Archie Mason, the most stunning example of masculinity I’ve ever laid eyes on, is self-conscious?
I’ve seen them all before, but that morning when he slipped into my bed when I was having a night terror, he was more concerned with trying to hide his boner than his burns.
Maybe I’m not the only one who needs teaching a lesson tonight.
I nudge his shirt down further, exposing his sculpted pecs and the perfect planes of his stomach. My fingers trace the trail of italic writing inked across his chest. Jones. Brady. Hanson. I don’t dwell on the meaning of it, but I instinctively know it’s not a happy story.
The guy could pass as a goddamn male model, and it seems as though he’s the only one who doesn’t know it.
As my lips fall to the fibrous scar tissue, he flinches. I give him a second to adjust to the sensation before trailing kisses across each and every mark on his perfect torso.
‘Victoria.’ That warning tone again. He pushes me backwards onto the table, his fingers finding my sweet spot again.
‘Archie, I need you.’ Desperation hangs on my every word.
‘There are condoms in my room,’ he says, but neither of us moves to get them.
‘I’m on the pill. How are you fixed?’ Does everyone ask in a roundabout way if the person they’re about to let inside their body has had a recent sexual health screening or is it a doctor thing?
‘I’ll tell you exactly how I’m fixed.’ Archie rubs the tip of his cock against my slick entrance and a moan caresses my throat. ‘I’ve been fixed on you for years, so much so that there hasn’t been anyone in my bed for over two years.’
‘Really? And there was me thinking you couldn’t stand the sight of me. Every time I walked into a room at Huxley Castle, you got up and left.’ He nudges into me but nowhere near deeply enough, pausing to observe my utter undoing from above.
‘I had to leave. Sitting through dinner with your family with an enormous erection was inappropriate.’ He gives me another inch. ‘Think anyone would miss this? It’s pretty hard to ignore.’
‘But why didn’t you come here with me all those years ago?’ It’s the one question I promised myself I wouldn’t ask him, but all the cards are on the table, spread wide like my shaking limbs.
Earnest eyes glint as he looks down to where our bodies join in a decadent display of exactly why. ‘I didn’t trust myself.’
‘And you do now, clearly?’ My walls clench around his length and he groans.
‘You’re older now. Old enough to know what you want, even if we both should know better.’
‘I know exactly what I want, Archie Mason. The question is, will you stop talking and finally give it to me?’
He drives into me, over and over again as my nails pierce the skin of his firm, toned backside. Slam after slam assaults me in the most exhilarating experience of my life. I’ve never known sex like it.
Our bodies mould as one, eyes lock, speaking our own silent language as we give each other everything we’ve got.
The world crashes to nothing around me as I peak for the third time, free-falling into the most addictive oblivion.
Archie grips my hips, pinning me on the table as he finishes seconds after me.
Ragged panting fills the air between us.
‘Well, that was certainly worth the wait.’ He scoops me from the table and carries me upstairs.
20
ARCHIE
Iwake in Victoria’s bed for the second time in my life, just as well rested as the first time. The only item I’m still wearing, other than Victoria herself, is my dog tag, chain, and platinum St. Christopher pendant.
Warm, wandering fingers flutter over my pecs, pausing for a second on the metal. ‘Do you always sleep with this on?’
‘Yes.’
‘Does everyone in the army wear a St. Christopher?’ Victoria asks.
