“Absolutely.” I sighed in the self-satisfied tone of a woman who was about to get extremely intimate with the rest of his muscle groups. He chuckled as he lowered me gently to the bed, but the amusement stopped when he reached for the zipper of my skirt. Stripping it off with my tank, he threw them both aside, his stare never breaking mine. And then his eyes were everywhere, feasting in the sight of me, clad only in my underwear. His burst of laughter was unexpected until I remembered what he was looking at.
“Wonder Woman? Really? No lacy black lingerie for my girl then?” he asked affectionately.
“Wonder Woman’s the sexiest woman alive, buddy. And screw you for thinking otherwise. Besides, if there was ever a day I needed my bravery pants on, it’s today.”
“Firstly, I beg to differ. Wonder Woman is not the sexiest woman alive. You are.” He hooked his thumbs into my knickers and peeled them down my legs, so incredibly slowly that he literally made me squirm. Reaching behind him, he pulled the back of his white T-shirt over his head before dropping it next to my clothes.
The sun streaming through the windows highlighted his impossibly sculpted torso, and I salivated as my eyes caressed his broad shoulders, rigid abdominals, and deep obliques that slid into the waistband of his low-slung jeans. Undoing my bra, I added it carelessly to the pile until I was laid completely bare before him. Never had I been completely naked before another man, and certainly not in full sunlight. I’d somehow managed to perfect the art of undressing beneath the sheets. But there was no room for self-consciousness. Not between us. Not when he looked down on me like I was the sun and the moon and every fucking Christmas present he ever had or wanted all rolled into one. His thick, inky eyelashes fluttered closed as he braced himself on the bed to lay a kiss on my thighs.
All I could think about was how fucking beautiful he was. I ached to draw him like this, but there were other aches, and as his kisses moved higher up my leg, mine only intensified.
“Secondly,” he added, “why do you need brave girl pants?” I’d forgotten what we were taking about, in fact I’d pretty much forgotten how to do anything, including speak. “Buttercup?” he prompted.
“Tom, if you want me to formulate actual sentences, you have to stop doing that,” I replied breathlessly.
“What, this?” he asked, feigning innocence as he kissed me again, millimetres away from the promised land. “Come on,” he cajoled. “Why do you need them?”
“Because I’m losing you tomorrow. Because you’ve made me fall in love with you, because you’ve made me so addicted to your touch that I have to cross my legs every time you enter the room, and tomorrow you’ll be gone.” I’d thoughtlessly blurted out the truth, so drugged by lust that I hadn’t stopped to consider what I was saying until I said it. He froze. His body turning to stone as every muscle seized.
“Do you mean that?” he asked warily.
“Yes, I mean that. I love you,” I repeated, gently cupping his face.
“No matter what?”
“No matter what,” I vowed.
His eyes fluttered closed, and I waited for that moment. The one where he told me he didn’t love me back. That it was all too quick. Too intense. But that moment never came. Doubt began to creep in, but the second he opened his eyes, it disappeared. He curled a hand around my hip and leaned forward to stare deep into my eyes, and that look told me everything I needed to know.
“Nobody’s ever said that to me before. Nobody,” he told me in his deep, guttural voice. “You have no fucking clue how much I love you, or what I’ll do if anyone ever tries to take you away from me. Living mission by mission, it’s not enough anymore. I’ve had a glimpse of what my life is like with you in it, and I want it so fucking badly, I’m fucking starving for it. I want holidays and Christmas trees and all that other shit that normal guys complain about. And I want to see this body,” he said, rocking backwards to lay a kiss on my stomach, “swollen with my baby.”
“You want kids?” I asked, my heart in my mouth because I yearned for the big family I never had.
“Only with you. Black-haired kids with hazel eyes as pretty as their mother’s.”
“We’ll have Nan teach them how to swear and play poker,” I added.
“Can you not mention my mother seconds before I’m about to make you scream my name?” he said, groaning.
“Promises, promises…,” I replied, never finishing my sentence because he took my breath away.
Literally.
Burying his head between my legs, he licked deep and slow, and I couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through my body as he thrusted and rubbed his tongue in pure, torturous agony.
“Please…,” I cried out, clutching at the sheets with a death grip, unsure of what I was crying for.
“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured, and the vibrations of his voice sent waves of desire through me. Raising himself up, he undid his jeans and pushed them and his boxers down his thick, strong thighs. Just the sight of him, jutting stiff and proud had me desperate for more. I wanted him in my mouth. I wanted to taste him. To tear his soul from his body as absolutely as he’d done to mine. Like he could sense my thoughts, his hand clasped my leg and he shook his head playfully, his eyes determined and predatory.
“Please, I want to taste you too,” I begged.
“Sorry, baby. I won’t last five minutes with your mouth around my cock,” he replied, and before I could protest, his lips were on mine, teasing and tasting as he drove me crazy. Our fingers threaded together, and he raised our joined hands above my head. Trapping my wrists with one hand, he ran his free one down my side, lifting my leg slightly and widening my hips as he thrust all the way into me, filling me so completely that I screamed out his name.
My orgasm was so close, I was throbbing with pleasure, even before he was inside me. He was tormenting me, making me a slave to the deep, lazy rhythm he set as he withdrew slowly before sliding back. Impaling himself deeper and deeper each time until I forgot where he ended and I began. His eyes were primal and wild as he watched me. I shuddered as he hit that perfect spot every time, winding my body tighter and tighter like a coiled spring about to snap. That was what it felt like. As though I’d snap if he didn’t let me go soon. Let me fall in the abyss that my body craved.
But still he held back. Every moan, every tremble, every ounce of my pleasure belonged to him, and he was greedy for it. It drove him higher and higher to see me writhe, to see me so desperate for what only he could provide.
“Harder!” I demanded, and like he’d reached the limit of his own endurance, he slammed himself into me. His mouth swallowed every groan, and my body was liquid against him. I could feel his impossibly hard cock swelling and growing, and I gripped him even tighter, clawing at his bicep for more. I’d experienced him gentle and loving and tender, but that wasn’t what I needed from him just then. I wanted raw and animalistic. I wanted him as out of control as I was, and that was exactly what I got.
With a roar, he rammed deeper, pistoning inside me at a relentless pace. I pushed back, meeting him thrust for thrust as he drove us both. Surging back, he watched me come undone. Watched my face as he fucked me fiercely. When his thumb reached down to brush against my clit, I snapped, crying out as I convulsed around him. Milking him mindlessly until he too came, every muscle in his body taut and hard as granite as he spilled himself inside me. Still he didn’t stop. He pumped in and out slowly, lazily, as the tremors subsided before collapsing bonelessly against me.
He reached for me as I escaped under his arm, squealing “bathroom,” to his chuckles. Minutes later, I emerged and threw myself back into bed, practically bouncing into his arms. We were silent for a moment, as he twisted and rubbed my fingers through his like he liked to do. Sometimes it felt like he was trying to memorise my touch.
“I’ve got a present for you,” he said, out of the blue. His head twisted slightly to gauge my reaction, but I was all smiles. Not for the present that he was going to give me, but for the gift
he already had. His hair was dishevelled and longer than his standard military buzz cut. He’d complained recently that he needed it buzzed again, so I ran my hands through the dark strands, determined to make the most of it before it was gone. He closed his eyes at my gentle touch, looking so peaceful and happy that I couldn’t help reaching up to drop a little kiss on his lips.
“What was that for?” he asked, looking lovingly at me.
“For my present,” I replied, smiling. “I enjoyed it very much. It really is the gift that keeps on giving.”
Knowing I was talking about his cock, he rolled his eyes. “You really are a dork,” he said, reaching over to his bedside table.
“But you love me anyway?”
“I love you because you’re a dork, baby. Because you care more about bringing that elephant thing than you did about makeup. Because you could buy yourself Harry Winston diamonds and instead you only buy shit to make people happy.”
I knew he was talking about the book and the Hawkins High AV Club T-shirt I bought him that reminded us both of our latest Netflix obsession. When I saw him wearing it while he read, my ovaries pretty much exploded. I was always careful though only to spend the money from my illustration jobs. The rest of it didn’t feel like mine to spend.
“I can’t take any credit for that. I think I’ve had just as much fun from those things as you have.”
“And I love you because you could have any man you wanted. And you chose me. So while I can’t buy you Harry Winston diamonds, I do want you to have something from me.”
Turning to face me, he bent his elbow to rest his head on his fist and placed the long, black, velvet box down on the bed between us. I would love to say that I was gracious and sophisticated enough to have pressed my hand against my chest sighing, “my, how wonderful!” Instead, I peeked into the box and screamed like a little girl, snapping it shut before launching myself on top of him. Inside was the most beautiful necklace I’d ever seen. Hanging from a beautiful white gold chain was an egg-shaped pendant, covered in multi-coloured stones. He laughed as he caught me, and I kissed his face all over.
“You like it then?” he asked, excitedly.
“I love it! It’s so beautiful. So unusual,” I gushed. “Can you put it on me?”
He took it carefully out of the box, his big thumbs struggling with the tiny, delicate clasp. When he had it, I swept my hair up in my hand and exposed my neck for him to secure it. The weight, that sat just slightly above my breasts, was already warming against my skin. The dazzling stones glittering in the light.
“What are they?” I asked, looking down at the unusual colours.
“Sapphires, tanzanite, aquamarine, and diamonds,” he replied.
“This must have cost you a fortune,” I scolded. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“It’s Elmer, like you,” he said, and I looked up into the eyes of this man who understood me so completely. “My beautiful splash of colour in a sea of grey.”
I didn’t have the words to explain how he looked at me. It was more than just love. It was the look of a man who had been handed life. A life he never expected to live. He looked at me as though he’d spent his entire life seeing only shades of grey, and now, for the first time, he was learning what it meant to live in colour. To look towards the horizon over a sea of endless possibilities and know they were all meant for you.
“I wish I had something to give you that was as precious,” I said, making him laugh.
“Baby, you’ve already given me the world. Although, there is one more thing I want,” he admitted, looking unusually nervous.
“Anything,” I agreed, knowing absolutely that I meant it.
He reached back to the bedside table and grabbed something, grasping it tightly in his fist. “Hold out your hand,” he said, and as I did, a set of keys attached to an Elmer the Elephant keyring fell into it. It took me a moment to realise they were Tom’s house keys.
“You want me to water your plants when you go away?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes again and leant forward to press a kiss against my lips. “I know you probably think it’s too soon, that we’ve only known each other for a few months, but when I think of you going back to London, or worse, back to your flat in Yorkshire, my guts twist up inside. I can’t always promise I’ll be here. Unless they kick me out, the army will send me all over the world at a moment’s notice until I can finish out my contract, but this place isn’t home unless you’re in it. You’re home to me, and I want to know that wherever I am, whatever shithole that I end up in, whatever I’m suffering, I’m coming home to you,” he said, arguing his case.
“Okay.”
“And I know you want to go back to your normal job, but you can illustrate books from anywhere. I can even convert one of the reception rooms or the conservatory into a studio. And we could sell your flat or rent it out if you want to keep it, because I know how much you love it,” he rambled on.
“Okay.”
“Plus, you’ll have Nan close by, although I’m not sure I should be adding that to the incentives, and this place is huge, so your friends can come down and stay whenever they like. Wait… what?” he said in confusion as he finally registered my answer.
“I said yes. I’ll move in. This place already feels more like home than Yorkshire did. I understand that you have to go away, but when you do, the only place I want to be is where I feel closest to you. Although, now you’ve offered, I’m definitely taking you up on the idea of a studio.”
“Buttercup, you can have the whole fucking house,” he said. I screamed with laughter as he pulled me under him, tickling me in the process. In that moment, I realised what I’d truly been missing in all the years since Mum died. A home full of laughter and love.
Tom
I was groggy. Struggling to orientate myself and wondering why. Then I realised the answer.
I’d slept.
For as many years back as I could remember, I hadn’t been able to nap for more than a few hours at a time without reorientating myself before going back to sleep. Maybe it was a skill, to be able to regularly wake to check the safety of your surroundings. Or perhaps it was the legacy of a shitty childhood. Whatever the fuck it was, last night, in the comfort of my own bed with Sarah in my arms, I’d slept like the dead. It was fair to say that we’d pretty much worn each other out. There was a brief intermission where we gorged on Chinese food, but within hours, any carbs we’d scored from the food had long since been burned off. I made it my mission to christen every room as promised, but by the time we made it to the stairs, I’d pretty much fucked her unconscious. Still, I knew there’d be plenty of time to christen our place all over again when I got back.
Fuck, it felt good to call it our place. Maybe there were guys who ran away from commitment faster than their legs would carry them. It never occurred to me to be bothered by it, because I’d never met a woman I was attracted to before that was any more than a passing fuck. Sarah, though, had my whole fucking world in the palm of her hand. I lived to make her happy. She was crazy and chaotic and colourful, and she lit up the room like a fucking lightbulb. She was a beacon of hope for a guy like me.
I was well aware that I was romanticised in her eyes though. In fact, I encouraged it. If she could see the shit in my head, if she could see what I’d seen or had an inkling of what I was actually capable of, she’d run away screaming. My job now was to protect her, even from my dark side. Divorce rates in the regiment were higher than any other division in the army. Not being able to make plans, or having to cancel them at the drop of a hat, and never being able to say where you were going or how long you’d be gone, took its toll on the strongest relationships. These weren’t the only challenges we were up against. It was almost impossible to describe how difficult it was transitioning between life-or-death situations in war zones to civilian life, something that had to become bread and butter to us. PTSD as well had affected so many bloody good soldiers over the years, and ther
e were also those boys who were essentially adrenaline junkies, craving that high in civilian life that you could only get from extreme combat.
To say that the life of a military partner was hard was an understatement of epic fucking proportions. They were mothers and fathers, supporters and friends. The silent ranks with no uniforms or stripes. They weren’t saluted or promoted or lauded or praised. They were the quiet strength. The lighthouses in the darkest of storms, guiding their soldiers home.
Despite all that, I knew Sarah had the metal to make it in my world. She’d faced so many hardships and challenges, torrents that would have swept away weaker characters. But she’d planted her feet and raged against the rising flood. Stood up for what was right, even when it would have been easier to let the current carry her away. There wasn’t a single part of me that doubted whether she had the strength for this life. But it wasn’t a life that I wanted for her, for us both. The SAS was in my blood. I was proud to say that I’d defended my country, and I was honoured to have worked alongside some of the finest military personnel in the world. But Sarah had become the most important person in my life, and I wanted for her all the things she’d never had. A home, children, and a husband who stood an above average chance of making it home alive after work every day.
Yes, you heard right. I said husband. Because only a fucking idiot would find a woman as amazing as she was and not marry her before she wised up and realised she could do so much better. I was aware that I wasn’t like most men. In place of a quick temper, I had steely control and patience. I planned, I strategized, and I executed. But Sarah wasn’t a military operation. She was the love of my fucking life. She needed things from me I’d never learned to give to her. Communication. Emotion. Trust. But for her, I would learn. For her I would be the most studied student the world had ever fucking seen. Because she was mine and I was hers, and if it took every day for the rest of my life, I’d do everything in my power to make sure she never regretted that.
The smell of sausage and bacon hit me, along with the sound of Sarah’s off-key singing, and I grinned to myself, thinking that I would happily wake up this way for the rest of my life. After a quick shower, I shrugged on some jeans, but given that the heating was cranked to the max, left off my T-shirt. I ambled down the stairs to see my girl loading everything onto plates and setting them on a table already laden with coffee, juices, and fruit. I paused and took a moment to look my fill before she noticed me. Her feet were encased in big, thick slouch socks, probably in deference to the cold flagstones on the kitchen floor, and she wore one of my old army hoodies. It swamped her, ending mid-thigh, and I hoped to fuck she wasn’t wearing anything underneath it. Forget women dressed up in this Victoria’s Secret shit. Seeing my girl wearing my clothes did something to me. The idea of bending her over that kitchen table and fucking her hard was looking pretty appealing.
City Under Siege Page 20
