Darling & Commander

The General: 29

Brock Cortes POV:

Her hands guide mine across the smooth skin of her stomach beneath her t-shirt, and I shudder against her body that has somehow curled up, shimmying herself to cocoon between my large frame.

"Galla." I let my fingers roam across her skin, catching on the strap of her thin brassiere beneath the shirt she bears. "Did he ever make you feel like this?"

Her breathing stops for a moment before preceding, shallow and shaky. I caress the strap, allowing it to fall before I brush my lips against the shell of her ear.

"And did he ever compliment you as I do so?" I whisper into her ear, finding my fingers voyaging farther down her flawlessly smooth collarbone.

"Brock-"

"Hush, darling..." I press a free finger to her lips as the other hand reaches the loose waistband of the shorts she dresses in, teasing them. "And did he touch you like this? Did it feel like you were on fire?"

Galla's entire body convulses against me, kneading the soft skin of her backside against mine in an unspoken beseech.

"No, Brock..." The sweetness in her voice cracks into what may be bordering shrillness. "Oh, my commander, no... you are... you are my only..."

"Your only what, darling?" I bite her ear, not hard enough for it to harm. "I want you to say it..."

That moan coming off of her like thick syrup drenches me, my being wholly enraptured by the goddess who has gifted me with her devotion.

"I only desire you..." Her breathing hitches, writhing and twisting to get my hand further, which I do her no courtesy of obtaining. "Andreas was my first lover, but you are-"

"Stop saying that. He was no lover."

I crush my lips against hers as my arms force her around, grounding her body against mine as blood surges through my body. The gorgeous woman's nails scrape and claw at my back tremblingly as I absolutely devour her.

I promised her a gentleman out of myself. I promised to cherish her, and to embrace every waking moment in prosperity with joy and gratitude for every moment she allows my presence by her. But as soon as that soft whimper of hers escapes, my growl is primal and needing and greedy, and I just want her everything-

"Commander," Galla heaves out, breathy and high pitched. "Please."

My chest heaves as I rise from my location tangled with her, and peel off my shirt with an undoubtedly desperate cloud in my eyes; Galla is my filter over anything and everything in this world. She could tell me the earth is flat, and that the war is not real, and I could shrug it off the very next day, starved for the saccharine taste of her breath with mine.

I raise a brow at her, Adam's apple bobbing as my question lies between us in the thick, muggy air of desire. She tilts her chin up, nodding, as she too rises on from where I left her lying on her spine. That starlight that glimmers in her eyes trammels my aching heart, not releasing the gaze she has ensnared as her top as well befalls to the shade of the inoperative lamp by the nightstand. I cannot stand this hunger that wells inside of me, just rippling through the acid of my organs and begging for some sort of internal release. 

I hastily grasp Galla's wrist, pulling her to me, my hands already caressing the small of her back and tangling in the golden mess I have made of her hair. Her lips suckle against mine, tongue grazing over the harsh edges of my teeth, claiming me so heatedly I do not believe I could refuse should I want to.

Not that I do. Not ever.

I swallow her moans, every breathy and hoarse groan as she rolls her tongue over my lips, tugging on them with those teeth made of something equal to a pearly ceramic. Dragging my callused fingers from her hair, I let them roam farther with my lips. I draw a sharp tongue down her neck, the jolting reaction she gives as if my touch is sharper than knife, saliva more toxic than poison.

And when my fingers reach the lace lining of her brassiere, I pull my lips from hers.

"Are you positive, darling?" I stroke her cheek with my free hand, dragging a trail with my mouth up her jaw, nipping the face of that plump lower lip. "I do not wish to put you under any sort of pressure-"

"I love you." 

I startle, not expecting those words in this moment.

"Oh, Brock, I know your heart holds much kindness and warmth in it. I truly do, and if you continue to be honorable and polite with me I may very well scream." Galla sucks the tender flesh just below my jawline, emitting a husky moan from myself before whispering. "Just- just feel me. Hold me. Tender in your arms. And I should like you to kiss me. Everywhere."

"E-everywhere?" I choke on saliva as her teeth graze, sinking into my skin just moderately enough that my control and impulses shake and tremble every part of me.

"Everywhere. Commander, I should like you to devour me like a man on death row's last meal, like you cannot get enough of me, like I am the only thing in equity to the air you breathe. Taste me, savor me, take me close enough to heaven I can just graze the wings of an angel." She murmurs with heated desire in her eyes, and I carry her over to the bed without hesitation.

I loom over her, yanking myself out of the shorts I had put on a moment earlier to leave me in boxers and nothing more. I tug at the little string at the front of Galla's shorts, and they unravel for me as I jerk them off of her hips. My own should be the only ones brandishing hers.

Good gods. Her hips are like a gift from the divine, and I am claiming them for myself with every stroke, every tug and kiss I spoil them with.

"Mine..." My nymph's eyes travel greedily across my robust body, pulling me closer in order to grip my rear end against her front. "Forever, commander. You have no option; mine now and evermore."

"I am yours, my ethereal nymph. Yours and yours alone."

And she loves me.