21 Marine Salute: 21 Always a Marine Tales (25 page)

The smooth bronze expanse of his wonderfully broad chest captivated her. Sinewy muscle stretched tightly under the bare skin and tapered down to his packed abdomen. Every gesture elicited a ripple of muscle.

Heat flushed her skin, but his nipples were erect and stiff against his broad chest. Exhaling a slow breath, she flipped the page of the sketchbook and didn’t take her eyes off him as she began to work.

Broad chest.

Broad shoulders.

His shoulders bunched despite his relaxed stance.

The corrugated ripple of his abdomen was in sharp definition and contrast of his lean hips. But his jeans were in the way and she was already flipping to the next page, concentrating on sketching those abdominals, trying to split her attention between the page and his body. Flipping to a new sheet, she unlocked her legs and edged up onto her knees, sliding forward to get a better look. The overhead lights enhanced the taut plane, emphasizing each abdominal as a part of the whole.

Capturing the contours was the most difficult, but also the most provocative. Without thinking, she stretched out her hand to trace the line of his abdominal to the faint curl of hair visible above the cut of his jeans. Her fingertips burned at the contact and she jerked her head up to find his heavy-lidded gaze watching her.

Somehow she’d closed the entire distance between them and touched him. Did that go beyond what he’d offered her? “How shy are you?”

“How shy do you want me to be?” His words sent a tremor of excitement racing through her.

“Not at all.” She lifted hopeful brows.

“Then I’m not shy at all.”

Her stomach rippled and she stroked down to the edge of the rough denim. Little shivers of electricity slid along her nerves. Her sex clenched in anticipation, an uncomfortable and exhilarating feeling. She’d long since accepted her immunity to even the loveliest of men. “Then take these off.”

His fingers drifted to the button of his fly and she considered moving away, but the hell of it was, she didn’t want to. She wanted to see every inch of skin as it was revealed. Meeting his eyes, she said, “Now, Marine.”

“Yes, sir.”

The rasp of his zipper echoed loudly to her ears. The man wore neither boxer nor briefs. Her panties soaked through and she swallowed a little moaning sound because the sharp, sinewy definition popped in his thighs.

The experience of lascivious thoughts riding side-by-side with her artistic fascination struck her as surreal, but she enjoyed it. Brody simply exuded pure masculinity.

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.