Chapter 8
Army
She turns to face me. In the dim, flickering light, I can’t tell the color of her eyes, but they’re wide and luminous. Filled with lust and need.
I take a step back, and she moves to follow until I shake my head. She stays put, obeying my unspoken command, even though a flash of uncertainty and doubt moves through her eyes.
“Good girl,” I praise. “I want you to follow my commands. I want you to submit to me.” Her tension eases as she visibly relaxes. “You want me to be in control?”
Her chest heaves, pushing those spectacular tits toward me. “Yes.”
But there’s uncertainty in that one word.
“You’re in control,” I reassure her. “Use your safe word for anything I do or order you to do that you don’t like or aren’t comfortable with.”
“Lotus,” she whispers and licks her lips.
The tattoo over my heart feels like it’s pumping full of blood, but I don’t focus on that.
“Are you using your safe word right now?” I ask, just to be sure. She quickly shakes her head. “Alright, siren. Undress for me.”
She reaches behind her to untie the neck of her dress. Once it’s undone, the black silk flutters down to pool at her feet, revealing the naked, exquisite creature hidden underneath.
Lush, high breasts with a beauty mark above her left nipple. A nipped-in waist, the soft flare of curvy hips, and an ass made for spanking.
She’s stunning and perfect.
Like a modern-day Marilyn Monroe standing before me.
Like the body I always thought Leeva would have if she stopped resisting her natural shape and stopped starving herself to maintain that ballerina-thin frame.
Again, my eyes snap to where Guerilla’s tattoo would be on Leeva’s neck, and I relax when all I see is the unmarked, unblemished creamy skin.
This woman is not Leeva.
My siren does have a tattoo, though—a Buddhist endless knot is between her breasts.
“You’re exquisite,” I exhale in appreciation. “Spread your legs.”
Still wearing her stilettos, she gracefully steps out from the silk pooled at her feet and widens her legs. Her nipples look painfully taut.
“Slide one finger into that wet cunt,” I order, making her skin flush, and I need to fight like hell to remain still and not touch her yet. “Finger-fuck yourself, siren. Show me how you like it done.”
Her breath hitches, but she obeys.
And, holy hell, watching her finger sink into her… move in and out of her… the way she stops to swirl around her clit before pushing back in… It nearly makes me lose control, and I never lose control.
“Taste yourself,” I order, my words thick with need.
Her flush spreads and deepens.
“There’s no shame, siren. There’s only pleasure with me. Let yourself feel it and let go.”
Her hand lifts to her full, pouty lips, and her finger slips inside. I groan, just imagining how good she tastes.
But I don’t go in for a taste. Not yet. Instead, I walk to the toy wall and select a vibrator.
Turning back to her, I command, “Lie on the bed. Knees bent so I can see that beautiful pussy.”
I watch her ass sway as she walks. The amount of pre-cum leaking from my dick is obscene.
Once she’s positioned on the bed, I walk to her and hand her the vibrator. Her hand trembles slightly as she takes it.
“Put it in, siren.”
I watch in rapt attention as she holds it to her glistening, wet pussy and starts to work it in. It’s not the biggest toy, but it isn’t small, either. However, she has trouble getting it in, and my excitement and need claw even higher.
“Stop.” My command is harsh, but she obeys, looking at me with uncertainty.
I’ll be damned if I let a toy stretch out that tight cunt; my dick is going to get all that pleasure.
I go back to the wall and select a much smaller one off the shelf, then return to the bed, stalking toward her like a wolf hunting its prey, as she hungrily stares at me through her mask.
Taking the larger vibrator from her, I toss it onto the bed and hand her the smaller one. But rather than step back and let her do it herself while I watch, I place my hand over hers, and together we bring it to her pussy. Just as the tip touches her clit, I turn it on, and she moans.
My control frays.
I wanted to watch her fuck herself, for her to show me what she likes, but my need to touch her is too much.
Her back arches and her mouth parts as the toy slides into her.
I dream of slipping my cock between her parted lips, choking and gagging her, stealing her air, as tears stream down her face while I fuck her with a toy.
Maybe a double-pronged one—either to double-stuff her pussy or to have one in her pussy and one in her ass.
I feel more pre-cum leak from the tip of my cock as it throbs with the need for release.
Her head twists back and forth as I fuck her with the vibrator. “Oh God.”
“Let go, siren. Dream of all the dirty, filthy things you want me to do to you and let go.”
I want to tie her wrists and ankles to the posts, so she’s spread eagle for me. At my mercy. To do my filthiest worst.
But I also want her free to fall into this depravity with me all on her own.
And I also need her so goddamn much that it feels like I’ll die if it doesn’t happen in the next thirty seconds.
Her orgasm hits sudden and hard, just like an earthquake has cracked open her soul, and her cries fill the room. I watch in rapt fascination as her pussy clenches and squeezes the toy.
Jesus Christ, I want that to be my dick.
I need that to be my dick.
Once her orgasm starts to fade, with her heavy-lidded eyes on me, I lift the vibrator to my mouth and suck it clean.
Her taste is like heroin dumping into my veins, and I feel a euphoric fog fall over me. With my PTSD, I’ve always stayed away from using drugs to numb pain and quiet my ghosts, and I only ever allow myself two drinks; however, I know she’s just become an addiction that will be hard to shake.
I don’t know her name or what she even looks like. This has never happened to me with another partner. Ever.
But there’s no way in hell that I’m going to question it right now or deny myself this.
Her breathing is shaky as she’s still coming down from her release, and I gather her in my arms, carrying her over to the swing.
Gently, I lay her on the pad that supports her body.
I have her feet arranged into the stirrups before she’s more coherent.
She twists her head, realizing she’s no longer on the bed, and studies the swing before looking back at me.
“You came so beautifully for me, siren.” I shrug out of my jacket, letting it fall to the floor. Then I undo my belt and zipper, freeing my throbbing dick.
Her eyes are riveted to it, and she swallows. “That’s…that’s one really big penis.”
I chuckle and fist it.
“I want to see you,” she whispers, lifting her eyes to mine. “All of you. If that’s okay?”
She’s lying completely naked, exposed with her feet in the straps, with her wet pussy open and laid bare.
“Anything for you, siren.”
I’m not opposed to taking off my clothes; it’s just not something I often think of doing. It’s not like I crave skin-to-skin contact or closeness with my partners. And on Masked Night, I never undress, so my tattoos remain hidden and I can keep the anonymity game going.
But with her, I meant those words: anything for you.
Her eyes are locked on my body as I undress. Once I’m naked, I stand still, letting her study me.
Her gaze lingers on the tattoo of a lotus blooming over my heart, but she doesn’t ask any questions about it or my choice of safe word.
Nor does she ask anything of the Recon Jack tattoo I have on my right bicep from my Marine days, or of the eagle with its wings spread that covers my pec and up onto my shoulder.
I have other tattoos on my neck, hidden by my mask, as well as the logo for our MC on my back, but I keep facing her, so she only sees my chest as her eyes lift back up to mine.
“You’re beautiful,” she whispers, then bites her lip. “In a very masculine, alpha way.”
“You’re the beautiful one, siren.” I step between her spread legs, heady at the thought of being inside her. “I’m privileged to see such a beauty as you, uncovered and unhidden. And I’m going to mark all your beautiful skin with my cum.”
I press the head of my engorged cock to her pussy. She sits up like I electrocuted her, her hands flying up to ward me off.
I’m alarmed by her reaction until she chokes out, “Condom.”
How the fuck had I forgotten a condom? I’ve never had unprotected sex—I even glove up for blow jobs.
But I find I don’t want to put a condom on; I don’t want any sort of barrier between us.
Which is stupid and a complete mindfuck.
Along with how I suddenly want to rip off my mask.
Not because it’s hot as hell, but because I want her to know who’s sinking into her tight pussy. Who’s fucking her. Claiming her.
Mentally shaking my head at myself, I reach over to the bowl that sits on top of the chest of drawers and grab a condom. Instead of putting it on myself, though, I hand it to her.
She bites that bottom, pouty lip as she takes the package. As she takes the condom out, she shifts to sit up so she can reach me, and I hold the swing steady while she does. And when she tentatively wraps her hand around my throbbing erection, I nearly come right then and there.
More of that euphoric bliss dumps into my blood. If her hand feels like this, then I know fucking her is going to be the closest thing to heaven a sinner like me will get.
Both of us are shaking by the time she’s done rolling the condom down my length. I don’t let her lie back on the pad, though. I wrap my hand around her nape, keeping her upright, and pulling her so the swing comes forward, bringing her pussy to my cock.
Her mask is still perfectly in place. While looking into her eyes—eyes that I swear in the flickering light look amber—I start to push into her. We don’t look away from each other, and it’s the most intimate experience of my life as I slowly work myself into her tight channel.
“You’re so tight, siren. But you’re taking my dick so fucking good.”
She whimpers and tries to spread her legs further apart with her feet still in the straps of the swing.
“That’s it, my dirty girl. Take all that cock. Feel your cunt stretch to take me.”
My pelvis presses fully against her when I bottom out, and for the second time, I nearly come right then and there.
It’s fucking nirvana being inside her.
With my first thrust, I know I’m a lost man.
When I thrust again, pulling her body to me with the aid of the swing, it sounds like she can hardly breathe.
With one hand wrapped around her nape and the other around the back of her thigh, I pull her toward me again, hard, and she moans, deep and guttural.
“I might not last long,” I tell her, “but this is only beginning. I’m going to cover you in my cum. Paint your skin with it. Would you like that?”
She moans and nods, her thick lashes fluttering over her lust-filled eyes.
“My filthy little siren. Then you’re going to ride the Sybian Saddle, and you’re going to come and come while you choke on my cock.”
“Yes,” she whimpers. Her pussy walls, like her eyelashes, are fluttering, telling me she’s close to coming again.
“So responsive for me. Your body is made for sin. Made to sin with me.” I thrust in even harder, and with the pull of the swing, it’s brutal and almost violent. “Made for me,” I claim out of nowhere. “You were made for me, siren.”
I’m nonsensical, spouting gibberish and thoughts I’ve never had before while having sex, but I don’t question it. I can’t. Not with the pleasure I’m experiencing—which is, hands down, the most intense and best of my life.
Her hand wraps around my neck, mirroring the hold I have on her, and she pulls closer.
I need to feel her skin fully pressed against mine, and it’s not completely possible with how she’s positioned in the swing.
So, I lift her out of it, and she wraps her legs around my waist as I take her back to the bed.
Covering her body with mine, she wraps her long legs around my back, holding me close as I move in her.
“Harder,” she cries.
My first thrust is to test the waters, and she keens. Then I truly fuck her into the mattress, within an inch of her life, but she takes it all, arching and writhing.
When she comes, it’s like I’m having a coming-to-Jesus moment, feeling her clench, squeeze, and convulse around my cock. I don’t even get the chance to pull out, take the condom off, and paint her skin with my cum.
Her orgasm buries its claws into me and drags me over the edge, where I tumble into the abyss of ecstasy, where I never want to return from. Where I’d claw and fight to remain there forever.
Both our bodies are heaving when our climaxes subside. She’s pinned underneath me, and my masked forehead rests against hers.
It’s so hot under my mask that sweat drips down my face.
In order to continue tonight with all the depraved pleasure I want to show her, I’ll have to unmask myself to her, anonymity be damned.
But first, I need to deal with the condom and get rid of some of the pooled sweat. I pull back and ease out of her.
She’s liked melted butter on the bed, totally soft and relaxed, and with a post-orgasm smile on her beautiful lips.
I ease back off the bed, looking down at her. “How are you doing, siren?”
“So…good,” she murmurs.
I wrap my hand around my cock and pull off the condom, pinching the end to trap my cum inside, even though I’d love to drip it all over her skin.
That will be the next round, I promise myself.
“I’ll be right back.” I wait until she nods, letting me know she heard me and understands that I’m not walking out on her.
Then I turn around and go to the attached ensuite. I drop the used condom into the wastebasket and remove my wolf mask. Staring at myself in the mirror, at my mussed hair and my flushed face that’s dripping with sweat, I grin.
I place the mask on the vanity counter and run cool water to splash over my face, then dry off with a towel.
My grin is still on my face as I exit the ensuite and enter the room.
But it falters as I come to a stop.
The bed is empty. So is the room.
There’s no exquisite creature here. Her dress is gone, too.
My siren has bolted.