Sara Stone - Command Performance

Maggie had always been a rule follower, but occasionally she’d allowed for some creative interpretation. This was one of those times. Reaching for the bottom of her shirt, she ever so slowly began to lift. Inch by inch, she felt the cotton drift up over her belly.

Standing at the edge of the bed, Hunter stared, his eyes fixed on her hands, his chest rising and falling faster with each inch of skin she revealed. She watched his hands form tight fists at his sides.

“Higher,” he commanded, his tone raw and deep.

Loving how she affected him, she drew the fabric up and over her breasts, feeling the soft tickle as her shirt teased her erect nipples. Arching forward, she silently begged him to claim her. He didn’t move. Maggie pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it aside. Her nipples hardened further and her breasts ached to the point where if he didn’t touch her soon, she might need to take matters into her own hands—literally.

“In my fantasy, I wasn’t the only one undressed,” she said softly, not wanting to strip away his control, but needing to see what lay beneath his clothes.

“I’d hate to fall short,” he said, never taking his eyes off her chest.

“Impossible,” she murmured as he pulled his green polo over his head and tossed it to the floor.

Her jaw dropped as she drank in the sight. Biceps that begged to be squeezed, broad shoulders, perfectly defined pecs that tapered off to a narrow waist—she’d wanted muscles and, heaven help her, he delivered, with a body that would put most male underwear models to shame. Maggie dug her fingers into the bedding to keep her hands from reaching out and touching his six-pack abs.

Her gaze followed the dark hair from below his navel to where it disappeared beneath where the waistband of his jeans hugged his hips. More. She wanted to see more of him. But she couldn’t ask. She’d placed him in charge.

Forcing herself to look up, she saw the scarred flesh around his recent gunshot wound. It wasn’t the only marking on his otherwise perfect body. Unlike most underwear models, his torso featured a jagged four-, maybe five-inch scar on his right side. But that one looked old compared to his shoulder wound. Both were vivid reminders of who this man was. A battle-worn soldier. Who knew what type of damage he had on the inside?

But not even that sobering thought could dim the hum of desire pulsing through her.

“My turn,” he said, his low, lusty tone drawing her attention away from his recent injuries. “Your jeans, Maggie. Now.”

This time, Maggie didn’t waste any time. She slipped out of her heels and stripped off her jeans, pulling her underwear with them. Her hands moved swiftly, with confidence, and she reveled in the way her whole body hummed with anticipation. She sat at the edge of the bed, her feet resting on the soft carpet and her back stick-straight. Naked and waiting. She counted to ten. If he didn’t move by the time she reached the magic number, she was reclaiming control, to hell with her fantasies.

Seven, eight, nine—

Hunter closed the gap and knelt by the foot of the bed, pushing her legs wide. Exposing her to his view. Maggie leaned back on her elbows. She saw the tension in his strong arms, his hands resting on her thighs, preventing her from closing her knees. She expected to feel embarrassed as he studied the most intimate parts of her body, but instead she became more turned on by the second.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his gaze moving up to settle on her breasts.

The slowness, the waiting, the needing was more than she could take. She’d never been this close to exploding without a man buried inside her. Maggie whimpered.

The corners of Hunter’s lips hitched up as he leaned forward and caught her breast in his mouth. He took his time, sucking and running his tongue over her nipple, while his hand massaged her other breast. Pleasure pulsed through her entire body.

“I could stay here all night,” he murmured. “With my face buried in your breasts.”

“No,” she groaned. “Please, I need more.”

He looked up at her, his eyes promising she’d get what she wanted. “I thought I was in charge,” he teased.

“You are,” she gasped as his thumbs traced small circles on her nipples. “Just please don’t stop.”

Pressing her breasts together with his hands, he lowered his mouth and licked her cleavage before kissing his way back to her right nipple. Maggie cried out and rocked closer to him, eager to slide off the edge of the bed if that’s what it took to get him inside of her.

“Easy, girl.” She felt his words against her stomach as his mouth moved lower.

Keep going.

“Lie back and you’ll get your orgasm.” His breath tickled the curls between her legs and she obeyed, allowing his hands to push her up the mattress until her core was in the perfect position.

But he didn’t kiss her there. Not yet. He took his time, running his hands up the insides of her thighs until his fingers grazed her outer folds. Maggie was aching now, pushing her body into his touch.

“Let me look,” he demanded.

“Please,” she begged, unable to find more words to ask for what she needed.

He found her most sensitive skin and she gasped, desperate now. Gently, tenderly, he teased her, running his thumb in small circles over her.

“You’re so ready,” he breathed. “And I thought I’d have to work to deliver your orgasms.”

The hot, low sound of his voice nearly undid her.

“Not yet,” he said, withdrawing his hand.

Maggie groaned. She’d been so close. To stop now—it was torture.

“Tell me where you like to be kissed.” His lips brushed her inner thigh. “Here?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “No. Higher.”

“Here?” His tongue licked a path up her leg, stopping just short of where she needed him.

Maggie shifted her hips restlessly, but he held her firm.

“How about here?” His mouth skimmed her outer lips.

“Close, so close,” she moaned.

He released her hip and used his hand to spread her wide. “Here?”

“Yes!” she screamed. His tongue licked her entrance, then up to the sensitive spot his fingers had toyed with moments earlier.

Closing her eyes, she lost herself to the feel of him exploring her, slowly at first, as if he wished to learn her body. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had made the effort to find what worked for her. Derrick never had. And then she forgot all other men. There was only Hunter, his mouth and his devilish hands. She cried out, trying for the word “yes” but only managing a high-pitched sound.

“Do you like that?” His finger pressed against her, but stopped before slipping inside. She moaned, arching up into his mouth. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” she gasped.

His tongue swirled back and forth over her wet folds, pushing her further toward the edge. She was so close. But what if it didn’t happen? What if he’d gotten her this far, but couldn’t get her over the edge? His mouth closed over her most sensitive flesh and she felt his finger slip inside her as he sucked mercilessly.

And then, she fell.

The orgasm that had been building since she’d first seen him at the bar swept over her. Bucking her hips against his mouth, she waited for him to pull back, for the pleasure to end. But he only moved his tongue faster, sliding it down to meet his fingers before gliding back up. She went higher, her whole body tingling with take-me-to-heaven bliss.

And when she finally came back down, he was still there with her, his hands touching her, his mouth worshipping her. Maggie pushed herself up onto her elbows and looked down at him. She tried to think of something to say, but “you can stop now” seemed just plain wrong and “amazing” just wasn’t enough. Instead, she reached down and touched his soft brown hair.