Rich Soldier: The Dirty Thirty Pledge Book 2

by Wylder, Penny

  It just makes him laugh, the bastard, because he's busy exploring my thighs, and then my knees and the sensitive skin behind them when he lifts my legs into the air. And then my ass, which he bites, and I'm left wondering if I want more from him there, something I've never explored with anyone before. I've had plenty of firsts with Wallace, so that part of it wouldn't exactly be new.

  Finally, Wallace parts my legs, spreading my pussy before him. He stares at it for so long that I blush, and try to close my legs again. He doesn't let me. "I'm just wondering," he says softly, "if you're going to taste the same as I remember."

  That blush just gets worse, and my heart is pounding with nerves. "I hope that's a good thing."

  The smile he gives me is pure sex. "The best." And then he puts his mouth on me.

  Sweet, holy fuck, I'd forgotten about this. Even though we were young, Wallace has always had the most talented tongue that I've ever come across. The few men I've been with since have never compared, and now that I'm feeling this again, it's like the sky opening up and the sun shining down. He plays my body like music.

  Soft touches to my clit which he then moves away from and teases my inner thighs. Then he’s back to kiss my entrance and lick me, and away again. Sucking my clit between his teeth, he rolls it between his lips before sinking down and slipping his tongue inside me and licking deep. And then a swirl of tongue up and over the entirety of me. I don't know what he's going to do or where he's going to land and it's driving me mad. But he's doing it on purpose because he knows that it feels good, and he knows that as long as he keeps it random, I won't come until he wants me to.

  He drags his lips up the entrance to my pussy until he reaches my clit, sucking it gently and scraping it with his teeth. I gasp and let out a moan, saying his name. That no talking rule is becoming less important by the second. I can't help but ask him. "Is it like you remember?" The words are breathy and almost voiceless, but I have to know, when he's driving me this crazy, how he feels.

  "Mmm." It's a sound that's deep and satisfied. "You taste so much better."

  He consumes me again with another deep sound of satisfaction, and I have to grab the blankets, fisting them in my fingers. My hips arch off the bed, trying to bring him closer, wordlessly begging him to give me more. To give it to me faster, and he does. Wallace stops bouncing around from place to place and settles his mouth directly over my clit, rolling it between his lips before he teases with his tongue. Up one side and down the other, he works his way, focusing all his attention there, and oh fuck—

  Pleasure rockets through my body like an explosion, taking me higher and right to the edge. I'm in the midst of that deep, shuddering pleasure that only comes right before an orgasm and I never want it to fade. Wallace moves his hands under my ass, pulling me deeper against his mouth, and it's hard to imagine anything else but this pleasure.

  Just then he curls his tongue under my clit, lapping at it in a rhythm that shoots spears of heat through my body, and I tip over the edge. Heat and fire blaze through me and I arch, wrapping my legs around him. I want more of this pleasure, taking me to a place where I don't have to think or worry about the future. Just simple, pure, pleasure and satisfaction. The tide rises and falls and when my vision clears, Wallace is above me again, face close.

  His eyes are still intense, and I know he's not finished. How could we be? But he kisses me, and the taste of him with the taste of me and the heat of his tongue make me moan, reaching out to pull him closer. "Tia," he groans, "I could spend an eternity between your legs. You're so delicious."

  I shudder underneath him, his words reigniting the need for more in me, and I let him kiss me again, liking the feel of his weight on my body before he pulls back. "But I need to see that ass."

  He turns me over, and his hands smooth down the skin of my back and down across my ass. He makes a sound of approval, leaning down to brush his mouth across my skin, dangerously close to the bud, and I clench in anticipation. But no, he doesn't touch me there. At least not yet. But he laughs against my skin like he knew what I was thinking and the vibrations make me raise my ass to him.

  I hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper and I don't even have time to wonder where he got it because he's pressing against my entrance. Oh, God. He's so big. Too big. I know he'll fit because he's already been inside me, but suddenly I feel so full that my breath goes short and my chest is tight and I'm gasping, grabbing for something to hold on to. Wallace pushes in and in and in until I can feel his hips against my ass and I can barely breathe.

  Leaning over, his body is on mine, his hands covering mine on the bed, and I'm trapped by him. He's everywhere, surrounding me, inside me, and God, I don't want it to stop. Using his knees, he pushes my legs wider, which makes him feel even bigger. Holy fuck, I'm going to come and he hasn't even moved yet. Not really.

  He tangles his fingers with mine, and I hold onto him as he pulls out and thrusts back in. I cry out because I'm so sensitive and he's hitting me deep, in that place that makes fireworks pop behind my eyes. Three more thrusts, and I come, crying out and saying his name, shuddering and squeezing his cock. But he doesn't stop, and I'm falling into a place that's only pleasure. Every stroke of his shaft takes me higher, and he doesn't hold back, building up speed until he's ramming in, holding me in place with his body while he takes me.

  God, it's been so long since I've been taken, and it feels delicious. We fit together in a way that's too good to hope for, his body causing mine to spiral into another orgasm, and another, until I'm out of breath but still trying to scream. I can't do anything but let the pleasure through, feel it overload my nerves and savor the feeling of perfect euphoria.

  Wallace groans, lips against my neck, and he changes his rhythm, a little slower, more intentional, and I know he's close. He's thrusting in to the hilt every time and finally, he breaks, crying out in my ear and holding himself deep while his cock jerks inside me. He thrusts again, and again, and when he's finally finished, he falls to the side, avoiding collapsing on me with all of his weight. Within seconds he pulls me to his chest, unwilling to not be touching me, and he's kissing me again or I'm kissing him. It doesn't really matter anymore. All that matters is that we're catching our breath together. That impossibly, we've gotten back a little bit of what we've lost.

  For the first time in a long time, I feel truly peaceful, like that anger that was buried deep has been soothed, even if it's only temporary, and I'm having a hard time keeping my eyes open. But like hell am I going to go to sleep, because I don't want to miss a moment of this peace or pleasure. Not a single goddamn second.

  "I'll be right back," Wallace says softly, excusing himself to the bathroom to take care of the condom. But I don't want to wait. I pull on a pair of panties and a bra, and then some shorts. Because I want to show him something.

  When he comes out of the bathroom, still naked, I take a look at him again. He's glorious. It's like the statue of David is standing in my bedroom. I could stare at that for the rest of my life and never get tired of it, I think. "Put some pants on," I say, “and come with me.”

  Down the hall, there's a set of french doors and a balcony. I open the little closet in the hall so I can get at the small refrigerator that I keep up here and grab two cans of beer. I toss one to him. "Not soda anymore," I say to him hoping that he'll get the reference before I open the doors and climb over the balcony and onto the roof.

  When we were younger, we spent a lot of time on my parents’ roof, drinking far too much soda and snuggling under the stars. There was a fair amount of making out, though we never had sex on the roof. There's something about the idea of getting caught having sex on the roof that's even more embarrassing than just getting caught having sex.

  The sun is setting in a blaze of red and orange and yellow, the final big burst of light before it drains from the sky into a faster darkness than you would have thought possible. I settle myself on a flat area of the roof—that I made exactly for this purpose. When you build y
our own house, it's pretty amazing that you get to do exactly what you want. And I wanted a place to be on the roof. With or without Wallace, sitting on roofs has always been one of my happy places.

  Wallace settles down too, cracking open the beer and sitting a careful distance away from me. Not so far that I can't reach out and touch him, but not nearly as close as I expected given what just occurred downstairs. But he's right. All of this, even with the sex, is temporary until we figure out what happened between us. And what can still happen.

  Before I can speak, he does. "I'm glad you remembered," he says, lifting the beer and gesturing to the roof. "Those were some good nights. Some of the best."

  “I made this place so that I could sit on the roof,” I say, “because I loved that.”

  “You built this house?” he asks, startled.

  I nod. “I had help, but yeah, I did.”

  He laughs softly. “We always talked about building a house together. I tore down my father’s house and I’ve been wanting to build a new one. But I keep stalling on the plans.”

  I don’t have to ask why. Because, like he said, we planned to build a house together. And we didn’t.

  “It’s a beautiful house, Tia,” he says.

  The question bubbles up behind my lips and I can't hold it in anymore. "Can I ask you a question?"

  6

  Wallace

  I haven't felt this at ease in a long time. Sex with Tia was...mind-blowing. Fucking amazing. It made something loosen in my shoulders that I didn't even realize was tight. And now we're on a roof together—a roof that she built—and it seems like everything has come full circle. This is what being happy feels like. It’s strange to think that I might have forgotten what that was, but I did. Sometimes you're so far into your own shit that you can't even remember what simple emotions like happiness are anymore. Shit.

  Maybe Jerry is right. Maybe I do need to spend some time talking to someone. Even if it's the last thing that I want to do.

  But right now, I'm happy. Even if I know that it can't last. Because there's still too much between us that needs to be said.

  "Can I ask you a question?" Tia asks softly, and I know that we're about to start with it right now.

  I smile at her and take a sip of the beer. "I bet I can guess what you're going to ask, but of course, go ahead."

  "Why did you do it?"

  And there it is. The question that's probably haunted her for a decade. Why did I leave her behind without saying goodbye when we had already made so many plans with each other? How could I be so callous and cruel?

  I swallow, and take another sip of the beer to steady myself. “First there’s something I need to tell you about back then. I don’t think it will make it better, just provide some context.”

  “Okay.” She turns toward me, sitting with legs crossed, and I can’t not look at her. The fading light is brushing across her face, and with her hair still damp, she’s beautiful. She’s always been beautiful, but in this moment, I have to catch my breath before I start to speak.

  “My father was an asshole.”

  Tia shakes her head. “I knew that. Everybody knew that.”

  “Yeah, everyone did. Everyone knew he was a drunk and an all-around mean guy. But I did my best to hide the fact that he hit me. I’m not sure why I didn’t want anybody to know. Maybe because when one person knows something here, then everybody knows something. But I hid it. Especially from you.”

  Her face goes still with shock. “He hit you?”

  I nod. “I’m not sure if it was a side-effect of his drinking or the fact that his father hit him too, but he did. That’s why I worked long hours in the summer time and we never spent time at my house. There was no way I was going to risk you seeing that, or worse, him trying to hurt you.”

  She’s silent for a second. “I’m sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago,” I say, waving a hand. “But that day that I left, I told him that I was going to join the army. He’s the whole reason that I decided I had to. He was never going to give me any money for college, and I knew that I couldn’t stay in that house after I graduated. Because staying in that situation voluntarily wasn’t a thing I could do.”

  “I get that,” Tia says, “I really do. But you could have told me. You didn’t think that I was worth a goodbye?”

  “It wasn’t that. I told him that day that I was going to join the army, and he lost his shit. He beat me more than he ever had before. I was lucky to get away without broken bones. The idea that I would turn my back on him was an unthinkable for him. I had two black eyes and half my body was bruised by the next day. He left to go drinking, and I thought that if he was even more drunk when he got back, that I might not survive it. So I left.”

  Tia’s eyes are full of tears. "But you could have come to me. You could have told me you were leaving. I would have understood. I would have done something. My family too. You know that.”

  I shake my head. “I didn’t want that to be the last image that you had of me, beaten and broken. But even that’s not why.”

  “For the love of God, just tell me. I’ve been waiting for years to hear the reason.”

  “I was going to the army. Eventually into combat. There wasn’t a question that I’d see it, not with everything that was happening. And there was a chance that I wasn’t going to come back. You would have had to grieve me, and I didn’t want to put you through that. I thought it would be better if we both just moved on. You could live your life without worrying where I was or whether I was alive or dead.”

  It feels good to get it off my chest. To make her understand why we had to separate. It was just going to be easier. But the look of relief that I’m expecting is not what I get. Instead, I see anger.

  “Are you serious?” she asks.

  “Yeah, I am.”

  Unfolding her legs, she stands up like she can’t stand to be still anymore, and she paces back and forth on the small portion of the roof that’s flat. “You left me without saying goodbye because you didn’t want me to grieve if you died?” The anger in her voice is palpable, but I’m not getting it. Why is she angry?

  “Yes. I did you a favor. Worrying over me wouldn’t have made your life any better.”

  She stops and looks at me, and I swear if eyes could burn that I would be on fire. “Do you really think that I didn’t grieve after you fucking disappeared? I had no idea what happened to you until word got out about the note that you left your dad. So if you wanted to spare me pain, then you seriously missed the mark. And who the fuck do you think you are, choosing what’s best for me? That’s not what couples do, Wallace. Couples talk about what they need and what they’re worried about and then they decide what to do together. God, what arrogance!”

  I’m stunned into silence for a second. “What?”

  “I’m sorry, was I not clear?”

  I shake my head. “Tia, I was doing what I thought was best for you.”

  “And I never asked you to do what was best for me. I can decide for myself what’s best for me. You were my boyfriend, not my parent. I can’t believe I waited all this time for such bullshit. You’re selfish and arrogant and I can’t even look at you. Get out.”

  I gape at her as she points off the roof, but she doesn’t move, and the fury shows even more on her face when I don’t move. “Get the fuck out of my house, Wallace.”

  “Tia—”

  “Go. I’m done.”

  I climb down onto the balcony, still stunned. That’s not what I expected. I should stop expecting things, because so far not one of the interactions I’ve had with Tia in the last week have been what I expected. And tonight, after being together and finally feeling like things were moving forward, this feels …devastating.

  The rest of my clothes are on the floor of her bedroom and my shoes are in the living room. Picking up my clothes and leaving hers there feels like a betrayal, an knife in the gut.

  I’m not sure what to do. I was so sure that telling her what
happened, why I did it, that she would understand. That she would say it was okay. That maybe we could go back and try to start again. I really, really fucked that up.

  I get into my car and I see that she’s still sitting on the roof. Nothing but a silhouette in the darkening night. Before I’m even pulling out of the driveway, I’ve got my cellphone out and am dialing. “I need to talk to you. Meet you at First Shot.”

  7

  Tia

  I don't know how long I sit out on the roof. Until my eyes seem like they're burning into the darkness. I can't believe I let myself get that close to him again for that. I can't believe I thought that it would be something groundbreaking. Something that would make the last years of my life hurt any less. But no. It was Wallace being an arrogant prick.

  Who the hell does he think he is? How is thinking that he's saving me pain any of his goddamn business?

  Screw this.

  I throw my beer can off the roof and into the dark. That beer is probably the last thing that we'll ever share together, and I'm doing my best to ignore the way that tugs at my chest. He didn't come back. I wouldn't have let him if he tried, but still, seeing him drive away ripped me apart. Who knows, maybe this is what I would have felt if he had said goodbye, watching him leave and not knowing when I’d ever see him again. In this case, I know that I'm going to have to see him tomorrow. Which isn't ideal.

  But it doesn't matter. I'm done. I have to be done. I can't carry this tiny hope and this furious anger. I've spent too many years wondering why and thinking about what might have been. That's what Wallace really got wrong. He thought that by leaving he was freeing me to live my own life. But what he really did was bind me to him. Make sure that no matter what happened, I'd always wonder what could have happened if things had gone a little differently.