HOSTILE: A Military Romance Novel (Military Men Book 1) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Leila Haven
kind that would always look better naked than with clothes, and his intense glare could sizzle like a hotplate.
It had been so long since I’d been with a man. I was practically married to my job, which didn’t give me many chances to date. I was rarely home long enough to have a relationship with my washing machine, let alone consider talking with an actual human being.
Casual sex had always been something that sounded great in principle, but there were too many variables involved. I didn’t know the rules that everyone else seemed to be all over, and I didn’t want to suffer the embarrassment of breaking one of them (you’re not supposed to stay for breakfast???).
God, though, how overdue I was for a good fuck. It was being around men like Watson that reminded me that I was still very much a red-blooded female that did have sexual organs. They may have been covered in cobwebs, but they did need a good oiling sometimes.
My fingers had inadvertently slid down my body and had cupped my pussy. The pressure on my clit through my underwear was just enough to make me want more. Masturbating had been my only option in a long time, and I rarely bothered. Funneling my efforts into my work seemed more productive.
But I wasn’t quite tired enough to fall asleep, and there was nobody else in the bunks with me. It was dark; nobody was going to find out that I was touching myself.
Plus, there wasn’t anything wrong with it. Nobody liked to talk about it, nobody liked to admit they did it, but everyone did. Bringing pleasure to oneself wasn’t dirty. It was just a natural act of the human body. Like brushing your teeth or clipping your toenails.
Or stroking your hair because it feels good. Or squeezing your boob, tweaking your nipples. It all felt good, and there was nothing wrong with that. Human nature couldn’t be denied; it was just something that happened because we could.
My hips started to undulate under my hand before it slipped under my underpants. My fingers were between my folds and slippery with my juices before I had a chance to spread my legs. I pulled the blanket up to my waist to cover what I was doing, just in case there were hidden security cameras that I hadn’t found in my earlier search.
My legs opened wide as I closed my eyes. The first image that came to mind was of Watson. I couldn’t push him away again. He lingered in front of me, his smirk there in the darkness, just taunting me to come for him.
He would enjoy the fact that I was touching myself while thinking of him, unable to push his image away. I bet he’d get a real kick out it, probably egg me on from the sidelines and give me orders about how I should be touching myself.
The thought of receiving orders from him actually made everything that much more urgent. My hand on my boob squeezed it harder, pushing the nipple between the tips of my fingertips until it almost hurt with my desire.
I wanted him between my legs. The thought hit me rough and hard. I wanted the soldier to be the one thrusting into me, his fingers buried between my folds with my legs wrapped around his taut ass. I wanted to hear his manly grunts as he fought to keep it together, his cock plunging into me roughly while my panting bounced off the walls.
With all the vivid imagery going on in my head, I really didn’t need to do much to reach my climax. My brain did it for me, plunging me into the chasm between sanity and insanity while the orgasm pulsed through me.
My body shuddered while the wave rippled through me, and then it stilled again while I let the euphoria take me over. It was a beautiful release as I imagined Watson holding me. His big, warm, muscled arms gently rubbing my back as we lay there together after sharing such a wild and intimate moment.
I hated having the thought, hated thinking that it would be like that. Because it wouldn’t. He would get up straight afterwards, pull on his pants,
It had been so long since I’d been with a man. I was practically married to my job, which didn’t give me many chances to date. I was rarely home long enough to have a relationship with my washing machine, let alone consider talking with an actual human being.
Casual sex had always been something that sounded great in principle, but there were too many variables involved. I didn’t know the rules that everyone else seemed to be all over, and I didn’t want to suffer the embarrassment of breaking one of them (you’re not supposed to stay for breakfast???).
God, though, how overdue I was for a good fuck. It was being around men like Watson that reminded me that I was still very much a red-blooded female that did have sexual organs. They may have been covered in cobwebs, but they did need a good oiling sometimes.
My fingers had inadvertently slid down my body and had cupped my pussy. The pressure on my clit through my underwear was just enough to make me want more. Masturbating had been my only option in a long time, and I rarely bothered. Funneling my efforts into my work seemed more productive.
But I wasn’t quite tired enough to fall asleep, and there was nobody else in the bunks with me. It was dark; nobody was going to find out that I was touching myself.
Plus, there wasn’t anything wrong with it. Nobody liked to talk about it, nobody liked to admit they did it, but everyone did. Bringing pleasure to oneself wasn’t dirty. It was just a natural act of the human body. Like brushing your teeth or clipping your toenails.
Or stroking your hair because it feels good. Or squeezing your boob, tweaking your nipples. It all felt good, and there was nothing wrong with that. Human nature couldn’t be denied; it was just something that happened because we could.
My hips started to undulate under my hand before it slipped under my underpants. My fingers were between my folds and slippery with my juices before I had a chance to spread my legs. I pulled the blanket up to my waist to cover what I was doing, just in case there were hidden security cameras that I hadn’t found in my earlier search.
My legs opened wide as I closed my eyes. The first image that came to mind was of Watson. I couldn’t push him away again. He lingered in front of me, his smirk there in the darkness, just taunting me to come for him.
He would enjoy the fact that I was touching myself while thinking of him, unable to push his image away. I bet he’d get a real kick out it, probably egg me on from the sidelines and give me orders about how I should be touching myself.
The thought of receiving orders from him actually made everything that much more urgent. My hand on my boob squeezed it harder, pushing the nipple between the tips of my fingertips until it almost hurt with my desire.
I wanted him between my legs. The thought hit me rough and hard. I wanted the soldier to be the one thrusting into me, his fingers buried between my folds with my legs wrapped around his taut ass. I wanted to hear his manly grunts as he fought to keep it together, his cock plunging into me roughly while my panting bounced off the walls.
With all the vivid imagery going on in my head, I really didn’t need to do much to reach my climax. My brain did it for me, plunging me into the chasm between sanity and insanity while the orgasm pulsed through me.
My body shuddered while the wave rippled through me, and then it stilled again while I let the euphoria take me over. It was a beautiful release as I imagined Watson holding me. His big, warm, muscled arms gently rubbing my back as we lay there together after sharing such a wild and intimate moment.
I hated having the thought, hated thinking that it would be like that. Because it wouldn’t. He would get up straight afterwards, pull on his pants,
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