stood and looked down at her. She didn’t stir so he took a moment to stare at her, to examine the woman who’d fascinated him from the moment he first laid eyes on her. Her long, sun streaked blonde hair lay around her head in a halo and he touched the curl nearest to him. He’d never seen her with her hair down before. Even at Aaron’s funeral her hair had been swept back in an elegant twist.
No, he didn’t want to think about that funeral right now, not when he’d just found a port in the storm. Murky memories of sitting at Aaron’s grave spun through his mind like razor wire. He’d found the perfect piece of wood earlier in the day for making a cross, he could see the shape in the wood, waiting to be coaxed out by his hand. So, late that afternoon, he’d gone to Aaron’s grave with the wood, his knife, and a bottle whiskey. Fuck, he was lucky he hadn’t sliced his damn hand off. If that caretaker hadn’t stumbled across him when he did…well he didn’t want to think about that right now, either.
Instead, he focused on Michelle. She had refined features and an elegance about her he found hard to put into words. He’d watched a movie a while he was in Walter Reed, some cowboy movie from the nineties on cable, and the moment Sharon Stone appeared on the screen he’d had to rub his eyes because she looked so much like Michelle. There were slight differences in their features, but they could have been sisters.
Either way, that exquisite woman now lay before him in a pair of sexy white cotton panties with a rumpled silk sheet covering everything but her lower back and ass. His Marine buddies would never believe he’d made it into the Ice Queen’s bedroom. Well, it was on her floor but, fuck, it was still her bedroom. Hell, he hardly believed it himself. Her lips, soft in sleep, parted and she mumbled something before turning onto her stomach. When her even breathing resumed he moved quickly to the bathroom, the call of nature pulling him away from his obsession.
After taking care of business, he brushed his teeth, avoiding his reflection in the mirror. He knew he’d been treading in dangerous waters lately, but it had been hard to make himself care. He was drifting, having no purpose really and nothing to be excited about anymore. While he didn’t miss the war, or the bullshit everyday stuff of the military, he missed having a goal, something to strive for. He’d tried working at his dad’s company, thought about going back to school, and had basically done nothing as far as socializing other than drink and avail himself of the occasional one night stand.
What shamed him even more was that Michelle recognized his downward spiral when they’d met at Aaron’s funeral. After the service she’d found him taking his first drink of the day at his truck, too emotionally fucked up to hold out any longer. She’d looked like a cool dream in an ice blue suit that made her dark blue eyes seem all the more striking. It was also the first time he’d ever seen her wearing makeup, and he’d been knocked on his ass by how fucking kissable her lips looked with a sheen of pink lip-gloss. Then she’d laid the smack-down on him and, before he knew it, he was in her car on their way to his apartment.
The conversation they’d had about her being a Dominatrix had been one of the most surreal moments in his life. He’d never, ever imagined getting off on a woman tying him up the way he sometimes liked to tie his lovers up. But, even then, his dick had almost instantly swelled rock hard as soon as she started talking about it. After that, he’d done a bunch of research that left him more confused and aroused than before. He’d vowed that he could never do that stuff for her, and yet here he stood with an aching erection and the marks of a cuff on his ankle.
If it had been anyone but her he would have thrown away the card she gave him after the funeral, but he’d kept it, tucked it away in his wallet. Over the
No, he didn’t want to think about that funeral right now, not when he’d just found a port in the storm. Murky memories of sitting at Aaron’s grave spun through his mind like razor wire. He’d found the perfect piece of wood earlier in the day for making a cross, he could see the shape in the wood, waiting to be coaxed out by his hand. So, late that afternoon, he’d gone to Aaron’s grave with the wood, his knife, and a bottle whiskey. Fuck, he was lucky he hadn’t sliced his damn hand off. If that caretaker hadn’t stumbled across him when he did…well he didn’t want to think about that right now, either.
Instead, he focused on Michelle. She had refined features and an elegance about her he found hard to put into words. He’d watched a movie a while he was in Walter Reed, some cowboy movie from the nineties on cable, and the moment Sharon Stone appeared on the screen he’d had to rub his eyes because she looked so much like Michelle. There were slight differences in their features, but they could have been sisters.
Either way, that exquisite woman now lay before him in a pair of sexy white cotton panties with a rumpled silk sheet covering everything but her lower back and ass. His Marine buddies would never believe he’d made it into the Ice Queen’s bedroom. Well, it was on her floor but, fuck, it was still her bedroom. Hell, he hardly believed it himself. Her lips, soft in sleep, parted and she mumbled something before turning onto her stomach. When her even breathing resumed he moved quickly to the bathroom, the call of nature pulling him away from his obsession.
After taking care of business, he brushed his teeth, avoiding his reflection in the mirror. He knew he’d been treading in dangerous waters lately, but it had been hard to make himself care. He was drifting, having no purpose really and nothing to be excited about anymore. While he didn’t miss the war, or the bullshit everyday stuff of the military, he missed having a goal, something to strive for. He’d tried working at his dad’s company, thought about going back to school, and had basically done nothing as far as socializing other than drink and avail himself of the occasional one night stand.
What shamed him even more was that Michelle recognized his downward spiral when they’d met at Aaron’s funeral. After the service she’d found him taking his first drink of the day at his truck, too emotionally fucked up to hold out any longer. She’d looked like a cool dream in an ice blue suit that made her dark blue eyes seem all the more striking. It was also the first time he’d ever seen her wearing makeup, and he’d been knocked on his ass by how fucking kissable her lips looked with a sheen of pink lip-gloss. Then she’d laid the smack-down on him and, before he knew it, he was in her car on their way to his apartment.
The conversation they’d had about her being a Dominatrix had been one of the most surreal moments in his life. He’d never, ever imagined getting off on a woman tying him up the way he sometimes liked to tie his lovers up. But, even then, his dick had almost instantly swelled rock hard as soon as she started talking about it. After that, he’d done a bunch of research that left him more confused and aroused than before. He’d vowed that he could never do that stuff for her, and yet here he stood with an aching erection and the marks of a cuff on his ankle.
If it had been anyone but her he would have thrown away the card she gave him after the funeral, but he’d kept it, tucked it away in his wallet. Over the
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