Soldier Boy

by Alam, Donna

  Not us. There isn’t an us.

  How into this she is.

  ‘Sweetheart, you okay?’ I place my lips on her head, sensing rather than seeing her answer in a deeply satisfied breath.

  When Melody was small, she had a favourite book about a princess who didn’t want to marry a prince, experiencing the best kind of adventures instead. With her chestnut curls wildly coiling around her face and an expression that’s part naughty, part sleepily satisfied, Nell could be the grown-up and incredibly sexy version of the character from this book.

  Tipping her head back, she appears to be examining me. ‘What are you smiling at?’

  ‘I’m just thinking you look like a naughty cat.’ Did I mention the princess was feline?

  ‘Given that I’m responsible for a naughty cat, I can’t say I find that particularly endearing.’

  ‘You, my lovely woman, would be the sexiest feline that ever lived. And anytime you want to wind yourself around my legs or find a comfortable spot on my lap, you can.’

  ‘So generous.’ Nell’s hand reaches to the back of my neck, pulling me down for a kiss. ‘Now take me to bed. I don’t want to be quiet when you fuck me.’ My dick hardens, the hairs on my arms standing like pins as she pulls away, trailing her hand from my neck to my chest, and the looks she throws over her shoulder pure coquette.

  ‘Have you forgotten the lack of doors?’ I say, following her out of the room.

  ‘Maybe you’ll just have to find something to put in my mouth.’

  In her bedroom, I notice the bedding has been changed, and as I look at Nell, she glances shyly away. The light in the hallway renders the room in shadows but not so much that I can’t see her colour-suffused cheeks. I’d like to think she’s remembering the things I said about her pussy in those rose-pink sheets. The way I’d devoured her. On second glance, I can see the room is tidier, too, less clothing festoons the sparse furniture. A teak side table stands in as a nightstand, a wicker box underneath, a selection of books, some huge medical tomes, standing almost as tall as the bedside lamp on top. A clothes rail stands at the end of the room, and in the place of window treatments, an Oriental screen stands in view of the long window.

  I realise I haven’t moved from the doorway as Nell stands on the opposite side of the bed, shimmying out of her skirt. Her earrings chink as she deposits them on a porcelain dish set on the tall chest of drawers. She makes quick work of the buttons of her dark blouse, her gaze not leaving mine as she holds it out before dropping it. I alone watch it flutter to the floor.

  The first time we fucked, she wore scrubs and running shoes. Her underwear was cute but functional, and as I’d wrapped my hand around her ankle, they were faintly marked by the elastic from her socks. Last time we fucked was on me. This time, it’s clearly lady’s choice as she stands in front of me in sheer black underwear, the gauzy fabric barely concealing her femininity.

  Desire buzzes between us as I push off from the doorframe, making my way across the room until I’m in front of her. She is so fucking gorgeous. Her dark eyes are bright and greedy as she raises her palms to my chest, and as I settle my hands on her hips, I wonder if she can feel the rapid beating of my heart.

  ‘What should I do?’ she whispers.

  ‘As I recall, you wanted something in your mouth. Something to keep you quiet.’ Her dark eyes flare wantonly, but there’s also a hesitancy there. ‘But we could start someplace else.’

  ‘No, I want to. I’m just . . . I haven’t had a lot of practice.’ Her words fall in a tumble as she ducks her head, hiding her gaze.

  Gripping her chin, I bring it back to mine. ‘You haven’t sucked many cocks?’

  ‘Just one,’ she answers as though the answer is obvious. And yeah, I suppose it is. There’s only ever been him—her prick of a fiancé—and she’s not the cheating type. ‘But not often. Maybe only a handful of times.’

  ‘Because you don’t . . . like to?’ I ask when it becomes obvious she’s not going to fill in the blanks. It’s a possibility, though it would be a crying shame if so, especially with a mouth as pretty as hers.

  ‘No, it’s not that. This sounds so stupid—I’m a doctor, not a young girl.’ Her gaze slides over my shoulder as she mumbles, ‘I should be able to talk about this stuff.’

  ‘Just say it, Nell. There’s nothing to be worried about.’

  ‘I’m not worried.’ Serious now, her gaze snaps back to mine. ‘It’s just a little dumb. Liam—he didn’t like to . . . to dine down there.’

  I feel a wide smile crawl across my face, which probably makes me a complete dick. ‘You’re saying he didn’t like to eat you out?’ She nods, discomforted. ‘Was he gay?’ This time, she laughs a little, but still, she tries to pull away. But not on my watch. ‘So you’re saying he wasn’t gay. Just a dick.’

  ‘Pretty much. Look, none of that is relevant—’

  ‘Of course, it is. You deserve better. And I’m going to give you better. All. Night. Long. And you’ll blow both my cock and my mind. Do you know why?’ She shakes her head rapidly. ‘Because you will be doing it, and I have been obsessed with you since I was twelve. I’ve never wanted anything like I want you, and if I added up the moments I’ve thought of you, the times I’ve dreamed of you, I’m sure those moments would amount to years.’

  ‘Thinking about torturing me, you mean.’

  ‘Torturing you in the best kind of ways. Even now, when I’ve had you, I think about you more than is healthy. I think about you spread out under me, our fingers linked as I eat you out. I spend more time than is fucking healthy thinking about the ways I want to make you come, holding my dick in my hand, wishing it was yours.’

  ‘I don’t have a dick for you to hold,’ she answers saucily.

  ‘You know what I mean. Now, do as you’re fucking told,’ I say, bringing my hand to her left bum cheek, fast and a little hard. ‘Undress me.’

  ‘Ow! But so masterful.’ And though she might tease, her fingers go straight to the placket of my shirt. ‘You’ll tell me what you like? What to do.’

  I feed my fingers into her hair, holding her there, forcing her to loosen the buttons by feel. ‘It will be my pleasure. Literally.’

  Buttons loose, she begins to push the shirt from my shoulders, leaving it as it becomes clear I’ve no intention of moving my hands from her hair. She transfers her attentions to my belt, then my zipper, dipping one finger into the waistband of my boxer briefs.

  ‘I liked watching you touch yourself,’ she whispers.

  The atmosphere is loaded, intimate, and if I’m honest, it feels a little dangerous. Need hums in the air between us like a collision we can’t escape as I slide my hands from her hair, pushing her bra straps down her shoulder.

  ‘It’s almost a shame to take something as pretty as this off.’

  ‘Do it.’ Her chest strains between us, and the way she moves tells me she’s desperate for the drag of material against her hard nipples, desperate for my touch. I blow a breath of air over the damp patch I’d made earlier, and she releases a taut little breath.

  ‘Stop teasing.’

  ‘That’s part of the fun.’

  I move my hands to her back, unclipping her bra as Nell takes the opportunity of our proximity to push my shirt from my shoulders. It’s a joint effort from there to shuck me from the rest of my clothing, and a pleasure for me to watch her shimmy out of her underwear. Then we’re naked and pressed skin to skin.

  ‘Kiss my neck,’ I demand hoarsely. ‘Don’t stop until I tell you to.’

  Tentative hands reach for my shoulders, her warm lips following. A press of lips. A touch of tongue. The graze of her teeth as her nipples brush my chest, making me groan.

  ‘Take me in your hand,’ I groan, bringing my palm to the back of her head, keeping her mouth on me. ‘Don’t stop.’

  My inhalation is ragged as she runs her fingers along my cock from root to tip. And as she massages the dampness of my pre-cum from over my shaft, my thighs and abs tighten, my
mouth going slack. ‘Yeah, like that. Harder.’

  ‘Because you like it a little rough,’ she repeats softly.

  ‘Yeah.’ Air moves through my lungs in sharp little bursts, disturbing her curls, then her hands find my pecs, her nails digging into my skin as she pushes me backward towards the bed. Before I can say another word, she’s bent at the waist, her lips between my legs.

  ‘Oh, fuck.’ The word sounds as though it’s been dragged from the depths of my belly as she works her tongue up, then down before inhaling my wide crown, and wrapping her pink lips around me, sinking down. ‘Oh, fuck, Nell, fuck!’ Her hand curled around where her mouth won’t reach, she begins to work me, all sloppy lips and wide, sliding tongue.

  I lift my head from the mattress but can’t watch, the sight of her mouth stretched wide—her hollowed cheeks—almost tipping me over the edge.

  ‘Like this?’ Her mouth comes off me with a wet pop, my hips almost levitating off the bed to chase the sensation. I can barely speak, my language skills shot to hell as I wrap my hand around the nape of her neck to push her back down.

  ‘Please, Nell. Suck me off before I fucking explode.’ Pure wickedness crosses her expression as I drop my head, my arms spread wide across the bed in supplication. I give in, give up, all to her. ‘I thought you said you were no good at this.’ I gasp as she places her lips at the tip. A kiss. A lick.

  ‘Maybe it’s beginner’s luck,’ she replies, resting her palm on my thigh as she lowers her head fully again.

  The noises she makes . . . it’s as if I’m the best thing she’s ever tasted as she tongues my shaft and glans, using cat-like licks to work my slit. And all the while, my thighs shake and my balls threaten to launch my load down the back of her throat like an Rapier missile.

  ‘Fuuck.’

  She’s good—so fucking good—and my hands are in her wild hair again just so I can watch the slide of my cock in and out of her hot little mouth. Up and down, her mouth glides, her fingers gripping and twisting at the root.

  ‘Get up here, you ringer.’ I widen my splayed legs, resting on my elbow to hook my hand under one of her arms. She doesn’t need much encouragement, crawling up my body, delivering biting kisses as she moves.

  ‘What’s a ringer?’ she asks, her tone a touch triumphant as her lips reach mine.

  ‘Someone who pretends to be no good at something to gain an advantage.’

  Her response is a burst of ringing laughter, her chest pressed against mine. ‘What advantage could I gain?’

  ‘You used my body under false pretences.’ As I smile into her kiss, I put my hands on her hips, guiding the hardness of my dick against her soaking wet pussy. ‘Did you use my body to get yourself off? You’re wet. Were you touching yourself, my delicious girl?’

  ‘Should I have been?’ Nell moans into my mouth as I bump her clit with the crown, my heart beating not only faster but harder for this girl.

  ‘Absolutely,’ I growl. ‘But only if I get to watch.’

  Placing her hand on the underside of my dick, Nell rubs her pussy along its length. The sensation is part torture, part tease, and with each swipe, each catch in her breath, I’m sure I lose brain cells.

  ‘Sharing is caring,’ she whimpers.

  It takes a moment for her words to settle, and though I know she hadn’t meant it that way, the thought of sharing her with those Tinder pricks turns my stomach. But what other way can this go? What do I have to offer a girl like her?

  I band my arms around her back, pulling her chest against mine lest she see my expression. It’s not her fault things have to be this way. She deserves a man who can give her everything—not just his cock, a little of his time, and none of his mind.

  ‘You’re so fucking delicious,’ I whisper harshly in her ear, biting the lobe harder than I should. But not as hard as I want to. Every time she rubs her wetness against me, every time she moans as she tries to work her hand between our bodies, I want to roll her over, smack her arse until it’s red, then drive myself in to the hilt.

  Without sentient thought, I roll us over until I’m on my knees over her.

  ‘You look kind of dangerous,’ she whispers.

  ‘Sweetheart, you have no idea.’

  ‘You look like you have plans.’

  ‘I have plans that could keep you in this bed for years.’ She licks her lips like sweet anticipation.

  ‘Just so you know, I’m putting fuck your fabulous tits on that list.’ Her nipples harden, her breasts bouncing as she giggles a light, carefree sound. Her eyes flick from my face to my cock as I hold it in my hand. ‘Tell me you want me.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Tell me you need this.’

  ‘I do—I need you.’ Try as I might to harden my heart to her words, I’ve never wanted to be inside someone as much as I have her—inside her head and her body, the same way as she’s crept into my heart. She’s perfect. So perfect. But not for me.

  ‘You need me where, sweetheart?’ I ask, jacking myself slowly as I lose my ever-fucking mind.

  ‘I need you inside me,’ she whispers, her eyes, like her heart, open and drawing me in. But she’s too much. I can’t watch her right now. Can’t listen to her begging me with her sweet noises—can’t bear witness to her desire knowing she’ll never truly be mine.

  My skin feels like it’s on fire as I push my hands under her hips, pulling her down to the edge of the bed, then rolling her over to bend her over the edge. She’s as malleable as clay when I tip her pelvis, and as I sink into her inch by slow inch, our joint moans ricochet around the room. She’s so hot and tight, and the angle is so much deeper this way.

  Under me, Nell balls her fists in the sheets. A slice of moonlight cuts across her back, highlighting the milkiness of her skin as she begins to chant.

  With a grunt, I pull back, then thrust.

  ‘Anything,’ she whispers. ‘Please, Ben, please.’

  I kiss her shoulder. Licking the length of her spine, I slap her arse hard and commit her cry to memory. She begins to chant as I change the pace to small powerful thrusts, my body punishing hers again and again until there are no more thoughts. Until nothing else exists outside of this moment in time.

  ‘I can feel you,’ I grate out, biting the exposed nape of her neck. ‘Feel you coming around my cock.’

  I lift her hips as I begin to pump and flex as I fuck her harder, then wrapping my hands around her shoulders, I begin to fuck her as though I mean to break her apart. And all the while, she grinds against me, repeating my name again and again, allowing me to take what I need.

  My orgasm starts at the base of my spine, every inch of my skin hot and tingling as though pierced by hot pins as the sensation, white hot and intense, crawls through me. I don’t think I’ve ever come as hard or for as long, and when it’s over, I don’t think I have a brain cell left in my head.

  Chapter 16

  PENNY

  I’m not much of a morning person, especially when coming off a rotation of nights, but this morning, I find as I stretch out along the empty bed, I have an incentive not to pull the pillow over my head. Ben.

  I find myself smiling. Did he wake during the night and return to his room? Maybe he was sparing me Mel’s reaction? More likely, he’s gone for a run. I did notice a day or two ago that he’s taken to placing his running shoes in the boot room, along with a backpack which appears to be filled for no purpose other than weight. One of these days, if I’m lucky, I might get to see him set off. I might even invite Mrs Hoffman to join me. We could sit on the front patio and perve.

  Giggling now a little ridiculously, I swing my legs out of bed, grabbing a clean pair of pyjamas. Shortie ones, of course. These were also a gift from Melody and feature a cartoon cat on the front wearing sunglasses and long stripy socks, though only on his back legs, because cartoon cats stand like humans sometimes. And the caption reads Check Me-Owt.

  I tie my hair up quickly, then wash away the remainder of last night’s smoky eye that has sin
ce transmuted to sad panda, pee, then brush my teeth squeaky clean. I then follow the scent of coffee and man—though the last one is more pheromone and less actual scent—downstairs.

  As he looks out over the wet garden, if Ben senses my presence, he doesn’t say as I creep up behind him and wrap my arms round his waist. Shirtless, his athletic shorts hang from his hips, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s not wearing a stitch else. I take the opportunity to just look at him—to appreciate the hell out of him. The rise and fall of his broad shoulders along with the things I can only feel. The ladder of his abs, the long line of his thighs, and that deliciously cut V peeking from the waistband of his shorts.

  ‘Oh, look, there’s a man in my kitchen,’ I whisper, placing my cheek on the warm, tanned skin of his back. The taut muscles flex, creating a ripple effect between my legs. Which, this morning, feels like it’s undergone a thorough work out.

  ‘Hey.’ Ben half turns, holding his coffee cup away as he wraps his free hand around my shoulder, pressing a chaste kiss to my head.

  ‘No Melody?’

  Ben’s expression seems a little guarded, though it’s easily explained by the presence of his sister sleeping in the other room. While neither of us concerned ourselves last night, this morning there’s the potential for awkwardness.

  God, I hope she didn’t hear us.

  ‘No sign yet,’ he answers. ‘Something tells me she won’t want to go to brunch.’

  ‘That suits me,’ I reply, making my way to the kettle and pressing the switch. ‘I’m so sleepy I was thinking of spending the day lounging in bed.’

  Though I set that one up perfectly for him, Ben doesn’t respond or even turn around. Not until the moment passes and Mel totters into the kitchen wearing yesterday’s clothes and a hangover cloud.

  ‘Morning, troops. God, why do I sound like I have a twenty a day habit?’

  ‘Uber karaoke, most likely,’ Ben murmurs in response.

  I swallow a snort, catching Mel’s eye as she pushes herself up to sit on the countertop. Her “twenty a day habit” isn’t a reference to cigarettes but cock. As in, God, why do I sound like I’ve deep throated twenty men this morning? Not that she smokes or blows multiple men. It’s just an aphorism. A Mel-ism? Anyway, the answer is always singing. Drunk Mel thinks she could give Beyoncé a run for her money.