Chapter Five
The studio’s chilly air glided over his skin, but he barely noticed it. Somewhere between arriving at the studio and starting to sketch, Shannon’s eyes had filled with passion. Her scorching looks raked over him hotter than a desert sun.
He folded his jeans in half and set them with the shirt and jacket. He slid his shoes under the chair and scooped up the socks to roll neatly before depositing them with the rest. Shannon still knelt at the edge of the spot she’d directed him too, so he resumed a relaxed attention stance. His cock stretched and thickened lazily under her heated gaze, and his balls tightened.
But she was in charge, so he would stand for hours if needed. The rapt appreciation in her attention added more tinder to the fire beginning the slow burn inside of him.
“I…wow…um…just like that.” Her breathy little whispers popped with feeling, and she split her attention between him and the sketchpad. Her pencils whispered across the page, scratching noises filling the air. She shuttled sideways on her knees to circle to his side.
She pointed a finger at him. “Eyes front.”
Swallowing the laughter the demure little order tickled inside of him, he focused on her worktable. Different blocks of stone and marble rested in piles. Some looked like debris, but he could see the beginning of a shape in one. Awareness of her flared along his nerve endings as she moved behind him.
It was harder to remain still with the soft feminine scent drifting around him. The subtle scent of apples and spring rain teased his nostrils. The artist girl next door, she mixed two stereotypes into a beautiful blend. Her unease and confession drew out the need to pound some idiot college kid flat. Sadly, the kid probably didn’t even realize what he’d done because it was all about a good time in college.
He subtly shifted his stance, tipping his head to the right, relieving the pull on his back and spine. Shannon entered his periphery again. Her pencil flew over the page, her lips parted, pink tongue peeking out as she focused. He’d never been the object of such intense scrutiny. It was at once both a turn on and mildly disconcerting.
“Can you twist a little more toward me?” She hesitated, the question tripping over a little catch in her voice.
“Is that an order?” He nudged her. She may have signed up for a 1Night Stand because she thought sex would reawaken the passion in her work, but it wasn’t sex she needed. It was control. Control she’d lost those years ago. He’d debated the validity of PTSD with James on many an occasion and the doc had a lot of good information, but one key fact seemed to be present in every victim.
Powerlessness.
The loss of control was the hardest to reclaim. So if he did nothing else tonight, he would give Shannon her power back. She’d grabbed at it with both hands earlier when she’d ordered him to shed the denim.
She cleared her throat. “Yes, that’s an order.”
“Doesn’t sound like an order,” he teased, looking sideways at her. Her face was flushed a deep pink and her amber eyes shined.
“Twist toward me, Marine. Hands loose at your sides, feet forward, chin dipped a fraction.”
“Yes, sir,” he murmured. His cock strained. Who knew a woman giving him orders would be such a turn on? He didn’t mind the position. It put her in his direct line of sight. Her stiffened nipples clearly tented the shirt she wore, the cotton clinging to the pebbled skin.
His balls squeezed. She wasn’t wearing a bra.
He approved.
“Better?” He tested the limits of what she was going to tell him to do.
“Yes.” She breathed out the word and even the tips of her ears reddened where they peeked out from the black mass of hair piled up in curls. He wondered what it would be like to strip the pins out and let that magnificent length of hair fall. “Do you want to see?”
Hell yes he wanted to see, but it was probably just the sketch she was offering. “Please.”
Air brushed against him as she rose to her feet and held out the sketchpad. She’d filled a dozen pages easily. She’d sketched his face, his chest, his shoulders, a length of his thigh and to his own amusement, his ass. She’d drawn three pages of his ass.
“You have the most amazing definition. I can see every muscle group clearly.” She mimed shaping his chest in the air. “I can’t wait to get my hands wet and start work.”
His cock bobbed its approval. Of course, it had to be her call. Her order. If she didn’t demand it, he and his enthusiastic cock would be shipping out of her studio in a few hours. He tamped down the desire to push for more right then and grinned at her.
“You’re really talented.”
“Thank you.” She looked up, the blush stained her cheeks to pure pink. She wore next to nothing in makeup, scrubbed fresh and bright eyed. A contrast to the nervous woman fighting to keep her hands around her coffee cup, but far closer to the sultry voice she’d adopted when translating the song.
He could spend weeks delving into every layer of this woman. He wanted to know every facet of her personality. He ached to explore every inch of her slender, compact body with its aroused nipples teasing him through her shirt.
Slow down, Marine.
The internal order did little to quench the thirst developing for a particular drink of the cool, endless water he imagined on her parted lips.
“Do you mind if I touch you?”
Hardly. But he didn’t give voice to the thought. “That’s up to you. You’re in control, remember? You decide.”
She sucked her lower lip between her teeth the way he wanted to, but he remained still.
“That doesn’t seem fair to you.” Her voice quavered on every word. “I mean, you’re naked and I’m not. I’m drawing you and you’re just standing there.”
“I don’t mind. I like the way you look at me.” I’d like it even better if you touched me, so seize that brass ring, woman. I’ll catch you. But he kept that thought to himself. He could only give her so much control and she had to take the rest. Reclaim her power and wield it.
He was more than willing to let her wield it over him.
“Lieutenant….”
“Seriously? My name is Brody.” He gave her a stern look. “I’m right here, Shannon. You can do what you want. You don’t have to do anything but make sketches. You’re the one in control.”
“But doesn’t that take away your ability to choose?” She swayed away from him and then back, each motion inching her closer to him.
“Only if I didn’t want to give that power to you.” He sighed. Maybe he was going about it the wrong way. Maybe it wasn’t enough to tell her she had the power, to encourage her to take it, but showing her might scare her more. “Look at me, Shannon. Look at all of me.”
He watched her eyes dip, the heat of her gaze scorching his skin. She fixated on his chest. Her expression betrayed the struggle against looking lower, but she won and her audible inhale encouraged him. She circled until she stood less than a foot away, staring at his fully engorged dick. Swollen to the point of discomfort, he didn’t think it could be any clearer that he was all in.
Her hand eased forward and Brody forced every muscle to rigid stillness. His cock jerked in anticipation of the first brush of air preceding her fingers. She drew one over the tip and it beaded with pre-cum. His body didn’t give a damn about his good intentions.
You can do this, Shannon. Trust me. You can do this. The thoughts filled with encouragement barely drowned out the roar of need racing through his blood. It was a hell of a good thing he was there and not Matt. The younger Marine wouldn’t have had it in him to take care of her. Brody ignored the irrational flare of jealousy thinking about the kid being there instead of him.
Matt wasn’t. Brody was. End of story.
“I want to do more, but I am not even sure how to start, so….” Her hesitation tightened the pressure on his scrotum, but he waited patiently while her finger stroked the line of his cock to the base and up again.
“Help me.” The quaver in her voice didn’t sound like an order. She sucked in a noisy breath then exhaled roughly. “Show me how to do this, Marine. Take my clothes off and show me how to touch you.”
Now, that was an order.
Hallelujah.
Shannon’s body pulsed with arousal, fear, uncertainty, and a desperate longing she could barely identify. She’d run away from intimate situations before, fled from them as though the devil himself rode at her heels. She’d signed up for a recovery class, attended therapy sessions, and read dozens of books on the subject. She’d even allowed two artist friends to try and make love to her, but their touch left her cold, alone, and uncomfortable. But not Brody.
God, not Brody.
He touched her with his gaze in a way that seemed to caress her soul—from that first moment in the club when he reacted to the music, to the approval in his eyes when she’d told him to strip. He reacted to her, but he didn’t treat her like a victim.
The rational part of her mind acknowledged that he was seducing her. Surrender and seduction weren’t mutually exclusive, but the challenge of having this strong man surrender to her will was overwhelming. She could do what she wanted to do, but beyond studying his beautifully sculpted body and the fervent desire to lick him up one side and down the other, she didn’t know what to do.
Worse, she didn’t know how to communicate that need. Rational thought dissolved with the need to take what the man in front of her was offering. If she knew how, she’d already be wrapping her body around him and begging him to drive that fierce, thick cock into her.
But she did know how. Didn’t she?
Is that an order? His voice whispered seductively in her mind, trailing lazy tendrils of desire through the ribbons of thought.
She didn’t know how to do it, but he did.
“Help me.” Dammit, she sounded so weak. She forced a long breath and banished her fear with the exhale. She could do this. She could drag the control away from him and surrender to it at the same time. “Show me how to do this Marine, take my clothes off and show me how to touch you.”
His smile grew and every muscle in her body tensed. Triumph and pride filled his eyes and he reached out to tug her shirt from her pants. He took his time and his fingers grazed her bare sides.
She forgot how to breathe. Emotion fisted around her heart, it wasn’t only lust, but it certainly tasted like it. She’d almost forgotten how the wild, rampant tingles could pierce through her reserve. He urged her arms upward, his gaze never leaving hers. She had to pull her hands away from the swollen heat of his cock and the damp, flushed tip.
An electric current raced through her blood as the shirt came away. She stood, bare-chested and vulnerable to his gaze. She’d always thought herself small compared to other women. She didn’t think she’d enjoy being nude, especially not with a man looking at her. But Brody was so much more than just a man and his attention caressed her stiffened her nipples further. The awareness that she’d captured his attention so overwhelmingly crowded through her mind.
She wanted to cover her breasts, but the very idea repulsed her so she held her arms aloft. Arousal clenched her sex tightly, but where she was hesitant, Brody was patient.
Kneeling slowly in front of her, he slid the zipper down on the side of her pants, his hands framing her hips. Thumbs hooking into waistband of the dress slacks, he peeled them down and carried her damp panties with them. He said nothing, carefully bracing her as she stepped out of the pants. He smiled, his nostrils flaring as he paused to press a kiss to her navel, just above the dark curls hiding her sex.
The feathery glide of his lips against her skin filled her mind with the most provocative images. Her imagination didn’t need a lot of encouragement to feel his breath against her thighs, or the hard heat of his muscles stroking her body. Her nipples tightened, almost painfully, and she wanted to weep for the emotion sweeping through her.
The fear tumbled free, smashed by the excitement lancing through her. She wanted him to touch her. The lust gleaming in his eyes said he wanted to touch her.
He paused, almost considering. His gaze skated around the room. She didn’t know what he saw when he looked at her studio with its wild variety of statues and sculptures in various states of completion.
“What are you looking for?” She couldn’t quite mask the breathless anticipation in her voice or the impatience surging through her. Her sex clenched, dampness moistening her thighs. This close to such utter perfection and she was ready to explode from want.
“A bed,” he murmured. “Or something that isn’t filled with sharp tools that would damage your perfect skin.”
Oh.
He thought she was perfect. Tears flooded her eyes and she lowered her arms slowly and held out a hand. “Come with me.”
Threading her fingers with his, she pivoted slowly on one foot and half-skipped, half-danced through the shadows cast by the overhead lights. She guided him through her workspace to the room hidden by an oriental divider. She spent so much time in her studio, she’d installed a bed where she could pass out when the muse let her go. Anticipation curled through her, chasing away the sudden surge of old doubts.
The oversized double mattress was hardly big enough for Brody. The tangle of sheets was all jersey cotton and she’d forgotten to make it again. She turned toward him and he crowded into her until the back of her knees touched the edge. Pulling her hands up to his chest, he flattened her palms against the flexing muscles, guiding her hands with easy strokes, letting her fingers trace the lines of his chest. His heart beat a steady cadence and his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths.
He seemed to be as affected by their touching as she was. She swallowed convulsively, aching with so many different emotions, and she didn’t know how to give voice to them all.
“Shannon?” The gentle, sweeping word teased and comforted her. The absolute gentleness carried no hint of judgment and released a wave of tenderness in her breast.
Warmth teased her skin as the length of his body pressed close to hers, not quite touching. She basked in the heat, the slow understanding, the naked desire that he made no show of hiding, or the patience that shook off the last, lingering doubt.
She wasn’t that girl anymore. She had the control, it didn’t matter how much he wanted her. He wasn’t doing a damn thing unless she told him to do it. He’d given his pleasure into her hands and from the wide, thick size of his cock, his want was apparent. But he only stroked his body with her hands, doing exactly what she’d told him to do.
“Why not your cock?” She asked the question, blushing at the boldness obvious in her words.
“Because I’m worried that I’ll come all over you if I let you stroke me.”
She loved his rippling muscles beneath her fingers. She could study their shape for hours, but the easy confession of his own precarious state had her pulling her hands from his. She took his face in her hands. Despite his shaved appearance, she felt the hint of stubble on his cheeks.
Rising to her tiptoes, she guided his face down to hers and whispered, “Kiss me.” Their lips brushed together, once, twice, three times and then his mouth slanted over hers, his tongue gliding in and demanding entrance. She parted her lips under his, clinging to him while their tongues tangled.
She slid her hands up to smooth over his close-cropped hair. The cut tickled and tingled against her palms. She surrendered to the need to touch him and stepped into him, electricity bloomed through her as her nipples brushed his chest and his stiff erection thrummed against her belly.
He tasted so wildly, intensely masculine that she barely noticed the undercurrents of coffee, or the light dinner they shared. All she tasted was Brody, and she moaned his name into his mouth.
The delicious moment filled her with a confidence she’d never experienced and when she broke the kiss, they both panted heavily. His eyelids were lowered, drowsy with passion, and his firm lips curved into the sexiest smile.
“Make love to me,” she beckoned. “Touch me.”
Brody held onto his control by the thinnest of strings. Watching her take back her own power through control was the most arousing thing he’d ever experienced. Imagining his cock sliding into the vise of her sex had him on the cusp of blowing. He wasn’t kidding when he said he wasn’t sure he could hold out against the stroke of her fingers, not after nearly losing it to the single brush of her fingertip along his head.
But this wasn’t about him. He’d given the entire night to her and his pleasure stoked hotter because of the woman blooming in his arms. She tasted of coffee, sweet cinnamon, and a spice so feminine that it provoked every male instinct he had to claim her.
The rapid beat of her pulse, the quiver in her words, even the hesitation in her smoldering eyes told him that as titillated as she was, the power he gave her was as frightening as it was intoxicating. So she was giving it back, through her orders.
Brody slid his hands down to cup her sweet little ass and then he lifted her, driving himself crazy by stroking her body up the length of his. He deposited her on the bed, following her down and catching himself on one arm. He teased the line of her jaw and then swept down to one breast, sucking the hard little nipple into his mouth.
Her skin was a wild contrast of petal softness and pebbled hardness. Her fingers clutched his head, but he refused to hurry. He transferred his attention to her other breast, teasing the hard little nipple with light grazes of his teeth until she began to roll underneath him. His body throbbed, begging him to bury himself in the sweet, little sex. He traced his lips down her belly, pressing a kiss to the ridge of curls before delving deeper.
She was wet with need and the musk of it filled his mind with erotic images of hot, wet, mind-blowing sex. Wildness filled him along with the urge to flip her over and pound out the desperate need for release crawling through him. He wanted to pick her up and settle her on his cock and encourage her to ride him into oblivion.
He wanted to slam her against a wall.
He wanted to take her on the floor.
Every position flashed through his mind as his fingers parted her damp lips, and the heady scent of her arousal filled his lungs. She rose up to her elbows, her mouth parted as she stared at him. Their eyes met and he leaned forward to draw his tongue up the length of her slit.
Her head fell back and she cried out, the response so raw, naked and primal, he refused to tease her any further. She wanted him to make love to her. Pushing a hand under each thigh, he pressed her wider so he could delve his tongue between the folds.
Her muscles clamped, flexing and pushing back at him, but he held her firm and took her sweet little clit into his mouth. She moved under his mouth, her ass grinding against the bed. Three firm flicks of his tongue and she exploded. He drew away, slipping his finger along the labia until he could stroke her clit gently, petting her through the orgasm. He drank in the image of her, her curls tumbling free as her head rubbed against the sheets.
As she finally stilled and looked up at him, her amber eyes warm with release and passion, he slid his finger away and put it to his lips. She tasted so fucking sweet. Her mouth opened and he saw the tension beginning to coil in her. She reached out, but he evaded, backing up quickly to dart into the other room. He’d never moved so fast in his life when he grabbed his jeans and jerked a condom from the pocket.
He was back in record time, unrolling the latex over his aching cock. She was up on her elbows, her face softening at his return. He wasted no time in covering her orgasm-loose body with his. He dove down to capture the smile on her lips in a kiss. She responded, her tongue gliding out to meet his. The abandon with which she gripped him was his undoing. Shannon had no idea what control she really had over him, and he realized it only in the moment that his patience snapped.
He devoured her mouth, shifting his hands down to lift her hips, positioning her. He broke the kiss and grasped his cock to guide it to her slick entrance and pressed forward slowly. Desire flooded her expression and she dug her fingers into his shoulders. But she didn’t close her eyes as he pushed his way into the silken, hot glove of her sex, the muscles clenching him so fiercely he thought he would explode.
She was so damn tight.
Inch by inch, he worked into her sex. Because no matter what her experiences were before, she was tighter than any virgin he’d ever had the pleasure of tasting, and they all paled in comparison to the wild, wanton rising to meet him. She nodded her head as though giving him the assent he needed. Bracing her hips, he pulled back and thrust in, deeper and deeper. Her legs rose to lock around him.
He wanted to make it last, but his body had other ideas, especially when she thrashed up to meet him, pelvis to pelvis and stroke for stroke.. His balls drew tight and when she let out a moan that carried his name, he jerked convulsively against the hard fisting of her sex around him.
The orgasm shredded him and he collapsed slowly, careful to not crush her and then rolled, pulling her boneless, trembling body on top of him. They tangled in the sheets and the musky scent of their passion. She lifted her head drowsily and looked down at him, an almost heathen-like smile.
“How long before I can order you to do that again?”
Brody laughed.