Authors: J.D. Thompson
Olivia did as she was told and pressed her palms into the table top to keep them from visibly shaking. Cole leaned forward as if to hear Thurgood better and used the position to press up against Olivia more. He released her neck and rested his arm on top of her hands, trapping her against him and the table.
Continuing to stroke her, he pressed his fingers harder against her center, pushing the fabric of her clothing against her entrance as his fingers dipped deeper between her folds.
The scene would’ve looked like such a nonchalant conversation, with Cole casually and absently holding her. Olivia shut her eyes to the actual voyeurism taking place. She felt her panties dampen as he continued to slowly stroke up and down. She tried to remain stoic, to not show any hint of the debauchery going on under the table. His thumb went to her clit and she jumped, suddenly petrified that he’d force her to cum in front of this man. She turned her head, pressing her face into his neck.
“Please, don’t make me…” she whispered, hoping Thurgood couldn’t hear her begging him to stop.
He stopped rubbing her clit, but kept stroking her, moving his free hand to pull her legs further apart, spreading her wide. His fingers pressed deeper, the fabric of her dress stretched as he pushed, his fingers stroking her deeper.
“So, that’s all I need from you,” Thurgood said, standing up and shaking Cole’s hand. “I’ll take a look at this and get back to you,” he said, putting the thumb drive in his pocket.
He left without so much as looking at Olivia. She sighed in relief and made a move to get up off of Cole now that her chair was vacant, but he pushed her back down on his lap.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he said, pressing his lips against her neck.
He pulled her legs apart again so they dangled over either side of his own. Her pussy was open to him. She made a sound in protest and tried to move away. He bit her hard to keep her in place and to pay her back for biting him earlier. She cried out in pain, but didn’t try to move away again. He stopped, but continued to kiss and lick her from earlobe to shoulder. His fingers went to her thighs, slowly pulling up the skirt of her dress. The hem brushed past her knees, past her lower thigh.
“Please, not here,” she whimpered.
“I warned you about addressing me incorrectly.” His voice held a promise of punishment.
The hem of her skirt brushed past her thighs and she tried to grab it, but he caught her wrists, pressed them to the table top, and tapped her cuffs. She was secured to the table. He grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it up, letting it bunch in her lap and exposed the crotch of her panties. His fingers brushed across the dampened fabric and he growled into her neck. She could feel his cock harden.
“So wet,” he said, grabbing her chin with one hand and forcing her to turn her head to kiss him.
At the same time, his pushed her panties to the side and slipped a finger inside her. She unsuccessfully tried to stifle a moan. He slipped a second finger into her pussy and started rocking them in and out of her. He outlined her lips with his tongue. He pressed his lips to hers with such a pressure that she opened her mouth to relieve the pain. Releasing his hold on her chin, Cole stroked her neck while exploring her mouth with his tongue. It’d grown much darker since they sat down for dinner, but they weren’t completely hidden by the darkness. The torches cast shadows across them, but it was clear what Cole was doing to her. Olivia heard voices coming down the hallway and knew the doors to the veranda were wide open. She tried to pull away from his lips.
“Please, someone might see us,” she begged.
“Yes, little Livie, they might.” He recaptured her lips while his fingers curled in her pussy, stroking her G spot.
She closed her eyes tight, hoping the people walking past didn’t look too closely at the couple necking on the patio. He really didn’t seem to care and moved to squeeze one of her breasts before slipping a hand through the neck of her dress and pinching a nipple. The voices in the hallway faded and Olivia’s fear of being seen eased. He continued to play with her breasts and she pressed into his hand in response. His hard-on raged against the fabric of his pants. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure who he was trying to torment.
He quickened his strokes in and out of her, adding a third finger. Her hips started to rock. Being put on display was heightening her arousal so much so that she felt an orgasm building without needing to manipulate her clit. She moaned against his mouth and started kissing him back, her tongue timidly moving to stroke his. He instantly deepened the kiss, pushing her to respond to him, to make their tongues dance. She felt herself coiling up, getting closer and closer to orgasm, the sensation spurred her on, made her bold. She pushed her tongue into his mouth, tasting him. She rocked her hips against his fingers wantonly.
He broke the kiss. “Do you want to cum?” he asked, nipping at her earlobe.
She didn’t respond, didn’t want to answer him, but her entire body was begging to scream ‘yes.’ He flicked his thumb over her clit and felt her entire body jerk in response.
“Do you want me to make you cum?” he asked again.
She was so close, his fingers were thrusting in and out of her so deliciously, all she needed was one or two more flicks of her clit and she would get the release she so desperately wanted. But she couldn’t bring herself to ask him for it.
“No?” he asked, slowing his fingers and pulling away from her.
She nearly cried out in frustration as she felt her pent up orgasm slipping away. His fingers left her pussy and he wiped them clean on the skirt of her dress before lowering it. He pushed them both to a standing position. She was still panting and flush with desire. Her disappointment was painted across her face and he leaned in, catching her lips with his, and kissed her hungrily. She didn’t realize it, but she moved to press against him. His arms circled around her waist and held her there.
“All you have to do is ask and I’ll have you coming on my fingers like my little slut.”
She blinked and her deep arousal was replaced by embarrassment and anger. She pulled away from him.
“Never,” she spat.
His eyes narrowed and he was about to respond when a solider came into the doorway and cleared his throat.
“Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt, but the general asked me to get you. He wanted a few words with you before he leaves for the Fifth District.”
“Fine,” Cole barked at him, annoyed by the interruption. “Take her back to my quarters,” he snapped, but before he left he stepped into her, ramming his leg between hers, and pulling her against him.
The movement caused her core to rub along the hardness of his thigh and she sucked in her breath at the sensation. He leaned in close to her, their lips almost touching.
“I’ll have you begging me soon enough.”
She fell asleep before he returned. When she woke up the next morning he was there. She was curled up in his embrace, her head resting on his chest. Her eyebrows furrowed as she wondered why she once again managed to snuggle up against him in her sleep. She learned her lesson the morning before and didn’t pull away. He was warm and hard. She wanted to explore his body, to trace the lines of his muscles. She shifted her leg and realized he was completely naked, her knee brushing his morning wood. Her fingers itched to touch him and she couldn’t handle the desire and curiosity coursing through her body so she rolled over, putting her back to him. The movement woke him and he rolled over too, spooning her. He took a deep breath, pressing his lips against her hair and groaned.
“Why do you have to smell so good?” His voice was still husky with sleep.
His hand went to her thigh then moved up, pushing up her lace slip. He pressed her now naked rear end against his growing erection. His hand fondled her breasts through the thin material and her nipples instantly hardened.
She tried her best not to react, not to push against his hand, not to moan in pleasure. It was a struggle. So she stayed still and silent, trying desperately not to give away any hint of her desire. He pushed her down so she was on her back.
Buzz, buzz.
“Fuck,” Cole spat, trying to ignore his console buzzing on the nightstand.
He saw the name on the caller id and swore again, rolling off of her.
“Yeah?” he barked, grabbing a pair of pants from his dresser and begrudgingly put them on. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He smirked cynically thinking of the blue balls he’d be suffering soon enough.
Olivia stayed in bed, the covers pulled up to her neck. His quick retreat left her stunned. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was enjoying the feel of him pressed against her body. Now, she was left wet, thrumming with desire, and ashamed. He finished dressing and went to her, leaning over her.
“I have to attend to something, we’ll finish this later,” he said before kissing her on the forehead.
. . .
After Cole left, a soldier came with breakfast and clothes. When she was ready the same soldier took her to the garden. It was hotter and more humid than the past few days. Her clothes stuck to her and drove her already heated body into overdrive. She was a smoldering mess of unreleased desire and shame. She was so sick and tired of reliving these feelings nearly every second of the day. Tending to the garden became a way to work out some of her emotions. She pictured pulling his hair and smacking him as she pulled up weeds and banged the dirt off their roots. She yanked ripened veggies off the vine harder than she intended, picturing her hand around his neck. All the while, she kept an eye on the guards, today would be the day. She would try out her plan, she would try to escape.
By mid-morning, she was so frustrated, hot, and sticky she stopped working and turned on the garden hose. She closed her eyes and let the cool water splash over her head. The hose fell from her hand and she stood there a few moments, letting the sun warm her skin again. When she opened her eyes she found a pair of stormy eyes on her. Cole stood on the other side of the fence, leaning against a post, watching her.
“Hi,” she said, wiping away a strand of wet hair.
“Hi.” He smiled at her.
Suddenly, she felt absolutely ridiculous. She stared at her feet and the drops of water dripping from her hair. He leapt over the fence in a single, smooth, motion and went to her. He lifted his hand, brushing back the wet lock and forcing her to raise her head and face him. He’d changed into a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. His shirt stuck to him in the heat. There were beads of sweat along his forehead and upper lip, a part of her wanted to lick them away. She pressed her legs together, trying to relieve her now throbbing core. He seemed to be scrutinizing her face and he smiled as if he could hear exactly what she was thinking.
“I thought I’d take a break from meetings and you could show me around the garden. Show me some of the hard work you’ve done.” All she could do was nod.
He dropped his hand from her cheek and walked past her, down a row of veggies. She followed behind him.
“What are these? Why do you tie up the limbs? Is this brown spot bad? Are these ready yet? Do you like eggplant, I can’t stand it.”
His incessant questions got her talking. She answered all of them and even started talking about things he didn’t ask. He attentively listened to everything she said, eyes narrowed as he studied a plant she was talking about or the best technique for growing this and that, or the coloring of an insect that was bad for the garden. He always asked before he tried something. She smiled as he bent down and picked a strawberry, delicately pulling it from the plant.
He made sure to keep his distance from her, to give her space, but he couldn’t help running his eyes up and down her body as he chewed on the strawberry. He’d gone rock hard the moment he came into the courtyard and saw her pouring water over herself, but he did his best to ignore it.
“What are these?” he said, trying to get his mind off of fucking her senseless.
She looked to where he pointed and smiled. “Ground cherries, they’re one of my favorites. Try one.”
He watched her bend down, grab one off the ground, peel back the outer wrapping, and pop it in her mouth. It looked like a cross between a tomatillo and an orange tomato. He pulled one from the plant and was going to peel it, but she lightly smacked it out of his hand.
“They’re called ground cherries for a reason,” she laughed, bending down and picking another piece of fruit off the ground.
She peeled back the outer covering and held it out to him. He smirked, grabbing her wrist and pulling her into his arms. She gasped as she was thrust against him; one of his arms circled her waist, trapping her. Dipping his head, he bit into the ground cherry she held, making sure to graze her fingers with his teeth.
“Mmmmmmm.” His chest rumbled against her.
He moved to kiss her, keeping his eyes on her face as he brushed his lips across hers. There was a sudden commotion in the courtyard. Soldiers were running about, yelling and waving their arms in a panic. Cole pulled away from her and watched the scene. A guard opened the main gate and a group of soldiers came stumbling in. One was covered in blood and was propped up by the other men. Cole ran out of the garden, toward the group. Olivia followed him, but made sure to keep her distance from everyone.
“What’s happened?” Cole demanded.
The bloodied soldier was now on the ground with another soldier pressing against his chest, trying to stop the bleeding. Cole recognized the bleeding man. Bobby, he was nineteen, still very much a boy.
“We were ambushed, sir. We were on our patrol and came across a rebel camp in the woods. They fired on us. Paterson took a bullet to the chest before we could get away.”
Cole kneeled down by the boy, pressing his fingers to his neck and feeling the weak pulse. He looked up and saw Olivia watching him, horror clear on her face, but he knew she registered the fact that her people were somewhere in those woods, just outside the fort.
“Get her out of her,” he barked and a solider pulled her away.