Page 6 of Swept Away (Men of War #1)

G EMMA

By the time I head back to my place carrying two bags of groceries, the evening sneaks in, dragging behind the mesmerizing colors of a late summer sunset.

The noise in the neighborhood settles down, punctuated only by the occasional break created by passing cars, loud conversations, and music drifting from inside.

Looking into the distance, I notice the vehicles parked on the street and the old trees with their thick trunks and layered leaves.

The streetlights weave into the twilight, painting the evening in warm colors, and a gust of wind sweeps my face as I near my place.

I’ll miss this place.

The randomness of this thought gives me pause.

Although it’s true.

I won’t live here forever.

Once the school is over, I’ll most likely move, if not to another town, then into a place of my own.

I’m still pondering the prospects of my not-so-distant future when voices ring in front of me.

I move my eyes to the side, where a black sports car with the windows rolled down is parked in front of my building.

Two men occupy the front while a woman sits in the back seat.

Platinum blonde hair frames her face. She is noisy and apparently funny, as one of the men in the front teases her.

The headlights and the interior lights are turned off, and the man behind the steering wheel has his back turned to me as he shifts in his seat to talk to the woman.

His back blocks my view of the other man.

A jolt of awareness sweeps through me, and my heart races a little, but I think nothing of it.

Paying those three no mind, I veer to the left and head to the entrance when a voice shouts behind me.

“Hey.”

I stop at the top of my stairs, my hand on the doorknob, when I look over my shoulder.

A muscular man I instantly recognize exits the car and rushes to me.

This time, he wears a black shirt, generously open across his broad chest, dark jeans, and matching shoes.

He smells divine–a hint of smoky, spicy cologne–and his eyes flicker with a naughty smile.

In two steps, he’s next to me and grabs one of my bags.

“Hey…” he says again and stalls, charming me with his smile.

“Gemma,” I say, convinced he doesn’t remember my name.

“Gemma,” he says, giving me a sultry laugh.

He fleetingly looks down taking in my shorts and T-shirt.

“Do you have any plans for tonight?” he asks directly when he brings his eyes to mine and brushes a strand of hair away from my face.

His eyes move over my face before briefly sitting on my lips.

“As in…?”

He lifts his gaze.

“Would you be interested in going out with me and my friend?”

He flashes a grin.

“And his friend,” he continues, gesturing at the car behind him.

I look at the car and then back at him.

“Were you waiting for me?” I ask incredulously.

“Uh-huh.”

“You could’ve…”

I remember his phone wasn’t working last night, and I push the rest of my words back.

I don’t know whether to tell him that I called him.

I surely don’t want to relay to him that I was checking on him.

“Something’s wrong with your phone,” I say, and I hate myself for saying that, but I just couldn’t resist.

He lifts an eyebrow at me, his smile melting my T-shirt off.

“You called me?”

“I didn’t call you. I wanted to… Never mind. I need to get in,” I say, pushing the door open and walking into the building.

He follows me inside.

“So, are you coming?” he asks as I insert the key into the lock, shift it, and push the door to my place open.

“How’s the cat?” he asks from the doorstep as I set the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter.

He walks in, and the door clicks shut behind him, prompting me to move my eyes in his direction.

I watch him walk across my living room, and a moment later, he places the other bag of groceries in front of me.

“He’s gone, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is,”I say, unloading the groceries and turning my back to him.

“You’re mad at me?” he says, and I glance at him over my shoulder.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” he says, moving between me and the kitchen counter, taking the bag of avocados from my hand, and dropping it on the table.

“You flatter yourself,” I say, not knowing what he’s up to.

The kitchen seems so small with him smack in the middle, and my senses get tormented by his presence.

Everything becomes about him right now.

His smell tickling my nostrils.

His warmth rolling over my body.

His eyes following me around like daggers.

And then his touch comes to me.

His hand slides to my hair as he brings me close to him and presses me into his body, setting my skin ablaze.

He leans back against the kitchen counter and pulls me flush against his frame, the scent of his cologne crawling on me like a savage warrior conquering new land.

Within seconds, I smell like exotic spice and musk and aftershave.

His dog tag necklace glints across his shaved chest, and my mouth waters a little as I think about licking his smooth skin and see how he tastes.

Is it spicy? Sweet? Salty?

Is it an enticing combination that might make me want to drag my mouth down past his abs and linger below his waist?

“I’ll ask you again…” he says quietly, his lips pressed to my hair. “Are you afraid of me?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

I’m not sure about anything he’s telling me in general except what he does with his hands and his mouth and his cock, but other than that, I’m cool.

We’re cool.

“Show it to me, then. Go out with me tonight.”

I don’t think he’s trying to sound sultry and make my hair stand on end, which both happen.

He doesn’t act or pretend.

His voice is genuinely low and raspy and filled with the promise of dirty sex, and I could recognize his calling in my sleep.

I see the beginning of an addiction and willfully ignore it.

What harm would it do to me if we repeated our first experience?

What harm could it do to me if I ignored the incongruent things, the pieces that didn’t match, the red flags, if I can call them that?

He’s not promising me anything other than showing me a good time.

And he has already delivered on his promise.

So, why the fuck not?

“I need some time to get ready,” I say, and he slides his forefinger beneath my chin and makes me look at him.

Those eyes will put me in an asylum.

Their flame burns so close to my soul.

“There’s enough time…” he quietly says, his eyes languidly sliding to my lips, but us kissing right now might ruin his plans for going out this evening.

“How much time do we have…?” I ask, swept away in a trance, my eyes connected to his.

“Enough…” he says with a smile, and I know what that means when he brings his hand to his jeans and unfastens his belt.

His zipper goes down while I look at him with curiosity.

He grabs the bottom of my T-shirt and rides it up over my shoulders before unbuttoning my shorts and flicking my zipper down.

My T-shirt ends up on the kitchen table while his fingers slink inside my panties and dip between my folds.

Just like that.

“Fuck, you shaved…” he says, spreading my moisture around while I bite my lip to stop myself from moaning.

I never thought I’d have his hand on me again.

The tension from his hand and my shorts that are still clinging to me do me in.

With the other hand, he undoes the remaining buttons and opens his shirt all the way.

His cheeks are flushed, his eyes lustful when he brings his hand to my back, flicks my bra open, tears it off, and drops it to the floor.

“I want to come on your tits, baby,” he growls, tilting his chin toward my chest. “But let's do this first.”

He nudges me around and pulls me back into his chest, his erection pressing into my lower back, his mouth breathing fire into my hair.

“How many times do you want to come?” he asks next to my ear with a grin.

I laugh because his question is ridiculous.

People are waiting for us outside. Plus, I usually come once if I’m lucky.

He pushes my shorts to my thighs and runs his fingers through my folds, stroking my clit before curling his middle finger and sliding it into me.

I jerk against his chest and crash into his bulge.

His hand is wet from stroking me as he rolls his hips and rubs his hard length against my back.

With one smooth gesture, he brushes my hair over my shoulder and kisses my neck. Sexy, paced, arousing kisses that make me pulse against his hand.

I lean against his chest as he moves his touch even lower and strokes my clit with the heel of his hand, finger fucking me at the same time.

It probably won’t take me long as I grind against his touch, wanting to feel it deeper and deeper.

He brings his other hand to my chest and roughly kneads my boobs, occasionally rolling my beaded nipples between his fingers, and making me yelp.

My pleasure quickly shoots up.

Moaning and pressing my hands into his thighs, I close my eyes and let him drag me to the finish line.

A swirl of pulsations sweeps through my center, and I only long for more of the same.

What was he talking about? Going out?

My knees feel like rubber, my legs shaking, my hair damp with sweat.

Steam flows from my lips as I struggle to steady myself, still experiencing the aftershocks.

He removes his hand from between my legs and holds me against him, making me aware of the tension in his cock.

His erection stirs against my lower back, skin against skin. Heat against heat. His hands move slowly over my chest while wet arousal trickles down between my legs.

His lips hover over my shoulder.

“Now take me into your mouth like the good girl that you are.”

In one swoop, he pushes my shorts down all the way, and I step out of them and kick off my flip flops before turning to him.

His hard-on is half out, his chest moving rapidly, his eyes glazed with desire.

Holding my hand, he flicks his chin toward the floor, making it clear to me.

I squat in front of him, and then I change my mind and rise to him, to his surprise.

My hands move over his chest while I press my lips to his pecs.

He groans quietly as I kiss my way down, stroking his hard abs. Before long, my lips meet the velvety head of his erection, and I swirl my tongue around it and lick my way down before pulling it all out.

His hand rests on my hair as I go down and fill my mouth before sucking on him and tasting the bead of pre-cum.

I bob my head while he guides me gently, pushing me toward taking more of him.

I do that, the chiseled head hitting the back of my throat repeatedly while he jerks his hips against my face.

My hand goes up and down, spreading the moisture while he enjoys filling my mouth.

There’s a soft knock on my door, and I stop and pull him out of my mouth, my eyes going up to him.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll deal with it later,” he says.

That must be his friend.Or the friend of his friend.So I don’t worry about it.

I open my mouth and slide him between my lips again.

The person behind the door quickly gives up, which makes me believe it’s one of his friends.

He presses my head against his groin, and I rhythmically move it again, stroking his flesh, giving him the pleasure that he’s after.

He gets harder and harder, inching closer to his high.

The more aroused he gets, the harsher his grip on me gets.

“Tell me if it hurts…” he says, his voice hoarse.

I say nothing.

He thrusts his hard length into my mouth, my hair gripped in his fist.

He pulls at it while rocking his hips, and I don’t mind the pain as it comes mixed with pleasure.

I suck on him with a passion, and when he falls over the edge, he slides his cock out of my mouth, and his hand becomes a blur as he strokes himself rapidly and shoots his load.

Ribbons of warm seed fall over my lips and chest, dripping down my stomach and reaching the floor under my feet before slipping through my open thighs.

I’m covered in cum when his eyes come into focus and glisten with satisfaction.

“I owe you more orgasms,” he says, giving me a soft wink while pointing to our previous conversation.

His eyes move over my body.

“I’ll pound that sweet pussy of yours tonight,” he says, like he’s making a mental note. “Now, go get something to wear. They’re waiting for us.”