Chapter Three
Brennan
The sun is just starting to rise when I finally give up on sleep. I tried. I really did. I closed my eyes and tried to quiet my mind, but it was useless. All I could think about was her.
I glance over at the sleeper cab. The door is still slightly ajar, and I can see her tangled in the blankets on my bed.
She looks so small and fragile, her blonde hair spread out across my pillow, her lips parted slightly in sleep.
The sight of her, safe and warm in my space, is enough to make my chest ache with a feeling so intense it’s almost painful.
I didn’t sleep at all. Just watched the moon move across the sky and listened to her soft, even breaths.
Every once in a while, she’d make a small sound in her sleep - a little sigh or a soft whimper - and my whole body would go rigid with the need to go to her, to do things to her that would have her making those little noises for an entirely different reason.
I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Not ever.
I spent twelve years in the Marines, and I saw some of the worst things humanity has to offer.
I’ve seen death up close and personal, and it makes you hard.
It makes you wary. It makes you keep people at a distance.
I’ve had women in my life, sure, but it was always physical, always temporary.
I never wanted more. I never even knew I was missing it.
Until now.
The way she looks when she’s curled up in my bed.
.. it’s not just about wanting to fuck her, though God, I do.
I want to bury myself inside her so deep that I forget my own name.
I want to mark her, claim her, breed her until she’s so full of me it’s all she can think about.
I want to taste her, to feel her come apart on my tongue, to hear her scream my name when she’s writhing beneath me.
But it’s more than that. It’s this overwhelming, all-consuming need to protect her, to care for her, to make sure she never wants for anything for the rest of her life.
She’s so... good. So pure. She spends her life taking care of other people, and I’m willing to bet my rig no one’s ever taken care of her. Not really.
And I want to be the one who does. I want to be the one who gets to see that look of contentment on her face every single day for the rest of my life. I want to be the one who gets to hold her when she’s sad and make her laugh when she’s happy. I want to be her everything.
Mine.
This sweet, beautiful, innocent angel... she’s mine. I knew it the second I saw her face. There is no other possibility.
She starts to stir, her limbs shifting restlessly under the blankets.
A little furrow forms between her brows, and she lets out a soft sigh.
Then her eyes flutter open, and for a moment, she looks confused, her gaze sweeping over the unfamiliar space.
Then memory returns, and she pushes herself up onto her elbows, her blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders.
I see it before she does, when the blankets fall down to her waist. She’s still wearing the dress from yesterday.
The fabric of the bodice is dark, damp, and clinging to her skin.
Shocked, I can’t help but stare, wondering why she would be wet there.
But even through the confusion, my dick is suddenly hard as a rock, my mind filled with images of her tits, full and heavy with milk, waiting for my hungry mouth.
I see her gaze drop, following mine. And I watch her face as the realization of what has happened hits her.
Her cheeks flush a deep, mortified red. She looks horrified. Her hands fly to her chest, trying to cover the dark stains, and her whole body tenses with embarrassment.
“Oh my God,” she whispers, her voice choked. “I... I’m so sorry.”
She tries to scramble into a sitting position, but the movement makes her wince, her face pinching with a sudden, sharp pain.
“Grace,” I say, my voice low and calm. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I... I’m fine,” she insists, but her voice is strained. “It’s just... I’m...” She takes a shaky breath. “I didn’t mean to... leak on your sheets. I’m so, so sorry.”
I can see she’s in pain now, her arms wrapped around herself as if she’s trying to hold herself together. The sight of her so distressed makes my chest ache. “Forget the sheets,” I say. “You’re hurting. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“My... my breasts,” she whispers, her cheeks flushing even redder. “They’re... full. It hurts. I usually... I have a pump, but I left it at home. I wasn’t supposed to be out all night.”
She looks so embarrassed, so mortified, that it makes me want to wrap her in my arms and tell her everything is going to be okay. But I’m a man who solves problems, not just soothes them. And right now, I see a problem, and I see a solution.
“I can help you,” I say, my voice rough with desire.
She looks at me, her eyes wide with confusion. “How? You can’t... you don’t have a pump.”
A slow smile spreads across my face. “I don’t need one, babygirl.”
I move toward the bed, my movements slow and deliberate, giving her plenty of time to tell me to stop. She doesn’t. She just watches me, her breath hitching in her throat, a mix of fear and curiosity in her eyes.
I kneel on the floor beside the bed, my gaze locked on hers. I reach out and my fingers brush against the damp fabric of her dress. She flinches, but she doesn’t pull away.
“I... I don’t understand,” she whispers.
“I think you do,” I say, my voice gruff. “Just let me take care of you, Grace. Let me help you.”
I wait for her permission, for a sign that she wants this as much as I do. She gives me a small nod, and that’s all the encouragement I need.
My fingers hook into the hem of her dress, and I slowly pull it up over her hips, her stomach, her chest. She raises her arms, letting me pull the dress over her head and toss it aside. She’s left in just a simple pair of white cotton panties, and my breath catches in my throat at the sight of her.
Her breasts are perfect. Full and heavy, the nipples already beaded and begging for my attention. I can see droplets of milk glistening on her skin, and my mouth waters.
“Fuck, Grace,” I groan. “You’re so beautiful.”
She blushes, her cheeks flushing a deep red. “No one’s ever... seen me like this before,” she whispers, her voice full of vulnerability.
My heart clenches in my chest. A virgin. Of course she is. This innocent, sweet angel, all mine. I will be her everything. Her first. Her last. Her only.
I lean in closer, my gaze locked on hers, giving her one last chance to push me away. “Tell me if you want me to stop, babygirl. Just say the word.”
She doesn’t. She just looks at me with those wide, trusting blue eyes.
I lower my head and take one of her nipples into my mouth.
The first taste of her is heaven. Sweet and warm, and it goes straight to my head, making me dizzy with need.
I suckle gently at first, until a stream of warm milk fills my mouth.
I swallow, my eyes rolling back in my head at the taste. It’s fucking intoxicating.
Grace gasps, her back arching. “Brennan...” she moans, her fingers tangling in my hair.
Her response is everything I needed it to be. I suck harder, my hand coming up to cup the weight of her other breast. I can feel how full it is, how much she needs this. How much she needs me to take care of her.
I lavish attention on her, my tongue pressed against her soft flesh as I drink from her.
I take my time, savoring every single drop, every single one of her soft, breathy moans.
This is more than just relief for her. This is intimacy.
This is connection. This is... everything.
With each mouthful, I become greedier, taking everything she has to give, my body humming with a satisfaction that I’ve never known before.
When the flow slows, I move to her other breast, giving it the same attention, the same reverence. I can feel the tension leaving her body, replaced by a new kind of tension, one that is hotter, more urgent.
She starts to move, her hips shifting restlessly against the bed.
I don’t need to touch her to know she’s getting wet.
My dick is so hard it’s fucking painful, straining against the zipper of my jeans, desperate to be inside her.
I just know my sweet angel will be so fucking tight.
Her wet little pussy will squeeze me just right.
But I’m not a selfish bastard. She’s a virgin. I can’t just take what I want. I need to be careful. I need to make sure she’s ready. But that doesn’t mean I can’t still make her feel good.
I lift her easily, settling her on my lap as I sit on the edge of the bed.
Her legs wrap around my waist, and she’s straddling me, her core pressed directly against my straining erection.
She lets out a whimper as I continue to drink from her, her body instinctively seeking more friction, more pressure.
She starts to move, her hips rocking against me in a rhythm that’s both innocent and so fucking sexy it makes me want to howl.
She’s grinding herself against my cock, her panties soaked through with her arousal, and I can feel the heat of her even through my jeans.
Her movements become more urgent, more desperate, her breath coming in ragged little pants.
She’s so turned on that she’s not thinking, just reacting.
She’s chasing her release, and she’s using my body to get there.
“Jesus, Grace,” I groan against her skin. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
She doesn’t answer, just moans and rocks her hips faster, her movements becoming more erratic.
I can feel how close she is, her body trembling with the force of her building orgasm.
The sight of her, this innocent angel who’s never been touched, riding my lap with abandon as she chases her pleasure.
.. it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
And it’s a fucking miracle I haven’t shot my load in my pants yet.
I can’t take it anymore. I need to feel her, to touch her where she needs me most. I slide a hand between her thighs, my fingers tracing the soaked fabric of her panties. She gasps, her body jerking at the contact, her hips pushing forward, silently begging for more.
I press my fingers against her clit through the cotton, and she cries out, her head falling back. I start to rub her slowly, my fingertips moving in a circle over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Her moans become louder, her breathing more ragged.
“Brennan... please... don’t stop,” she whimpers, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
I have no intention of stopping. I increase the pressure, my movements growing faster, harder, matching the rhythm of her hips. I can feel her clit swelling under my touch, and I know she’s right there, balanced on the precipice.
I pull back from her breast as I push her panties to one side.
Her milk might be the sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever tasted, but right now, I need to watch her face as she falls apart for me.
My fingers graze her slick folds, and she’s so fucking wet.
So ready for me. I slide one finger inside her, and she tightens around me, her muscles clamping down like a vise.
She’s so fucking tight. I groan at the thought of what she’s going to feel like wrapped around my cock.
I add a second finger, stretching her, preparing her.
Her walls flutter around me, and I can feel the rhythmic pulses that tell me she’s so close.
With my thumb on her clit, I pump my fingers in and out of her, my gaze locked on her face.
Her eyes are squeezed shut, her lips parted, her breath coming in ragged little pants.
Holy shit. I could spend the rest of my life making her come over and over, and I’d still never be able to get enough of the beautiful, wanton expression on her face.
“Brennan... Brennan... I... I...” she stammers, her body trembling.
“That’s it, babygirl,” I rasp against her lips. “Let go for me. Be a good girl and come all over my fingers.”
With a sharp cry, her back arches, and she shatters, her body convulsing with the force of her orgasm.
I feel her clamp down on my fingers, and I groan as a gush of her arousal coats my hand, the musky scent filling the small space.
I keep pumping my fingers in and out of her, drawing out her pleasure, until she collapses against my chest, her body limp and trembling.
I slide my fingers from her core and wrap my arms around her, holding her trembling body against my chest. I press a soft kiss to her forehead, my mind already racing. I need to keep her. Forever.
“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice soft. I can feel her heart hammering against my chest, her breath still coming in ragged little pants.
She nods, her face buried in my neck. “Yeah,” she whispers, her voice husky. “That was... I’ve never... I didn’t know...”
“I know, babygirl,” I say, my chest swelling with pride. “I’m the only one who will ever make you feel like this.”
She lets out a contented sigh and nods her head again, her hair tickling my chin. “Okay.”
That one word, so soft and trusting, is all I need to hear. This angel is mine. And I am never, ever letting her go.