Page 8 of Her Marine Master (Master Me #4)

H e didn't sleep much. The nightmares didn't come, which was a relief, but he wasn't used to having a woman in his bed.

Intoxicatingly soft, she nestled against him, inciting a variety of sleep-disruptive thoughts.

He wanted to explore every inch of her lush body with his hands, with his tongue.

He wanted to spread her milky thighs and lick into her until she screamed.

Then fuck her again until she shattered.

But he'd already jumped too far into this thing with her. He couldn't fathom how to back out at this point.

Will things be weird tomorrow?

Hell yeah, things would be weird. Except the very fact that she'd had the courage to ask that question, to address the issue, made him want to be utterly certain things weren't weird.

She didn't deserve weird. But she also didn't deserve the trainwreck that was his life right now, either.

She was far too sweet, too pure for a guy like him.

He wanted to send her back to wherever she'd come from—the Midwest probably—because a girl like her hadn't been in California long enough to play the game.

Yet all night long he'd replayed the sense of power, the pleasure, the rightness of the spanking scene they'd shared.

Fucking deep. Intimate. Yet so very right.

It inspired all sorts of strange desires—a 1950's fantasy of a sweet little red-haired wife in an apron and ribbons in her hair waiting for him to come home from work.

She would kneel at his feet and take his shoes off, rub his feet before she served him dinner.

He would give her rules to follow and punish any transgressions with a bare-bottomed bedtime spanking.

Okay, yeah. That fantasy was fucked up and weird, but it played in his imagination all night long.

Kaitlyn spread out on his bed with her wrists tied to the bedpost with a pair of old-fashioned pantyhose—no, they called them stockings.

Kaitlyn wearing nothing but an apron, her bare ass red from the spanking he'd just given her.

Kaitlyn curled up in a ball, dampening his neck with her tears as he held her and rubbed her back.

That last one disturbed him. Why should he enjoy her tears?

Yes, he was a Dominant, but he didn't consider himself a real sadist. He kept it consensual and pleasure-based.

Yet there had been some appeal to comforting her after spanking her to tears. He was a fucked up bastard.

She stirred beside him, her glossy hair sliding over his shoulder. Her eyes fluttered open. "Mmmph." She covered her mouth with her hand and backed out of the bed, holding the covers up over her breasts.

He was torn between laughing because she looked so cute, and taking charge of the situation so she didn't feel so uncomfortable. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I have morning breath," she said, still covering her mouth even though she'd made it all the way off the bed and was standing three feet away from him.

He grasped the end of the blanket she'd pulled with her and tugged gently. "You don't get to cover up just because it's morning."

She blushed but still held the blanket with a death grip. "Do I get to brush my teeth?"

"Sure. But I don't think you brought your toothbrush over here." She had put on her pajamas and brushed her teeth in her own apartment the night before.

"Oh, okay." She scooted around the other side of the bed and picked up her clothes, which still lay on the floor where she'd tossed them the night before. She dropped the blanket and rushed to pull up her little shorts.

"Hurry, little rabbit," he teased. "The big bad wolf is going to see your boobies."

She laughed, her cheeks still blushing. "I'm shy in the morning."

He didn't like the way she said that. As if she often woke up after a "first time" with a guy feeling shy. But no, he had no right to be jealous.

Though part of him wanted to grab her and dominate her until she dropped her shyness as quickly as she'd shucked her clothes last night, it was easier to let her scamper away. He watched as she pulled her threadbare t-shirt over her perfect size-C breasts and slipped out the bedroom door.

"I'm just going to… um… run to my place and take a shower. Thanks for letting me stay here."

Thanks for letting me stay here. As if that was all it had been. Of course he knew it had been way more than that. But hell—if she was leaving that easily, he should let her go.

His cell phone rang. He sighed and climbed out of bed to pick it up.

His mom. He hated her daily calls. She worried about him and it made him feel guilty as hell for not having his life together.

"Hi, Mom."

"Hi, honey, how are you?"

"Fine." Their conversations had been stilted ever since he got back from Afghanistan. He didn't know what to say to her or how to interact anymore.

"What are your plans for the day?" she asked.

"Mm, not sure yet." He didn't feel like going into the gory details of Kaitlyn's attack and needing to change her door out.

"Well, a friend of a friend called me. They run a hot air balloon business that flies in Temecula and San Diego. They're looking for a crew guy. She said they love retired military. Any interest?"

Here she goes again, trying to fix his life for him.

"Um, nah. I don't think so. But thanks, Mom. Listen, I gotta run, okay?"

"Well, I'm going to email you the information. Just give it a read-though, okay?

"Okay."

She knew he was lying, which made the guilt tightening his chest even worse.

"I'll talk to you later," he said.

"All right. Bye, honey."

He hit end and tossed the phone on his bed. That was pretty much what his life consisted of these days. Morning calls from his mom and an endless stretch of nothing. He headed for his shower.

Well, at least today he had a project. He had Kaitlyn's door to replace.

It gave him a purpose to his day. Something he'd been sorely lacking lately.

Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap! Did she really do all those things with Rob last night? Lie over his lap for a spanking and cry on his shoulder and… dear Gawd—wear a butt plug during sex?

Kaitlyn slipped into her apartment and went into the bathroom.

Since the front door was hanging open, she locked the bathroom door.

She squeezed her butt with her hands. No residual soreness.

Why was that vaguely disappointing? She sort of wished for souvenir marks or pain to prove it really happened.

The water in the shower came on with a blast and she stripped off her clothes and stepped in.

Awkward.

It had been embarrassing to wake up beside him. She felt like hiding now. But no, she wasn't that big of a chicken, was she?

She replayed the entire night. It was funny how she thought the first part of her night—the bad part—would be the main memory, but it wasn't. Rob had truly helped her forget it.

Or lessen its impact on her. Instead of replaying the trauma, she remembered every moment with him.

Remembering the way he'd held her wrists down on the bed as he slammed into her from behind, her pussy quivered.

She brought her fingers down to touch herself.

Sheesh, she was already wet just thinking about him. She worked her fingertips over her clit and leaned her face against the cold tile of the shower for stability.

Yield to me.

She loved his dominant talk. And for all his tough-guy act, she'd felt perfectly safe with him at all times.

Do you know who you belong to?

Her fingers slid up and down, eyes rolled back in her head. She wanted him to spank her again. To plug her. She wanted him to take charge of her every minute of every day for the rest of her life.

She quivered and then bucked, her muscles spasming with release. Her vision went black and lights danced before her eyes. She held herself up against the tiles. The last thing she needed was to pass out in the shower because she was masturbating.

When her breath had slowed and sight cleared, she rinsed the conditioner out of her hair and cranked the handle of the faucet to "off."

She wanted to help Rob the way he'd helped her. In the larger sense, not the sexual. Well, the sexual, too. She couldn't wait to suck his huge cock and bring him pleasure that way.

But Rob needed a job or purpose. She'd read about the challenges facing all the military men and women returning from tours in Afghanistan or Iraq. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder plagued many of them and they struggled with a sense of belonging.

She needed to help him find a purpose again.

And with that as her purpose, she snapped a towel out of the holder and rubbed herself dry, dressed, and put on light makeup for her day.

A tap sounded at the door. "Kaitlyn?" The sound of Rob's deep voice had her heart racing.

She remembered the way he'd spoken right in her ear the night before, how he'd transformed into the stern but attentive Dominant.

Her pussy clenched, breath shortened. She wanted to do those things with him again. Rather desperately.

Don't get attached or clingy. Right, she just needed to play it cool.

How the hell did one play it cool with a guy who pretty much blew her mind by fitting every facet of her dream man?

She cleared her throat to answer. "Yeah?"

"I'm going to measure this door so I can go buy a replacement. I just didn't want to alarm you."

And that was just one more reason why she loved the guy.

He really seemed to "get" her feelings. How many guys were sensitive to a girl's feelings and were uber hot, dominant alpha males?

One in a thousand probably. Maybe one in a hundred thousand.

All she knew was that she liked him too much.

She was ready to throw her whole heart at him, and she knew that would be unwise.

This guy didn't seem like he was looking for a relationship.

"Okay, I'm all set. I'm headed to the hardware store. I should be back within an hour."