Chapter 19 Emily
I whimper as Andrew drags his finger up and down my slit.
“Feel good, baby?” he asks, his voice low and husky.
Baby? The endearment makes my heart swell with warmth. It’s a word I never thought I'd hear from Andrew, but it sends a thrill through me nonetheless.
“Yeah,” I manage to breathe out, arching my back slightly as his fingers slide inside me. He hits that sweet spot that makes me moan loudly.
My breaths come out in short gasps, each one more ragged than the last. Just when I’m about to explode, Andrew’s fingers slide out leaving me feeling needy.
“Andrew…” I start to say but before I can voice my protests, his tongue replaces his fingers, doing things that make me feel as if I’m literally losing my mind.
His tongue swirling around my clit is nothing short of explosive. I've never felt this way before, and it feels like I'm on a different planet.
I moan loudly, my body arching of its own accord as his tongue dances over my most sensitive spots. My hips thrust forward, desperate for more contact as his tongue continues to explore me.
His hand wraps around my thighs, pulling me closer to him as his tongue flicks over my clit again and again. Each touch sends lightning bolts through my body, igniting an uncontrollable fire.
“Andrew!” I cry out as he continues his tortuously sweet assault.
My orgasm builds and builds until I finally explode with a shriek, the intensity of it overwhelming me. Wave after wave of pure ecstasy crash over me until I finally lay back, panting raggedly.
As I come down from my high, Andrew's hand leaves from between my legs and he gently turns me over .
“I want you on all fours,” he says in a serious, sexy voice that has me positioning myself in the way he wants me.
“That's it, baby,” he murmurs, his breath warm on my ear. His hands gently trail down my back, sending shivers up and down my spine. “You're so beautiful right now,” he adds, his voice thick with desire.
Andrew in bed is quite different from who he is out of it. I love this uninhibited, sensual side of him.
“So wet and ready for me,” he says softly, his breath caressing my ear again. “I'm going to make you feel so good.”
My heart races with anticipation as I wait for him to enter me from behind, the thought of his large cock filling me up making me shiver in anticipation.
He slowly guides himself into me, his breath hitching as he does so. “You feel amazing,” he whispers, his voice shaking slightly with emotion.
I moan in response, my body adjusting to him. He begins to thrust slowly at first, but the pace rapidly increases until we're both panting and groaning with pleasure.
His hands grip my hips, his fingers digging slightly into my skin with each thrust. The sensation is intense, pushing me closer and closer to a second orgasm.
“That’s it,” I cry out, arching my back to meet each thrust. “God, yes!”
Andrew groans in response, his breath coming in short gasps. His hips thrust harder, deeper, and I feel him hit a spot that sends electricity zinging through me.
“I'm going to come,” I gasp, my body tensing. The feeling is overwhelming, the pleasure building up within me until it’s almost too much to bear.
“That's it,” Andrew growls, his voice low and filled with lust. “Come for me, Emily.”
His words send me over the edge, my orgasm crashing over me like a tidal wave. White-hot flames seem to race through my veins as I scream out in ecstasy. Stars burst behind my eyelids as I'm swept away in the rapture of my orgasm.
I feel Andrew’s body stiffen and then he thrusts deeper into me one last time before he cries out his own release.
He falls back onto the bed, his chest heaving.
“Fuck,” Andrew says after a moment. “Are you safe?”
His words bring me back to the present. Shit. We didn’t use protection. Again. “I’m on the pill.” I’ve never slept with a man without protection.
“Good.” He turns to face me. “I’m clean. I get checked every couple of months.”
“Me too,” I say. Not important for him to know that the last time I had sex was more than a year ago and I used protection.
The soft glow from the lights outside spills into Andrew’s room, casting shadows on the walls. It’s smaller, cozier than mine, and I can’t help but notice the difference. My room feels massive in comparison, with its high ceilings and spacious layout.
“Why did you choose the smaller bedroom?” I ask, glancing around, curious.
Andrew hesitates for a moment, then shrugs casually. “I figured you’d want the master. It’s bigger, and, well, women tend to have more stuff,” he says, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “It just made sense.”
Warmth spreads through me. It’s such a simple gesture, but thoughtful. Considerate. I don’t know why it touches me so much, but it does.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, my heart tightening. “But, thank you.”
He shrugs again. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
For a moment, I’m caught between wanting to keep things light, and wanting to let him know how much it meant. Instead, I just give him a small smile, hoping it conveys at least a little of what I’m feeling .
A loud scratching sound breaks the silence, and I realize it’s coming from the door.
I can’t help but smile. “Sounds like Bear and Bruno want in.”
Andrew groans, tilting his head back against the pillow. “Tonight, they’re just going to have to wait for attention.”
I laugh. “I love how attached they are to you.”
I shift closer, propping my head on my hand, wanting to keep the conversation going. “So, did you always want dogs?”
“Not always,” Andrew says. “I mean, I liked them well enough growing up, but I never thought about having one until I was in the military. We had these K-9 units, and the way those dogs worked, the bond they had with their handlers was incredible.”
I listen, fascinated.
“Bear was my first, and he’s been with me through a lot. Bruno came along later. Figured Bear could use a friend.”
I smile, reaching out to trace patterns on the sheet between us. “It sounds like they’ve been good for you.”
“They have,” he agrees, then adds quietly, “More than they’ll ever know.”
His words make me curious, and I can’t help but press a little further. “Why did you join the military?”
Andrew falls silent, his gaze drifting past me, as if he’s looking at something far away.
For a moment, I think he’s not going to answer, and I almost regret asking. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I say, hoping to give him an out.
But he shakes his head, his expression thoughtful. “No, it’s okay. I guess I was at a crossroads,” he begins, his voice low. “I needed to do something that was mine. Working for my father felt like I was just going through the motions. He made all the decisions, and I was just expected to fall in line. It wasn’t enough for me.”
I nod, understanding more than he probably realizes. “So, joining the military was a way to break free? ”
“Yeah,” he says, a small, almost wistful smile tugging at his lips. “It was my chance to step out of his shadow, to prove I could make my own choices, handle my own battles—literally and figuratively.”
“And now?” I ask gently. “Do you think he’s still the same?”
Andrew sighs, his eyes meeting mine, and there’s a flicker of some vulnerability in his gaze. “No, he’s different now. He’s older, and I think he’s starting to realize he’s not going to be around forever. He’s letting go, bit by bit, but it’s hard for him. He’s been in control for so long.”
I squeeze his hand. “I’m glad you’re getting the chance to prove yourself.”
“Yeah, me too,” he says. “I don’t want to be at odds with him anymore. I want to build something—something that’s ours, not just his or mine.”
He’s easy to talk to, and I find myself drawn to his quiet strength, the way he opens up bit by bit. When I finally drift off to sleep, I’m feeling more connected to him than ever, like we’re slowly chipping away at the walls we’ve both built.
I wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of ragged breathing, the bed shifting beside me. My heart stutters, and I turn to see Andrew sitting bolt upright, his chest heaving, his eyes wide but unfocused, like he’s seeing something far away.
“Andrew?” I whisper, my voice soft, trying not to startle him.
He doesn’t respond, his gaze fixed on some invisible point in the room, his whole body tense, coiled like a spring.
I reach out, gently touching his arm. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe.”
It takes a moment, but he blinks, his eyes slowly coming back into focus. He looks down at me, and for a second, there’s a flicker of confusion, like he’s not sure where he is.
Then he exhales, his shoulders slumping back onto the bed. “Sorry,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay,” I say, scooting closer and wrapping my arms around him .
He’s warm, but he’s trembling, like whatever he was dreaming about still has a hold on him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” he says quickly, almost too quickly. “It’s fine. Just a bad dream.”
His muscles are still taut and his heart is pounding beneath my cheek. It’s not fine, but I don’t push him.
Instead, I just hold him, running my hand up and down his back, trying to soothe him the way I’d comfort a scared child. Slowly, he starts to relax, his breathing evening out.
As his breathing steadies, I start to drift off again, but my mind is whirring, piecing together things I’ve noticed about Andrew.
The way he tenses at certain sounds, the way he always seems so tightly wound, like he’s ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.
I’ve heard about PTSD, read a few articles here and there, and I can’t help but wonder if that’s what this is.
My heart aches for him. He’s been trying to hide it, but it’s clear that whatever happened to him during his time in the military still haunts him.