An Officer but No Gentleman(96)

Mabel hesitated. The contents were invaluable. Morty noticed her reaction.

“I promise, I will guard it with my life. If a runaway horse comes barreling at us, after I push you to safety, I will fall on this basket to keep it safe from harm.”

Jaxon rolled his eyes, but all the women laughed at the absurdity of it and Mabel handed him the basket.

“Which way?” Morty asked.

She pointed up the street and they set off in that direction.



As Charlie and Jaxon walked in the opposite direction, Charlie slipped her hand into his. “Are you coming home with me tonight?” he asked, raising her hand to his lips. “You have your new captain.”

She shyly glanced at him and nodded. “Aye.”

“Do you want to get something to eat before we go home?”

“No,” she said simply. “Maybe after.”

“After?”

Charlie looked him directly in the eye and waited. “After.”

His brow quirked up and a lopsided grin acknowledged he understood what she suggested. Charlie blushed, but returned his smile as his thumb lightly stroked the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. How could such a light touch make her whole body long for him? She wanted to run the rest of the way to his townhouse, but slowly strolled as if out for a casual walk.

“Would you like me to tell you all the things I’m going to do to you when we get there?” he asked softly, giving a nod to an acquaintance who rode a horse past them at that moment.

“I’m afraid if you do, we might have our uniforms off before we get there.”

He sighed. “I suppose you’re right. That would be rather embarrassing.”

As soon as they were behind the closed door of his townhouse, Charlie laughed and sprinted up the stairs to his room with Jaxon in close pursuit.

“My God, I’ve never wanted you more,” he said between kisses as they pulled at each other’s clothing.

Jaxon kissed her neck raising chill bumps up her spine into her hair as his fingers nimbly unbuttoned her waistcoat, but he struggled to find the buttons beneath the frill of her shirt.

“Don’t tear it.”

“I’ll buy you another one.”

Her hands were instantly on his. “I’ll do it.”

As Charlie worked to divest herself of her clothing, Jaxon quickly stripped off his, pulling his shirt over his head, yanking the boots off his feet and stepping out of the rest of his clothes.

“You’re still tying yourself down?” he questioned. “Everyone knows.”

“My uniforms don’t fit if I don’t.”

“It must be my birthday ‘cause I’m going to unwrap my present,” he said huskily making her giggle.

She stood with her arms raised up as he pulled the strip free, once, twice, three times around her and dropped the fabric on a chair.

Finally naked, he pulled her against his hard body, one arm around her waist holding her firmly against him, the other hand exploring the curve of her bottom.

He moved her towards the bed as easily as he had led her around the dance floor. Her body responded to every nuance of his movements until they were in the large bed.

As he laved a large pert nipple with his tongue, she traced a scar on his shoulder. He covered her hand with his and moved his attention to her other breast. When she began tracing another scar lightly with a finger from her other hand, he interlaced his fingers with both her hands and pinioned her hands to the mattress.

He felt her struggle momentarily against his strength, but she ceased her struggles as he pressed into her. Her hips lifted involuntarily to meet his, drawing him deeper. Struggling against his grip, she fought to free herself so she could touch him, bring all of her senses into play, but she could not free her hands. It made her concentrate all of her focus on one spot, on one sensation, on one mind-erasing feeling building. It was building too fast, too intense to stop it or even to slow it. Her whole body shuddered with it. The pulsing of her womanhood sent him into his own shuddering climax.

Afterwards, Jaxon noticed as he snuggled up to Charlie, that she had her face turned away from him. Normally, she put her head on his shoulder or chest and stroked his chest and stomach with feather soft caresses, but today she remained on her back and had yet to look at him.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, but didn’t say anything. She couldn’t answer.

“Charlie, baby, what’s wrong?”

He put his arm under her shoulders and pulled her close, patiently waiting.

“Is it something I did? Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head again.

“Tell me, Charlie. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Charlie covered her eyes with her arm as if she could hide her shame. “I’m sorry.”