Afraid to Fly (Anchor Point #2)(12)

I froze.

"Oh damn it."

He met my eyes. "What? What's wrong?"

"I just realized I'm out of condoms."

"Oh." He glanced toward the bed. A flicker of uneasiness crossed his expression, but then he looked at me again and shrugged. "Don't worry about it." He slid his hand over the front of my pants. "Plenty we can do without them." In fact, as he kissed me again, he seemed even more excited and less hesitant about what we were doing. No condoms, no problem.

Any disappointment I might've had evaporated then and there.

Our clothes, however, steadfastly refused to do the same. Fine. I started on his belt buckle, and he went for the buttons on my camo blouse. The buckle came open easily enough, but goddamn the Navy and their insistence on button fly pants instead of zippers. Normally I could have them open in a heartbeat, but when I was turned on, dizzy, out of breath, desperate to have Travis's hands on me? Christ, someone might as well have sewn in cipher locks and retina scanners. 

"Fucking . . ." he growled softly, and a button on my shirt let go. Snapped off, maybe, but it could be sewn back on. Just . . . not now.

A second later, the last button on his trousers gave too. That one might've also snapped off. Whatever. I was one button closer to his skin. That was all I cared about.

Finally, we'd pushed enough clothes out of the way, and I closed my fingers around his thick erection. He groaned as he did the same to mine. Kissing. Panting. Stroking. Hadn't we just been coworkers earlier? Didn't matter-he was in my bedroom now, and he probably had no idea how many of my fantasies were all coming true at once.

I pressed him up against the wall, leaving barely enough room between our hips for our hands to move, and kissed him so hard I caught my lip between our teeth. It smarted, making my eyes water, and I broke the kiss, but Travis didn't miss a beat. He went right for my neck again. Shit. Soft lips and coarse five-o'clock shadow brushing my throat-so worth that momentary sting.

While he kissed from my jaw to my collarbone and back, I ran my hands all over him. His body was . . . fuck, he was hot. I hadn't even seen him naked-yet-but feeling his narrow waist and powerful shoulders while I stroked him with the other was driving me insane.

Abruptly, he turned me around, and now I was the one backed up against the wall. He kissed me, nudged my hand away from his cock, and then murmured, "Don't move."

"Don't-"

Just like that, he was on his knees, and my dick was between his lips, and moving wasn't an option anymore.

I blinked my tear-blurred eyes into focus, and . . . God in heaven. The sight of Travis like that-kneeling in a half-removed blue digicam uniform with a hand on my hip and the other steadying my cock as he took me into his mouth again and again-was insane. There was hot, there was sexy, and there was this.

He'd told me not to move, but I assumed that meant not to move away. Which meant rocking my hips was still fair game. And, hell, even if he hadn't meant it that way, I wasn't sure I could've stayed still if I'd tried. All I wanted was to fuck his talented mouth, and oh yes, he was complementing my motions perfectly. Complementing me and urging me on until I must've been pushing his gag reflex, and he egged me on anyway.

"Shit." I clawed at the walls as if I might find something to hold on to. He didn't let up. His tongue teased every nerve ending from the base of my cock to the tip, and then he moaned like he was as turned on as I was, and the mere thought of reciprocating-the thought of him fucking my mouth like I was fucking his-sent a shudder right through me, curling my toes inside my boots.

A flash of panic surged through me as I remembered people before him saying, "Warn me before you come," and I had just enough presence of mind to groan, "Gonna come," and then there was no gonna about it.

My whole body jolted with the force of my orgasm. My knees forgot what they were doing, and only the wall kept me from collapsing. I distantly heard myself moaning and cursing. As I came back down, I was dizzy and delirious, the whole room spinning around me as the floor shifted under my feet. My throat was vaguely raw, like I'd cried out a lot louder than I'd realized.

Should probably slip apology notes into my neighbors' mailboxes tomorrow.

My own dumb thought made me laugh like I was drunk.

Travis rose, wincing slightly. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I . . ." I shook my head as I grabbed his belt and pulled him to me. "Nothing."



       
         
       
        

He must've accepted that, because he didn't resist when I kissed him.

His erection pressed against my hip. Oh, that needed some attention, didn't it? Which meant it was my turn to get on my knees, and once my legs stopped trembling enough that I could trust them, I gently pushed him back and knelt at his feet.

Before I'd even taken his cock between my lips, his fingers were in my hair, sending goose bumps from my scalp down the length of my spine. He didn't use any force, didn't try to choke me, so I didn't mind the contact. And when I did start going to town on him, the way his fingers twitched whenever he moaned or shivered was incredibly hot.

We couldn't fuck tonight? No problem. I was more than content to listen to him swear and gasp while I sucked his cock.

"Jesus, you're good at that," he ground out, kneading my scalp. "Oh fuck, that's so good." His fingernails dug in, and he pulled enough to sting. If he did that while he was being blown, I could only imagine how much he'd do it while he was fucking or being fucked, and thinking about that damn near got me hard again. I stroked him faster and teased him relentlessly with my tongue, and he rewarded every motion-sometimes with a moan, sometimes a catch of his breath, sometimes a tighter grip on my hair.

"Oh shit," he breathed. He rocked his hips like I'd done earlier, pushing himself into my mouth. "You're gonna . . . Oh God, don't stop, don't . . ."

Stop? Not a chance. I gave him everything I had, ignoring the ache in my jaw and my elbow.

Then his breath caught.

His whole body tensed.

And, holy shit, if my orgasm hadn't disturbed the neighbors, his definitely did. I kept right on licking and stroking him so he'd be even louder-I loved, loved, loved the sounds he made as he came in my mouth.

I cannot wait to hear what you sound like when we fuck.

He shuddered one last time and gently nudged my forehead. I stopped, rocking back on my heels, and he looked down at me with the sexiest, most blissed-out grin I'd ever seen.

"I think . . ." He licked his lips and shivered again. "I think we might have to make a habit of this."

I rose. "I am completely on board with that."

"Good." He tugged me in by the belt loops. "Because you're fucking addictive." His kiss cut off any response I might've had, but hopefully the message came through loud and clear-so are you.

Eventually, we pulled apart, and finally, we unlaced our boots, kicked them off, and dropped the rest of our clothes on the floor. On our sides, facing each other in the middle of the bed, we kissed lazily. I ran my hands all over his skin, and for the longest time, we lay there, kissing occasionally while we enjoyed the afterglow. All the while, two orgasms and a million kisses into this, and I was still marveling that Travis was naked beside me. He was even hotter in reality than he'd been in my fantasies too. He wasn't perfect-who was?-but he was gorgeous. The other night, I'd had a sneak peek at his narrow waist and broad shoulders thanks to the cut of his dress uniform, and they were not a disappointment on their own. 

There were some scars on his chest and abs, and I was pretty sure I'd felt a few on his back. Hard to say where they'd come from-I guessed either from surgery or some nasty gashes that had been stitched-but the most surprising thing about seeing him naked was his lack of ink. It was rare to find someone, even an officer, who'd been in the military this long and didn't have at least one tattoo. One that usually came with a story that started with "Me and my buddies were in port and got shitfaced . . ."

I suspected the scars had some stories attached to them, but with someone in the military, things like that could be an emotional minefield. I'd leave it to him to open up about those.

After a while, Travis sat up, rolling his shoulders stiffly. "Damn. It's definitely getting late now." He turned to me with an apologetic grimace. "I should probably go."

"Okay." I sat up beside him. "I'll, um, see you at the office tomorrow?"

He smiled a little, nodded, and kissed me softly.

He was leaving? No, no, no. With his body against mine like this, I wasn't ready for him to get out of my bed. I met his gaze and licked my lips. "You don't have to leave quite yet, do you?"

"Well-"

I slid my hand over his naked thigh. He sucked in a sharp breath, closing his eyes as a shiver went through him. Mission accomplished.

"I could . . ." He swallowed, then looked at me. "I could probably stay awhile longer."

I grinned, moving my hand higher. "I'll make it worth your time."

Travis wrapped his arms around me, and just before he kissed me, murmured, "I don't doubt that in the slightest."





The next morning, I sent off some emails to my subordinates and long-winded, tedious reports to my upper chain of command. Same shit, different day.