On the Way Home by Skye Warren
The hot water in the shower found every bruise and open cut, burning before soothing away the sting. The walls seemed to sway in front of my eyes. I had a faint hope I wouldn’t slip and crack my head open. It would hardly be good behavior for a guest. But I stepped out of her small, steam-filled bathroom without incident. At least the steady spray had done its best to pound out the knots in my shoulders. I wanted to dive directly into bed, but instead I slung on sweatpants and a T-shirt, the fabric clinging to my still-wet skin.
The duffel bag wasn’t outside the door where I’d left it.
Someone was humming. The sound was low and melodic, whispering beneath my skin and raising goose bumps in its wake. It sounded almost familiar. Not a song I’d heard before, but it filled a space inside me, as if I had been waiting to hear it.
I followed the haunting sound to the bedroom, where my duffel bag had taken up residence in an antique-looking chair against the wall. Della was pulling down the comforter from the bed, such a sweetly domestic movement that my chest grew tight.
She stopped humming.
Her smile appeared shy. “You can sleep in here.”
I took another step into the room. White walls, white sheets. Dark brown knotted wood flooring. “Is this your room?”
“Of course not. I’m across the hall.”
That sense of reversal washed over me again, the way a man might make a woman feel safe, the way he’d reassure her he wouldn’t take advantage. She was doing the same for me—making me feel safe. Assuring me she wouldn’t require me to have sex with her, which was really ironic considering I’d give anything to touch her. Or be touched.
The way she was so competent everywhere, so thoughtful and caring…it made me think she’d mess me up. Not physically. Emotionally. She’d touch me just right. It wouldn’t matter where on my body or with what part of hers. It would be the quiet assurance, the focused affection that would undo me.
I’d had my share of sex before, but I’d never had anyone turn down the sheets for me to sleep.
“Who usually sleeps here?” I asked.
She glanced around at the bare walls and frilly curtains. “No one, I guess. It’s a guest room. Although…sometimes my sister stays here.” Her lashes veiled her eyes. “You can stand in for her.”
My feelings toward Della were decidedly unsisterly. “Where is she now?”
Those brown eyes met mine, and the pain in them stole my breath away. “I don’t know.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
Her lips pressed together. Shadows moved over her slender throat as she swallowed. I got the impression she was trying to get herself under control, and I regretted my line of questioning. Wasn’t it enough that she’d opened her home to me? She’d given me her trust, and I’d gone and dredged up painful thoughts.
She shook her head. “It’s not your fault. That’s the thing about family. They’re connected to you, even when they’re not.”
“That sounds…really good.”
Her gaze sharpened. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”
“No. No family.” I hesitated. “I grew up in a group home.”
Sympathy flashed through her eyes. “That must have been hard.”
“Not too bad.” I hadn’t minded the repetitive meals or the small beds. I had minded the older boys who tried to take advantage, but I learned how to fight dirty even as a child. Then I got big, and no one had managed to best me since.
She stepped closer and placed her hand on my arm. Just there, the lightest touch of fingertips to my forearm. I felt the impact like a blow, electric rain on my skin, a form of torture I never wanted to end.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice had dropped low. There was an undercurrent there, something I couldn’t figure out yet. As if she wasn’t apologizing for my past…
Then what? I wanted to decode her. As if she were an encrypted message we’d picked up from insurgents. But unlike the enemies I worked against, I would never use that knowledge against her.
My throat felt dry. “What if I don’t want to sleep alone?”
She smiled, the hint of mocking almost soothing. “Soldier, you look like you’re about to fall asleep standing up. You don’t have the energy to do anything but sleep.”
Yeah, sex was probably out of the question. I had a semi being in the same room with her, but just because I had the equipment didn’t mean I should use it. Two days of no sleep had left me strung tight. And despite my exhaustion, I didn’t expect that to change anytime soon. Every time I closed my eyes, I was back in that fucking warehouse.
She began caressing me, so light I almost didn’t notice it. Except for the way I hardened to full mast. And damn, that was clearly visible beneath the fleece fabric of my pants. But she wasn’t looking between my legs. Her eyes were trained on mine.
“It’s more than just being tired, isn’t it?” she whispered.
I swallowed thickly. “Yeah.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I can’t.” It was classified, for one thing. But even if I could’ve shared it, I never would’ve told her about the things I’d seen. There was no reason to give her nightmares too.
Though judging from the shadows in her eyes, she had her own nightmares.
“Lie down in the bed, soldier.”
“Della?”
“That’s an order.”
Fuck, why was that so hot? I couldn’t help the streaks of lust that ran through me. Couldn’t do anything but obey her. Was it the tiredness making my skin overly sensitive? The slide of fleece against my skin, the embroidered eyelet duvet beneath my palms. The world felt more textured, more vibrant when she was in it.
The bed creaked as I climbed on, and I looked back, waiting to see if she’d follow.
She did, thank God. I breathed pure relief while she placed a knee on the bed, her eyes dark and implacable. Her face was all shadows, but I could see her clearly in my mind. The polite smile she’d given me on the plane. The more playful one through the window of her truck. And then she was in front of me, where I still couldn’t see her smile—but I could feel it, curved and wicked when it met my lips in a kiss.
Chapter Five
Della
What was I doing with him? I should leave him alone. I should call Dmitri right now and tell him where to go. Hell, I could even tie Clint up before Dmitri got here, a pretty little package. Though Clint wasn’t little. Not at all. It was like climbing a mountain just to straddle him. And when I got there? The air was thin at the peak. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything except an irrational sense of triumph.
The man could kiss. For just a moment, when my lips touched his, he froze. A sound vibrated from deep in his chest, rumbling surprise over the hills and valleys of his pecs. I didn’t know why he should be surprised. With a body like that, he would attract the attention of any girl with a pulse. The way he seemed to put everyone else’s comfort above his own would seal the deal.
I nipped at his bottom lip and reveled in his answering groan.
“Honey,” he muttered, and that alone, the endearment, was enough to make me clench.
Just a shimmy of my hips would be enough to center me over him. I’d push the thick cloth of his sweatpants aside and then I’d be riding him, taking us both to oblivion. But something held me back. A conscience? He was exhausted. I could see the redness of his eyes and the shadows underneath. His body reacted with a sluggish lust, eager but far too gone.
That was okay, though. I could do all the work.
I was used to that.
His chest was broad. Open plains for my lips to roam. Amber waves of grain, I thought with a private smile. He was the all-American boy, my soldier. Sometimes you had to make a choice. Dmitri loomed in the back of my mind with his orders and his threats. Right now I chose this. I licked his nipple until it was a tight, puckered nub. The sound he made was pure masculine pleasure, and that’s what I chose.
“Do you like that?” I purred
“No… Yes… You don’t have to…”
His pecs bulged, muscles sharply cut, and I used that angle to bite him. He jerked beneath me but did nothing to protect himself. So damned trusting. Way too sweet for the likes of me. “Who said that was for you? Maybe I just want to play.”
He groaned. “Oh God. Della.”
My name on his lips made me wet. Oh, who was I kidding? I was already soaking my panties. Just looking at him had done that. Scenting his musk and feeling his presence. The man had the body of a god but the fragile mortality of a man. His heart thumped steadily beneath my palm. I pushed myself up, straddling his hips.
I should get him off quickly and be done with it. No, I should leave him alone right now. But instead I wanted to stay and take my time. It was the kind of sexual play I dreamed of, alone, at night with my vibrator in hand. Wonder of wonders, he seemed to be getting off on it. The man was clearly alpha on a battlefield. He got wary looks from the other men at the airport—even they understood the sensual power he radiated. But here, between my thighs, he liked it when I teased him.
“Are you too tired, soldier? Should I let you rest now?”
His hips jerked. Oh yes, he liked being teased. “If you want,” he panted.
I took mercy on him and lifted my shirt over my head, baring my breasts. It was an embossed invitation, written with calligraphy and overlaid with vellum. Do what you want with me. I’m yours for the night. He looked. It practically left a trail of fire over my pale, exposed skin, that’s how hotly he looked at my breasts. But he didn’t touch. His hands lay at his sides, twitching once and then lying still.
Letting me call the shots.
My finger trailed down his chest, winding a lonely path down the furred skin. Golden-dark hair made a trail for me to follow, an arrow pointing where I needed to go. Even his hip bones formed a V, showing me the way. I scooted my knees back so that I straddled his legs.
His thighs were wider than his waist had been, bulging with muscles that had helped him defend and invade, protect and conquer. He was a warrior in every way—even the way he trembled with restraint. It would have been so easy to flip me over and shove himself inside me. Other men would have done so. Lesser men.
His lips parted. His lids were low with hunger. “Della?”
“I’m here.”
Here was my fingers tugging down the elastic waistband, letting his cock spring free. Here was circling his cock with my thumb and forefinger, a slight grip that propped him up more than stroked him. Here was a lick from the base of his cock to the tip.
“Oh fuck.”
My lips curved into a smile, but I didn’t let that stop me as I covered the head of his cock with my mouth. The underside met in a ridge that I teased with my tongue. He was already salty, already damp with his own seed, so I licked it off until he tasted like nothing at all.
“Baby, that feels so good. Oh Jesus. Let me… let me…”
He didn’t finish asking for permission, so I didn’t give it. Whatever he wanted, it wouldn’t be better than this. His hips were already jerking up, shoving his cock roughly into my mouth, a helpless response to pleasure.
I paused long enough to tell him, “Don’t come yet.”
Then I took him deep, sliding my lips down his wide cock as far as I could. I pulled back and tried to go deeper the next time. I was still plenty far from the dark hairs at the base of his groin. He was just too big to take all of him. Not only long, but also thick, as if all that physical training had also exercised his cock. I imagined dirty drill sergeants and mandatory repetitions and somehow felt even more turned on.
This man pushed every one of my buttons. Even exhausted and temporarily homeless, he was the most alluring man I’d ever met. If he ever actually tried to seduce me, I’d probably melt into a puddle. That was me, the Wicked Witch of the West, destroyed out of a misguided sense of loyalty to my sister.
My sucking fell into a rhythm we could both recognize: the rocking of sex and the sea, the moonlit tides guiding my head as I bobbed up and down. He grunted on every downward slide, the same way he would if he was plunging into my pussy.
“Come here.” His voice was hoarse like gravel. “Turn around. Let me lick you.”
Oh, good boy. He’d managed to bring himself to ask. And I wanted to reward that kind of initiative, I really did. I was sure he’d be talented in that arena. My sex clenched at the thought of his eager tongue lapping away.
But despite the haze of lust around us, I remembered why he was here. Tomorrow I would betray him. He’d never again look at me with both desire and tenderness. He’d never look at me at all.
If nothing else, I could give him this.
I leaned back, resting on his legs. My lips felt swollen from sucking him. My nipples were tight with arousal. “You don’t give the orders around here. Now, you’re going to lie there and take your lumps like a good solider. Got it?”
Something dark flashed in his eyes. I thought he might refuse.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said curtly.
My whole body went rigid, aching to ram something. Ideally, him. I wasn’t alone in that reaction. God, he was so turned on. I watched his cock twitch with intense fascination. My cunt clenching and his cock flexing. When they finally slid together, it would be a violent intercourse, and that made me want it even more.
Would he fuck you if he knew why you’d lured him here?
No, and he wouldn’t let me suck him off either, but I wasn’t about to tell him anything.
I put my finger to my mouth and got it nice and wet. His eyes widened. He knew what was coming next. His body tensed, a reflexive move to keep me out. I could have punished him for that, but I decided to reward him instead, with my mouth on his cock again. He should learn to protect himself. Even if it was too little, too late.
I licked and sucked his hot cock, making sure no inch of skin went unloved. He would be damp with my saliva, coated completely. I hoped the air was cool against wet skin when I pulled back, a sharp contrast to the heat of my mouth when I engulfed him. However it felt, he seemed to enjoy it. He groaned so loud it filled the air, a kind of roaring despair that reminded me of my order to him.
Don’t come yet.
And this man could obey orders. It became a challenge between us, to see if I could get him to come without giving permission. I recognized that it wouldn’t be quite fair that way, but I didn’t care. I licked and sucked and nibbled at him. I slid my fist up and down his length. I sneaked a finger down against his puckered hole and pressed inside.
He shot up from the bed, shouting incoherently. Then, “God. God. That feels… I don’t know. Ahhh, baby.”
It was only when I went deeper that he gripped the sheets, almost tearing them in his fervor. “Come now,” I whispered, so quietly he might not have heard me. But then he was coming, with a tortured cry and hot spurts of seed onto my tongue.
I swallowed him down, drinking the come and nuzzling his softening cock until he slumped back to the bed. He was breathing hard, but his eyes were closed. His limbs were sprawled as if I’d knocked him unconscious. And maybe I had.
He made a soft sound, almost a worrisome sound. I brushed my hand over his forehead. “Shh. Rest.”
Then I gently pulled his sweatpants up over his cock. I settled the blanket around his waist. And I tucked him into bed with a kiss to his forehead. The whole time, he barely moved to help me. His breathing evened out. His eyes opened once, focused on me, and then the lids slammed shut once again.
By the time I left his room, he was already asleep.
* * *
I wouldn’t be able to sleep anytime soon. My body was a jumble of nerves—arousal and guilt and fear forming a Molotov cocktail inside me. I headed to the kitchen for a small cup of tea. My hands trembled as I prepared it, the cup rattling against the dish until I set it on the table.
The house was fifty years old. Caro didn’t understand why I’d picked this one when I could have had a newer on
But then, Caro was comparing it to whatever mansion Dmitri had kept her in. No doubt it had glass tables and expensive artwork and guards with machine guns. He liked to think he was highbrow.
I had actually been glad when he upgraded from head gangbanger to major crime boss. He’d hooked up with some other guys and started dealing bigger. International business opportunities, he’d said with a smirk. He had started to travel more and released his hold on me and Caro.
The only problem was, Caro wouldn’t let go of him. She wanted that lifestyle. As sleazy as he was, she wanted him. Sometimes that pissed me off. Those days I’d think about cutting her loose. But most of the time I remembered that neither of us had chosen to go with him. We had been thrown into hell together, and I was the only one who had escaped. She was my sister. I wouldn’t let her down.
My phone rang, startling me. Tea sloshed over the rim of the cup as I set it down with a thud. My gaze snapped to the dark staircase. Would he hear?
I grabbed the phone from the table and slipped out the back door. The ambient sounds were louder here—singing crickets and rustling leaves and the soothing hum of nighttime.
“Hello?” I whispered.
“Della, it’s me.”
Relief made me feel faint. “Caro! Oh God, I’ve been so worried about you. Are you okay? Where is he keeping you? Did you get away?”
“Oh Sis, you’re so dramatic. I’m fine. I’ve always been fine.”
I shook my head, feeling tears sting my eyes. “You haven’t been using?”
A pause. “I can handle myself.”
Some of my worry came out as anger. I preferred it that way. “And I suppose you can handle Dmitri too?”