Chapter 1
CHAPTER
ONE
Sarah.
Just her name did things to my body—a power no name should have a right to.
I hadn’t seen her for a week, and just the thought of her was making me hard. She’d texted two days ago, but I hadn’t answered yet.
She hated unanswered texts. She accused me of putting her in a box. She called it my “Sarah Box.”
She had a point. There were other places I wanted to put her—places she might even willingly go—but how could I?
That wasn’t what this military life was about.
I looked at her pic on my phone as her call came through, feeling that need surge through me. My cock was running the show now. Before my brain could stop me, my finger pressed answer, and my mouth said hello.
“James?”
“Hey, how’s it going?”
“So you’re still alive?” I could hear the smirk in her voice.
“It appears that way.” Sometimes it was a surprise to me too.
“Any chance I could see you sometime soon?” she rushed out like it was rehearsed. “My kids are at my mom’s this weekend while I grade research methods papers.”
“Well, I don’t want to distract you from your grading.” My throbbing cock had a different answer, but this time, my brain jumped out ahead.
“You know what they say about all work and no play…” She had the softest giggle. Shot a zing right through my balls.
How could I want this woman so bad? I’d tried to tamp it down, rationalize it, compartmentalize it. Always worked before—pussy was pussy, and I had gone without plenty of times, through Basic, through deployments—
But none of that pussy was Sarah’s.
And she was so much more. Don’t get me wrong—she was an absolute goddess in bed. But her mind was her most devastating weapon, and my armor was proving to be no match for it.
“Needing some cock, are we?” I teased her, loving her little grunt of frustration in response.
“Are you busy tonight? I’ll make dinner…”
“What time?”
“Seven?”
“I’ll be there.”
Sarah’s house was the coziest home I’d ever set foot in. She’d infused it with so much warmth, not to mention multiple reading nooks that appealed to my nerdy side. I immediately relaxed upon crossing the threshold. And if you knew anything about me, you’d know any degree of relaxation was a feat.
“Hungry?” Her dark eyes danced with innuendo as she ushered me into the kitchen, where the scent of marinara wafted from a huge pot on the stove. The sound of boiling pasta was the next thing to hit my senses.
“Always.” I swept her into my arms, her vanilla scent momentarily overpowering the tomato and garlic. “Are we eating first or…?”
Her lips twisted up on one side as she looked me up and down. I was wearing my usual tactical khaki pants and a plain black tee. My off-duty uniform. By the way she bit her lip, I knew she was seriously debating the question.
“Well, the pasta is almost done, so I guess we’re eating first.” She was wearing a low-cut dress that accentuated her ample cleavage and flowed out around her broad hips.
All I could think about were those luscious thighs and that voluptuous ass—pasta could never satiate me when I was hungry for her, her curves, her mouth, her bare skin against mine.
I helped her set the table and plate our dinners. Wine shimmered in crystal goblets as she dimmed the lights hanging over us.
“How was your week?” She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “I didn’t hear back from you after I texted.”
“Sorry about that. It’s been busy—work and classes.”
“Same, but I always find time to text.” Her tone was not accusatory, but she couldn’t disguise the undercurrent of hurt.
I set my fork down on my empty plate. “I admit I’m not always good about that.”
“I’m glad you’re here now.” She smiled, her brown eyes crinkling at the edges. “Grading these research methods papers has made me question my life choices.”
“I hear you. My class has papers due next week. Not looking forward to wading through them with the red pen.”
We both taught at the University of Maryland—her, sociology, and I was an ROTC instructor. We’d met there a few months ago at a panel about the military’s Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy for gay soldiers. I’d required my military history class to attend, and Sarah was one of the panelists.
After the panel, I introduced myself. We had coffee a few days later. A few days after that, I got to know her even more intimately.
The official label for our relationship was “friends with benefits.” I’d never done that before. It was either serial monogamy for me or one-night stands. She said this was a nice compromise.
I didn’t disagree. Like most things in a soldier’s life, it would be temporary.
People came and went from our lives. Some of them would always hang around in our memories. Sarah was one of those people.
“Do you want more wine?” She stood up, collecting our glasses from the table.
I grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her down into my lap. “I want something even more intoxicating.”
She tossed her head back as laughter pealed from her throat. “Is that so?”
I wrapped my arms around her, pressing her against the growing bulge in my pants. “You tell me.”
But I gave her no chance to respond, my fingers threading through her thick, dark waves as I captured her lips with my own, swallowing the gasp she tried to emit.
Her mouth tasted of wine, but it was the heat emanating from her core that threatened my sobriety.
Her vanilla scent engulfed me, reeling me in with promises of pleasure.
“James…” She broke away. “Should we go upstairs?”
“No…I can’t wait that long…”
Breathless, she stared at me with her searing dark gaze. “What do you want?”
In a seamlessly choreographed move, I released my cock from its confines with one hand while pushing her to her knees with the other. She looked up at me, all doe eyes and feigned innocence.
Some of the women I was with in the past were less than enthusiastic about giving head. Sarah was at the opposite end of the spectrum, and her talents were extraordinary. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d said her PhD was in fellatio rather than sociology.
She needed no direction or incentive. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips as I shifted my hips and released my cock, letting it spring free from my boxer briefs. It hadn’t been touched—not even by me—since the last time I visited her.
She was so skilled, I’d pretty much given up on taking care of my needs. Why bother when I knew it had zero chance of taking the edge off? My hunger for her only intensified when I used memories of her to fuel my efforts.
“Looks like you need some attention.” She looked up to meet my gaze before bending, lowering her mouth to my throbbing cock, at this point already desperate for her touch. She licked one stripe up my shaft then stopped.
A sigh hissed out of my mouth when she leaned back on her heels, looking up at me—nothing but teasing and torment in her gaze. “You know…I kind of like the idea of making you wait. Like you make me wait to hear from you.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, serves you right.” She seemed very pleased with herself, biting her lip to tamp down her grin.
I scooted back the chair and rose to my feet, looking down at her still on her knees. So many wicked ideas of what I wanted to do to her rushed through my mind, and some advice from one of my commanding officers kicked in: Don’t think. Do.
Almost as deftly as my unfastening-my-pants maneuver, I crouched and scooped her up, tossing her over my shoulder as protests spilled from her mouth, “Hey, put me down! You’re gonna hurt yourself trying to carry me.”
Sarah was a solidly built curvy woman, the mother of two children.
I didn’t know her before she had kids, but it seemed motherhood had likely left its mark on her figure.
She had a softness, a roundness I’d never had in a partner.
She might have worried it was a turn-off for me, but on the contrary…
“James! What do you think you’re doing?”
“Showing you who’s in charge here,” I retorted as I stomped across the living room to the staircase. My feet, now bare, hit the wooden stairs in all the creaking spots as my muscles and stamina rose to the challenge.
Sarah might have been older than me, but she had a submissive streak a mile wide. It wasn’t the first time I’d taken charge, and it wouldn’t be the last. I needed to make her feel the desperation I was feeling for her. Begging wasn’t too strong of a word.
She wanted to tease me? Oh, she had no idea what she was in for now…