Rescued by the Major (Winter Rescue)

5. Anders

5

ANDERS

The scent of her clings to every breath I drag in, and I want to always be surrounded by it. To never go another second in my life without that sweet and spicy mix that is so unique to her. I’m a fool, but one night with her in my arms has shifted something deep within me and I have the urge to barricade us inside this place. To fight off anyone who might come knocking and chase them away.

The voice of doubt crops up at the back of my mind, the one that says that she’d never say such sweet things if she could see my face. See the scars that mark my skin, the missing pieces down low on my leg. That the proof of what I’ve been through would change that admiration in her voice to horror.

I push the thoughts away, focusing instead on how it feels to hold her in my arms. How her breathing turns ragged when I lightly run my teeth over her neck. How she shivers in my hold. All it takes is a little bit of roughness soothed by the press of my lips and I’m rewarded with a quiver that she can’t hide. She’s so responsive to such a small thing, and it instantly makes me wonder what she’ll be like when I can get my hands and mouth on more of her. When I can taste her sweetness exploding on my tongue as she screams my name. Even the idea makes my cock swell so fast it hurts and she whimpers when I grind against her.

“You’re the only fantasy here, sweetheart,” I whisper, her earlier honesty inspiring my own truth. “So soft on the outside, but a fighter underneath it all. Not one complaint when you were tired and cold, trusting me to get us both where we needed to be. Do you trust me now?”

She nods, an almost cry escaping from between her lips, and I wish I could see her face as my fingers continue tracing circles on the skin of her curved belly. I can envision it, her eyes closed, lips parted, and the beauty of that image hits me deep in the gut. I want to see that with my own eyes but not yet. Right now, this is for her, and I’m not going to ruin it with reality.

Her hand grabs mine, pulling it up and giving me permission to touch her breast, and that ache in my cock grows even more painful as my calloused fingertips brush over the hardened tip of her nipple. Even with that simple gesture, she arches and gasps out a sob. Like every little touch is too much and yet she doesn’t ask me to stop. Doesn’t pull away from me.

“What do you want next, Gracie?” I ask, surprised at how rough my voice has turned, emotion weighing it down as I try to catch a breath. “You tell me, sweetheart, and I’ll give you whatever you need.”

Her fingers land on mine, grasping, and I mimic the movement, pinching her nipple between my rough pads, and she bucks in response.

“Oh, like that? Could I make you react like that forever and die a happy man? What else can I do?”

Her breathing is shallow, little sips of air, timed with each tweak of her nipple, and I can tell she’s squeezing her thighs together. Applying pressure where she needs it most.

“Show me where you want me to me go next, Eva.” It’s an order, a command, but I do my best to keep it gentle. As much as I’d love to get my hands all over her, that sense of warning I always had in combat tells me she needs to lead right now. And damn it all, I’ll give her whatever she needs in this moment. Now and every moment coming if she’ll let me.

She hesitates, but I press another kiss to her neck, nipping at the sensitive spot with my teeth again, and the tension leaches from her. Her hand lands on mine, and guides me down the front of her body, beneath the waistband of the sweatpants I gave her, and into the warm spot between her legs.

“Right here? This is where you want me?” I’m teasing her, asking these questions, because the truth is, this is exactly where I want to be.

Not just my hands, but other parts of me too. My mouth. My cock. But those can wait. For right now, I’ll seize this chance she’s giving me. Make her feel the kind of pleasure that she deserves.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” I kiss her neck, soothing the reddened skin, and she whimpers. “You’ve made me a very happy man.”

My finger slips between her legs, right at the apex, and I groan feeling how hot and wet she already is. She gasps when I rub over her sensitive clit, and I’m rewarded with the whisper of my name. This woman is tearing me up already and I haven’t even been inside her yet.

But the reality of it all is, it’s not just the idea of that. It’s the instinctive urge I have to care for her, to make her feel so good in her skin that she forgets whatever sent her running to this mountain. Whatever she’s trying to escape, I’ll erase it from her mind, until all she feels is secure again.

Her hand settles over mine and she guides me in deeper. First a skim over her clit, then a path down to her entrance, before returning back up to the tiny bundle of nerves that makes her buck against my hand begging for more. She’s an angel, on fire in my arms, and the need to make her scream with pleasure burns deep inside me.

I follow her direction, circling my fingers over her clit, and then back down, tapping at her dripping opening, before returning. The path I make grows slicker with each pass, and I can feel the pressure building in her, her muscles going tight against my chest.

When I change the rhythm, making it a little faster, she moans, and this time, when I reach her entrance, I dip my finger inside. She’s soaking wet now, a primal satisfaction settling over me that I’ve done this to her. And when she shakes with each deeper stroke inside, timed with synchronized swipes over her clit, I want to howl with pride that I’m doing this for her.

“Anders, please,” she begs, her hips rising and falling with the rhythm I’ve set for us. “Please.”

Two fingers spear into her this time, and I press down against that sensitive spot inside, flicking her clit with my thumb, and she comes apart. Wetness floods over my fingers, into the palm of my hand, and she grabs onto my arm, like I’m an anchor amidst the swirling quakes of pleasure shaking her from the inside out. Like I’m the only thing holding her here in this moment.

I’m happy to be her port in the storm as she comes down, pressing kisses to her neck and the skin on her shoulder where the sweatshirt has slipped down.

When she goes still, I pull my hand free, and she tenses like she’s anticipating that I’ll push her away. Not for a second do I even entertain that thought. Instead, I lift my hand to my mouth, sucking the taste of her off my fingers, and then wrap my hand around her middle, pulling her flush against me, my leg draped over hers.

“Thank you for that,” I say, and she turns her head. Bright amber eyes lock with mine, surprise in the depths.

“I should be the one thanking you,” she offers back, a sated smile on her pretty face. “That’s the best it’s ever been.”

Pride wells up in me, the idea that no one has ever hit those heights for her before making my chest swell.

“You trusted me to take care of you. That’s worth a lot in this world.” It’s the best explanation I can offer for the gratitude I feel. “Now, let me hold you a little bit longer before we have to get up.”

I can see the question in her eyes, but she doesn’t argue. Instead, she does as I ask, and a contented sigh escapes me when she settles against me. Her breathing evens out and she’s drifting off to sleep again and for the first time in a very long time, I feel my eyes dropping closed without a fight. Sleep washes over me and I finally rest.