After (27 page)

Her mouth and eyes go wide as she convulses through her orgasm, his narrow ass flexed, driving his cock in to its limit, pressing his groin against her spasming sex, his own expression rapt as he gazes down on her expression of overwhelming sensation and shock.

“I do love that,” he says when he's been inside her for over a minute, and her tremors have subsided. “Feeling a hot, wet cunt gripping and quivering around my cock.”

He works his knees underneath her, lifts her, and resettles her so his lower body has sufficient purchase, his cock never leaving her body.

“Well, my little Eva. Now that I've given you your pleasure, twice, I'm going to take my pleasure from you,” he says, still hard and deep inside of her, but still, except that he's caressing her face with both his hands, roaming over her features with his eyes.

“That seems only fair, don't it?”

“And my whole point in coming here,” she says firmly, earning herself one of his little bemused smiles.

“No, little Eva. You come here to give me something. But I'm not the sort of man you can give what you been peddling all over this base. The only pleasure I know, I take.“

He grasps her wrists and wrenches them above her head, pins them to the mattress. Settling over her, pumping into her once with a single flex of his hips he gives a low, growling grunt, then pants at her ear,

“Deja vu. Just like your first night here.”

Another flex of his narrow hips between her splayed thighs.

“How John pinned you. Tell me, Eva, that night, when he raped you, you were a virgin, weren't you?”

She says nothing. Just goes taut as she studies his altered face. For the first time that night, he seems aroused.

“I never gave John too much thought. But that night, he impressed me. How he dragged you so sure and steady to that table and snatched up the hem of that little nightie you was wearin', and hard and calm as you please, tore into you while you laid there under him, cryin' and beggin' him not to do that to you.

“Cryin' and beggin,” he echoes himself as he slides his cock in and out of her a few times, slow and deep.

“I s'pose he explained later how he didn't really have a choice, 'cause if he'd begged off, the major would have just raffled you off to the next guy, and nothing woulda changed for you. I guess that's how come you can stand to let him ride you every night, let him put his dick in your mouth. I guess that's how you can bear to carry his child.

Tellin' yourself he wasn't really raping you that night he held you down and fucked you in front of us all while you whimpered and cried and begged.”

As he pants and pumps into her, Eva is stiffening under him. And her eyes are wide and dark with rising fear. But she doesn't struggle. And she doesn't look wounded.

“My god,” he says, giving a little grunt, then, as he grinds against her, “how you must have hated him. And Major Smith. Your two sort of husbands, eh? For putting you through that,” he pants as he fucks her, still slow, but thrusting harder now, driving his hips hard between her thighs.

“But it was all of us, really. All of us wantin' to be in John's place. All of us watchin'

him hold you down, stickin' it to you, half ready to defy the major and snatch you clean out from under him, each of us itchin' to have a go. If we hadn't been sure Smith woulda put a bullet in the first man to try, you'd have been raped half to death that night, by the fourteen of us. You know that?”

He lets her wrists go and reclaims his two fistfuls of hair, studies her face as he fucks and talks. She looks horrified. Revolted. Afraid. But he seems to be searching for something else in her. Something he's not getting.

“And now. All those men who were dying to rape you that night, now you're going

'round, offering yourself to them like your cunt was a batch of cookies you baked up for the neighborhood picnic. Little Eva, the madonna whore, the patron saint of Fort Campbell. You think you're somethin' so special, just 'cause all the boys want to get into that little bit of wet heat you got between your thighs.

“I see how you come to me today, thinking you're so good, so proud of yourself for giving up some little piece of your soul to make me a good man. Isn't that so, little Eva? But it don't make you big, us wanting you. Needing you. That don't make you something, any more than a stale piece of bread is something because it's the only scrap of food, and men would kill each other over it.”

He jolts her with a few hard, deep thrusts, his feral grunts shaking loose with each pump of his hips. Her jaw is flexed and her little staccato breaths huff out through her nose.

“Heh,” he laughs, “you just lie there, letting me bang you, telling you I think you're shit.”

“I'm patient,” she says in a voice straining to be cool, “I figure eventually your mental masturbation will get you off.”

“Little Eva. Smart, aren't you? I can see by your face you want me off of you. Out of you. But you don't say so. You don't try and shove me off, try and get away. 'Cause you figure it won't be so easy, shakin' me off. And you know I'll like it. You kickin' up a fuss, and me gettin' to settle you back down. So you just lay there quiet, trying to hide your hate and disgust. But I see it, Eva. I feel it, your body all stiff and cold under me.”

He says this with a sigh and a soft smile, as if she's done the tenderest, most seductive thing possible.

“But I give you credit for tryin', though. Trying to keep from me that dark pleasure I seek in you. Most don't. Most just give it all over to me right off. Like Evan and Diego.

Like Jake.”

For the first time, Eva's eyes hint that her armor has been pierced, and as Jake's name moves over his lips, the man on top of her quivers a little and sinks down against her, his face almost touching hers.

“His was the best,” he whispers against Eva's cheek, but he seems cocooned in the sound of his own voice, “the best, his gift he didn't mean to give me. His wet, salty, limp fear.”

Lott closes his eyes, and for a moment there's just the sound of his aroused breathing, and the wet sounds of their connected bodies as he moves over her.

“That first night. How he woke. Asleep, so still, so quiet. All safe and warm. Our hands woke him. Gagged him half into his first scream. Tied him to his bed, arms spread like wings across the headboard, ankles tucked under him, spread wide, tied to the frame under the mattress.”

Lott's breath accelerates. It seems an effort to check himself, stay calm. He stays still inside Eva. Not thrusting. Just telling.

“I shooed them other boys away so I could take my pleasure slow. He knew.

'Course he knew. Just like you knew in the mess hall. Only Jake was right about it being all of us. But first, just me. Just seeing him there, his face all wet with tears and snot, my heart felt big in my chest. My cock all hard and sore straining in my pants.

“'Cause I understand a boy like Jake. The world's gone, but it's still in him. Boy like that, winning trophies and nailing pussy, that's being a man. Boy like that, only thing worse than being a girl is being a faggot. Knowing he was about to get fucked by every man on base, he was crying, knowing he'd never feel himself to be really a man again. A man like that, it's like they go out of their way to build up something you can take from them.”

Tears are pooled, swelling and shimmering at the edges of Eva's lids and Lott's body quivers like a taut string just plucked for a note. He starts moving now, slow, savoring.

“His mouth was so hot. Maybe fear induces fever. I coaxed him gentle. Made him believe if he'd do what I wanted, the others would leave him be. I brought my cock to his lips and just stroked his cheek, his hair, all gentle, and after a bit he put his mouth on me. All his sobbing and gagging, I could hardly get hold of myself. Don't think I lasted two minutes.”

When she blinks her tears slide over her temples, into her hair, and his next exhale is throaty. Tender as a lover his fingers caress her face, his mouth is on her, lips brushing over tears, touching, parting, nursing at her lips. She endures it all.

“When I crawled up behind him on the mattress and slit the drawstring of his pj’s with my knife, he started really bawlin'. I slipped those pj’s of his down and greased him up with some lard I stole off supply. His little whimpering sounds,” Lott says, his voice catching on his unhinged breath as he flexes into Eva's still, rigid body, “were so provoking. I imagined how he'd cry out when I penetrated him, I wanted to hear it, but I checked myself. Held back. I leaned up against him, listened to how his breath changed, stopped dead, then came on again so fast, so hard I thought maybe he'd pass clean out.

“I felt so close to him, then, like we were brothers, or like Tom and Huck or something, about to do something amazing, something to change us forever. I pressed my face into his hair, and breathed in how he smelled, and wrapped my arm around him to hold on to him tight. And then I eased into him. Slow. Gentle. He thrashed and cried, but he was tied down good and his bawling didn't put me off any. When I got inside him he let out that little sound I'd been waitin' for, and I had to hold real still, even in spite of having just come so soon before. Making him make that sound, it was like being God.”

Lott is working over Eva, hot and panting and thrusting, searching her eyes the whole time, kissing her mouth between recounted memories, now working his hands down, under her ass, lifting and tilting her hips to an ideal angle.

Hot. Hard. Sweating and shuddering.

“I fucked that boy. Not hard and angry, like a rape. Tender, like a lover, because it hurt him worse, that way. While I fucked him, I greased up my fingers again and reached around and got his dick in my hand. Christ, that boy's hung. And I told him I was glad we weren't doing things the other way around. I kept on pumpin' my dick in his ass and started stroking him, just how I'd stroke myself. He cried some more at that. I wasn't sure how it would go, but it didn't take long and he was hard as anything. Hard, and panting different, now. I wanted him to come, wanted it bad, 'cause I figured he'd hate it twice as bad, and feel more ashamed, looking back, if he'd come while I fucked him.”

Eva's fractured calm has shattered. She quietly sobs under Lott's writhing, fevered body as he pants out his story, long gaps of strained breathing and frantic kissing breaking up his words.

“When I felt how he tensed up under me, when I heard how he'd catch his breath some, then it come rushing back out of him again I knew he was close, and I worked my hand over his cock just how I'd do mine, and I started really fuckin' that boy, sliding my cock up into him hard and deep, and grunting loud so he'd hear how much I liked fuckin'

him. When he came, he let out this long, sobbing whimper and that drove such a thrill into me, such a thrill, Eva, fuck.”

Grunting, straining, shuddering, Lott comes undone. As his taut, quivering body slowly stills and goes lax he goes on watching Eva cry. Not even trying not to, now. He lowers himself onto his elbows, lets the length of his lithe body settle against hers, touches her tears with his fingertips. Kisses her wet lashes. Then her lips. She doesn't seem to notice him touching her, care that he's still inside her.

“I knew, little Eva, you'd let me take my pleasure, eventually. You made it sweeter, how you made me work to find the way. It seems right, that it had to be about Jake, since this was the sweetest pleasure I've had since that night.”

“Are we done?” she asks, trying to sound calm.

He slips out of her, off the bed, and offers his hand. When she takes it, he helps her up to standing.

“I enjoy savoring my anticipation,” he says, his drawl thicker, more lethargic after his exertions. “I'll save chapter two of Jake's story, with its larger cast of characters, for our next visit, little Eva.”

She opens her mouth but closes it again, having said nothing.

”Do you know what I wish, Eva?” She stiffens as he puts his arms around her, pulls her naked body against his, nuzzling under her hair, against her neck. He whispers in her ear. “I wish we were alone. In my room.”

Eva makes a small effort to pull away, but Lott holds her. Close and still.

“Don't get all riled,” he sighs. “It's not that I'm wishin' I could do something to you.

Hurt you. Nah, little Eva, it's just that it's too rousing, the idea of you walking across the base, all by yourself, covered in my smell. I like thinking of you taking the winding path back to your place, like Little Red Riding Hood, and all the bad, hungry wolves sniffing at you as you go, and knowing you been under me. I like the idea of you goin' back to John,” he hisses, his lips almost touching hers, “smelling of me.”

When Lott closes the door and she is alone, Eva looks around, almost spinning as her eyes roam the room until she lunges for the corner, drops to her knees, and clutching the rim of a metal trash can, throws up. Behind her the door to the adjacent room opens and Smith rushes to her, kneels down beside her, touches her back, then caresses as she heaves again.

“Sit tight, and I'll run down the hall and get you some water and a damp towel,”

he says when she's done.

“Don't. Please, I just want to go home,” she says.

Eva gets dressed. As they are about to leave the little room, she brushes Smith's arm from her shoulders.

“Don't coddle me,” she says, her voice brittle. Then, softer, “I don't want to look hurt, weak when I leave this room. I don't ever want them thinking they've worn me down.”

When they're inside her building Smith asks her, “What did he do to you, Eva?”

“Nothing,” she says, then meets his eyes. “It's just morning sickness, I guess.”

Smith grasps her shoulders, searches her eyes. “You're sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Lott didn't seem to be doing anything...rough. And you didn't signal me.”

“No. It was fine.”

“Watching, you looked so stiff, so miserable. Not like you were with Nichols.”

“He just... He's strange. He made me uncomfortable. That's all.”

Smith walks with her, up the stairs, to the door to her room. “Let's just make sure John's here. Then I'll go,” Smith says, his voice sad.