Naughty Nibbles Anthology

by Sierra Cartwright, SL Majors, Christy Lockhart

  "That sounded honest."

  "It was. It is.” He did that appealing thing with his hair, feeding his fingers into it and dislodging strands all over his forehead. “I thought about it a lot last night. You're right about me, about passion and impetuousness. But you're wrong about other stuff. When I want something, I'll work for it. It's not all fun and games. I am emotional, but fuck it, that's who I am. And if you don't like it, deal, because I'm not finished with you yet."

  David arched his brows. “Indeed?"

  "Don't indeed me.” His own anger carried him into the room and he stabbed David in the chest with his forefinger. “Be real, for one goddamn time, alright? Quit holding back. Take down your walls and let me in."

  David took a breath. He could have made Callum move, but he didn't. Instead, he met Callum's gaze in a way he couldn't last night. “I've never had a man tell me he loves me before. I was at a loss. I handled it badly. And I owe you an apology."

  He stood and Callum took a single step back, but then stood his ground. David was taller, but only by a handful of centimetres. They were nearly eye to eye. “What I meant to say is, I'm honoured. What I should have said is, I'm humbled. Maybe a bit awed. I've seen you on television, seen the way fans go frantic for you. You're going to be a star."

  "And...?"

  "And?"

  "I have some natural talent. I know it needs work. I've gotten by on luck so far. But I'm done with that. From this point on, I'm committing all my efforts to you and to football."

  David had been more important than football in that sentence. He framed Callum's head with his palms. “I fucked you last night. That makes you mine.” He could hardly believe he'd said that. They weren't exactly rapturous words of love. But for him, they were significant.

  "Fucking idiot,” Callum said with a goofy grin, “I told you that ten minutes ago."

  "Get your arse into the locker room."

  The air around them seemed to thicken and tension clawed at its edges.

  "I want you naked and bent over that sink."

  He heard as well as saw Callum swallow deeply.

  "What about liking your luxuries?"

  "I find I'm overcome with passion and can't stop thinking about fucking you."

  "Oh."

  "Move it."

  Callum needed no further instruction.

  Shaking his head, David grabbed lube from his desk drawer. After making sure the studio doors were locked, he followed Cal into the locker room.

  Callum hadn't even glanced in David's direction, instead, he'd simply shown his trust. His legs were spread, and his hands gripped the sides of the sink.

  Coming up behind the lad, he put his hands between his legs, cupping his balls. “They're full."

  "Because I'm hot for you."

  "Smooth."

  "I noticed when I showered this morning."

  "Do you like it?"

  Callum nodded. His cock was swollen, and David took a few seconds to fondle it. Callum sagged forward, using the sink to hold his weight. “Shall I jack you off?"

  "No."

  "No?"

  "I want it to be like this while you're riding me."

  "If you don't ejaculate when I do, I'll finish you off."

  "Yes.” The ‘s’ emerged with a slight hiss. Sexy.

  David's cock was turgid. It strained at his workout shorts, demanding to be released. “Bend your knees a bit. It'll be easier when I drive up into you.” He undressed. Instead of folding his clothes, he tossed them on a shelf by the towels. Another first.

  He lubed his shaft and Callum's hole. “Are you sore?"

  "Yeah. Some. But that isn't going to stop me."

  He put the head of his cock against Cal's hole. Flexing, he pushed forward and felt total resistance. He pulled back a half dozen centimetres and tried to shove in again.

  He was ready to curse. Then he remembered his own counsel: patience. It was a mantra, he reminded himself.

  "Take me."

  "You're not ready."

  He looked over his shoulder, and David knew. It wasn't about being ready, it was about joining in the heat of passion because David couldn't help himself.

  And he couldn't.

  He spread the other man's butt cheeks then cruelly bit his shoulder. Callum yelped, his knees bending, his arse opening because he was too distracted to keep it constricted. “You're mine,” David said, sinking his penis in all the way. “Mine.” He pulled out and hammered Callum's hole. “Mine."

  "I'm yours!"

  His gaze blurred in a fog of need and possession.

  David thought of nothing but what he wanted, which was Callum. “Don't ever walk out on me like that again."

  "No. I promise."

  Instead of coming on the small of his back or the curve of his behind, David ejaculated deep in his lover's rectum.

  He saw Callum jerking, in search of his own orgasm. “Do not let go of the sink.” Reaching around, David curved his hand around Callum's penis and beat him off.

  Callum cried out as the white semen pulsed out of his cock.

  * * * *

  There was no awkwardness after Callum ejaculated, and Callum was grateful. Instead, David surprised him with his tenderness.

  He pulled out, and Callum missed the feel of being stretched wide to accommodate his lover.

  He felt somewhat placated when David kissed him on the side of neck, then placed another, soothing kiss on the place he'd bitten. He wished David would nuzzle him a bit longer, but David was still David.

  "Stay there,” David said.

  Not a bad idea, that. After all, he couldn't move anyway. Holding onto the sides of the porcelain sink were as good an idea as any.

  David returned with a damp cloth and said, “Turn around."

  Feeling decadent, Callum stood there while David wiped his shaft and thighs. It wasn't until Callum was clean that David washed his own cock.

  "We'll finish this at my place,” David said.

  His place. His place.

  "And have that shower we missed yesterday."

  Which meant David wasn't turning his back. Callum had dropped the ‘L’ bomb last night, and David still wanted him around. Maybe, just maybe, there was hope.

  In a repeat of last night, they left Callum's car parked behind the workout studio and drove to David's flat.

  "You ever watch cop shows?” David asked when they were in the oversized shower. The dual showerhead was a capital idea. Maybe he should consider one.

  Or maybe not. Maybe he'd just shower over here. “Cop shows,” Callum repeated. “Sure."

  "Good. Then up against the wall and spread ‘em."

  His stomach gave a lurch. He loved it when David was aggressive. He moved, spread his legs and arms and pressed his body against the back wall.

  Warm water from both showerheads hit him simultaneously. David adjusted the temperature of one, making it cooler, then he made the other hotter. Tiny pinpricks of sensation assaulted him.

  "How's that?"

  Callum shifted from side to side. “Different."

  "Hold still.” He soaped his fingers and made a lather. “You may itch later, and if so, use the bidet. I'd like to watch you do it, anyway. If not today, another time."

  Another time. His hardened, callused, unemotional mentor, lover, was talking about the future.

  "There's only one problem with that?"

  "And that is?"

  "Anytime your bum is nice and clean, I'll want my tongue in there."

  Until he'd met David, he hadn't known it was possible to be turned on by words alone.

  "Reach back and spread your butt cheeks for me.” When he did, he felt David's fingers there immediately. “Bear down,” he said, because I'm going to finger you like you've never been fingered before."

  Callum bore down, feeling David stretch him wide, wider than he had with a cock. He adjusted the water temperature a little, too, adding more heat, more cold. Every part of his body was jumping. He was ove
rwhelmed by sensation. Hot, cold, stretched, filled, all at the same time.

  Then when David pushed a thumb against his perineum and squeezed his balls, Callum came undone, not knowing what had hit him.

  "I'm not letting you go,” David said. As if to reinforce that, he drove his fingers in deeper. With his own body, he had Callum pressed against the tiles, balls to the wall.

  "I mean it, Cal. I'm not letting you go."

  He wasn't talking physically, Callum knew. And right now, that made him the happiest person in London. “I don't want you to.” He'd smile, but he was too overwhelmed.

  "I want your love."

  "You have it."

  In time, Callum knew, David would return it. Maybe not yet, maybe he had to struggle a bit longer until he understood what Callum instinctively knew. Fighting for the right stuff was all that mattered.

  "You've taught me a thing or two,” David said, nipping Callum's earlobe. “And I'm going to spend a long time teaching you."

  "Take your fingers out of my arse so I can turn around and kiss you.” He stared at David's balls and figured he'd work his way up from there. Absently, he wondered, how far he'd get before David seized control again.

  Callum couldn't wait to find out.

  * * * *

  * * * *

  About the Author

  SL Majors enjoys living on the edge. She pens stories to tantalise and arouse, maybe shock and, hopefully, to make you think.

  From her earliest years exploring England and Wales (and finding out early what nettles are!), she's learnt that things aren't always as they seem. She hopes to capture that in her stories.

  She encourages you to delight in life and the unexpected, embracing each experience. It's her greatest hope that at the end of her stories, you'll say, “What if?"

  Email: slmajors@yahoo.com

  SL Majors loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at www.totalebound.com.

  Also by SL Majors

  Naughty Nibbles: Imagine

  * * * *

  * * * *

  EVERYDAY, IN A LETTER

  Christy Lockhart

  Dedication

  For Whitney, my very own heroine, and a brave soldier's wife. Your courage and strength is an inspiration.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmark mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Guinness: ARTHUR GUINNESS SON & COMPANY LIMITED

  Author's Note:

  I salute all the brave members of the British Army and the people who love them. Any errors in crafting this story are entirely my own. As an aside, I've chosen to set the story in England, my birthplace, rather than Germany, where The Queen's Royal Hussars regiment is based.

  Chapter One

  He bumped his hips against her behind, trapping her between the countertop and his body.

  She gasped at the contact. She hadn't even heard him come into the bathroom. The man moved as silently as a shadow.

  Meghan met his gaze in the mirror. Lieutenant Alan Denton, proudly serving in The Queen's Royal Hussars. Oh. Yes. He was also her husband.

  Sometimes she needed to pinch herself to remember that it was real. They'd only known each other a handful of desperate, passionate months before he'd put an engagement ring on her finger. Shocking her and all of her relations, he'd followed it with a wedding ring the exact same day.

  Her insides melted and her pussy flooded with juices. Was it possible for a man to be any hotter? His mesmerising eyes, darker than the blue of the North Sea, and his black, regulation-length hair were startling in their contrast to one another.

  He might have been in civilian clothes, but he wore them with military precision. His dress shirt was starched, and the creases were so sharp that she cheekily wondered how he didn't injure himself.

  She felt his erection against her backside. “Missed me, did you, soldier?” She'd missed him. She'd counted down the months, the weeks, the days, the hours until she'd get to see him. And having him home was more blissful than she could have imagined.

  His arms came around her and he drew her even closer. “What do you think?"

  He didn't seem to care that she'd already taken off her make-up or that her hair was piled on her head, still damp from her bath. A couple of strands escaped and lay curled against her cheekbones.

  "I think I want you to do something with that."

  "With what?"

  "Your erection.” She rolled her eyes, earning a grin from him. “It seems a shame to waste it when our time together is so limited."

  He moved his grip a little, so that his hands were on her hip bones. He held her there so she couldn't escape.

  He had always been keen on capture fantasies, and if she told the truth, she liked them, too.

  He'd chase her. She'd elude him.

  She loved it when he found her, grabbed her, spirited her away, and then forced her to do his evil bidding.

  There was no place she'd rather be than in his arms, and they both knew it. She supposed that's what made the forced seduction angle to their lovemaking such a kick. The illusion she could actually deny him anything was as appealing as it was impossible.

  "You're reading my mind,” he told her.

  Meghan wore no knickers and her robe was a frothy, silky thing that was so thin it was nearly sheer. He wore trousers, and, if her guess was right, no boxers or briefs. She could feel the exquisite hardness of him. And she wanted him inside her. Deep. She throbbed, just thinking about it.

  "I have a surprise for you."

  "What? Now? Something other than your hot body?"

  He grinned. “Yes."

  "Honestly?"

  "Honestly."

  Now she was trying to wiggle away. Maybe it was his fantasy, after all ... powerful Alpha male captures helpless female and ravishes her.

  "You'll like it."

  "Where is it? You know I love surprises. Let me go. What is it? What is it? Tell me."

  He shook his head and just continued to hold her prisoner.

  Bugger all. Her husband was a first-rate torment. He knew how much she loved surprises, and he only gave them to her when she was least expecting it. Not for Christmas or her birthday. If they made a card for it, he skipped right over the gift. But, when she had no earthly idea...

  "Please.” She wasn't above wheedling or pleading, or, when necessary, begging. And she knew Alan; he was powerless to deny her. “Come on, light of my life.” She nudged her hips back a little so that his penis was lodged between her arse cheeks.

  He groaned.

  "Just one hint. Just one."

  He leaned forward and gently bit that sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder.

  Her knees threatened to buckle. He knew exactly where and how to touch her, how to distract her. But she was having none of it. “I want my present."

  He bit her again.

  "Damn you.” She curled her hands into his forearms.

  He swept his tongue up the side of her neck, then switched to tiny little kisses.

  "My juices are seeping on to my thighs."

  "That's good to hear."

  She wrinkled her nose. Merciless. He was merciless.

  "Maybe we should save the surprise for another time and have sex instead."

  Her plan to get him to release her had backfired entirely. If he kept up these kisses, she'd be the one to forget about the gift. It wasn't fair.

  He turned her to face him. She sighed. She was a tall woman, but she had to stand on tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck. Shamelessly, she pressed her body against his, dry humping him

  He kissed her. Hard.

  Then she got aggressive, taking the assertive lead. She ground their mouths together, not sweet and innocent, but dirty, as if simulating them fucking.

  "Right then,” he said. He gave her a quick swat on her right buttock and pulled away, reaching behi
nd his neck to disentangle her hold on him.

  "Hey! I was just getting into that."

  "I thought you wanted your present."

  She narrowed her eyelids threateningly. “Do you have any idea how thin that ice is? The ice you're treading on?"

  "Centimetres?” he guessed.

  When she scowled, he tried again, “Millimetres."

  "If you lose that erection, Mister..."

  "Then you'll be on your knees, won't you? Sucking me until I'm hard again.” He dug his hand into her hair and pulled back her head. Pins went flying, scattering about on the ceramic-tiled floor.

  She could barely breathe.

  He kissed her, leaving her gasping.

  He turned the world upside down. Then, when she was a mass of desire and need, he released her again.

  Her nerves were like eggshells. And he liked it, she knew. He liked her being hot for him at a moment's notice.

  He left the bathroom. When she could actually support her own weight without hanging onto the countertop for dear life, she followed him down the hallway into the bedroom.

  This was her favourite room in the house, it was comfortable, and its personality was as much Alan's as it was hers. He'd demanded the fireplace, she'd insisted on the window seat. They had his-and-hers wingback chairs facing each other with a small, antique table between them. And the bed ... Oh, the bed. He'd spent a mint on a top-of-the-line mattress. Even after hours in bed, it was still comfortable.

  "Open it.” He leaned against the wall, his legs crossed at the ankle. He nodded towards the present on top of the dresser drawers.

  It was wrapped, and she knew he hadn't been the one to do it. He could command a platoon in battle, but didn't seem to be able to handle scissors, paper and tape at the same time. No matter how many times she tried to show him, his thumbs got in the way.

  "What is it?"

  "See for yourself."

  She ripped off the bow and all but shredded the ribbon. She wasn't one of those sweet girls who oohed and ahhed over packaging, saving it in a chest for sentimental purposes, or, worse yet, to re-use on some other unsuspecting sod. The sooner she could dump it in the rubbish the better. The sooner she could get to her gift, the better.