by KD Robichaux
“No way. You still have all sorts of painkillers in your system, and there’s no way I could live with myself if I let a war hero slip and break his skull open.”
She tugs at the knot beneath our hands, and the sheet comes free, our gazes still locked. “I won’t slip. I’ll hold onto the wall the whole time—” I begin, but she’s already shaking her head, her eyebrow lifted in defiance.
“Ain’t happening. Plus, you have nothing to be shy about. I’ve already seen your junk,” she informs me, and fuck if I don’t feel my face heat. At my expression, she adds, “Sponge baths, remember? Couldn’t let you lay around with swamp crotch. I happen to know chafing can be just as irritating and painful as a serious injury.”
The smile she gives me then is infectious. “Well, what about you? This whole adventure started because you were the one who needed a shower,” I remind her, completely joking.
She grins, a wicked glint in her beautiful brown doe eyes. “You trying to get me naked, big guy?”
“At least I’m being a little more subtle about it than you are,” I say with a chuckle, squeezing her hands lightly.
She seems to think about something for a minute, and then the look of decision crosses her perfect features. “Deal. If you let me stay and make sure you don’t fall and crack open your coconut, then I’ll wash up here with you. I mean, it’s only fair. I’ve seen yours, so I’ll show you mine.”
My jaw drops before I catch myself. “I was only kidding.”
“I’m not,” she states.
“But… someone could—”
“Nah, I’ve pretty much caught on to the routine around here the past few days. We’re good. And even if someone did come in, I’m only helping you get showered. It’s not like we’re fucking.”
The word coming out of her sweet-looking mouth sends every pint of blood in my body straight to my cock.
I’ve never in my life been around a woman like Clarice. She has more confidence in her pinky toe than the two women I’ve dated had in their whole bodies combined. And I know this for certain as she wiggles her hands loose from mine and stands on her tiptoes, her body pressing into mine as she reaches behind my neck. I hold my breath as she unties the gown that barely hangs past my balls, feeling her softness against all my hard plains, and I don’t move a muscle as she pulls it down my arms. As I still hold onto the wall, the gown ends up bunched around that wrist, and I barely have time to toss it out of the stall before she closes the curtain, shutting us inside.
Her hands go to the front of her filthy brown T-shirt, tugging it out of the waistband of her even dirtier khaki cargo pants before lifting it over her head. She drops the pants to the floor, and it’s then I notice she must’ve already been barefoot hanging out with me in my room. The thought warms me for some reason, liking the idea of her getting comfortable and making herself at home in my space.
She nudges her clothes out of the stall from beneath the curtain with her foot, leaving her in a black sports bra and colorful underwear. I don’t really know what they’re called. They’re like a short version of men’s boxer briefs and are sexier than even the tiniest of thongs.
Turn around, Glover, I tell myself. You should be respectful and give her some privacy to clean up.
Her hands pause as she grips the elastic of her sports bra, and she looks at me curiously, her head tilting to the side. “How old are you again?” she asks quietly, teasingly.
I swallow the drool forming under my tongue. “Twenty-one,” I reply, trying to force my legs to listen to my conscience still shouting for me to turn away.
She smiles. “Well then, why are you looking at me like you’ve never seen a naked woman before? Surely you’re not a virgin?” I feel her eyes like a blowtorch as they make a path from mine, down to my raging boner, and then back up, and I groan at her little smirk.
“No, not a virgin. But sure’ve never seen a woman quite like you before,” I answer honestly.
“What do you mean like me?” she asks, the smirk changing into a genuinely sweet smile, and she does this little wiggle—fuck me—struggling for only a moment as she lifts the black bra over her head.
It takes me a second to form the word, but when I finally do, it comes out husky and almost pained-sounding. “Perfect.”
She lightly chuckles as she takes hold of the elastic of those fucking underwear, and with no hesitation, she slides them down her legs before tossing them out of the stall along with her bra. Without paying me any mind, ignoring the fact I can’t for the life of me pull my eyes away, even though I know it’s rude as fuck just to keep staring, she turns her back to me to face the faucet and then turns on the water. The showerhead spurts to life, raining down on top of her dark head. I stand there, watching her every move, unable to look away no matter how hard I try. She pulls the elastic out of her hair, and as the water catches the strands, the knot she had it in slowly unravels until her dark hair is nearly halfway to her glorious ass. She was in no way exaggerating when she said she had buns of steel. The perfect globes slightly wobble as she reaches out and shoves the metal button on the soap dispenser attached to the wall, filling her hand with the white liquid that she works into a lather before washing her hair.
She faces me then, getting her front out of the spray so she can soap herself up, and my knees almost buckle at the sight of her hands working their way around her breasts, up and down her arms, across her stomach…. She fills her hands with soap once again, and she washes between her legs, her fingers making quick work beneath the small triangle of black hair before she moves down her shapely tan legs. She spins to face the water, letting her front rinse off as she uses another handful of soap to wash her ass I want nothing more than to take a bite of.
When she’s done, I’m all but panting, feeling like the wolf from Roger Rabbit, his tongue rolling out of his mouth when he catches sight of Jessica Rabbit. I’m so hypnotized that I can’t even make sense of her words when she tells me, “Your turn.”
My brow furrows, and when she grins and shakes her head, I finally understand what she’s saying as she fills her hand with soap and brings it over to me, her full hips swishing side to side as she approaches. With her empty hand, she takes hold of my wrist and pulls me toward the water, and I carefully hobble forward.
“You hang onto the wall so you don’t slip. I’ll do all the work,” she says, and all I can do is obey as she reaches above her and tilts the showerhead up to get my body completely wet before turning it to the side so she can begin to lather me up. She starts with my chest then down my abs and around my sides, refilling her hand with soap before her much shorter frame dips under my bicep to circle around behind me and wash my back. But instead of just lathering it quickly, she spends time there, her fingers kneading the muscles, her knuckles working up and down my spine. She lingers at my shoulders and neck, making me groan once again as her hands perform magic.
She spends an eternity turning my aching body into putty, using her soapy palms to clean every inch of skin I own, even so much as running them gently up and down my cock two excruciatingly sweet times, during which I nearly come like an adolescent schoolboy. I reach up and turn the showerhead back to facing me, ducking my head low so she can wash my short hair, and then she runs her hands over me one last time to get all the soap off. I’ve never felt cleaner in my life. Never felt more taken care of. It’s as if she baptized me in this stall in the middle of a war, washing all my sins away, leaving me a new man, one who knows after only one day I will forever watch over her.
“There you go, big guy. Your armor is all shiny again. My very own knight,” she says, smiling up at me. I want more than anything to kiss her, and as if she reads my mind, she stands up on her tiptoes and presses a quick yet life-altering kiss on my lips. She must feel the shift in the universe too, because she steps back quickly, her fingertips going to her lips as she looks at me questioningly. But before I can reach out to her, she lets out a nervous laugh. “You stay here a minute. I’m gonna
run out and get us some towels and some clothes. Relax under the water for a bit. I’ll be right back.”
I close the curtain as she hurries out of the stall, and I can hear her pulling towels off the shelving unit.
“Hanging yours on the hook out here. I gotta go find you a new gown. Don’t go falling before I get back,” she calls, and I murmur an okay.
Already on the brink of orgasm, I take my cock in hand, knowing it’ll only take a minute to get the release I desperately need after experiencing the most erotic half hour of my life. I lean my back against the shower wall, pumping my hand up and down my throbbing erection, my head pressing against the painted brick as I close my eyes, remembering every line of Clarice’s luscious curves. My toes dig into the rough floor, the shower cascading down on my left leg as I keep my right outside its spray as best I can. But it’s when the split second of our first kiss pops into my head that my knees quake, my balls going tight right before I come with a muted grunt. I keep my eyes shut tight as I enjoy every spurt that leaves my cock, reveling in the relief it brings.
And when I open them again, there she is, her eyes locked on my face, her chest rising and falling in short, sharp pants, her face flushed as she bites her full bottom lip. One hand holds the curtain back slightly, and the other holds a fresh towel and gown.
I should be embarrassed. I should be mortified that she caught me jacking off to the thought of her. But the way she’s looking at me, with heat in her eyes, like she wishes she could’ve been the one to give me that release, I feel no shame. I feel her eyes continue to watch me as I wash my hands and my softening cock, and I say nothing as I take a careful step toward her. No words are exchanged as she dries me off, refusing to hand over the towel so I could do it myself. And I let her. I let her take care of me. Feeling worshipped as she kneels to dry my legs and feet. She puts that towel on the floor outside the shower stall and grabs the one she’d put on the hook for me, and then makes quick work of unwrapping the plastic bags from around my calf, drying the last bit of water droplets left. She holds open the gown for me to stick my arm through, and then I see she’s got a second one I slide on like a robe, so now my backside is covered too.
She grabs my crutch and hands it to me, and we make our way back to my cot much the same way as before, her walking backward to catch me if I fall. Little does she know though, it’s already too late.
Clarice
Present
“YOU EXCITED TO see me tomorrow?” I ask Brian, his handsome face morphing with his smile as I peek at my phone where I have him on FaceTime. I throw some underwear into my suitcase before turning toward my closet.
“Always. Question,” he prompts, and I glance over my shoulder at him.
“Shoot.”
“Do you always pack naked?” His voice is gruff, just the way I like it.
“Duh. How else would I be able to try on outfits to make sure that’s what I want to bring?” I flip my hair out of my face and turn to reach for a sexy little number I plan to wear for him at his club, making sure to do a little booty tooch in his direction.
He groans. “Fair enough. What time do you plan on leaving tomorrow?”
“Mmmm, I think about 2:00 p.m. It’ll take me about three hours to get there. So I should arrive right in time for you to feed me,” I tell him, stuffing some jeans and a tank top into the bag.
“That’s perfect. Doc wants me to do one more two-hour session with him tomorrow before you get here,” he grumbles, and I look up in time to see him swipe his hand down his face.
“Aw, what’s the matter, grumpy gills? You don’t like having to spill your guts to your friends finally?” I pooch out my lips. “What, are you ashamed of me? Don’t want all those cute little submissives at your club to know about me?” I provoke, knowing damn well that’s not the case. I just love getting him riled up.
“Fuck no, I’m not ashamed of you. And I couldn’t care less what anyone thinks at the club. I’ve never fucked anyone there anyway,” he growls.
I allow myself to absorb his words and let them fill me with the love I know he feels for me, but only for a moment before I shoo them away. It’s just enough to get me through the self-imposed loneliness I feel every moment of every day. I know he wants to be with me. I’d give anything to be with him too. But I can’t. The second I were to finally give in to our feelings for each other would be the second he signed his own death certificate.
He doesn’t know the reason I keep him at a distance. He has no idea why I give him my body, my 100 percent devotion, everything but the title and the pretty words that go along with it. It’s the one thing I’ve never shared with him. In the eleven years we’ve been best friends, we’ve never once kept secrets from each other. But I’ve never revealed my darkest truth. Because it would be pointless. He’d only try to convince me it was all in my head, and I’d end up giving in like last time, and then I’d lose the one person in this world I could never live without.
“What did y’all talk about today?” I ask curiously, packing the last of my toiletries.
“I told him about the day the IED went off. And then about the first few days after, when you took care of me at the hospital.”
“The Cliff’s Notes, or like… did you tell him everything?” I smirk, wishing I could’ve been there to hear Brian tell the story. I’d love to know what he remembers from that time over a decade ago. I wonder if he recalls every single detail of every single second like I do.
“I spent two hours recalling two days. The day of the IED, and then the day I started remembering what happened,” he tells me, and I put a dreamy look on my face.
“Ah, the best shower of my entire life. Who knew it could feel that good just to wash sweat and dirt off your stanky body?”
“I remember it feeling good for an entirely different reason,” he says low, and I glance at my phone to see him smiling to himself as he uses his pocketknife to clean out from under his fingernails.
“You told him about that?” I question, surprised he was willing to share something so personal with one of his guy friends.
“What? That you caught me cranking one out? Yeah.” He shrugs. “I made a deal with him. You can come to the club as my guest, which is normally not allowed, but you still have to do the sessions. We both have to spill our guts to Doc. It’s our number one rule that’s nonnegotiable. By me telling him all this shit, let that be a clue of how much I want you to come with me.” Panic fills me for a moment, but then he chuckles, distracting me. “You should’ve seen his face. I’ve never seen Doc shocked before. When I told him who you were to me, he said he thought I was gay.”
I throw my head back and laugh so hard tears start to escape the outer corners of my eyes. “Are you serious?” I get out, trying to catch my breath.
“Told you, babe. None of them have ever seen me with a woman. Not once. In all the missions I’ve done and you met me on, they never knew you were there. You were my little secret. I had you all to myself,” he says warmly.
“You seemed to like it that way. You sure you don’t want to keep me hidden away?” I ask, half hoping he’ll have a change of heart so I don’t have to talk to Doc.
“Negative. Because the only thing that could be better than you as my secret lover would be you on my arm, getting to show you off at my club. I can already picture everyone’s faces. The shock that I’m there with anyone to begin with. And then the absolute jealousy that you’re not there with them instead.”
I love how honest he is with me. He shares every thought that enters his head. Except for anything delving too close to love. I’ve trained him well. He knows I’ll shut down if he talks about it. Lust, on the other hand… lust I can handle.
“I like it when you get all caveman, Bri. You’re pretty damn hot,” I tell him, reaching for my sleep tee. I slip it on over my head, letting it fall to midthigh. “I do have a question for you though.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re a Dom at your club. Have
you thought about catering to our other needs?” I pick up my phone and fall back on my bed, holding it above me to look up into his beautiful blue-green eyes.
“As a matter-of-fact, I have,” he replies.
“Oh yeah? Pray tell what you’ve come up with,” I urge, giving him a smile.
“Well, I’m going to tell Doc everything. And then I’m going to see what he has to say about it,” comes his answer, and I lift a brow.
“That’s it? You’re gonna ask Doc?” I giggle.
“Hey, Doc is one pretty fucking smart guy. He’s like… the older brother none of us had. I mean, he already thought I might be gay. He wasn’t too far off if you think about it.” He shrugs.
“Letting a woman control you isn’t anything like being gay,” I argue.
“Some men would find it very emasculating, lover.”
“Do you?” I ask, my heart sinking a little, hoping that all this time, I hadn’t been making him feel less as a man.
“Fuck no. I love it when you top me. But I’m just saying, as far as the club goes and how they only see me in the Dominant position, I’m going to see what Doc has to say. Gotta make sure it’s not going to fuck up any contracts or something if I let the members know I’m also submissive. It could confuse them, like… how they would speak to me.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, rolling onto my side and propping my head up on my hand.
“Like, would the Dominants then speak to me like a submissive instead of their equal? Would the submissives not feel like I’m unable to keep them safe if something goes wrong with a Dominant? That sort of thing,” he explains.
“Ah, gotcha. And what about us?” I question.
“What about us?” he asks, a hint of worry in his tone.
“Usually, I top during your mission, and then we switch as your reward when it’s complete. There’s no mission this time. So how are we going to decide who’s in control?”
