by Anthology
She shot him a dirty look over her shoulder. “I think you’ve explored plenty.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t really spank you and you know it.”
Sydney did, but her pride wouldn’t let her admit it. She hadn’t liked what he’d done. Like the too-slow fucking with the vibrator, his light swats were just an irritation.
“What are you saying?”
He gave her a wicked grin. “I want to do it for real.”
She wasn’t sure how to reply to that. “But it will hurt.”
“Do you like it when I pull your hair?”
She nodded. There was no sense denying it. They both knew the truth.
“I think you’ll like this too.”
“What if I don’t?”
He tugged her up until she was sitting on his lap. She curled against his chest, soaking up the warmth of his embrace. “You only have to tell me to stop, Syd, and I will. I never want to hurt you. You know that, right?”
She did. No one in her life had ever made her feel more protected and cherished than Chas. Even during the years when they were just friends, he’d always kept her safe from any perceived danger. Holding her hand whenever they were walking after dark, putting himself between her and the busy street when they were on the sidewalk together, offering his jacket when she was cold. They were all small things that added up to making her feel cared for.
“I do.”
“Then you say, ‘Chas, stop’, and it all ends. But I was serious about the open mind, Sydney. You and I have some similar needs, things I don’t think you’ve considered trying before. I’d like you to try them with me.”
Her curiosity was piqued. “Like what?”
“One thing at a time. I want to spank you. I think you might like it more than you expect.”
She wanted to press him for more details about their shared desires, but she let the question go unanswered. She wouldn’t have thought she’d like having her hair pulled and he’d proven to her several times tonight exactly how much she did. Maybe he would be right about this as well.
“Fine.” She sort of expected him to strong-arm her back into position, but instead he simply waved his hand, indicating he wanted her to assume her spot over his lap on her own.
She moved slowly, questioning her sanity. Was she really going to let Chas spank her as if she were some naughty child?
Once she was facedown over his lap again, she held her breath, anticipating and fearing the pain.
When his hand landed on her ass, not to spank, but to caress it, she jerked.
He chuckled. “Easy, kitten. Let’s ease into this.”
He stroked her sensitive skin over and over. Sydney felt herself begin to relax, her body going limp.
Her eyes had just drifted shut when his hand struck, the pain and the loud smack jarring her back to awareness. She forgot her resolve to keep an open mind as she fought to find a way off his lap. Chas resumed his previous grip, his large hand holding her head down, keeping her from rising.
“Chas,” she cried out when he struck her again.
Tears formed in her eyes. He was wrong. She didn’t like this. Twice more he struck. Unlike the first time, her sweet lover wasn’t pulling his punches, wasn’t holding anything back.
She’d just opened her mouth to call it quits, to beg him to stop, when his hand slipped to the slit between her legs, finding the opening to her body. Two fingers slid inside her easily, her pussy soaking wet with arousal.
A tremor shook her entire body as he stroked inside her a half dozen times. Then, just like that, his wicked fingers were gone and she felt the flat of his palm on her ass and upper thighs once more.
He never struck her in the same place, never hit with the same amount of force. Sometimes it was a light tap, other times flames erupted where his hand landed. She couldn’t anticipate what he would do next, but she kept trying. Somewhere in the midst of it all, she realized she wasn’t asking him to stop because she didn’t want him to.
He pressed three fingers deep inside her pussy again as she groaned. Her voice was thick with unshed tears. His spanking hurt—more than she’d expected—but the pain was morphing into something else, something better.
She lifted her hips as much as her position would allow, encouraging him to thrust deeper. He accepted the invitation, increasing his pace. A girl could get used to Chas’ talented fingers. He knew where all the hot spots inside her were and he used that knowledge to her benefit.
She was mere seconds from her climax when he withdrew his fingers again.
“Dammit, no. Don’t stop.”
He spanked her, this blow harder than all the rest. “You’re not calling the shots, Syd. If you want me to stop, say so. Otherwise, I make the decisions.”
Her feminist side wanted to tell him to take his cocky assertion and stick it where the sun didn’t shine, but she was too close. She didn’t dare say anything to make him stop because if he did, she’d expire on the spot.
“Please,” she said at last, her voice breathless with need and exhaustion. How long had they been at this? She’d been on the razor’s edge of one climax after another since she’d left work. It was dark outside, so she could only assume a few hours had passed.
He didn’t respond, didn’t even give any indication he’d heard her. Instead, he continued his spanking. Sydney gasped and found herself floating on that lovely cloud again. How could he keep doing this? Keep pushing her outside of herself into such a wonderful place?
His fingers returned to her pussy. He’d no more than pushed two to the hilt, than her inner muscles contracted, clenched, seized. She gasped for breath and her orgasm flowed almost painfully, blinding her to everything except brilliant white light.
As Sydney returned to consciousness, she was surprised to find herself back in the center of the bed. Chas lay next to her. It took several moments before she realized the vibrator was back in his hand.
“Oh God. I don’t think I can take any more.”
He grinned, but didn’t take her complaint seriously. “Let’s test that theory.”
“You’re an asshole.”
He laughed, the deep, rich sound filling the quiet room when the vibrator started to slide in. He hadn’t turned it on, which left her on edge. She’d learned not to underestimate him. She’d failed his initial test. That wouldn’t happen again.
Once the toy was lodged to the hilt, he paused to look at her. “Slow or fast?”
She eyed him suspiciously. “You’re giving me a choice?”
Chas winked at her. “I’m letting you state a preference. Then I’ll decide if I agree with it.”
She scowled, though there wasn’t a bit of anger in her. She was equal parts nervous anticipation and blissful lethargy. Sydney had no idea how those two things fit together, but they were the only words she could think of to describe her current state.
“Fast.”
He kissed her on the cheek. “Good answer.”
With that, he flipped the switch, firing the toy to high. She jerked in surprised, then groaned when he gave her exactly what she asked for. For a guy, he sure as hell knew how to make good use of a vibrator.
She panted, her fingers white-knuckle clenching the sheets below her within seconds. Sydney started lifting up on her heels, trying to capture even more of the vibrator, the sensations.
In and out, Chas kept up a relentless pace for what could have been minutes or hours. Sydney constantly lost track of place and time with him. He rubbed her clit as her climax approached. Then, just before it hit, he withdrew the toy and tossed it to the floor. She didn’t have time to complain before Chas was there, inside her, fucking her so much better than the vibrator.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his waist and held on for dear life. Chas thrust inside, deep and sure, stroking every nerve ending and hitting her G-spot every time.
“Come, kitten,” he urged, though she fought to hold off her orgasm. She wanted to wait for h
im, but there was simply no way.
With his permission, she gave herself over to it. She was going to be so sore tomorrow. And she didn’t give a good goddamn.
As her orgasm waned, Chas slowed his thrusts, moving inside her more seductively. She’d thought she preferred his rough, hard fucking, but there was definitely something to be said for this gentle wooing of the senses. He kissed her lips, her cheeks, her shoulders. His tongue teased her earlobe and found the light sheen of sweat at her brow. She didn’t work out this hard at the gym.
“Salty,” he murmured. “You’re salty and sweet.”
She cupped his cheek and lifted her face, ready and waiting as he kissed her once more, his tongue dancing with hers.
They continued to rock together, neither of them in a hurry to see the night end. Finally, Chas hit the brink and she was surprised to realize he’d brought her with him. She didn’t expect the orgasm. She and Chas clung together, each of them groaning softly as he filled her once more.
They parted slowly, Sydney wincing slightly as he withdrew.
“Sorry,” he said, though his too-pleased grin told her he wasn’t feeling much guilt.
She rolled her eyes, and then accepted his embrace when he held his arms out, cuddling her.
“We never got dinner,” she said after a few minutes.
“It’s okay. We’ll get there. Might take a few months or years for us to feed this hunger, but eventually our stomachs will get a turn.”
She giggled. “God help me if it’s months or years. Every muscle in my body hurts.”
“Sorry,” he repeated, wiggling his eyebrows.
“I keep wondering if this is real. If you’re really here.”
“It’s real, Syd. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. Promise.”
Sydney closed her eyes, certain she’d never slept on any pillow more comfortable than his chest. His breathing deepened after a few minutes, the easy rise and fall a sure sign he’d fallen asleep. Her rest came slower. While her body was miles beyond the state line of exhaustion, her brain wasn’t finding it as easy to shut down.
Oh, the difference seven days could make. A week ago, she was planning a surprise welcome home party for a friend, depressed over her still-single state and suffering from unending loneliness. Now, she was wrapped up in the arms of the man she loved and looking at a future filled with happiness, security and incredible sex.
What a week!
Chapter Five
Chas stood at the edge of the construction site, his eyes not seeing a bit of what was going on in front of him. Instead, his mind was replaying last night.
He’d spent nearly every night for the past month in bed with Sydney, neither of them able to get enough of each other.
He’d walk in from work and within minutes, they’d be horizontal on the floor or the couch or occasionally, they’d make it to her bed.
And every time Chas thought he’d hit that point where he was satiated and able to make it without touching her until bedtime, Sydney would walk by and he’d catch a sniff of her floral perfume, or she’d bend over to get something out of the oven, and the next thing he knew, his cock was rock-hard and he had her pressed up against the wall with her panties around her ankles.
The sex was incredible. Not that he was surprised. He’d never forgotten their too-brief time together that summer after graduation. Though they’d both been young and inexperienced, there had been a physical connection. Something Chas had never found with any other woman since. If he mentioned it to Gran, no doubt she would give him the same advice she always used to when he said he hadn’t found the right woman yet.
“Friends first, Chas,” Gran would say. “That’s the secret to a happy relationship that lasts. You young people are always so anxious to hop between the sheets. You forget to build a solid foundation before you start laying the bricks.”
Her comments about laying bricks always made him laugh, but when he considered her guidance now, he could see the truth in it. He and Sydney were solid. They’d grown up together, knew each other inside and out. She’d been there when Gran had told him that his mother—though long estranged—had ODed. She was the first one he’d told after he’d signed up to join the Marines. And she was the one whose letters had kept him going when homesickness or boredom or depression threatened to take him down during his years away.
Sydney had given him her trust, her loyalty, and her virginity. She’d always been standing nearby, ready to offer him whatever he needed.
She’d offered him comfort even when she hadn’t realized she was doing so.
He’d come home on leave four years earlier, staying in Maris longer than he had since leaving home at eighteen. For a full month, he’d visited with his gran, done a bit of part-time work with his uncle, and spent the rest of the time hanging out with Sydney—either at the counter of Sparks Barbeque or by the lake. They’d taken long walks, talking about a whole lot of nothing. He’d listened as she filled him in on all the local gossip.
He’d come home hoping to find some semblance of peace after losing two of his closest friends. He hadn’t told Sydney—or Gran—the reason for his visit at the time, though he had confided in his uncle. Chas hadn’t wanted to answer a lot of questions or to see the fear in his gran’s and Sydney’s eyes when he returned to his unit. So, he’d come home and let Sydney sweep him back into his old life.
It had been just the cure. During that month, he’d wrestled his demons alone at night, worn out and on edge. Then he’d go find Sydney and for a few hours, he was able to forget about Iraq, blood, pain, war. He could see the world through her beautiful eyes and escape.
It had taken him every bit of those four weeks to find his sea legs, until he felt strong enough to return. He’d considered telling Sydney how much she’d helped him, but he preferred to keep his life at home separate from the years he’d spent overseas. Chas wasn’t ready to meld the two. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready to, though he’d started to build a small bridge this past Christmas. He’d overindulged in the holiday eggnog and found himself telling her about Scott and Jeremy. He had shared stories about the trouble they’d gotten into pulling pranks on the other guys, the time they’d gone joyriding in a general’s jeep. Then before he could stop himself, he revealed how Scott had died in his arms; Jeremy alone, his body lying in a pool of blood in the middle of a dirt road as bullets continued to whiz through the air.
Chas ended the story when he’d realized Sydney was crying. He hadn’t meant to tell her so much. Hell, he hadn’t meant to tell her any of it. It had taken him four years to beat down the nightmares, to keep them at bay. Every now and then, the memories came back, catching him unaware.
He’d meant what he’d said to Sydney. He wanted to forget about the past. Talking about Iraq here felt like rolling around in mud while wearing all white. He didn’t want to soil this world with reminisces of the other.
Sydney had asked him about his time in the Middle East the first few nights they were together. He’d hold her after they’d made love, the quiet closeness calling to her, making her long to know about all the years they’d been apart. He’d put her off, changed the subject, filled those hours instead with funny little stories about mishaps on the construction site or recalling silly things they’d done in high school.
Lately, she’d stopped asking about his time in the service completely.
His uncle walked over and put a hand on his shoulder.
Chas jumped, spinning and raising his fists defensively.
Julian put his hands up. “Whoa! Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you. Just noticed that you’re drifting again.”
Chas tried to laugh off his overreaction, tried to still his suddenly racing heart. “Yeah. I guess I was.”
Julian studied his face, concern in his gaze. “Good thoughts or bad memories?”
It had been a bit of both, but Chas simply replied, “Sydney.”
His uncle chucked. “Oh to be young and in love.
”
Chas took the opening, the opportunity to deflect comment on his jumpiness. It wasn’t the first time he’d reacted badly around the site. A pickup truck backfired a few days ago and Chas had hit the dirt. He’d felt like a jackass when all the other men had looked at him in surprise. He supposed his edginess was to be expected. It had been twelve years since he’d lived in a civilian world, but lately his reactions to normal, non-threatening things was getting worse, not better. And his ability to hide his freaked-out responses or joke them off was getting harder, especially with Julian, who could read him too easily.
He grinned at his uncle. “Syd’s amazing.”
Julian nodded, agreeing. “Yeah. She is. I’m happy for you, Chas. And I’m damn glad you’re home again. I’ve been worried about you the last few years.”
Julian knew about the gunfight that had killed his two friends.
“I’m doing good.”
Julian studied his face. Chas tried to give him a confident look, something to reassure his uncle. Julian wasn’t easily fooled, however, and Chas wasn’t doing a very convincing job.
The flashbacks had started a few days earlier—right after the truck backfired. They appeared out of the blue, and since then, Chas couldn’t seem to stop replaying the same scene. Over and over. It always started with images of him with his friends, the three of them cutting up like always. Jeremy was doing some asinine walk as he crossed the street, making Chas and Scott laugh.
And then, just like that, half his head was gone.
Bright flashes of light and the sound of gunfire erupted around them. Chas had hit the ground a split second faster than Scott. It had saved his life. Scott hadn’t moved quickly enough and had fallen in front of him, a tiny speck of red forming on his chest. Chas had watched in horror as the circle of color expanded, grew. He’d grabbed his friend and dragged him inside a nearby building, then he’d held him as Scott slowly bled out.
Chas shook his head, trying to drive the memory away. Julian was watching him, his eyes too knowing.
Dammit. He needed to get control of this. He thought things would be better at home. It was one of the reasons he’d chosen not to re-enlist. The ache in his chest was too familiar as it pressed down on his lungs, threatening to suffocate him.
