VANGUARD(84)

Sophie felt like a teenager waiting for her prom date to pick her up.

The last few days had been strange. On one hand, it was a relief to be home, to grab those “normal” moments again. She’d visited all her favorite haunts. The coffee shop around the corner. The kosher bakery two blocks east. The fruit store where the owners knew her by name.

On the other hand, she was climbing the walls without Michael. She’d thought after so many years on opposite sides of the country that being apart for a handful of days would be a snap. Apparently that theory didn’t hold water after the seal was broken.

Which is how Sophie came to be folding clothes while she waited for Michael to pick her up. Freshly laundered clothes were a luxury in the field, and she always looked forward to them when she came home. Plus, she found laundry soothing for her twitchy nerves.

They were having dinner at Maxwell and Signe’s house that night. With characteristic lack of tact, he’d told her that his family dressed for dinner and she should not dress like a dockworker. As if I would.

She pawed through her meager closet, looking for something nice. Admittedly, she lived in jeans and couldn’t afford a lot of fancy clothing on a nonprofit salary. Most of her special clothes came from consignment shops and outlet sales. She settled on a simple black dress, a soft blue cardigan, and flats. With come-f*ck-me underwear and thigh-high tights.

She was pairing socks without much success – she always lost socks in the field – when she heard the sound of feet coming up the stairs two at a time. Seconds later, Michael rapped at the door.

“It’s open!” she shouted, trying to find a place to put down her mate-less socks. He pushed the door open, slammed it shut behind him, and locked it. He wore gray dress pants and a dark green sweater, a white button-down underneath. Everything fit loosely after he’d lost so much weight, but he still looked gorgeous.

“You should not leave the door unlocked like that! What if I were a thief?” He crossed the tiny living room and pulled Sophie to her feet, crushing her against him. “Or a very bad man with only one thing on his mind?” He buried his face in her neck, licking and nipping.

“God, I hope so.” She gasped he ground his hips against her. She could feel his iron-hard erection through the fabric of his pants. “How long have you been like this?” She reached down and rubbed him. He pushed roughly against her hand, grunting with pleasure.

“Every minute we have been apart.” He kicked the laundry basket aside, sending clean clothes flying in every direction. “But the last twenty-four hours have been hell. I cannot wait to have you, mana mila.”

“Then don’t wait.” She reached for his belt. “Have me now.”

The next thing she knew, she was on her back in the middle of the living room rug, scattered socks all around her. Michael stood over her, pushing down his pants. She yanked up her dress, tore off her tiny scrap of lace underwear and wantonly spread her legs for him.

He knelt between her legs. “Fuck, Sophie.” He ran his fingers up to the bare skin of her legs, then over her wet sex. Pulling her up onto his thighs, he pushed hard into her with an animalistic groan. She had to hold back a scream that was half pain, half outrageous pleasure.

“Oh God,” he gasped, pulling out slowly and then plunging back in. She wrapped her legs around his back. He went deep into her, holding her hips to control his thrusts. It was so good, and so very much what she needed.

“Mikael…” She arched her back with every stroke. She’d been ready for him for hours, and the feel of him rooted deep within her was more than she could stand. “Oh Jesus, yes, right there!” she shouted as he angled the next thrust upward. “So…f*cking…good!” He did it again with every ferocious thrust, and she screamed, her orgasm pouring over her. He grabbed her hips hard and slammed himself into her, shouting her name as he climaxed.

Less than a minute after it started, Michael collapsed on top of her, panting. They both jumped when her neighbor banged on the wall with an irritated shout to keep the noise down.

“Did I hurt you?” he gasped. “I did not mean to be so rough. I was most eager for you.” She stroked the worry lines out of his forehead.

“I’m fine. I was very eager for you too.” She kissed him. “I might be a woman and smaller than you, but I’m tough. And I think you know already that rough is sometimes very, very good for me.” She kissed him again, more thoroughly. “Hello, Michael. Come in. How’ve you been these last few days?”