Payback in the Bedroom Ch. 01

He thought of all the things he had said to her, and he chuckled, realizing he had missed one. He kicked himself for not telling her that when he had bent down and kissed her ass - literally kissed her ass - he could even smell her pussy. It was so close by and had smelled so tangy sweet that he had been tempted to lift her hips off the bed and tongue her from behind right then. It made his cock ache thinking about the missed opportunity of burying his tongue in her. Had he done that, however, he was sure he would have ended up with the heel of her foot getting shoved forcefully back into his nose, probably breaking it. He smiled at the thought. She most certainly would have done it, and it would have been worth it. Most definitely it would have been worth it!

His hands moved slightly to each side of her neck so he could massage her stiff shoulders. He kneaded down the length of her arms to those tightly-clenched fingers. He wouldn't be surprised at all if later he saw little red-tinged half-moons where her nails had dug deeply into her palms.

After a few dozen trips up and down her arms, her fists loosened slightly. He leaned down on top of her, his body molding itself onto hers so that his mouth could reach and plant another feather-light kiss on her right ear. She gasped, her ass bucking lightly against him, her entire body shuddering. He grinned, rising back up, satisfied at her response. She could deny it all she wanted, but she sure as hell was enjoying this too.

He ran his hands up and down her back, his fingers wide, squeezing and deeply kneading her flesh. She hissed and tensed the first few times he came close again to her round butt, but he always let his hands travel back up again, chuckling just loud enough so she could hear him.

She sniffed a couple times. He was tormenting her and she knew it. "If you leave now...and I know people say this all the time on TV...but I swear I won't tell anybody about this."

He smiled. Evidently she could be as clichéd as he could. "Nah, I'd rather stay," he whispered back into her ear. His lips barely made contact and she moaned as a tremor rumbled through her body. "And make you shake some more just like that," he added. She turned her head, burying that ear into the sheets, trying to avoid the feelings his lips made inside her when they touched her.

He saw what she did, and it made him grin. God, he wanted her so badly! He sat back up, his hands becoming fists as he lightly pounded them on the muscles of her back, working them, and attacking the myriad of knots she had.

He smiled a sad smile. "You smell so good," he said. She didn't answer, and he continued. "You smell just the same as when I met you," he murmured. Then he froze, wondering why he had just told her that.

She raised her head and turned it slightly, as if she was trying to look back at him through the blindfold. "What?" she asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

He didn't answer, just continued the backrub.

"You've been close enough to me before to...to smell me?" she asked, shocked.

He closed his eyes, cursing himself silently. "Yeah. I met you at the Christmas party on base. Two years ago," he answered. He hadn't planned on telling her that, but he'd already let it slip that he'd met her. She might as well know where and when it was.

Her mind whirled, instantly on alert. "You're military," she breathed.

Used to be, he thought to himself. He still remembered that night. Her husband had introduced her to all of his men. He'd even shaken her hand, looked into her green eyes. She'd smiled at him, but just then someone, another army wife probably, had called her name from across the room. She'd swung her head around to see who it was, and the scent from her coconut-scented hair had wafted up to him.

Later, as he was sitting in a folding chair in the corner of the rented hall with his buddies around him, one-upping each other with their fabricated war stories, he watched the couples dancing to the corny Christmas music. There she was in black high heels, her black sparkly party dress barely swishing around her calves, deep in discussion with her husband. They did not look happy. Maybe they'd had a fight before the party. He had felt good that night, though, watching her.

But that was before the accident, before his life had changed. That was before all his hopes in life had vanished, along with everything else he had held of any importance.

"Yeah," he grunted, ending the backrub. "Honorable Discharge." He paused a second or two, still enjoying the feel of her under him.

He sighed, ready for a subject change. "I really don't want you to be afraid," he told her. She was responding so nicely to him, whether she wanted to or not. "I really want..." he hesitated. He wanted what? He had wanted revenge, had wanted her husband to pay for what he had done by way of her pain. But now he wanted something else entirely. But what? Understanding? Love? He did want love. From somebody who loved him too. But that was never going to happen, and he knew it. The knowledge crashed over him and he nearly started to cry. Through no fault of his own, his life now was a waste. It was no secret what he, as well as any friends he used to have now knew: He was basically waiting to die.

He swung himself off her so he was beside her on the bed. She was such a nice diversion to his constant dark thoughts. "Your legs are so pretty, they're driving me crazy," he whispered, reaching out and running his hands up the back of one leg from her ankle to her thigh, then doing the same with the other leg. She flinched slightly as he caressed her. His fingers felt a little rough, but they were gentle. "I was right that you'd feel soft and smooth," he added, quietly.

He touched her closest hand. "Sit up for me," he whispered.

She did as he asked, and he pulled her to him, kissing her hotly again. She shook her head, surprised to find his mouth on hers again so quickly. His touch set bright flashes going off behind her eyes.

"You taste so good," he murmured.

She could feel his mouth smiling against hers. Her heartbeat was hammering in her chest and she felt the beginnings of a familiar ache between her legs. God, maybe he was turning her on...

He kissed her again, his lips smooth and warm and wet as they moved against hers. His hands skimmed her arms as they traveled down to the tie that held her robe together at her waist.

Immediately her hands were pushing his away, but she pulled hers back and squeaked in fright when she thought of how he'd punish her for fighting him again. It was so hard to fight what her instincts were telling her to do.

Instead of getting angry at her, he softly chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, only kissing her deeper and rougher, his lips pulling and tugging on hers. He knew exactly how to get her to give in. She was swept up in the moment, her arms taking hold of his shoulders, clinging to him so she could keep up. She was panting when he finally pulled away.

"I need to see you," he said, breathing heavily.

She immediately stiffened and brought her arms back down to her sides.

He watched her face. She frowned as he slowly undid the tie to her robe. She did not protest as he gently opened it and pushed it off her shoulders. She felt the coolness of the room on her bare skin as the robe pooled around her thighs and lower back.

He was silent for a few seconds. He watched her as she trembled. She could somehow feel his eyes staring at her. "Wow. Just...wow," he said admiringly. Her breasts were large and white, and he watched in delight as when she shivered in the air-conditioned room, each nipple darkened and hardened to a stiff point.

He groaned at that sight, and he realized that he had to touch her. He leaned into her, his soft face touching hers. "You know that now I've seen them...I have to kiss them," he whispered against her cheekbone. She could hear the raw desire plainly in his words.

"I...I..." she said, his words inflaming her, heating her deep in her core.

"Are your nipples as sensitive to warmth as they are to the cold?" he whispered. She could hear the smile as he spoke, and she burned hot at those words. He didn't wait for an answer, but cupped a breast and took one tight nipple into his warm mouth, and he gently sucked on it.

"Oh...oh!" she gasped, nearly jumping off the bed. Her movement thrust her body more fully up against his. Both his hands were on her then, gently cupping and caressing both breasts, his fingertips pulling and gently twisting the one nipple that wasn't between his talented lips.

"Pl...please stop," she whispered, after several torturous seconds.

He let her nipple go and looked up at her face. Her cheeks were flushed deep red, almost as red as the blindfold.

"Why?" he asked, moving slightly so he could suck the other nipple into his mouth. He looked up at her face as he worked. He watched her as several emotions warred there.

"Oh," she moaned at his touch, "be...because, I..." she said, not able to finish.

"'Because I' what? 'Because I'm not supposed to like what I'm feeling', you mean?" he supplied for her.

"N-no!" She shook her head, shocked and angered. He went back to touching and sucking her nipples, and she groaned softly. As his mouth was causing desires to rise in her that she had never felt before, it dawned on her then that she was irritated with what he'd said only because he was right. He was so right. She was hearing her truth coming from his mouth. It embarrassed and frustrated and aroused and pissed her off all at the same time. She didn't quite know what to do with all of that.

He rubbed the side of his face against one nipple; his face was ridiculously smooth. He sucked that nipple back into his mouth and she exhaled sharply.

She kept her hands balled together in her lap. She was mortified to learn, as she squirmed on the bed, that she was actually very wet. She knew he would soon find out, and the thought of that flamed her face even more.

"They're so sensitive," he said, flicking her nipples, first one, and then the other, with his tongue. Her breaths sounded ragged even to her own ears. She didn't want to think about the show she was putting on for him, panting and writhing as he expertly wound her body up.

He pulled on her nipples with his lips as he sucked them. She gasped in poorly-disguised pleasure every time he sucked and pulled on a nipple until it reached its stretched limit. Then he eased the suction so that the nipple popped free from his mouth, eliciting another sound of badly-veiled enjoyment from her. Then he switched breasts and did the same with her other nipple. He did this several times, and was rewarded with an excited gasp from her each time he pulled on a nipple until it popped free of his mouth.

"What are you thinking?" he paused to ask her.

She moaned in despair, and she bit her bottom lip so hard she wasn't surprised when she tasted a tiny drop of blood.

"I know you're not going to answer me," he whispered, still roughly teasing and pinching her nipples. "But I want you to know that even though you won't say it, I still know."

"What?" she gasped. "What do you know?" she asked. He was scrambling her thoughts so that she could hardly process his words.

He smiled, his hands cupping and now only gently squeezing her breasts. "I know the answers. I can answer these questions for you," he smiled against one breast. "You're thinking, 'God, I love how it feels, when he sucks and pulls on my nipples like that,'" he whispered to her. "That's exactly what you're thinking."

"No!" she said, fervently shaking her head back and forth, furious at him for putting words in her mouth, especially those words, even though she had to admit to herself that they were honest truth.

He laughed at her stubbornness now, kissing her lips again, and then moved to her ear. She moaned and shuddered from his nearness there, as his thumbs rubbed her nipples, keeping them stiff and hard. "Honey, you won't admit it for anything, but you love it when I suck on these pretty nipples. And no matter what you say or don't say, I know you love it too," he told her. His mouth immediately went back to her breasts, continuing the sweet torture. She shook her head back and forth in aroused frustration as he relentlessly proved to her what she kept emphatically denying to them both. Her little gasps she made told them he was not misreading her, no not at all.

He kissed his way all around one nipple. "Baby, my mouth can keep this up for a long, long time," he whispered, watching her. "Or, I can just stop..." He sat up, let her breasts go free, and watched her as his words sank in. Her face frowned, either from her embarrassment or diminishing arousal -- he couldn't quite tell -- and her hands wouldn't stop fretting, trying to decide whether they should settle on the bed, her thighs, or on him.

He laughed at her indecision, moving up to kiss and nuzzle at her neck. "But, actually, right now I want to find out something else from you."

He kissed her lips gently, and when he pulled away, her face was tilted so she was looking up at him, though she could see nothing through the blindfold. But that didn't matter. She still felt paralyzed by him, bound by his invisible gaze.

"And you can lie, you can even choose not answer me, whatever. But I will know the truth," he said. She tried to take a deep breath, but it stuck halfway in her throat. He could tell she was agonizing over what more he could possibly want from her.

"I want to know," he whispered simply, "if you're wet."

She was taken aback for several silent seconds. "What?!" she finally whispered. This was crazy, ludicrous. But, she knew him, and she knew that he was serious. And she also knew that he would get his answer whether she gave it to him verbally or not.

Then, she did panic.

She tried to roll off the bed quickly so she could run away from him, but he was much faster than she was. He caught her and pushed her down, crawling on top of her. He was between her legs before she realized what was happening. Her robe opened fully in the struggle, and she was now exposed completely to him. He pressed himself onto her, his body weight holding her firmly to the bed. His hands took turns caressing her smooth thighs and her soft breasts.

She whined until he silenced her by kissing her urgently, his tongue darting into her protesting mouth. But she was losing herself in those kisses, slowly being seduced by his sandalwood cologne - or was it his aftershave? His peppermint breath tasted so good, and his clothed body on top of hers was driving her wild. The turtleneck he had on was so bumpy and scratchy, and it was teasing her already hard nipples as he moved against her when they kissed. He grinded himself against her pussy, and she could feel him beneath his black jeans, so very stiff and hard, and ready for her.

He took both her wrists and held them tightly above her head in one of his big hands. He then started playing the fingers of his other hand down the middle of her stomach. She stiffened when it dawned on her where he was going.

"No!" she said sharply, her word slicing through his hazy lust. She struggled against him, desperation starting to fill her.

"Shhhh," he said, his fingers already buried in her little mound of hair. "So soft..." he purred. "Please let me touch you..."

"No! I don't want you to...not there!" she hissed, but by then it was too late. He had already touched a finger to those lips.

He was the surprised one, however, when his finger easily slipped between her pink folds. He paused, a bit bewildered, and he quickly looked up at her blindfolded face as he exhaled a ragged breath. She was no longer breathing, had stopped fighting, and had stopped moving at all.

He couldn't believe it. How could she possibly be this wet?

He began to move his finger gently then, exploring her, and her breaths came again in staccato-like fashion. He dipped his thumb into her juices and gently brushed it over her clit. Her hips nearly bucked him off the bed and she groaned in startled surprise.

He sat up then. Maybe he needed to go take a break and look and see if she kept any beer in the fridge. He had to somehow get a handle on this. He knew she couldn't see him, but he was staring at her anyway, rubbing his slick finger and thumb together. "Wow." He simply said. "You're...you're so...wow."

He had been prepared for the worst: for her to not respond to him at all, for him to find her completely dry. He had assumed, had been kind of looking forward to licking her senseless while she got wet. But instead she was already dripping for him.

Her hands immediately covered her face, shame overpowering her. "Oh, God," she whispered, half-sobbing, wishing she could disappear down into the mattress, down into the floorboards, down into the center of the planet. It couldn't be any hotter there than he was making her.

He was curious, so he put his wet finger in his mouth and licked it, tasted it. Then, he rolled his eyes, moaning loudly. "Oh, fuck! You taste so good!" he growled, chuckling. He hadn't smiled this big in a long, long while.

"Oh, no!" she moaned, never this horrified in her life.

"And he's a damned liar," he said so low she almost didn't hear him.

Her head snapped up. She was quiet for a few seconds. "What did you say?" she finally whispered.

"Your husband," he repeated, "lied."

"What?" she hissed, propping herself up on her elbows, her embarrassment skittering away.

He chuckled. "He said you were cold. He said you didn't like sex," he murmured, deep in thought, tasting his finger and thumb again.

She heard his lips smacking together. "Stop licking your damned fingers. God, I'm going to throw up," she said, her hand covering her mouth.

He hadn't tasted pussy in a long while, but he was pretty sure hers was a taste he wouldn't soon forget. "You should bottle and sell the taste of your pussy," he mused. She could hear the grin as he spoke. "You'd own a mansion, a whole fleet of sportscars, hell, maybe even your own island."

"Fuck you," she whispered furiously, scooting out from under him, clawing at the blindfold.

"Hey!" he said, grabbing at her, taking hold of a wrist. She had pulled the blindfold loose and it was starting to come undone.

"Who sent you here? Is my husband part of this? Did he pay you to come here?" she asked, her voice a high-pitched squeal.

"No, no, no," he whispered, trying to shush her.

"Get off me," she growled, fighting again. She didn't care now if her children heard the struggle, she didn't care if he hit her; she now only had her escape in mind.

He pulled her tighter and tighter to his body until she had no more room to move. The friction of his shirt on her nipples was making her crazy again.

"Tell me who you are. Tell me what this is about," she demanded. "You know us somehow," she shook her head. "Please, tell me!" she pleaded.

"I...I..." he began, his grip on her wrists loosening.

"And take off this damned blindfold," she muttered, somehow getting her hands free from his and clawing at the material. He didn't move fast enough to stop her, and suddenly the blindfold was gone.

She blinked several times, her eyes getting used to seeing again, even though the room was mostly dark. He let go of her, and she scooted away from him, pulling her robe back on, tying it tightly around her middle.

He was now sitting sideways on the bed, so she saw his face only in profile. He was young -- several years younger than she was -- and very good-looking. Devastatingly good-looking. Wow, she thought. She brought a hand up to her mouth. "You're beautiful," she breathed, the words out before she could call them back.