G.I. BABY (8 page)

“My, my, is that how you view women in general?”

“I mean no disrespect. It’s reality. I’ve seen it happen. I don’t want that shit in my head, especially when I’m working.”

“You think women are not capable of being faithful?”

“No. There are good women. I just don’t want a girlfriend.”

“Why?”

“Had one back in high school and one when I was in the academy. They both drove me nuts with their petty jealousies, always suspecting I was fucking someone else when I was out of their sight.”

“Were you?”

“Yeah, but that was beside the point. They couldn’t have known.”

She slapped his chest. “Cheater. Women are naturally intuitive. We feel it when our man is cheating.”

His brows furrowed. “Really? How?”

She shrugged. “Body language. Our built-in radar is very advanced and pretty accurate. Especially with cheating boyfriends and husbands.”

He grunted, looking unconvinced. “Why are you so curious? You wanna be my girlfriend?”

“No! Ew.”

His brows arched, a suspended look of amusement or disbelief on his face. “Ew?”

She flushed scarlet. “Wrong word. I didn’t mean it like ew.”

“Nah, you meant it.”

“I meant no, I don’t wanna be your girlfriend.”

“Why not?”

She wet her lips. “You’re just…” She shrugged. “Not my type.”

His eyebrows drew together. “After your 15th orgasm, I’m still not your type?”

She couldn’t help a giggle. “You’ve been counting?”

He was not amused at all. “So, why am I not your type?”

Oh shit. Injured macho ego. “What do you care? You don’t want a girlfriend, right?” she countered, evading his question.

He thumbed her nipples through the white shirt she was wearing, one of his few clothes in the closet. “Tell me. What does a good, faithful girlfriend do?”

He was lazily drawing circles around her areolas. “I don’t know...l-love you, I guess.” She inwardly cringed.
 

Word! Now that’s really ew! You sound like your mother.

“Love,” he repeated with a smirk, as if the word was anathema to him. “Tell me…How does a girlfriend love a boyfriend?”

He gently pulled at her nipples. The slight abrasion caused by the fabric added to the building tingling sensations.

 
“Take care of him maybe. See to his needs.”

“Needs. I like that. What needs?” He cupped her breasts and squeezed them together, their softness yielding to the movements of his fingers.

She moaned and pressed her chest closer to his hands. She wondered how the conversation abruptly turned in this direction, but she told him what men wanted to hear. She’d heard it enough from her mother’s stupid lamentations about past lovers over bottles of vodka. “Everything. She can listen to him when he wants to talk…. help him with work or whatever…cook his favorite dishes. Stuff like that.”

“I’d rather she took care of my special needs.”

“What…special needs?”

“I want my dick sucked in the morning, when I wake up.” He pulled her to lean forward. Her breasts dangled above his face. “I also wanna suck her tits every chance I get.” He captured one of her nipples in his mouth.

She mewed, cradling his face as she melted into his masterful tongue-play. He feasted on both crowns until they were twin points plastered to the shirt now wet with his saliva. He was not attempting to undress her and it was turning her on even more, to be completely covered as he petted her.

Her inner muscles clenched in renewed arousal. Her newly initiated body was already a glutton for the pleasures he could give her.

He plopped his head on the pillow, his eyes aglow with that look so familiar to her now. Sexual desire. “I also want to eat her pussy all the time.”

Her core knotted with this intensifying ache.

He patted her hips. “Stand up.”

Smiling naughtily, she did his bidding.

“Now, strip. Slowly,” he commanded softly.

He was acting like a king waiting to be entertained. She looked down at him haughtily. “I’m not your personal stripper.”

He arched a brow. “I see. You want additional compensation?”

She bristled even more. “I’m not greedy.”

“That’s a surprise.”

She put her hands on her hips. “What do you mean?” she demanded.

“Another woman would be bargaining by now.”

“Well, not this one.”

“Then strip. Give me a show, sugar. Or you can’t do it? Not confident enough?”

“I’ve done more difficult tasks than stupid stripping.”

He put his hands behind his head in a display of masculine indolence. “I’m waiting.”

Goaded by the smug look on his face, she jumped from the bed.

“Hey, where are you going?”

She went to the cabinet that housed his sophisticated audio-visual gadgets. She’d attached her phone to the surround stereo. Scanning her Spotify playlist, she put on Sofia Karlberg’s rendition of Crazy In Love.

The soft intro of a piano filled the air. She glided to the center of the room in measured steps, stopping directly in front of the bed, her back to him.

She closed her eyes as Sofia’s soulful voice crept like magic, entering her system, loosening her nerves, filling her flesh with pulsating sensual energy. She’d sang and danced many times to this music while cleaning this place. It was her feel good song this year. She knew the lyrics like it was an extension of her.

She started to move to the slow, sensual beat, following the dictates of her senses— seduce that man on the bed to destruction.

He’d thrown the challenge.

You’re on, Officer Walker. Take this.

——*****——

Was he looking at the same chick
he’d been banging for three days?

This side of her was definitely a surprise. He was only teasing her when he asked her to striptease for him. She was a virgin. He did not expect moves like this from her.

Fuck. Was he wrong. He had to recall how tight she was, had to convince himself that he really popped her cherry while watching her dance for him like a pro, undulating like a seasoned stripper, slowly unveiling her body to him. He’d seen her with not a stitch on in many positions while he banged her till he couldn’t think, but it felt like he was seeing her naked for the first time.

He inhaled deeply as she threw the shirt away, her hand covering her breasts. Her rack was too full and her flesh spilled out, jiggled as she swayed her hips in this manner that had him gritting his teeth and his cock swelling up with almost painful surges of arousal. The head actually popped out of his waistband, so hard she’d made him with this badasstic stunt. Better than any babe he’d seen in those strip clubs, because he knew no one else had touched her but him.

She raised her arms, freeing her breasts and he got a few seconds view of the beauties before she ran her hands on her long hair, letting them spill over her shoulders, partially covering her chest.

He grinned. Tease, indeed. Man, she CAN move.

She gyrated her way towards the bed and crawled on top of it like a feline, settling on her folded knees between his spread legs where his cock awaited to fuck the shit out of her for the nth time.

Hot damn, it felt like he’d be fucking her for the first time, too. His throat was parched. He had to taste her. His nerves were twitching, pulsating. Hungry. Always hungry. For her.

He moved to reach for her but she shook her head, her eyes fierce and commanding. “No. You can’t touch until I told you so.”

Fuck me.

He behaved like a boy scout, keeping his hands to himself. For now.

She slowly stood up. Her moves were in sync with the music, as if she’d danced to this tune many times before. He hoped she hadn’t done this with some other guy. The thought sent a murderous rush to his head. He clenched his fists, fighting the overwhelming need to grab her and brand her once more.

She did this crazy thing, stripping the sweat pants, her hips rolling in this unbelievable manner, like a belly dancer.

Then she was standing over him completely naked.

He was literally holding his breath at this point, his cock a painful bunch of frustrated muscles raring to go.

He stepped on either side of him, leaning on the headboard, her breasts hanging and swaying generously as she slithered like a serpent above him.
 

Sweet mother of knockers! Had he ever seen a more beautiful sight? Her gyrations turned him into a voyeur, craving for a full view of her pussy which he could only glimpse little by little from his position.
 

“How am I doing so far, officer?” Her voice was husky, sultry.

He grabbed her hips, supporting her weight. He was done playing. “You had better not shown your tits and cunt like this to another shitface,” he grated between his teeth, uncaring anymore if he sounded like a jealous boyfriend. Fuck, but he wanted to know.

“No. Never.”

Her scent overwhelmed him. He could smell her juices. Sweet and heady. She was dying to get stuffed by his big, angry cock. “Never? Don’t lie to me.”

“Only with you. Only you.”
 

His control snapped.

He lifted her and sat her on his face.

“Oh my god!” she gasped, jerking above him.
 

He groaned, her taste shooting straight to his brain like a powerful drug.

He pushed his skivvies down his hips and freed his cock. Fuck, he was leaking, so hard he could hammer anything flat. He gripped and stroked his shaft as he ate her. Everything in him was vibrating with anticipation, centering on his almost desperate need to own her, mark her, imprison her within him.

This is mine. This sweet, addictive pussy is mine. Mine, mine, mine!
He was resentful that he wanted her too much but she rewarded him with her abundant juices, telling him he was wanted as much. He licked her like he couldn’t get enough, sucking her clit, rimming and penetrating her tight, little hole with his tongue until she was gasping his name over and over.

He stopped only to position her atop his straining cock.

She knew what to do. Her fingers gripped him, guided him in.

He slammed up into her.

She cried out. He groaned loudly, scalded by the heat of her enveloping him like the tightest fist.
 

Rubber, idiot, his mind screamed belatedly. But it was an exercise in futility. Not even a Russian missile tailing his ass can stop him from coming now.
 

Her hips rolled, riding him like she was still dancing, her beautiful body moving like a sex goddess. Her pussy gloved him to perfection, stroking him just the way he liked it.

She threw her head back and used him. He didn’t need to do anything else. She was pleasuring herself with his body, moving in the angles that brought her the greatest pleasure.

His chest felt like bursting, his head exploding as he chased his breathing. This must be how a heart attack felt like before it hit home, but fuck, he’d go like this anytime. Anytime at all.

She cried out and stiffened, coming all over him like his wildest dreams, bucking like a spirited filly as she ground his sanity into nothingness between her silky legs, obliterating all his intentions to pull out at the last moment. Instead, she pulled him him, sucking him towards the edge, and he was helpless to stop the inevitable.

It was the most beautiful sight that got imprinted in his mind as he let it all go, emptying all of himself into her.

——*****——

“So, why am I not your type?”

She rolled her eyes, something he was finding adorable every day that passed. She looked especially delectable propped over the counter in one of his shirts that reached almost the middle of her thighs, her hair all moussed up from their recent tangles.
 

“You really think all women will kill each other to marry you?”

He gave out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Not marry. I’m not the marrying type. Ew,” he teased her.

She snorted. “Okay, pardon the word. SLEEP with you,” she said patronizingly.

He shrugged. “You tell me.” He put ice on the blender and pushed the ‘on’ button.
 

 
“So?” he prodded as the blender stopped making this racket.

She exhaled loudly, blowing wisps of hair from her face, as if the topic exasperated her. “You’re a soldier.”

He was arrested from pouring the strawberry shake onto the glass. He met her eyes. “You don’t like soldiers?”

“Nope.”

“Practical or personal reasons?”

“Personal.”

He nodded. He carefully poured the shake on one glass and handed it to her, puzzled by the pang of disappointment that crept inside him at her revelation.

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

He poured himself a glass.