Mary Had a Little Problem (7 page)

She needed to get the sex out of the way and go from there. Perhaps Brock meant they could move on together. She looked at this experience a little differently. If she went to bed with Brock, perhaps she would later find the courage to finish living out her life. And with an uncertain future, who could say what tomorrow held for either of them.

One thing was certain. The here and now looked mighty appealing.

* * * *

Restraint was out of the question. Her body moved like wind chimes in a violent wind, and Brock had never seen a more sensual creature. Typically, one to take his time with a new submissive partner, Brock doubted his own self-control.

“Mary, if I ask you to do something that makes you uncomfortable, tell me.”

“My safe word is forbidden,” she said, insinuating the word had been used before.

He narrowed his gaze on her pretty, pointed nipples, and his mouth watered as he considered all the ways he wanted her aroused. Without a doubt, Luke trained her to submit. Luke, without knowledge, prepared her for him.

“Lie down,” he instructed, pulling her next to him.

Once she stretched out beside him, he became the man he was behind closed doors rather than, perhaps, the man she needed him to be.

“I want you to spread your legs,” he told her, lying on his side. He watched as she complied without hesitation. He propelled his hand down her chest, raking his fingers over her nipple, and settling a flat palm against her stomach.

Her mound was bare but prickly, indicating she shaved rather than waxed her pussy, a fact he’d have to change immediately. A Brazilian wax was in order, and he wondered how she’d feel about that. There were many things he wanted to discover about Mary. Many secrets he’d expect her to share.

Leaving the bed, he stood at the edge, eying her parted, sleek folds. The glistening moisture around her opening caught his eye, and he longed to push his tongue high inside her channel, bury his mouth in her sex, and lap up her sweet essence.

He gripped her thighs and towered over her, leaning down so he could kiss her belly, dragging his tongue up and down her trembling flesh. Pausing at her mound, he whispered across her intimate knoll, “I’ll never hurt you, sub. Do you believe me?”

“Yes, sir,” she responded, arching her neck as if she were bracing for the sensual acts set to begin.

“Will you trust me?”

“I…maybe,” she replied, spreading her legs wider.

He slapped her pussy and eyed the discoloration as the smack left its temporary place on her skin, the imprint of three fingers quickly disappearing. “Maybe isn’t good enough, sub.” He smacked again.

She yelped as she jerked, responding to the pussy swat he gently delivered. He wanted her attention and her compliance. Sure, he wanted her respect, too, and trust would come sooner than later. His submissive women learned to rely upon him because he made sure to earn the confidence instilled in him.

“I don’t know how to trust anyone other than Luke,” she admitted.

He saw the heartache and the devastation then. He also noted something else, an emotion that threatened to yank his heart from his chest. “Are you scared, sub?”

Mary’s nose twitched and she sniffed. She was frightened. “Yes, sir.” The dam broke then, and she cried aloud. “I don’t know how to live without him!”

Brock should’ve gathered her in his arms without hesitation, but he wasn’t able to offer her the compassion she needed. He was envious of the love she’d shared with another, a man he knew as a friend and fellow soldier.

Her soft sobs became a song of despair, and Brock reluctantly caressed her hips and thighs, working his hands up and down her legs. “Cry, sub. Cry it out, honey,” he said softly.

He’d never witnessed anything more pitiful in his life. The woman he cared for, could potentially love, exposed her soul as much as her body as she lay there, timidly placing her arms over her bare breasts as complete torment shook her.

There wasn’t anything he could do except go to her. He tried to resist being drawn into the understandable grief of a widow, but the overwhelming desire to comfort her was more than he could stand. He wrapped her body against his and rocked her.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she whispered against his chest.

He was sorry, too. Even though he wanted the woman Lieutenant Lucas Worthington had coveted most, in that moment, if he could’ve brought him back, he would have moved hell and earth to give Mary what she needed most.

He would’ve stepped aside, even though the cost would’ve been great, the price a going rate he hoped he never had to pay. His happiness in exchange for hers. Still, he would’ve surrendered his dreams, his future, to give her back what she felt she’d lost rather than the future he hoped they’d someday gain.

“You don’t understand what it’s like. I’ve always been alone. Even when Luke was here, he was always signing up for another tour, leaving for an unknown destination, or attending meetings in undisclosed locations. I’ve spent my entire adult life by myself.”

Brock gritted his teeth and grated back an explanation. There wasn’t one. Being married to a soldier was a great sacrifice. He understood the seclusion, the isolation often felt by those married to men in the military. Still, he fully expected to ask Mary to do the same for him. He’d longed for her in a way that didn’t make sense, and he was grateful for the chance to hold her.

“Shh, sub. It’s all right. You’re not alone now, Mary. You’ll never be alone again.”

Chapter Seven

Brock was a man designed for a woman’s good time. With palms on either side of her head, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her, lapping at her mouth as if he had all day, maybe all week, to learn the taste of her.

She wrapped her hand around his nape and pulled him closer, wedging her tongue inside his mouth as she took the heated kiss she needed most. “Don’t rush me, sub,” he warned, breaking the connection, staring down the length of their bodies.

He stood then, easing away from the bed in slow motion, watching her as if he wanted her image stamped to memory, etched in his mind’s eye forever. He used one hand to stabilize her trembling leg. “I won’t hurt you, Mary.”

His hard length protruded, making her gasp in anticipation. What she wanted from him wasn’t normal, wasn’t acceptable. She was still married in her mind. What kind of woman took another man to her bed when she deeply loved and cherished the husband who gave her his last name?

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” she asked, a whimper in her voice.

Brock’s eyes were moist. He slowly nodded. “Yes, Mary. Luke is gone.”

“And he’d want me to be happy, right?”

“I think so,” Brock said, clearing his throat. “I know that’s true.”

She forced a smile and released a worrisome sigh. She questioned her motives then. The way she looked to Brock for reassurance insinuated she planned to rely on him in some way.

He advanced, moving between her legs and kissing her calf, thigh, and hip. He used his thick arms to widen her legs and took to task pleasuring her, dragging his tongue up and down until she was anticipating more, eager to have the rest.

His hot breath whispered across her pussy lips, and her moans caught in her chest. “Tonight, I’ll take care of you, Mary, but there are still things I require when a willing sub is in my bed.”

“Yes, sir,” she muttered, moving her legs closer to his head, hoping to confine him.

Glancing up, he slapped her pussy. “Wait for me.”

She’d agitated him, and she saw the irritation in his firmly set jaw and narrowed gaze. He studied her body as if she were a special delivery he needed to inspect before signing off his approval.

She lay there quietly, her body heating, her sex clenching. And that’s when the first of many slow and indulgent licks set fire to her pussy, and the flames that surrounded her were too numerous to contain.

Within seconds, she was bucking, arching, and calling Brock’s name.

* * * *

He let her have what was hers to own. Under normal circumstances, he might have stopped his submissive from taking the orgasm he helped them claim, but Mary was different. She needed him, and she certainly needed this.

He lapped at her sweet juices as he fingered her, licking around the folds, nibbling her sex, before lodging his tongue inside her vibrating channel. She was coming, silently and timidly. Her body trembled as she took her orgasm, and he didn’t prohibit her from finding her pleasure and riding out her climax.

Sucking her clit, he inserted one finger, two, flicking his tongue up and down, thrusting inside her until the only taste he knew was Mary, the woman he wanted to love, protect, honor, and cherish.

How did he tell her? What would he say? More importantly, how would she react?

“Brock,” she whispered, rising up to watch him. “Stop, please.”

“Not a chance,” he whispered, blowing a steady stream of air over her tender folds and observing as she jerked. “Enjoy me, sub. Take advantage of our first night together. Trust me. I’m not always this agreeable.”

Mary drifted into another state, acceptance washing over her face as she collapsed against the pillows and spread her legs still wider. He used his fingers to part her damp lips and feasted on her sweet taste, bringing her to climax all over again and nearly insulted when she didn’t cry out his name like before.

Brock lapped up the heat dripping from her, screwing his tongue inside her channel until he wanted to believe he’d become a part of her. But when she cried out for mercy, he could only think of one way to extend leniency.

He slipped away from the bed, sheathed himself, and towered over her. He didn’t pause. He didn’t miss a beat. He thrust inside her and was balls deep with the first stroke, taking what he now viewed as his to claim.

Mary was his woman, and perhaps she had been for some time. She could deny the feelings now, but she’d possess them later. Her soft eyes watered as he fucked her, but soon she was wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him to her, bracketing her legs around his waist and riding his cock, begging for deeper penetration.

“Slow down, sub. I won’t make it if you don’t…hold up!”

“I can’t, Brock,” she pleaded. “Don’t make me wait. Please give me what I want. What I need.”

So he did what any man would do. He shoved her hands high above her head, latched onto one of those beautiful, pointed nipples and screwed her as if he’d never stop. His cock slid in and out of her sleek pussy until her body consumed his, inspiring him to take more, pump harder.

A jet of his semen shot free, filling the condom he wore. He collapsed against her as she clung to him, raking her nails over his shoulders and arms. “Oh Brock, what have I done?”

He wondered the same. He’d taken her hard and reckless, without regard for anything more than his own selfish needs. Even so, he told himself over and over again that this was what she needed, what she couldn’t live without. Mary longed for a man, and he wanted to be the one she relied on from that day forward.

Reluctantly, he looked up and was—thank God—pleasantly surprised to find the sated appearance of one well-satisfied woman. While sorrow existed in her eyes, a great deal of something mighty close to appreciation seeped into her warm gaze as well.

“No regrets, Mary,” he said. She swallowed hard as he caressed her, and he tried his best to encourage her to mirror his smile. “Please tell me you don’t regret this.”

She shrugged. “Do you?”

“Are you kidding me? That was incredible.”

“You know I still love my husband.”

Brock took a deep breath and reached a decision then. He refused to play second best to a dead man. And Lucas Worthington was dead. Now, he had to convince Mary to leave him in the grave.

* * * *

Hours later, Mary slid away from the mattress. She stared down at the sleeping giant occupying the greatest part of her bed then tiptoed to her closet where she retrieved a red silk robe.

Sliding her arms into the sleeves, she wrapped the material around her body and tied the sash. She immediately hurried toward the door.

“Mary?”

“I’ll be right back,” she said, determined to get away, if for no other reason than to pull herself together before she faced him once more.

“Now, sub.”

“Brock…”

“I won’t ask again.”

Slowly, she turned around. “Don’t do this.”

Brock rolled his tongue over his parched lips. “Whether you admit it now or later, you belong to me. You can run, but you’ll never escape. You can avoid the truth all you want, but that won’t change things. I felt how you responded to me, and I know you felt our connection, too. That’s why you’re trying to get out of here as fast as you can.”

“We had a moment,” she began. “That’s all it was.”

Brock leapt from the bed and grabbed her around the waist. “A moment?”