I steeled myself, combatting the urge to drop her stuff and take her hard and fast against my truck. Her words directly affected my heart, and her body directly affected my cock.
I released a breath, praying I didn’t lose control with her. Her presence was a temptation, and her sweet words only further tugged at my swiftly dwindling restraint. “As pretty as you are in the moonlight, I much prefer you inside my house, where I can kiss you without my brothers eavesdropping.”
I didn’t doubt Trent or Tate, if not both, would poke around at some point tonight. I hoped they would be smart enough to wear their protective gear because I was only going to fire one warning shot. For five months an entire ocean and too many countries had separated Maddie and I, and I’d be damned if anyone or anything came between us this weekend.
Chapter Twenty-One
Madelyn
Taylor’s house was small but comfortable on the inside. He strode ahead of me, depositing my luggage by the door and flipping on all of the lights, allowing me to explore it freely. I walked into a cozy entryway with scuffed hardwood floors, a standing coat rack and another one mounted on the wall. The walls were painted a cream color that kept the tight space airy.
I took my time exploring each room, taking in each piece of it. Every wall in the home was the same cream color, yet it didn’t suit every room well. It especially clashed in the kitchen against the mustard yellow counter tops, lackluster white appliances and dark wood veneer cabinets. Each space was small, as compact as possible, and an inch shy of too small. No pictures hung on the walls, no accessories dotted the space, filling in the open canvases; it was bare-boned and yet retained an inviting feel.
His home was the opposite of everything I usually liked in homes. It was tight, outdated and lacked style, yet, I loved it. There was something serene, almost freeing, about it. I wasn’t weighed down by excess here. There were no knick-knacks to dust or throw pillows to fluff regularly. It was a home meant to be enjoyed for its simplicity, and that’s exactly what I liked about it.
I ran my fingers along the brick of the fireplace, feeling the granulated surface of it, as I turned around in the living room. I found Taylor leaning against the far wall, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. He’d been observing me as I took everything in. I couldn’t read him. He’d retreated behind a mask.
And that’s how I knew he was uneasy. Whether we admit it or not, our home is a reflection of us. What Taylor’s home told me about him was that he was a simple man. He wasn’t fancy, but he was strong, sturdy, reliable, and would always be a safe haven. He didn’t care about impressing people. He didn’t try to hide who he was. He was a bit old fashioned, a bit outdated compared to many, but there was something charming about that.
My apartment in Orlando was very different, yet I found myself drawn to this space far more. I considered what I would change and was surprised to find it wasn’t much. I would paint like crazy, change the curtains and hang large photos, probably of the farm, on the walls.
I smiled wistfully. I was still in awe of how much I adored this place. I’d never considered moving away from Orlando, from my mother, from my book club friends and all I’d known. Taylor, and his home, had me considering a life outside of them for the first time. It was so different from all I’d known, yet, nothing had come closer to feeling like home.
I closed the distance between us. “As long as the bathroom isn’t mustard yellow, we should be fine,” I teased.
His face split, his features relaxing. “Robin’s egg blue.”
I shrugged. “I can work with that.” I pursed my lips. “Bedrooms?”
“Two of them are empty, which means you’ll have to share mine.”
I didn’t miss the tiny dip in his brows. He smoothed it out as quickly as it appeared.
I stepped back, meeting his gaze. “Show me.”
He held out his hand towards me. The moment my palm touched his, he laced his fingers through mine. It felt so natural, a comforting piece of normal.
Across from the dining room was the hallway that led to the rooms. On the right were the guest rooms. On the left was the bathroom and beyond it, the master.
He opened the door, but stepped back, letting me into his private space. I didn’t miss the gesture for what it was: an invitation to know the man behind the tough soldier.
The same cream coated the walls, oddly contrasting against the chunky pine furniture. The navy coverings weren’t helping. The room needed rich, chocolate walls, a large framed photo above the bed, and nothing but white material and accessories. It’s all about making what you have look great.
My gaze dropped to the floor. I now saw that the scuffed wood flooring was continuous throughout the home, and while most would say it needed to be re-done, I enjoyed the character it added to every room. Those imperfect wood planks assured me this home was loved, despite its lack of personal touches.
In truth, this home fit a soldier who was rarely here, but it could also fit a growing family anxious to make memories. The land around it made expansion a possibility without compromising the quaint charm of the house.
Spinning around, back towards Tay, I couldn’t help but beam at him. I loved it. My soul seemed to warm with affirmation: I loved this home and its owner.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Madelyn
Taylor took a long step towards me. He tugged me against the hard bulk of him as he captured my lips. His hands molded to me aggressively, as if he couldn’t get enough of me, as if he’d held back as long as he could but his control had finally snapped; his tongue tasted me thoroughly, sending heat surging through me. He gripped my ass, lifting me into his erection.
I found myself clinging to him, wantonly arching and rubbing against him. He brought out my inner vixen. He assured me I was beautiful and made me want to share my beauty with him as I indulged in his.
Suddenly, he pulled back, breathing heavily. His muscles rolled and flexed beneath his shirt.
I licked my lips, openly staring at him. I didn’t bother hiding the fact that I wanted him. My heart raced, encouraging my body to give in.
Gently, he removed my glasses. I blinked rapidly, waiting for my eyes to adjust. I watched as he walked to the nightstand and set my glasses down carefully. I could no longer see the finer details of him, but I would be able to feel them.
He was back to me in seconds. He swept his fingertips gently along the line I knew my glasses often left imprinted on the bridge of my nose, trailing them down my cheeks and further down to my neck. His touch lightened, barely grazing my flesh, yet still leaving a trail of tingles.
“I want you naked in ten seconds,” he commanded; his voice was the opposite of his touch.
My breath hitched.
One rapid heartbeat. Two. Three. Four.
“Eight seconds,” he growled.
I started, jumping into action. I fought my sandal straps and kicked the shoes away before peeling off my shirt and bra at once. I fumbled with the button on my jeans and didn’t bother with the zipper before yanking them off with my panties simultaneously.
My eyes widened when I straightened. Shit. I was naked in front of a fully clothed, hotter-than-any-book-boyfriend soldier. I cringed, averting my gaze.
It wasn’t that I didn’t love myself, because I did. I’d long ago made peace with my curves and accepted my excess for what it was: more to love.
No. This was a knee-jerk reaction. Even when we don’t mean to, we often hold our breath before big news is delivered. This was no different.
He crooked a finger beneath my chin, just as he’d done hours before, lifting my face up to him. “I like what I see, beautiful.”
The way he spoke the words effortlessly, with a blend of conviction and appreciation, nearly undid me. I blinked, feeling the prickles of salty tears in the basins of my eyes. The last thing I wanted to do was cry. I bit my lower lip hard, distracting myself.
He moved away and stripped. His gaze never left mine.
He held me in place, assured me even from a distance. When he returned to me, he didn’t hesitate to pull me against him.
Flesh to flesh, heat to heat, was far more intimate. I felt every cord of him, every ounce of tension strumming through him.
My breasts swelled against him as anticipation mounted. Just being skin to skin ignited this need within me for more. It made me worry that I would never get enough of him. Everything about Taylor enticed me, made me want to drop to my knees and beg for more.
He claimed my lips again. This time his hands sought my breasts, teasing my nipples into stiff peaks, causing liquid desire to gather at my apex as pleasure scorched my chest.
I flattened my hands over his abs, feeling every groove, every hill and every valley; a thin trail of hair ran down the center and disappeared at his chest. I rubbed my palms over his flat discs, feeling them pebble. I flicked them gingerly, hyperaware of their sensitivity, based on my own.
He hissed, nipping my bottom lip as he rocked his erection into my stomach.
Abruptly, he pulled me away from the door and kicked it shut. He blindly led us towards the bed, continuing to kiss me into surrender, one hand at my back, the other working my breast, driving my need higher. He didn’t stop, even when my ass bumped into the side of the bed, not until he was ready, not until I was ready to start begging.
Slowly, he drew back.
I felt slightly dazed. I was already used to his touch, to his command, and I was already lost without it. I blinked a few times, as I looked up at him. I caught the upward curl of his lips before I heard the drawer open.
“Pick one, beautiful.”
My gaze dropped to the drawer. I burst into laughter at the sight of six unopened boxes of condoms. I looked back at him. “Ambitious.” I kissed his chest, closing my hand around his stiff member.
His breath caught as I slid my hand up and down in a short stroke.
“I like it, but I enjoy surprises more.” With one last jerk of his cock, I released him. “Surprise me, Tay.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Madelyn
He exhaled harshly. He grabbed whatever box his hand happened across first and ripped it open, never losing his focus on me.
I heard the box hit the floor as he held up the line of condoms. Savagely, he tore one off and freed it from the wrapper. Pleasure glided through me. No man had ever seemed so desperate to experience me. The way he spoke in his e-mails was no different from the way he treated me in person: I was always beautiful, and always wanted.
My throat tightened as emotions gathered in my chest, making it a little harder to breathe. Thoughts began to cloud my focus.
He kissed me hard, drawing my attention back to the moment, to him. His hands worked between us before he closed his arms around me, and moved us, switching our positions. Never losing my lips, he drew us both onto the bed, not stopping until his back hit the pillows.
My legs fell, draping around his. My chest rose and fell with every harsh, gasped-for breath. My back arched, my hips rocked and my desire surged with each brush of his fingers across my nipples. His cock stroked my clit repeatedly with each of my motions, taking me higher.
It became too hard to breathe and kiss him. He seemed to sense that because he broke away from my mouth and kissed a seductive line to my neck.
I moaned as he sucked on my tender flesh. Every swipe of his tongue across my damp skin, every tweak of my nipples between his fingers, every brush of his cock against my clit wound me tauter, had me grabbing at him, digging my nails into his flesh.
My whimpers seemed to echo in the room, making me hyperaware of my single-sided pleasure. The lights told me he not only heard my arousal, felt it against his wrapped member, but he also saw every inch of it; every extra curvy inch of my desire was on display.
But I didn’t care.
“You’re so damn beautiful.” He abandoned my breasts. He thrust his fingers into my hair, lifting it off of my neck as he drew me to his lips again.
My muscles clamped, feeling as though they were being wrung dry, compressed by a thousand pounds of yearning. My pussy wept for this man, begged for this sexy soldier. My heart raced, shouting in agreement that he was wanted and needed.
I gasped for air around his lips. “Please, Tay.”
He didn’t respond. Rather, he kissed me harder, thrust his tongue deeper inside the crevice of my mouth, as if to offer me some erotic promise.
In one quick move, he slid us down a little on the bed. A squeal escaped me as he flipped me, as though I didn’t weigh more than him.
My back was to his hard front, balanced atop him. His arms held me securely around my mid-section, assuring me I wouldn’t tumble. His legs were bent between mine, leaving me open and vulnerable for him.
A shudder worked through me as he seemed to curl around me, aligning his cock at my entrance. He brushed my hair aside, exposing my neck. He planted a single kiss on my left shoulder. “You do whatever you need to do to get off, okay, beautiful?”
My throat suddenly tightened. That’s why he chose this position. It allowed us to have an equal opportunity. It was important to him that I found my pleasure. Tears returned, burning my eyes. Little did he know that just e-mailing with him, let alone being near him, with him, brought me pleasure.
When I didn’t reply, his hands moved in opposite directions. His forearms clamped me to him, but one set of fingers assaulted my right nipple, the other circled my clit. “If you need more, you tell me.”
Before I could even attempt to reply, he drove his cock into me. My grip tightened on his forearms as a cry broke from me. Pleasure burst through my body before it was buried beneath a stronger need, a larger craving for more.
He set a rapid pace I couldn’t keep up with. His hands never faltered and neither did his rhythm. He pummeled me with force, with purpose. Each stroke awakened fresh tingles, sent fresh pleasure fluttering through me before it was lost again.
I clung to him as though he were my only lifeline. Every smack of his cock against my cervix had my back attempting to bow into the ecstasy of him.
But he didn’t let me. I was on top, but he was in control. He didn’t boss me around. He didn’t say it. But he owned my body, my heart, all of me.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Madelyn
Faster and harder, harder, faster, the dampness of our flesh had us slipping and sliding around each other, had me grabbing at him in desperation. Pleasure and pain seemed to blur in that moment. I felt suspended, lost in the give and take motion, lost in the strength of his cords, lost in the feel of him inside me, curled around me. My heart pumped faster, racing in cadence with my suddenly loud pulse.
It was getting harder to breath, harder to feel where Taylor ended and I began. It was getting harder and harder to let go of him in any capacity. “Oh, fuck, Tay.” My voice was lost in the sounds of our two bodies sliding over each other in a dangerous fury, lost in the rapid beat of flesh slapping flesh.
His tiny grunts were sexy and seemed to push me closer and closer. The way he held me so protectively, the way he remained focused on me amidst his own need, the way his muscles flexed and rolled around me…everything he did made me want him more, made me want more.
Until there was no more for him to give.
Until I was thrown over the edge.
I cried out, arching into his strength, into his touch, into him, as hot pleasure scorched my veins. I trembled beneath the magnitude of my release; my pussy convulsed around his incessantly fucking cock. Wave after wave of eroticism, of blissful release, rolled through me. I couldn’t see; my flesh prickled, ultra sensitive to every graze of his flesh against me, my pulse deafened my ears, making every sound seem far away, including his guttural cry.
He reduced to slow, harsh drives into me. His heart beat rapidly beneath me. His hands closed around the opposite hip, his arms still firmly crossing over me and keeping me in place.
We both expelled a sigh of satisfaction as he came to
stop.
My body felt weak, weary and worn, but satiated. Completely and utterly gratified.
All of the tension left with my orgasm. I relaxed against him, not the least bit concerned about crushing him or making it more difficult for him to breath. I was content to lay here, under the bright light, fully exposed to him.
But he had other ideas.
He slipped out from under me on the left side, depositing my head on the pillows as he bowed around me from the side. He lifted on one elbow, staring down at me. A firm hand started at my chest and glided down, over my stomach and further to circle my hip. He gently cupped the widest point of me as he leaned in and claimed my lips. It was a simple kiss yet it seemed to hold a world of emotion behind it.
Releasing my lips, he pressed his forehead to mine.
One heavy breath. Two. Three. Four.
“I-” He kissed me again, this time with more force, as if he needed it for courage.
This strong soldier needed me. And damn if I didn’t want to be there for him.
I framed his face with my hands; his stubble pricked my palms as I hoisted myself into his kiss.
Again, he released my lips and pressed his forehead to mine, but this time I held him.
One heavy breath. Two. Three. Four.
“I love you, Madelyn.” It was blurted in one quick exhale, but it didn’t detract from the sentiment.
I felt the familiar burn of tears in my eyes as my chest compressed. We’d exchanged seventy-seven e-mails in five months, and somewhere among those seventy-seven, we stopped exchanging words and began sharing pieces of ourselves. And it was moments ago that I’d given him the final piece of me.
Sergeant First Class Taylor Russell owned all of me, especially my heart.
My lips curled into a smile. I was barely able to keep the happy tears at bay. “I love you, too.”
He angled back, taking me in. He searched my face, looking for the truth.
One E-mail: (BBW Romance) (One Soldier Series) Page 4
