Oh, I was going to enjoy being the one giving the orders. Maybe I’d teach him how to be a good soldier and take them.
I knelt down on the bed, and ran my tongue from his balls to his tip; he groaned loudly. Nope, that wasn’t going to work.
I clambered off the bed again.
“Where are you going?” he asked, rather nervously.
“Back in a minute,” I called, as I wandered into the bathroom. I rooted through my toiletry bag trying to find a hair-tie.
“Caro!” he yelled. “What the fuck?”
“Are you getting impatient, Sebastian?”
He swore again and I heard him tug on the headboard, making it creak ominously.
I strolled back into the bedroom, pulling my hair into a ponytail. “Couldn’t see what I was doing,” I explained.
“There’s going to be payback for this, Venzi,” he said, his eyes dark and amused.
“Bring it on, Chief.”
I knelt back on the bed and ran my hands over his fabulous chest, enjoying the smooth tautness of his pecs, every ripple of his abs, and washboard stomach. I took his dog tags in my mouth and sucked hard.
He closed his eyes, and breathed in deeply.
I smiled to myself. I was enjoying having him at my mercy – I suspected he was, too. Well, it was more than a suspicion: I had the evidence to prove it. Yes, about that evidence…
I kissed, nipped, bit, licked and sucked my way downwards. I must have found a ticklish spot, because his hips bucked uncontrollably and he swore again.
“Sebastian, your language!”
I ran my tongue down his full length, and gently held his balls in my teeth. His body was rigid, and I think he stopped breathing. I released him carefully, and heard the breath rush out of his lungs. I felt the urge to laugh, but thought better of it. I held his erection at right angles to his body, and leaned down. I planted a soft kiss on the tip, feeling his body quiver, and then I took him in my mouth, all of him, all the way up and all the way down. I used my tongue, teeth and lips to give him sensation in as many different ways as possible.
His skin was soft and silky to the touch, his erection hot, hard and delicious. I massaged his thighs and balls as I rode up and down him with my mouth.
He flexed his hips upwards, and moaned softly. That was my cue to increase the pressure and ramp up the speed.
I felt so turned on having him in my complete power. I’d never done anything like this before in my life, and I’d lied to Sebastian when I’d told him I’d dreamed about doing it. But there was something about his honesty and openness that made me feel strong and almost fearless. It was me giving him pleasure and making him writhe underneath me, not some nubile twenty-year old. Forty, and with fewer inhibitions: it wasn’t a bad place to be.
With a feeling akin to triumph, I felt him come in my mouth as he cried out my name. I swallowed quickly, aware of the warm, salty fluid in the back of my throat. Really don’t want that going down the wrong way.
I sat up, feeling a little stiffness in my neck and shoulders. Oh, well, it was worth it.
His eyes were still closed and his breathing was rapid. I watched him for a moment, then leaned over to the bedside table and drank some of the water that he’d left there last night.
I glanced at my phone to see the time, wondering if he’d regain the power of speech anytime soon.
I lay back on the bed and cuddled up on his chest, pulling the duvet over us.
“Jeez, Caro! That was… that was… wow!” He paused. “Are you going to untie me now?”
I shook my head sleepily. “Don’t think so. I like having you as my beck-and-call boy.”
He chuckled lightly, then rattled the headboard again. “Seriously, I want to hold you.”
Grumbling quietly, I untied his arms and he flexed his hands. He worked the fingers a little, which made me wonder if I hadn’t tied him a little too tightly. Oh well, live and learn.
“Where did you teach yourself to do that?” he said, teasingly, once I’d settled back on his chest.
“Night school,” I said, with a yawn.
He laughed and kissed my shoulder. “Is it my turn now?”
“I thought you wanted to take me on a road trip.”
“Yeah,” he said, a salacious gleam in his eye. “But I could be quick…”
Hmm, fast, hard sex… with Sebastian.
No, my muscles were still feeling the sting of last night’s activities.
“I’ll take a rain check, Chief.”
His expression was rueful.
“Okay. In that case, I guess we should get going.”
But his hands weren’t obeying the words his mouth was speaking.
“What are you doing?” I said, suspiciously, my eyes still closed.
“Nothing,” he said softly, as his fingers skated a little lower.
Then I gasped, and my eyes flew open. He was grinning at me, a devilish expression on his face.
“Sebastian!” I moaned.
“Shh, baby,” he whispered, then covered my mouth with his.
It seemed it was my turn after all.
I showered quickly, shooing him out of the bathroom when he tried to join me. I knew if he did, our road trip would begin and end with this bedroom, which didn’t sound so bad, but now, after all my arguments, I found I was looking forward to seeing Italy. With Sebastian.
His shower was even briefer than mine, and he dressed quickly while I packed up my clothes, cell charger, laptop and notebooks. Carefully, I wedged my camera case in among my T-shirts to give it as much protection as possible.
The camera was a Nikon D2Xs and it meant a lot to me: it had been one of the first things I’d bought myself, once I started making some money from writing. There were other, better digital cameras out there on the market, but this one had accompanied me all over the world, and it had never let me down.
“Do you want to get breakfast here?” said Sebastian. “You didn’t eat anything after lunch yesterday.”
His thoughtfulness was endearing. Yes, I remembered that: those brief moments when someone had put my needs before their own. Sebastian had been the first person to do that.
“No, it’ll take too long. You must know some little café we could stop at? Maybe on the lake?”
“Yeah, okay. But I need to swing by my place first and pick up a few things.”
We headed down to the lobby, and while I settled my bill, pushing the receipt in my pocket, glad that my newspaper had been paying for this expensive hotel, Sebastian went to retrieve his bike. I still wasn’t sure how he was going to get my case onto his motorcycle, even for the short distance to his apartment.
I realized I had no idea where he lived: it was going to be fascinating seeing his private world.
I heard the bike’s engine before I saw it; the throaty roar surprisingly familiar already.
God, he looked gorgeous in his leather jacket and denim stretched tightly over his toned thighs. I could daydream for hours about those. And the black helmet made him look dangerous.
He lifted up the visor.
“Give me the case, Caro.”
“Where are you going to put it?”
I handed it to him, feeling puzzled, but he just wedged it in front of him between the handlebars, and jerked his head at me to get on behind him.
Yes, sir!
I’d definitely have to tie him up again: he liked being in charge too much. Or maybe I should stop encouraging him by calling him ‘Chief’.
Certain that carrying luggage like this was highly illegal, we headed off into the city. I decided that if we got stopped, I’d try the innocent-and-clueless-tourist-abroad card.
Luckily, we made it to Sebastian’s place without incident.
His apartment, if you could call it that, was in an older part of the city where the architecture looked more Italian than Swiss. The cobblestone street was narrow and very quiet. I wondered where they’d got them from, so far from the sea. A river, perhaps?
Sebastian’s apartment was in a tall, thin building, with peeling stucco and weathered window shutters. It wasn’t at all what I’d expected. I’d imagined some chic bachelor pad, all glass and chrome – somewhere to take his conquests.
I pulled off my helmet, and clambered inelegantly from the mean machine. Sebastian swung his long leg over easily, smirking at me.
“Nothing to laugh at, Hunter. Just because you’re about a foot taller than me.”
“Shrimp,” was his generous comment.
I tried to swat his backside, but he dodged out of the way.
“You’re feisty this morning: I think I like it.”
He pulled an old-fashioned key out of his pants’ pocket and grabbed my case with the other.
The door creaked open and I peered into a gloomy passageway.
“Sorry,” said Sebastian, “no lights.”
He led the way up three flights of dark, narrow staircase, and slid the key into another lock when we reached the top.
“This is it,” he said, shortly.
As I stepped inside, a feeling of sadness welled up through me. The room was small and white, with a narrow single bed pushed against one wall. An ugly military-style blanket was neatly folded over the top, as if ready for inspection. A dozen, well-thumbed paperbacks lay on a plain, wooden bookshelf. The only color in the room was provided by his dress uniform, which had been arranged on a hanger inside a polythene drycleaner’s bag, and hung from a hook on the wall.
A wooden chair sat silently underneath the window, and a small chest of drawers stood sentry next to the door.
There was no carpet and no rugs, just bare, wooden boards; there were no pictures, nor photographs, just his iPod and laptop, which looked lost and oddly out of place in the Spartan room.
Sensing my shock, Sebastian pointed towards the window.
“It’s got a great view,” he said, defensively.
“Yes,” I agreed, looking out over the tiled rooftops towards the lake, “very pretty.”
He shrugged. “It’s all I need.”
I turned to flick through his books, needing a moment to blink back the tears that threatened; he wouldn’t want my pity.
“Still the Conrad fan,” I said, trying to control my voice, although my throat was tight with unshed tears.
“Sure,” he said.
“You should get yourself an e-reader,” I said, trying to find a normal tone of voice. “The whole of Conrad’s oeuvre for two bucks.”
“Yeah, I guess I should,” he replied, his voice muffled as he reached under the bed for a small overnight bag, “if I knew there’d always be somewhere to charge it up when I’m in some shithole, stone age village.”
He stood up and tossed his bag on the bed, then rifled through the chest of drawers, pulling out half-a-dozen white T-shirts, and some of his gray briefs and black socks.
“What happened to all the colors?” I blurted out.
He threw me a puzzled look.
“Sebastian, the most colorful thing in this room are your Dress Blues,” I pointed out helplessly. “The first time I met you, you were wearing those ridiculously bright red board shorts.”
He laughed lightly. “Oh yeah. I’ve still got those somewhere. In a box in Ches’s garage, I think.”
“It sounds like Ches has all your worldly possessions.”
“Pretty much,” he said, shrugging. “I didn’t take a lot when I left my parents’ place. But what the hell: it’s easy to pack up and move on when you’re not laden down.”
My heart swelled with emotion. My poor, beautiful boy: his entire family was Ches’s. He owned nothing, lived nowhere, and had no one.
Except, perhaps, me: if I let him. If he wanted me.
“Caro, how much of this stuff in your case do you need?” he said, pulling me away from my forlorn thoughts.
“I definitely need my laptop and notebooks…”
“I mean clothes, Caro. I wouldn’t dare suggest to a reporter that she goes anywhere without the tools of her trade.”
“That’s right, Chief: you’d just stop her going where she needed to go in the first place.”
He pouted and I couldn’t help smiling: he was so cute when he did that. I wondered how many other Marines used pouting as their primary weapon.
I picked out some T-shirts.
“See,” I said, arranging a palette of pink, green, blue, yellow and orange T-shirts. These are called ‘colors’. They’re what you get when you’re not wearing black, white or gray.”
“My jeans are blue.”
I rolled my eyes. “So they are, Sebastian. Way to go.”
“I could maybe get into colors,” he commented, holding up my favorite, lacy bra, which was a deep magenta.
“I don’t think it would suit you.”
He added it to the pile of clothes I was taking with me.
“No, but I’m really looking forward to taking it off you.”
“That’s assuming you get lucky, Hunter: you promised me separate rooms, remember?”
He looked like I’d just told him Christmas was cancelled.
“You’re not going to hold me to that, are you, Caro?”
I smiled at him.
“I don’t know: depends how irritating you are.”
“What if I promise to be on my best behavior, ma’am?”
“Mmm, maybe. I was impressed how well you took orders earlier today.”
His eyes darkened dangerously, and he licked his lips.
“Yes, and there’ll be payback for that, Ms. Venzi.”
I tried to step away but he caught me in his arms, running his nose down my neck and kissing my throat.
“And I’m looking forward to collecting. Maybe we should christen this bed.”
“Christen it? I would have thought it had seen plenty of action.”
He stilled and looked up at me.
“No, you’re the first woman I’ve brought here. It’s… private.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his head down, kissing him softly on the lips.
“We’ll christen it when we get back,” I whispered.
I felt his smile on my skin.
“Something to look forward to.”
I pulled away and continued with my packing.
“Okay, I’m done. By the way, where exactly are we going? It’s a pretty long way to Salerno, so I presume we’re going to stop somewhere en route.”
“Yeah, it’s just over 1100 kilometers, so…”
“Give me that in good, old-fashioned US miles, Chief.”
He chuckled. “Seven hundred miles. I thought we’d stop at Genoa tonight – that’s just under 200 miles – take us about four hours.”
Or less, the way he drove.
“How come you know all these distances off the top of your head?”
He hesitated, and I saw that he was stuffing a map of Italy into his jacket pocket.
“I’ve been planning to do this road trip for a while.”
Oh. So not something special to do with me after all.
“You and I talked about it once, you remember? All the things we were going to do, all the places we were going to see? I just figured that as I was here, I’d go anyway. And… I remembered that you said your dad came from that village near Salerno. I thought I might find… I don’t know what I thought. I just wanted to see it.”
I shook my head. Every time, every time, he surprised the hell out of me.
“Then let’s get going,” I said, smiling up at him.
As I made my way down the gloomy stairs, I heard the lock click as he closed the door. I still felt sad that this was the only place he had to call home. But when I tried to imagine him in my tiny bungalow at Long Beach, somehow the picture didn’t fit. I shook the thought away, concentrating instead on the here and now.
“We could go straight to Genoa, using the Mont Blanc tunnel,” he said, pulling me from my maudlin thoughts again, “but I really like the idea of going up through t
he high pass. There’ll still be quite a bit of snow around – you up for that?”