What Part of Marine Don't You Understand - By Heather Long Page 0,24
and licking his way down her body. He allowed the indulgence of teasing her nipples before settling between her legs. Spearing his tongue between the seam of her sex, he didn’t hesitate to taste her.
Divine honey, sticky and sweet.
Every lick elicited another gasp or soft cry until she writhed and he gripped her hips, pinning her to the bed. Damn she was so responsive. He sucked on her clit until she let out a little scream. Satisfied with the pleasure he delivered, he eased away and looked up.
She beckoned him with glazed eyes. More than willing to fulfill the slightest request, he sheathed his cock and settled again between her legs. She didn’t act like a virgin or respond like one, but he hesitated, poised at the entrance to her sex. “You okay?”
“Oh, yeah.” She rubbed her palms across his chest then up over his shoulders. Even the slightest contact of skin on skin sent electric shocks through his system. Primed, he expected to blow any second—and wanted to be inside her when that happened.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” He dug his fingers into the bed covers next to her, fighting to maintain the last slender threads of his control. The urge to thrust damn near bowed his spine.
She hooked her legs around his hips, and arched her back. He slid in an inch and surrendered to the desire to thrust inside of her with one, long stroke. They groaned in unison and fierce laughter burst from his chest. It felt so fucking good to feel her clamping down around him.
“Don’t stop.” She whispered, the small bit of encouragement before biting down on his earlobe. The light pressure, the encouraging brush of her nails on his ass, and he pulled out slowly before driving his cock home again. Far from put off by his hard thrusts, she encouraged him. Their mouths collided in a hot, wet kiss that stoked the tension gathering in his balls.
The bed rocked with them, and she rose to meet his every thrust. She let out a soft cry and her legs locked around him. The orgasm stormed through her expression and she screamed. Her convulsions drove his and he came in a rush of pure, blinding pressure, crying out her name.
Chapter Eight
He wouldn’t stay the night. She wanted to argue, but something in his eyes when he talked about going to sleep arrested her words. Fear. A genuine concern, tinged with shame, when he murmured he had to leave.
“It’s okay.” She walked him to the door, holding his hand and leaning on his arm. She was soft and warm all over. Equal parts erotic and sweet, his lovemaking took her breath away. Burying the longing to sleep in his arms, she kissed him softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away. Lock this door.” He clipped Jethro’s leash on and kissed her again. “Thank you….”
She smiled and indulged in a quick hug and then he left, closing the door behind him. Turning the lock, she rested against the door and sighed. No matter how much she understood his declining her invitation to stay overnight, his exit stung.
Get it together, Naomi, it’s not a rejection. But it certainly felt like one. Her body still tingled, pleasantly sore and tight in all the right places. Walking into her bedroom, she inhaled the sweet musk of sex still hovering in the air. She slid onto the bed, pulled the pillow close that he’d lounged on for the little while, and breathed in the hint of his scent. He hadn’t been there long enough to really leave a mark.
I said I could handle this…. Intellectually, she got it. The PTSD diagnosis sent her back years—to Brent’s homecoming—to the brutal conversations and outbursts of temper. Her tough, fierce, older brother reduced to tears and later, loathing at his own inability to function. Fighting his way through it, he got the help he needed—hell, he was a Congressman now, married and working on having a baby with his wife.
I can handle this…. But understanding all of that, educating herself, attending support groups for families of returning veterans, and dedicating her time and efforts to the cause didn’t quite cover the current situation. Intellectual knowledge didn’t cut it where her heart was concerned. She wanted to go to sleep in his arms, wanted to wake up with him and not reduce their moment to a slam, bang, good night ma’am.
Matt didn’t trust himself to sleep next to her. She’d