Machine by Normandie Alleman
16
Dynassy
I knewBridger had issues with my family, so when we were alone later that night, I did my best to make him forget all about that.
He took me back to his house, a place I was getting used to. During the last week I’d spent several nights there.
“You really did me a favor today, you know.”
“Yeah?” he teased, and I was happy to see from the grin on his face that he wasn’t mad at me.
“However will I pay you back?” I giggled, sliding to the floor, my hands running down the denim that covered his muscular thighs. With deft fingers, I unzipped his jeans and peeled them back, kissing the scars underneath.
“I think you’re off to a good start,” he said with a hitch in his voice.
Some women might have been turned off by the puckered patches of skin, but to me they were a visible reminder of Bridger’s heroism. Badges of honor, they ensured I never took his presence for granted. Each time I looked at them, I breathed a little deeper, aware of how close I came to never even meeting Bridger. If he’d been standing just a few steps closer to where that IED went off, I never would have known him, and I certainly wouldn’t be kneeling before him, touching him, loving him.
As I freed him from his boxer briefs, I gave him a firm tug before I covered his tip with my mouth.
A ragged sigh escaped his lips, and I cupped his balls in one hand, settling in to pleasuring him with my mouth.
“God, you feel so good, girl,” he crooned, and I swelled with happiness. There was nothing I loved more than melding our bodies so they moved as one.
In the past with my lovers, I’d hated to give guys blow jobs. Chalk it up to me being spoiled, always in demand. I have to admit I took advantage. I’d only seen the giving as part of the bargain you made with the other person. A tit for tat sort of thing. Watching the clock while giving head was something I’d done frequently, wondering, how much longer do I really need to do this? You know, to be a good sport.
But with Bridger, it was different. With him, I actually enjoyed giving him pleasure. I liked the musky smell of him, reveled in the little sounds he made that told me I was driving him crazy. Nothing turned me on like the catch in his breath when he was about to come. I even craved the taste of him.
Being with him was like rediscovering sex. I couldn’t get enough of it, every bit of it.
He caught me by the wrists and withdrew from my mouth and I let him pull me to standing. “Take off your clothes,” he ordered me, and I complied. As I unfastened my dress and let it slip to the floor, he stripped his clothes off, leaving them in a pile next to mine.
Dragging me to the bed, he lied down on his back and beckoned me to climb on top of him.
When I did, he shook his head. “Other way. I want to watch that ass bounce up and down on my dick.”
A shiver ran through me. I loved it when he ordered me around like that. I’d never have put up with it from anyone else, but there was something about him that made me feel okay about submitting to his wishes.
I trusted him. In many ways, Bridger Thompson was the best person I’d ever met. Selfless. Intelligent. The kind of man I could place my faith in. And it felt kinda nice to let someone else take the lead.
Climbing astride him, facing his feet, I lowered myself onto his stiff rod. Knowing he’d requested this position for the view it provided, I rode him sensuously, rounding my hips in a rhythm like a belly dancer.
He smacked my bottom with his hand.
“Ouch!” I cried, though it didn’t really hurt that badly. In fact, I liked it.
His response was to smack it again.
I moaned, enjoying the intoxicating mixture of pain and pleasure.
I raised and lowered myself onto him, plunging him deeper and deeper inside of me, the sweet tension building with each movement until he finally said in a husky voice, “Turn around. I need to see that beautiful face.”
Flushing at the compliment, I turned and readjusted my body so that we were face-to-face.
“That’s better.” He reached up and took my face in his hands, and pulled my lips to his. Supporting myself with my hands, I collapsed on top of him, losing myself in his kiss.
When I’d switched positions I’d lost the connection, but his cock throbbed against my opening, seeking me out once more, and before I knew it he was filling me from below.
I lifted myself onto my hands, grazing a breast across his face. He took it into his mouth as he buried himself inside me. He suckled, fueling my lust until I couldn’t stand it anymore and I pulled away, sitting up.
“Oh yeah. That’s it. Let me look at you while I fuck you.”
I laughed nervously. For all the sexy photoshoots I did, and the confident persona I showed to the world, I didn’t always feel that way inside. Being under such scrutiny in such an intimate situation was different. Suddenly, I felt vulnerable and tried to cover my breasts with my hands.
Bridger’s hands clamped down around my wrists. “No. Let me see you.”
He held my hands together in front of me then began to thrust up into me. At first his strokes were long and slow. Drawing out every inch of his intrusion, he held me captive above him, torturing me with the pleasure of his pulsing penis sliding in and out of me.
Closing my eyes, I lost my balance, but he steadied me with his strong grip. “I won’t let you fall. Just feel it,” he encouraged.
I whimpered, and he drove up into me, this time picking up the pace. Biting my lip at the intensity, I concentrated on my climax and tried not to topple over.
I groaned, and it wasn’t long until a roaring orgasm took hold of me and racked my entire body. The divine sensation started in my legs and rose up into the tips of my fingers, constellations of lights crashed behind my eyelids, and I shook with ecstasy.
He pumped his hips a few more times before I heard that catch in his throat that was becoming all too addicting as he came.
Dropping my wrists, he welcomed me into his arms, and I snuggled into the crook of his armpit as he drew me into a comfortable embrace.
“That was wonderful,” I said.
He gave me a squeeze. “Glad you liked it.”
I giggled softly. “I did,” I said, squeezing him back.
Before long, he was snoring like a bear in his winter cave.
I tried to fall asleep myself, but my mind insisted on going a hundred miles an hour. I was thinking about the show earlier, an upcoming photo shoot scheduled for next week, as well as the christening of Nick and Eden’s twins, which they told us about today. With so much rolling around in my brain, I knew I wasn’t going to be sleeping anytime soon, so I decided to get up.
So as not to wake Bridger, I inched out of his grasp and tiptoed to the bathroom. After I’d finished my business and washed my hands, I listened for him.
The vibrations of his snores continued into the bathroom. I opened the medicine cabinet. As I did, I felt a twinge of guilt at violating his privacy, but then again, I probably didn’t share the same concept of privacy that most people do. Not that I thought Bridger would appreciate my snooping, but I wasn’t trying to uncover any secrets. I just wanted to get to know him a little better.
Inside were a ton of pill bottles. One look at Bridger told you he was a workout nut, and I knew from my brother Nick that meant he probably took a bunch of supplements. Most of them looked to be store-bought, over-the-counter things like that. I noticed a bottle labeled TEST-MAX. I picked it up and read the back. It claimed to improve libido.
Well, if he was taking it, it was certainly working. I wondered if that was something he took now, or if it was something he used to take before he got his hard-ons back. I sighed. The poor man—he’d been through the wars. Literally.
I peeked back into the bedroom and watched him sleep. When he was awake, he was so big and tough and strong. Watching the rise and fall of his chest as he slept like a baby made him appear so much more vulnerable.
Was that what it was about him that moved me so much—the fact that he was all man, but at the same time, he was also kind, with a good heart?
I closed the cabinet and padded into the kitchen for a glass of water. I found a glass and pressed it against the refrigerator dispenser to fill it. Gulping down half of it, my eyes fell on a stack of photo albums sitting on a shelf in the adjoining living room.
Setting down the water, I crossed the room and pulled one down. It was filled with pictures of Bridger as a boy. His mother probably compiled this one. From what he’d told me, she sounded like an interesting lady, his sex-therapist mom, and I looked forward to meeting her.
The next one only had a few pages filled. Centered on the first page was a picture of Bridger and the girl whom I gathered was his former fiancée. The way she held her bejeweled ring finger up for the camera was the giveaway. Also, the way Bridger was looking at her—I’d seen him look at me that way.
So this was the bitch who had broken his heart… I should be grateful they weren’t still together. If they’d never broken up, I would never have met him, but something inside me wanted to hurt this woman. Because she’d hurt my man.
I fumed. What a bitch. I kinda hoped the guy she’d left Bridger for was cheating on her now. Hmmph. Spiteful? You bet. I couldn’t imagine what kind of woman would leave a man when he was down and out like that. I thought you were supposed to stand by your man. There was a whole country music song about it.
I flipped through to see a couple more pictures of the two of them. It kinda made my stomach hurt, and I was getting sleepy, so I carefully put the book back where I’d found it. On my way back to bed, I noticed a pile of mail sitting on the kitchen counter.
Unable to stop until my snooping was complete, I picked up the stack and flipped through it. Bills. Catalog from a tool company. More bills. This was boring. Then I saw a letter addressed to “Luv Machines.” Wonder what that is. Maybe a wrong address?
I yawned. Probably nothing exciting, and though I considered opening it, I decided not to. It was possible Bridger would notice if his mail was opened, and that didn’t seem worth the trouble it might cause, so I picked up my glass of water and headed back to the bedroom.
