He devoured her mouth, all intentions of being gentle, slow and playful gone. His tongue swept inside and gave hers a frantic chase. When she raised her arms to encircle his neck, he grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms away. He pushed her hands behind her back and kept them there with a firm grip. With his body, he pressed her against the workstation table, straddling her legs to anchor her in place. It gave his aching cock perfect access to rub against her belly. She whimpered and shimmied in his grasp.
With a curse, he pulled back and stared down at her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come on so strong.” When he released her and tried to move back, she hooked a leg around him.
“Don’t you dare stop,” she ordered in a breathless voice. She had kept her arms behind her even though he no longer held her. Her eyes were closed. Her nipples stood out in sharp points from her t-shirt. Her arousal was obvious. She was enjoying his forcefulness.
Knowing he could control her and she would like it set his body on fire. Reaching around her, he tugged on the ties to her apron and yanked it off her body. Her shirt was next and then her bra. Throughout the partial stripping, she remained compliant, her only response to bite her lower lip in obvious bliss. And as her magnificent breasts spilled free, she gave a small moan. The dusky tips beckoned Sean. He wanted to dive into them, dive into her and feast and fuck. Instead, he forced himself to slow down and plan his attack.
He grabbed the apron and used it to tie her wrists in a clumsy yet effective knot so she couldn’t release her arms. With fingers unsteady from his growing need, he peeled her jeans and panties down her legs, slipped the sandals off her feet and laid her bare to his gaze. There was so much creamy, smooth skin to touch and lick, he didn’t know where to start. He slid his hands up the outside of her legs and clasped her waist. It was tiny, like most of the rest of her.
Tightening his grip, Sean hoisted her up to sit on the table. The move gave him the perfect opportunity to clasp a nipple between his lips and suck. Zoë moaned again in encouragement. Her warm breath teased the top of his head. He could have stayed on that diet for hours, but spying the jar of honey, he came up with a better plan. He scooped up a dollop of the sweet stickiness with the stick inside and smeared a bit on each rosy bud.
When his lips next touched her hardened flesh, the nectar was an extra treat. This is how he imagined her, succulent and intoxicating. His tongue laved around the bud. As he swallowed the honey, he drew her flesh farther into his mouth. One hand held the plump mound in place while his other caressed the small of her back. She stirred restlessly in his hold, but tied as she was, there was nowhere for her to go. Knowing he controlled her body increased his own heat. His cock begged for him to pick up the pace. He ignored it. With power came responsibility and he would not take her fully until he was sure she was wet enough and willing to welcome him inside.
He switched breasts and smiled around the mouthful of flesh when she cooed in response. When there was no more honey to consume, he kissed her once more to share the last traces of the sweetness. Her mouth mated with his in hungry passion. She fed his arousal and robbed him of breath. He had to grab her head and force it back in order to break away. She cried out in frustration.
“I need you inside me now, Sean. Please,” she begged.
He gazed down at her. Her eyes were shut tight, her lips parted in further invitation. Her legs spread wide in blatant demand. It was impossible to refuse. Yanking open his pants, he shoved a condom on his aching cock and positioned himself between her thighs. She encircled him with her legs, drew him closer to her. He slid his hands under her ass and tilted her body to position his cock at the entrance of her pussy. The effect of his ministrations was evident by her glistening folds. He shot his cock home with one powerful thrust.
Zoë gasped and bucked at the invasion. She tightened the grip of her legs to push him into her as far as he could go. Sean paused for a moment, savoring the feel of being encased in her wet core. He angled her body in order to press against her clit and bucked in a short thrust. Her moans egged him on. He had intended to bring her to climax slowly and prolong his own release. Need overwhelmed him, however, forcing him to pick up speed. Clasping the back of her head, he brought their lips together and invaded her mouth. His tongue fucked her with the same savage fury as his cock did her pussy. Her body was completely within his control and he drove them both up and over.
Their cries mingled, trapped by the kiss. As her cunt squeezed around his cock, his cum pulsed out in desperate release.
* * * * *
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Zoë stopped and swung around to face Sean. He had asked her this same question a few times since their mind-blowing encounter on her, well, counter. Thank God no health inspector had done a snap inspection. She was pretty sure having freaking hot sex in the kitchen was a violation of some ordinance. She was still a little shaky from the experience, it had been that great. The mild bondage they had acted out was no small part of it. She had always harbored a secret interest in being dominated. She hadn’t dared ask it of her former husband and if Sean hadn’t run with the impulse, she wasn’t sure she would have ever asked it of him either.
They were holding hands, walking in the park near her home. It was such a beautiful night, she couldn’t resist taking in some air. She used the connection to tug him toward her. Rising on her tiptoes, she planted a firm kiss on his lips. She smiled at him sweetly.
“If you ask me that again, I’m going to scream.”
He huffed out a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Sorry. I’ve never really done that before. You know, the tying up and dominating part. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”
“You didn’t,” she assured them as they continued walking. “You blew my mind, rocked my world or whatever you kids call fantastic sex these days.”
Pulling her up short, he spun her into his arms and lifted her up for a longer, deeper kiss than she had given him. When he finally released her, he said, “Now I’m the one who’s going to scream if you don’t stop talking about our age difference. You blow my mind and rock my world.”
“Really?”
“Really. Let’s go back to your place so I can work on convincing you of it,” he added with a feral grin.
* * * * *
Sean fought his way out of the dream, past the sound of his weapon firing and the screams, past the stench of blood and human waste. He struggled for breath and the strength to force his eyes open. His mind latched on to the one sound of sanity and hope that pushed its way past the nightmare of memory tormenting him.
“Sean!”
His name. He recognized it and the sweet tone of voice that called. He heard it over all of the wretched noise reverberating around his head. Focusing on it, he followed it up and out of the morass in which he was trapped. He reared up in bed, heaving great gulps of air into his lungs. His whole body trembled in the aftershocks of the nightmare, while dual visions blurred his sight—an earthen floor covered in blood and the muted tones of a woman’s pretty bedroom.
He fought for control, clenching the soft sheets his body was tangled in. With deep breaths, he willed his body to go still and cleared his mind of all except the soothing sound of Zoë’s voice and the safety of her home.
“Sean?”
He swallowed hard and looked at her. She sat on her heels at the bottom of the bed, her eyes wide with concern. A sudden fear clutched his heart. “Did I hurt you?” he barked out, afraid of the answer.
“No, of course not.”
He heaved a sigh of relief and closed his eyes briefly. “Thank God.” He opened them up again and scrutinized her, not sure if she told the truth. She looked unharmed and she didn’t seem to be afraid of him. That was good, although she should be. What was the matter with him, staying the night like this? He knew better. “I should go.” Before he could yank the sheets back, she grabbed his ankle.
“Don’t you dare leave.” The look she gave him was fierce.
&nb
sp; He huffed out a breath in frustration. “Zoë, sweetheart, please don’t make this harder. I shouldn’t be here. I’m not fit company right now and I don’t want to hurt you accidentally.”
She scooted closer to him. “I’m not worried about that.”
“I am,” he replied firmly. He really was. The last thing he wanted was to clock her while having one of his nightmares.
Throwing her head back, she groaned. Then she fixed him with a determined stare. “Tell me about the dream. It might help.”
Christ. He shook his head. “No. No way. It’s ugly and it’s over and it’s enough for those images to be in my head. I’m not putting them in yours.”
“I’m not that delicate. I can handle ugly. Please, Sean, let me share this burden with you. I know it’s not much but I want to help.”
It was such a sweet offer, it almost made him cry. In fact, to his utter horror, tears welled up and he had to blink them back. Great, just what he needed to add to the scene. Zoë could now see him as a complete basket case. And there was more to telling her about his dream than simply putting ugliness inside her head. Maybe if he were completely honest with her, she’d let it go, let him go for the rest of the night.
“I don’t want you to know what I’ve done,” he confessed. “I can’t bear the idea of your looking at me and seeing me for what I am.”
“What exactly do you think you are?”
He took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out. “A killer.”
“Bullshit!” The vehemence of her swear startled him. “You are not a killer.”
“Yes, I am. Zoë, I’ve killed a lot of people.”
“As a soldier. That doesn’t make you a killer.”
“Maybe it doesn’t make me a murderer, but I am a killer,” he insisted, not sure why he was determined to push her away with horrible truths.
She scoffed. “Don’t argue semantics with me, Professor Poindexter.” When he took a breath to continue, she overrode him. “Let me tell you a story about soldiers who were killers.” She looked away, shifting so that she sat cross-legged next to him.
“Yiayia was a young woman living in Greece during the Nazi occupation. One day the resistance killed a German officer. The Nazis had a swift reprisal policy, so they grabbed the first adult male to step off a local bus. They pulled him aside and shot him dead right on the street in public retaliation intended to terrorize and turn the locals against the resistance. That man, who at nineteen was really still a boy, was Yiayia’s brother George.”
Placing her hand on his knee, Zoë leaned toward him and peered into his eyes. “Those soldiers were killers, Sean. Did you ever summarily execute someone?”
“Jesus, no, of course not.”
She nodded and leaned back. “Of course not.”
“But,” he said, although he wasn’t sure how he was going to finish his thought. She didn’t give him a chance.
“No buts. I don’t want to hear any more talk of what a bad man you are. I know you’re a good man. I wish you’d share with me, but if you’re not ready to do that, then why don’t I help you get back to sleep.” Her gaze strayed down to his lap and the erection adrenaline had given him. She licked her lips.
The sight increased the flow of blood to his cock. It pulsed in enthusiastic agreement with her unspoken plan. It didn’t want to leave and honestly, neither did he. He smiled—what else could he do—and shook his head. “Thanks, but I would really appreciate it if I could make love to you instead.” So saying, he pulled her to him, yanked off her t-shirt and tumbled her onto her back.
He lay down beside her and took her mouth in a deep kiss. Her body melted almost instantly in his embrace. He took his time exploring her with his tongue and hands. With long caresses of her breasts and belly, he brought her passion up. When her body writhed beneath his touch, he stoked her higher by rubbing her clit with the palm of his hand while plunging his thumb into her wet pussy. And when she shuddered in climax, he slipped his cock inside her welcoming body and thrust them both into relief.
No more nightmares plagued him that night.
Chapter Six
Sean felt the pricking sense of being watched that had developed from endless days of patrolling a war zone. He spun around and found a middle-aged man standing in the doorway of the dishwashing room. Sharply dressed and groomed, the guy looked out of place in the diner itself, let alone a steamy room piled with dirty dishes. He held an empty plate with cutlery on it and sauntered in to deftly add them to a load of dishes Sean was readying for cleaning.
Nonplussed, Sean turned off the water. “Um, thank you, sir, but we don’t actually expect customers to bus their own tables here.”
The older man laughed, displaying a perfect row of gleaming white teeth. They were a startling contrast to his olive skin and dark hair. The guy was too slick by half. “I’m not a customer; I’m family. Peter Polanarkis.” He offered his hand. “I’m Zoë’s ex,” he added with a grin.
Warning bells sounded in Sean’s head as the import of the pronouncement sank in. Drying his hand on a towel, he clasped the other guy’s for a brief shake. He registered soft skin but with firmness behind it. It was hard to reconcile the down-to-earth Zoë with this man. He practically screamed fitness centers, hair salons and manscaping. “Sean Conroy,” he replied awkwardly.
Polanarkis laughed again. “Yeah, I know. I had lunch here specifically to get a look at you.” When Sean raised his eyebrows in question, the guy continued, “I kept hearing about Zoë’s boy toy so I couldn’t resist.”
Wonderful. Awkward didn’t even begin to describe the bizarre encounter. It made Sean uncomfortable to know people were talking about him and Zoë. Not that it mattered for his sake, but he worried about gossip making her feel bad. She didn’t deserve scorn in her community for dating him. Maybe he would ask her about it later. In the meantime, he had zero interest in entertaining her ex. “Okay, you’ve had your look. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” He turned back to the sink and flipped on the water.
Instead of leaving, Zorba the Creep leaned against the counter and folded his arms. “It’ll never work, the two of you.”
Sean wanted to respond by pointing out it had worked just fine for the last few weeks. He and Zoë were up to spending at least three nights a week together, sliding into bed for mind-blowing sex even when they were too tired to go out. It was certainly working better than any relationship he’d ever had. Being with Zoë was easy and fun. He felt relaxed and happy. The nightmares were coming farther apart and whenever he woke up, shaking and sweating with visions of his past clutching him by the throat, she was there to sooth him back to sleep. As far as he was concerned, things were working damn near perfectly. Of course he couldn’t voice all of this to her ex. Still, the guy stood there waiting for a response.
With an inner sigh, Sean shut the water off again and faced his unwanted guest. “Because I’m too young for her,” he said with a roll of his eyes.
Polanarkis shrugged. “Nah, that’s not the problem. Frankly I tip my hat to her. Bagging a younger guy is no mean feat. And as an added bonus, it may give the kids something to nag her about instead of me.”
Sean ground his teeth in an effort not to slug the smug look off the man’s face. He didn’t like the way Zoë’s ex talked about her but Sean knew she wouldn’t like his hitting him either.
“No, the real problem is you’re not Greek enough for her.”
“I’m not Greek at all,” Sean retorted, not sure what the point of the observation was.
“Exactly. See, being Greek is major for Zoë. She lives and works it 24/7.” He spread his arms out. “Just look at this place. How Greek can you get, running a diner with everything from avgolemono soup to baklava?” He pushed away from the counter and paced. “Even when we could afford it, she wouldn’t move out of her grandmother’s house.”
“Yiayia,” Sean corrected automatically.
“Again, my point exactly,” Polanarkis stopped and pointed at
him meaningfully. “She sent the kids to Greek school and made them speak Greek at home. Fish on Wednesdays and Fridays, lamb on Sunday. Endless family events and you’ll never see so many black dresses outside of a funeral.” The man stopped and shook his head. “I’m full-blooded, second-generation Greek-American and I wasn’t Greek enough for her. Sorry, kid, but you don’t stand a chance.”
Before Sean could even formulate a reply, they both jumped at a harsh “Peter” uttered by the doorway. He turned to see the object of their discussion standing there with hands on hips, fire flashing from her eyes. He had never seen an angry Zoë and was grateful her ire wasn’t directed at him. Her gaze pinned her ex to his spot. Some of the slick confidence fell away from Peter’s face.
“Hey, babe, I was just meeting your ah, new dishwasher.”
There was a pause before Zoë let loose a torrent of Greek that made Peter blanch. Not knowing more than a few words related to food and family relationships, Sean stood transfixed. Although he had no idea what she was saying, he had a good feeling that his lovely older girlfriend was laying her ex out in a brand of Greek that wasn’t heard in polite circles.
All Peter could manage was to stand there and take it. She paused and he took a breath to respond, but was overridden when she started up again. It wasn’t just her mouth that moved at the speed of light. Her hands waved and jerked and sliced through the air. This was what Hera must have looked like when she found out Zeus had fucked another human woman. If Zoë had been aiming all of that at Sean, he would have pissed his pants.
Finally the storm passed. Polanarkis mumbled a few words in response, threw Sean a meek smile and raced out of the room. Quiet descended, the only sound the faint murmur of people out in the kitchen and the clinking of pots and pans. Zoë’s chest heaved with what he assumed was residual anger. He didn’t dare speak to her until she looked at him and gave him a reassuring smile. A breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding pushed past his lips.
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