sad smile curved his lips slightly.
“We were told the situation would be taken under consideration and someone higher up would make a decision regarding a rescue attempt. We knew that the longer they had him, the farther they got with him, the less chance there was of getting him back alive.”
“So you went after him,” she nodded.
“We pretended to have radio trouble so we couldn’t hear the orders to turn back,” he told her, resting a hip on his stool. “Three days later, we caught up with them. They were about to behead him for their video. His body was so broken I don’t know how he survived the trek back.”
“He didn’t want them to have that victory,” she whispered.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Anyway, we got back, all of us wounded in some way.” Debbie nodded, having seen some of the scars on his torso. “We were all shipped out and, while we were in various stages of healing, were given court-martial papers.”
“But you saved him!” she protested, righteous fury in her eyes. “How could they…”
“We disobeyed orders,” he told her. “Ben’s family got wind of what the Army was doing and protested to everyone they could get hold of.” He grinned. “And they know a helluva lot of people who listened and took action. To keep things from becoming a PR mess, the Pentagon decided to discharge us. Hancock hired every single one of us for his company. And that,” he gave her a smile, “is how I learned so much about computers. I couldn’t do much for three months while we were waiting for the powers-that-be to make up their minds. I found a manual someone had left and read it. By the time we were discharged, I was hacking into everything I could.”
He grinned. “Inside a year, I was in a Pentagon conference room. Hancock loved it
when the suits and generals had to listen to me tell them that their secure networks were about as tough to break through as tissue paper.”
“I’ll bet Keith would hire you in a heartbeat,” Debbie said. “He needs people with your skills.”
“I was planning on talking to him and Allen in the morning.”
“And Allen? What?” She stared at him, realizing what he’d said. He had already thought about it? “Why? You’re serious?”
“Once you’re safe, Ben will reassign me,” he pointed out. “The only reason I was in the city was because I’d just returned from an overseas assignment. Usually I’m not here more than a couple weeks at a time. I want more than two weeks with you every couple months or so.”
“Really?” she whispered as he sat back down. “You really want to be with me?”
“I am definitely going to have to work on your confidence,” he shook his head, pulling her onto his lap. “I see you very differently.”
“How do you see me?”
“Smart, sassy, and strong,” he ticked off. His fingers smoothed over her ass cheeks and squeezed slightly. “Sexy and submissive. Sounds like the perfect woman to me.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” Debbie muttered. He had to be. But the words wriggled into her heart and the warmth spread. With his arms around her like thick bands of steel, she rested her head on his chest. “But, thank you.”
“Once you’ve been around me more than twenty-four hours, you’ll see that I don’t say things I don’t mean,” he told her. “And I sure as hell don’t say things to make people feel better.”
“Yeah, I can see that about you,” she nodded against his chest. Under her cheek, she could feel the steady rhythm of his heart. “Has it really been less than twenty-four hours?”
“Yep. I’ve set all sorts of records with you.”
“Like what?” She rested her chin on his chest to smile up at him. “Spanking a woman within two hours? Or having sex before you finished your coffee? Or putting sex toys on a woman ten hours after meeting her?”
“Yes, yes, and yes,” he smiled back at her.
