15. Tide
Date: 5-13-2024
Time: 1503
I should’ve never kissed her; I never should’ve chased her. She made it so fucking difficult, though.
Rule number, I don’t fucking know , when holding someone captive: don’t see them as a human.
I guess I broke that rule long ago, though. It feels natural to her, where it should feel repulsive. She has taken everything I thought I knew, everything I taught myself, and thrown it to the bottom of the ocean.
My thumb brushes against my bottom lip. I can still taste her, minty and delicate. If I thought I was fucked and obsessed before, then it doesn’t compare to now. The way her body felt melting below mine as she surrendered and bent to my will has burned its way into my skin. The bend in the tips of my boots flashes the memory of how they pushed against the sand while she was pinned below me. Every brush of my shirt against my skin sends shocks through my body as if it's her brushing against it. She’s ruined me.
I had only gone to the training grounds to go completely through her, if I’m being honest. I wanted to see how she would react knowing her team wasn’t even looking for her, instead proclaiming her KIA, and publicly too, plastering it through every database and news outlet using her callsign, not even giving her the respect of her legal name. They had given up on her, it was embarrassing. However, I could see they were also using it as motivation to rile up the world into a public war that I don’t know if we’ll survive.
I’ve held onto that information since, replaying every fine line and narrative sentence until I’ve burned it into memory. She has no choice but to stay. Even throwing Jasmine and Sam into intense training after Moe told me exactly what my little shark did, didn’t sedate the tension that weighs down upon my shoulders. It might have to do with the fact Sam doesn't get winded easily, he was my father's soldier before a prisoner after all. Or it could be how I fought with the man who's supposed to be my best friend all because the woman he decided to keep was two point five seconds from passing out.
I know those aren't the reasons why I’ve avoided my little shark like the plague. Anytime she tried to run from her room, I had someone else chase her. She even went as far as trying to pull up the bolted chair and throw it through the window. That didn’t work. She just ended up screaming against the floor. Some days it seems as if she's scared to even be in the room, curled into the corner, but she isn’t scared of anything. As much as I love the fire she holds, I miss that small moment where every feature softened, and she seemed nothing more than an innocent woman just looking for a way out. That's why I'm so tense. I can't be near her.
I fucking hate her. I hate how she holds me so captive in my mind that I don’t even notice my feet moving down a familiar path. I’ve always been in control of myself, and I’ve always had the same mission of ruining her as she did me, but now–
Her cell door creaks against my palm.
Fuck. Why can’t I just be normal? My father would kill me if he saw the look on my face as the rings below her eyes come into sight. I wish she’d just sleep. Of course, she can’t rest with the nightmare that keeps her up, I know that now. All my work is for nothing if she goes insane from sleep deprivation—well more insane than she already is. I’ve done all I know to do. She’s more comfortable than a prisoner deserves to be but being the defiant pain in my arse that she is, she won’t accept it.
“Come on.”
I should’ve done this on the first day. For as long as I’ve looked, I’ve never found the legitimate reason for the war that started between our factions besides the initial sinking of Bay’s first boat. I can only assume it’s because they think we blew it. That’s never been the case–not like she believes me. I’m always missing something in this scrambled puzzle of blood and bodies.
It’s not like I have my father to guide me, I’ve never had a Bay member to elaborate, granted most of the times I’ve had them talking they were begging for their lives, but now I might have the one thing that could lead me to either my demise or my salvation–I haven’t figured out which one yet.
Her feet scramble underneath her body as I slam my hand against the metal door in hopes of getting her to move from the blank stare she holds at the wall. Her hair is still damp, clinging to her head and t-shirt from her shower.
“Why?” She crosses her arms over her chest, tilting her chin like a child throwing a temper tantrum while she stands, backing into the corner. As if that would protect her from me. Those perfect lips quirk to the side, making my heart race right into my throat, constricting it enough it hurts to swallow. A woman has never had a hold on me like this. It's dangerous. Not for me but for any person she ever comes in contact with again.
“Because I said so.”
I swear if she doesn’t start moving, I’m going to throw her over my shoulder and show her how I’d love to handle her defiance. As predicted, she stands motionless, her feet shifting, knees locking in a place like it’ll show me she’s not moving. Fine, I tried to play nice, but she chose otherwise.
Her nails dig into my back as I lift her with ease, tossing her stomach onto my shoulder, making her let out a breathless yelp. Her body feels too perfect against mine, each small dip and curve molded under my hands.
I deal with enough battles as it is. I’m done fighting this one with myself. Whatever she wants, she can have it when I’m done. We’re products of our parents’ making harboring feelings of lives that are already lost. Whatever is happening is deeper than us.
Date: 5-13-2024
Time: 1515
I think she’s caught on that screaming is useless here. No one is going to help her. Hell, they didn't even help me when I was hunched over with a tight arm wrapped around her legs and my hand steady on my groin from a particularly hard kick. The only response she’ll get is her voice bouncing back off the cold concrete walls. Setting her down in the metal chair, I pull a rope from the chest pocket of my tactical vest.
Rope burns will be easier for me to handle than cuff cuts.
“You’re a sick, twisted asshole for this.”
“I could have you locked in a cellar and tortured if that’s what you prefer. Sam’s not as nice as I am in these situations.” Amusement drips through my crooked grin. I could never have her tortured unless it was by me, preferably bent over a bed or rail or anything while I spank that little ass for being so goddamn her. I’m fucked beyond comprehension. There’s no denying it, no fighting it, no sense in trying to hide it. Something brushes against my leg, making it jerk, and a grunt falls off my lips in response. My skin is too sensitive, like it knows that her touch will burn through the flesh.
Rounding the chair, I turn on the dim lamp in the middle of the metal table, pushing it in her direction, and making her squint against the beam. God, she’s a fucking sight. Writhing and twisting in her seat, trying to break free, with a scowl. I may be sick for living out my interrogation room fantasy, but it’s a win-win. Get the information I need and enjoy the sight of her at my mercy.
“I’m giving you a chance, little shark.” My voice drops as I crouch between her legs.
She smells so good, it’s addicting. I guess giving into her change of toiletries demand came in handy. Placing my hands on her knees, I trace small circles against the flesh. I can’t focus on anything other than small goosebumps prickling under the pads of my fingers. It’s like her body was made to respond to mine.
“How sweet. Remind me to put that on your headstone.” She purrs, kicking her leg out forcing me to grip her knee so she doesn't make contact with my shin.
“What do you think they put on your headstone?” I retaliate. Her head tilts to the side as I stand, leaning back against the bolted table. Something flashes over her eyes, lips pressed into a thin line as she shifts her shoulders. My patience is wearing thin. The longer she plays her childish game, the less time I’ll have to end whatever the fuck has started.
"You were deemed KIA; in case you didn’t know. They didn’t even come looking for you.” I must’ve hit the right spot judging by her eyes shooting daggers at me once more. I can see it all, confusion and hurt, but it quickly fades into a cocky smirk. She can’t fool me; I can physically feel her panic radiating through her clothes.
“You’re lying.”
“See for yourself.”
I pull the file that I had Sam print from my waistband, tossing it to the floor in front of her
She looks down at the envelope with no picture stapled to it, no name or any aspects that would’ve categorized her as a loved human, not just another soldier on a roster. At one point during the minutes that stretch, I almost pull her close. Her eyes have softened and a lone tear slips. Before she can wipe it on her shoulder, I drag my thumb across the salty streak and bring it to my lips. If she's ever going to cry it’ll be for me. Each tear, smile, and scowl will be mine. It’s best if she starts accepting that fact.
“I need a little help, some insight. Anything.” I don’t even recognize my voice with how low it goes as I pull my finger from my mouth. Her brows pinch together. I’d seen the look before as she sat in her bed numerous times at night as if she was running through scenarios or the past. Her head snaps up, forcing me to tilt mine down to catch the heat in her stare. She’s gorgeous when she’s defiant, but I bet she’ll look even better when she submits.
“Is that all you want? For me to become a traitor just so you can kill me instead of my team doing it?”
My hands move on their own accord, wrapping around the back of her chair until my face is mere inches from hers, I kick her feet apart and stand between her legs. When will she notice the very obvious fact that I can’t kill her? I can’t even stand the thought. She is going to live for me and if anyone tries to take that away then their blood will paint my hands.
“Someone is trying to set me up. That same person wanted you dead. Work with me and maybe I’ll set you free.”
I know it's a lie. I’ll never let her go. She doesn’t believe me either, letting out a harsh scoff with a roll of her eyes like my words are the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. They might be. I want it to be her decision to give up everything she’s ever fought for, to accept that no matter how far she runs or how hard she fights she’s always going to wind up exactly where she is now. It’s a sick mind game, I know.
“You’re not going to set me free.”
I allow my hand to trail her arm. She’s so smart when she lets that pretty little head work. My grin grows.
“No, but I can organize better accommodation. You can stay here and not as a prisoner. We can change things. I know you’re more than some killing machine.” My voice drops to a husky whisper. I still intend to make her pay for all the years she has ruined my life. Her features flush and her lips part as my fingers trail back up, grasping her jaw and forcing her to keep eye contact. My thumb rests against her bottom lip, brushing the plump flesh and sending all the different ways I can achieve that running through my head like a marathon.
I can still make her beg for mercy. I can make her apologize for the havoc she put in my life. She jerks away from me, making my trance fall as quickly as it comes. One moment she acts like she wants to be close, the next she’s disgusted. I tap my fingers against the lettering on my vest, steadying my breathing. It’s so hot and cold, a battle of wits and strength, only she’s not battling me, she’s battling herself.
“Oh wow, sounds amazing, trading one prison for another.”
“It’d be different.”
I mean technically it would, in a way. I wouldn’t bind her to one room, she’d be free to go around the base as she pleases. Outside of base would be another story, but we can worry about that later, maybe set up an adjustment period or something. I’ll get a hold of Sam after this and figure something out. No. Scratch that, I’ll do it on my own.
She shakes her head with an irritable fake laugh. The sound echoes off the walls, mocking me. I don’t want fake, I want real, and she will give it to me. Her gaze darts between the page and me, then over again, for a moment I think maybe she’ll believe the words I say. She’ll spill everything I’d been dying to know, but time and time again she proves me wrong. Her body crashes into mine. All the air that once filled my lungs dissipates. Someone can rarely knock me on my arse, but it seems there is a shark in her after all. The one I’d watched finally showing herself to me .
Her knee digs into my chest as she forces her body over mine in a scrambled attempt to get away. As if she’ll ever be able to escape me. My head throbs from its sudden impact, my hand curling around her thigh trying to pull her back level but she kicks me in the mouth just as I turn my head.
The taste of copper coats my tongue, igniting my taste buds into a frenzy, and a rush of adrenaline coursing through like the shit was injected straight into my chest. I’ve always liked a good chase; it makes the reward sweeter. The soft patter of her feet moves at an impeccable speed, despite the stumble in them, until she’s inches from the door. Just as she collides with the barrier my chest clashes with her back, and her shoulder blades push into the velcro's lining my ribs with each heavy breath she takes. She calls me sick regularly, but she doesn't realize how much I have to hold back around her. I wrap my hands around her wrists not only caging her in but keeping her pinned with the… where the hell did she find a knife? Correction—my knife? Our knife.
“Was that your plan?” I lean closer so she can feel my breath on the shell of her ear. “Stab me to death, then what?” I purr, my tongue darting out to the nice souvenir of a busted lip she had graced me with. Maybe it’ll be another mark of hers I’ll have the honor to bear. Her fist clenches around the handle, but she doesn’t make any attempt to push me away, or better yet, kill me, so I lean my weight a little further into her. Her body molds to mine so perfectly in every way, making it hard to ignore where all my blood is flooding too. I glance down to her lush arse seated so comfortably against my cock.
“Then I was going to drag you to the ocean and watch your pathetic body sink to the bottom.” She says in a breathless whisper . I take a deep inhale, letting her scent flood my senses. My lips move to her earlobe where I nip at the soft, tempting flesh, making her suck in a harsh breath.
“Hm, then what? Did you think you could get away with killing me on my base? I know you’re smarter than that.” My taunt quickly fades into a groan, feeling the way she pushes back into me. She’s not a shark, she’s a siren .
“Maybe.” Her head turns back, her lips curled to one side. Loosening her grip on the handle, she must have felt it . Her head turns to admire the wood with deep carvings. Now you’re getting it, little siren. Her thumb grazes the chipped shark surrounded by different depths of waves. For a moment she’s quiet, still, turning the blade between her thumb and forefinger, studying each detail.
“Aw, you’re so obsessed with me.” She hums with a real fucking smile. She dares to call me sick? Does she hear herself? Who the hell finds the way I feel about her adorable? It’s far from it. It's dangerous. Enough so that I’d gladly rip through anybody that she tries to hide behind, burn every building she tries to take shelter in just to keep her by my side. Now that I have her, I’ll never be able to go back to the way things were before. I won’t be able to hold her picture and feel sated or whittle away like a psychotic old man to feel like she’s close.
I try to fight back the laugh that threatens to come out of my mouth, but I know she can feel the shaking of my chest.
Her gaze pulls over her shoulder in an expression I can only describe as a shock. Big mistake, little siren. Taking my opportunity, I pull the knife from her hand, causing her to let out a surprised gasp. Pushing it to her neck, I put just enough pressure that she can feel the steel blade, but not enough to break the skin. I click my tongue slowly while shaking my head. If only she knew how easy it would’ve been for me to do it the first time around.
My eyes flick between hers, genuinely confused about how she’s so afraid of the ocean, yet she holds it in her eyes. Every storm and deep dark depth lay right there before me, taunting me with the unknown. She’s so destructive, a product of terror just like the waves that suck in a ship, but you can’t pull your gaze away from the pure beauty of the chaos.
“You made your mark on me, little siren. Should I do the same?”
“I hate you.” She whispers, but her words falter as she swallows again against the blade, making the skin below it slightly break, drawing me to the string of blood sliding down the column of her throat. I hate the color. It should never taint her flesh, even if it’s by my hand alone. If I ever cause it, then I’ll make sure it's wiped away. My movements are too hurried for even me to process—my hand pulls away only to be replaced by my tongue following the streak up to her wound.
I suck the flesh, and she hisses from the sensation. I can’t wait to pull more of those pretty little noises from that smart-arse mouth. Her head falls to the side, giving me better access, to trail my lips along her neck until I reach her jaw. The skin is so smooth I have to fight back the urge to sink my teeth in. She pushes back into me again, whether it’s from a very poor attempt to move away or get closer, I don’t know, but it makes me ache for her attention. Pulling away, I shove my knife back into the holster on my leg. I have some curious kinks but until I get over my hate for red, knives aren’t going to be a part of them.
Placing my hand on the nape of her neck, she squirms against my grip as I drag her back to the table. She can fight all she wants. I don't mind. At some point, she’ll surrender.
The little devil sends her elbow into my ribs while I lean over and pick up the file. I squeeze her neck in warning, throwing down the portfolio in front of her I push until her hips are flush with the table. Her hands fall against the cold steel to stay upright.
I have to take a breath to calm my primal instincts. She’s in here for a reason. I need the information, but the way she looks against me, almost willing to submit the way I did, has a low growl bubbling in my chest.
“We can work together, you know? I know you're just as curious as I am.” I murmur, tilting my head into the crook of her neck and dragging my teeth along the skin. I can't help it, she's fucking intoxicating. Now that I’ve tasted her, I’m like an addict needing my fix. She is so still and so quiet, it’s almost worrisome. The only sounds are the soft buzz from the lamp on the table and the whirring of the base outside the confined room.
“You’ve been hell-bent on the sunken ships. Don’t you want to know who caused them?” I brush my thumb against the side of her neck feeling the soft waves that roll down her back tangle beneath my fingers.
“I still fucking hate you.”
My irritation grows. How stubborn can one person be? That’s an illogical reason to go against cooperating with me. There’s something deeper keeping her from talking. Raising my head, I lean beside her, looking down at the same papers while my breath falls against her neck.
“You do?”
I drop my grip to her waist. If the small tremor wracking her spine and the way her knuckles turn white, curling into the edge of the table as I pull her back, isn’t sign enough she’s just as affected by my presence, I don’t know what is.
I take my time tracing the hem of her shirt until the pads of my fingers are against the soft flesh of her abdomen beneath. She has a habit of catching me off guard, but she stays still letting each bubbled scar rise under my fingers and dip back down when it hits a soft patch. She’s burning up, contradicting goosebumps that follow my touch.
“Kiss my–” her words slip into a muffled moan concealed by her lips pulling between her teeth as I dip into the waistline of her shorts enough to run my fingers along the outside of her soaked panties. She could easily get out of this if she chose, but she doesn’t budge. Instead, she releases a shaky breath, letting her head slump forward between her shoulders. Looks like we’re both fucked now. She rocks her hips back, trying to gain some friction. I move my other hand to her side, forcing her to still.
“If I’m a sick fuck, then what does that say about you? You’re dripping all over my fingers, basically begging me to touch you, love.” I mutter, my voice thick with tension. I guess I’m just as desperate as her, judging by the way I grind against her ass. This isn’t about me right now, but fuck, I can’t just stand here with my dick screaming at me from how warm she feels and not do anything.
Her lip's part trying to say something, but before she can get a syllable out, I push my hand into her underwear, trailing my fingers through her folds. She’s so fucking wet that I have to drop my head between her shoulder blades just to will myself not to bust right in my pants. She’s the living embodiment of a siren, taking on a form that she knows will lure me in. My finger traces her entrance, teasing the area, deliberately pushing my palm against her clit and she lets out one of those beautiful whimpers.
She could kill me now and I think I might just let her.
“What do you want?” She whispers, making my head shoot up from the sound of her asking so beautifully.
“A lot of things… I want to know how that cheeky mouth would feel wrapped around my cock,” I dig my fingers into her hips. “I want to hear you beg for forgiveness while I fuck you into oblivion,” I drag my nose down the length of her neck the same time I thrust a finger into her making her lips part and her lashes flutter. “I want you .” I bite out as I curl into that spot that has her shifting to the tips of her toes and her nails digging into the metal table. “However, right now I need to know more about Dutton.” I grind out, causing her shoulders to bunch, her brows pull together, and her eyes close visible in the reflection of the table. I hope to God she doesn't have one of those moments where she starts overthinking. I’ve felt her skin, I’ve felt her body against mine. I’m in too deep with no intention of swimming to the surface for air. Before she can think any longer, I add a finger into her waiting heat, her walls clasp around the single digit.
Letting go of her hip and clasping my hand around her jaw, I force her head to turn towards me. Those gorgeous blue irises, hooded with nothing but pure lust swirling in them, could bring any man to his knees. God, I should know because my body is fighting to stay up straight. That damn smirk comes into view showing the whites of her teeth as she starts to grind her weeping pussy against my hand and then back against my cock. She’s going to be the death of me.
“We didn’t sink your fucking ship’s siren. Your leader raged war against the innocent.” I punctuate each word with a brutal thrust, curling my fingers until her legs are shaking, relying on my grip to hold her upright.
“You’re lying–”
Withdrawing my hand, it successfully cuts off any words she can form from her corrupted little head. I drop my hand in front of her, my fingers shimmering from how thoroughly soaked they are with her juices. She whimpers, shaking her head rapidly like she is trying to force herself to think straight. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that she doesn't think properly as it is. I can only imagine what it’s like in her brain now. She glances back at me with a fire igniting in her gaze, burning my world to her feet. I hold her captive physically, but she always holds me mentally.
Her mouth opens, but I place my fingers against her tongue. She’s beautiful, everything I need and more, but it’s going to take some serious willpower to convince her to believe anything I say.
“Ah, ah love. I wasn’t done with my questions.” I groan at her eyes fluttering shut, those lush pouty lips closing around my finger. She sucks at it so greedily that I’m imagining it’s my cock instead, while she’s on her knees with my hand wrapped in her hair like a good girl. One day I’ll make my mark on her and all she’ll be able to eat, breathe, and think is me. She’ll be just as ruined as I am. The heat of her tongue trails under my digit, only to wrap back around it with a bob of her head making me groan from the image she’s creating.
Pulling my hand away, I rush back to her throbbing cunt, letting it suck me back in. Her moans are a beautiful symphony mixing with my heavy breaths. Each stroke of my fingers is matched with a grind into her ass. The fabric of my boxer's bunch below my cargo making the dry friction almost unbearable but as I go to pull away, she pushes back, looking at me with pleading eyes like she can’t stand the loss of contact. She pulsates and writhes against my hand, making me still again, stealing her very close orgasm. As much as I want to see her come apart around my hands, I can’t yet.
“Just tell me anything I don’t already know, not some bullshit you think I know, and I’ll let you come.” I breathe out, willing myself to hold on to the small amount of dominance I have over her at the moment. I feel the protest close to falling off her tongue, encouraging me to drive into her at the same time I cover her mouth with my own. With each breath she tries to inhale, I rob. When I feel her clench her thighs around my hand again, I stop, pulling my head back just enough to catch her face, screwed in a mixture of pleasure and pain.
I tighten my grip around her jaw, making her swollen lips part. I’d be lying if I said those tear-filled eyes weren’t the absolute highlight of my life. Those tears are for me .
I need to break her and put her back together until all her twisted pieces compliment my sick ones. I need her to cooperate so I can end this all and I can finish this war.
“I don’t know anything...”
“I wish you wouldn’t lie to me.” I add a finger, groaning at the feeling of her stretching to accommodate me, letting go of her face, I shove my hand between her shoulder blades and a strangled cry crawls from her throat. She falls forward against the table, pushing her arms under her head, crumpling the file, sweat beads at the back of her neck. It’s a sight I'd love to get used to, having her a mess below me. Completely at my mercy. She rocks back again, trying to gain the friction to push her over, making me pull my palm from her heated bundle of nerves, easing the thrusts until they're shallow.
“It was my parents’ ship.” She quietly cries the words into her arms, making me still from the sound. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? It was Jim and Cassie's boat, they didn't have any… of course, I wouldn’t have known. I guess they protected her well, didn’t they? A pained muffled whimper escapes her, making me realize how long I’ve been holding still.
“Tide...” she whines.
Refocusing on the goddess in my palms, I run my mouth along her neck to memorize the feeling of her flesh. Even if I wanted to be mad, I couldn’t. She’s just like me, looking for revenge for her parents. “Then why aren’t you leading this war?” I whisper slowly, easing my palm against her clit, pushing further than knuckle deep. I don’t care what she says, I have a logical head. I just like knowing the facts. This woman could burn my father's base to the ground and admit to it and I wouldn’t be mad because it’d be the truth.
If she can just give me a reason.
“Dutton.”
One name, two symbols, and a broken sob from overstimulation tell me almost everything I need to know. Once I find the fucker who’s causing this chaos, he’ll pay. Not only for my father but for her . She's trembling with soft cries wracking her body. I'm half tempted to stop and pull her back into me for whatever torment is going through her head, but she rocks, bracing her hands against the table.
“Please.” She whispers, and I groan in response. She sounds so fucking gorgeous when she begs. I resume fucking my fingers into her until I find the spot that has her cunt clenching and her back arching. My tip leaks, creating a wet spot on my cargos against her ass. I’d bury myself to the hilt right now if she wasn’t so damn close to her orgasm, but she’s been so well behaved I can’t rob her again. Her body tenses, successfully locking my hand between her thighs as she stiffens with a strangled cry of my callsign. I shudder at the sound.
Next time I'll make sure she says my real name.
Letting her ride out her very well-deserved high, I take the time to categorize my thoughts while my hand trails down to take a handful of her hip, running my thumb in small circles against a scar. This is bigger than some simple game of who can punish who until families and lives are avenged. That begs the question though–why is Dutton in the position she’s supposed to be in?
I turn her to face me, forcing her to watch as I drag my palm against my tongue until my lips wrap around my fingers, unabashedly moaning at the taste of her. God, it’s fucking divine. Obsession is an understatement at this point. I don't just want her, I need her. Everything that she is, twisted head and all.
She wants to make some witty remark, her stare narrows and lips part but her body trembles, making her lean into my chest. I need to get my head straight and figure out what this means. If I thought I was on a mission to end Bay before, it doesn’t even compare to now holding her. Knowing that the team she’s discarded her soul for, has tossed her to the side like she didn’t mean a thing.
Grasping her thighs, her arms willingly wrap around the back of my neck–no doubt plotting to strangle me–her face buried in my shoulder as I leave the disheveled interrogation room. There’s no hiding what she means to me at this point. If someone sees, then I'll just have to accept that. It feels wrong walking into her cell, setting her on the bed. She should be with me somewhere comfortable. A small smirk curls at the corner of my mouth at the thought. I can make that arrangement.
She doesn’t fight as I remove one piece of her clothing at a time. The bags under her eyes have intensified, making my smirk turn into a crooked grin because this time it’s from me and nothing else. Just as it should be. She doesn’t need her fucked faction when I can give her everything she requires and more. Her arms wrap around her waist preventing me from seeing what I know lines her flesh.
“What happened?” I ask in a low hum that vibrates my chest while I shed my tactical gear. I didn't realize how limited resources I had provided her until I looked around the barren space to the small stack of clothes I provided when she first arrived. I peel off my shirt. I prepared for a prisoner and that's exactly what I planned on treating her like but good girls get rewarded, so I’ll have to make some changes.
For now, I’ll relish in the held-back sighs as my fingers brush her skin sliding my shirt over her head until it engulfs her frame, and the way she lazily attempts to shift away as I lay beside her. Pulling until her back is flushed with my chest. Fitting to my body right where she should always be.
“Training.” she whispers, making my brows pull into a deep v. I was expecting some elaborate war story where she’d brag about taking out one of my men, but I wasn’t expecting that . Training doesn’t cause wounds as deep as hers.
Just as go to speak, a soft deep breath filters through her nose and her body relaxes. My cock is screaming at me, aching for some form of release but she’s such a siren, calling me home to her side when I know it’ll be my demise.
For now, I'll let her rest.