In the five weeks since they brought Levi home from the hospital, Matt had adjusted better than expected. And luckily, Levi had done well, too. Especially after the circumstances surrounding his conception, pregnancy and birth.
Levi was a fighter, just like his birth mother, Autumn, and also like Matt.
For a man who had never wanted children...
He was already attached to their adopted son and she worried that if anything happened to Levi, he would shatter into so many pieces he’d never be able to put himself back together again.
Matt was the toughest man she knew.
He was also the most fragile.
She couldn’t love anyone more than she did him.
Except for Levi.
Her two “men” had stolen her heart and soul.
She walked back to him, his eyes intense as they followed her. And when they stood toe to toe, she traced his lips lightly with her fingertips. His tongue darted out to touch them.
“I love you,” she breathed.
For the longest time, her telling him that scared him. Even now, when she said it, she didn’t miss the slight twinge.
It was a reaction he couldn’t control.
She circled him, dragging her fingers from one shoulder, along his collarbones, to the other shoulder and then across the top of his back. She raked her nails lightly down his spine, pulling a shiver from him.
She stepped over to the wall because with what she wanted from him, she would need support. She placed her back against it and called his name softly, “Matt.”
He glanced over his shoulder at where she stood, but he didn’t move from near the dresser. She hadn’t given him that instruction yet.
She could see the pulse pounding in his neck, and his chest now rose and fell more quickly.
Her own nipples ached for his touch, and she could feel her arousal dampening between her upper thighs.
“Matt. Front and center.”
Every time she gave him an order and he obeyed without question, without hesitation and with complete trust, it made her own pulse race, her heart beat rapidly and her lose her breath.
She had been surprised to find it turned her on. Turned him on. But it was more than that...
“To your knees, Marine,” she directed when he stepped close enough for her to feel his heat and the warm puffs of his ragged breathing.
He immediately dropped to his knees and bowed his head, lowering his gaze.
The man was beautiful. He had no problems putting himself in her hands completely. During sex, he actually preferred it. Needed it. It was when he could give up total control and let someone else dictate his actions. Like in the Marines, when he was given orders.
He got used to being told what to do and how to do it. It got him through his years of service, through the devastation he not only witnessed, but helped create.
Well, it had almost gotten him through, until everything became too much. Became too overwhelming to the point where he broke.
And had been broken ever since.
She lifted one bare foot and placed it on his right shoulder. He rose higher, but remained on his knees, as she dropped hers open, exposing herself to him. She brushed her hand over his hair and pushed on the back of his head. That was the only directive he needed.
He fell forward, his mouth latching onto her pussy, his tongue sliding through her folds before planting his lips on her clit and sucking.
She kept her ass pinned to the wall and let him do his thing, because he was good at it and needed no instructions.
Instead, she closed her eyes and breathed, enjoying his mouth on her. He knew when to use his lips, his tongue, his teeth. When to nibble, to lick, to suck, to flick.
He knew what would send her over the edge immediately, and what would draw out the pleasure.
“Stroke yourself,” she managed to say.
She forced open her eyes to watch. Because, while her husband was beautiful, watching him stroke his thick erection turned him into a stunning work of art.
His fingers wrapped around the root, squeezed until the veins protruded, and when he began to fist himself, his mouth continued the onslaught on her pussy.
Her legs trembling, she pressed herself harder into the wall. Otherwise, she might slide down and melt into a puddle.
While sucking on her clit, he dragged two fingers through her folds, gathering her juices. Using that and the precum beading at the tip of his cock, he began to fist faster now that it was lubed.
The faster he stroked the faster he licked, pulling a shaky moan from between her lips. “Matt.” The toes on the foot she had planted on his shoulder curled and she began to wobble dangerously, so she slammed one hand onto the wall and used the other to grab his head, holding on for balance.
Hot breath beat rapidly against her pussy.
“Don’t you dare come,” she ordered. “That’s mine.”
His stroking slowed, his mouth did not, and he made a noise. Whatever it was, was muffled. But she had a feeling he was struggling. Her muddled mind needed to remember that she ordered him to masturbate, that meant she needed to order him to stop.
“Stop stroking and make me come.” Her order sounded weak, as she was struggling herself.
The flat of his tongue brushed over her clit. A few more flicks with the tip and a scrape of his teeth, and she was there.
Her fingers flexed against his head, her nails digging in. She slapped a hand over her mouth to smother the wail that rushed from her, and her orgasm made her buck against him. He held her hips, stabilizing her, holding her from simply dropping to the floor and he pulled his mouth away. From his place on his knees, he tipped his face up, his eyelids heavy, his light blue eyes unfocused, his lips shiny and parted.
A string of precum hung off the very tip of his
