No Promises, No Expectations
They went out through the back door and lingered on his porch surveying the expanse of his land. "Is all this yours?" she asked, admiring the heavily treed acreage.
"A lot of it is," he smiled. You can't see the property lines from here." He lightly swatted her butt. "Come on," he pulled her down the steps. "The running trail is on my property and I know every inch."
"Wait," she drew back. "That's not fair. You already know the route; that's an advantage."
"Yep," he grinned. "Sure is."
"I should get a head start to even the odds," she decreed.
He raised a brow.
"Bet you can't win if I do," she challenged him.
He crossed his arms over his chest, his legs wide apart, and aimed a Browning glare straight at her.
"Dare ya'," She smirked.
Trey pursed his lips.
"Double dare ya', Popeye," she teased.
"I'm a former SEAL," he warned, as if that would make her cringe and run away.
"Double dog dare ya', sailorman," she said with contempt, her eyes never wavering from his.
He was ready to strangle her. He couldn't let the challenge pass.
"Okay, I'll give you a 5-minute head start." He consulted his watch. "Now!"
Leine laughed and jogged away from him, counting the 300 seconds in her head.
He watched her form, his eyes focused on her ass and her beautiful long legs. Poor baby. No way she can outdistance or outlast a SEAL. She'll be cooking that meal for me tonight and taking orders all day tomorrow. He grinned, relishing his victory.
Leine was still chuckling when the five minutes was up. She knew he'd catch up with her in no time, but she doubted he'd outlast her. She was in great shape from running 10 miles every day, sometimes, twice a day. She hadn't bothered to let him know she was an experienced long distance runner, or that she had won a number of marathons. As he said, she might be little, but she was tough.
It took him less than 3 minutes to close the distance between them. She hadn't heard him coming; he ran quietly, his steps light and his breath very much in control. But she had gauged the time well and had slowed to a walk just before she thought he'd reach her. Then, inspiration struck. The trees at the side of the path were inviting. She slipped behind one and shimmied up the trunk, holding onto low limbs to pull herself up.
Trey's SEAL sense warned him. By his calculations, he should have caught up to her by now. Something was amiss and he slowed to a walk and then listened. Nothing. He looked everywhere and took one step at a time, listening. He looked up just as Leine jumped from the branch and landed on his chest, knocking both of them to the ground.
He laughed, catching her in his embrace and bent his head to kiss her, but she scrambled to her knees and grabbed his shoes. She succeeded in getting one of them off and ran away with it, leaving him on the ground.
She burst into laughter when she heard his roar and ran faster, trying to put a little distance between them. Ah, ignorance is such bliss.
Trey was startled when Leine landed on top of him, but he admired her courage. She was going to need it when he caught up with her. "You little devil," he chuckled when she scurried away with his running shoe. He sighed as he stood, removed the other shoe and contemplated which path he would use to cut her off before she made the complete circle back to the house.
"Damn!" She had caught a pebble in her shoe. She dropped Trey's shoe and stooped down to remove it. Before she could retie her laces, she was lifted off the ground and swung into the air as if she were nothing more than a twig.
"I believe you have something of mine," the stern tones of a commanding officer barked as he tossed her into the air a second time.
"Shoe's on the ground," she gasped, trying to keep her hands gripped to his shoulders, but he tossed her up again.
"Uncle!" she screamed, trying to concede.
"Twenty-four hours," he barked, referring to the length of time he expected her to follow orders.
"Race isn't over yet," she gasped, her head spinning.
He lowered her to the ground but her legs were jelly and she started to crumble. He caught her before she fell, lifting her to his chest. He kept her securely in his arms when he settled against a tree trunk to put his shoes on.
"Ought to warm your bottom, Leine Henley," he murmured in her ear.
"Double dog dare ya', admiral, general, sailorman." Her breath was still shaky, the adrenaline still coursing through her.
He cupped her chin and looked at her. "That's not a dare you want to make, little one. I'm bigger than you and can warm your bottom with no effort at all."
"But you won't," she said, looking up at him.
"How do you know I won't?" he growled, turning her over, pulling her shorts down, and baring her butt.
He placed a large hand on her bare bottom and fondled her. She relaxed considerably when she realized he hadn't meant to spank her but then she squealed. He bit her! He nipped her flesh, then licked and kissed the pinch away, and repeated the nipping, licking and kissing until her butt was a nice shade of pink, and then, his hand came down half a dozen times in a rapid stinging volley.
She felt warm all over and tried to turn over. "Trey, please."
"Please what?" he murmured, kissing her butt, his hand slipping under her to caress her mound, a finger slipping between her folds. He knew her flesh would be warm, but was pleasantly surprised that she was wet as well. He turned her in his arms, his concentrated gaze on her semi-nude body, making her blush.
She felt his hard shaft against her hip. "You want me."
"I do," he murmured.
"No, we'll go back to the house."
"Why not here?"
"'Cause I said so," he stated simply.
"Do you always get your way?"
"Most of the time," he confessed, standing with her in his arms.
"Put me down," she pushed against him. "I need to pull my shorts up."
"No, you don't," he replied matter-of-factly, tossing her over his shoulder, her bare butt in the air.
He ignored her squirming, placed a hand on her warm round cheeks and started a leisurely walk back to the house.
"Trey! My... my bottom is..."
"Fully exposed to my eyes and accessible to my hand," he answered with a flourish and a low chuckle.
"You... you..." she sputtered.
"Do you concede the race?" he grinned and then burst into deep, rumbling laughter.
"No! Certainly not!"
"You sure?" he kept grinning, thinking she was a soft, sweet bundle in his arms, his hand straying to the backs of her silky thighs and up again.
"I'm sure," she confirmed, smiling in spite of her predicament.
"Ought to make you run with no pants on." There was promise in his tone as if he meant it.
"I'd win for sure then," she laughed.
"What makes you think so?"
"'Cause you'd be behind me watching my butt!"
He laughed. "I think you're right."
"Are we going to start the race over?"
"Then I don't have to cook dinner for you in the nude and you're not going to give me a case of birch beer."
"I didn't say that."
"Well, you didn't win," she argued. "And neither did I."
"I'll still give you a case of birch beer."
"You don't have to."
"I want to." His hand moved over her bottom, kneading her flesh. "What are you going to give me?"
"What do you want?" she asked softly.
"You," he replied, moving deeper into the forested canopy. Pulling her off his shoulder, he lowered her to the ground.
"Thought you weren't going to make love to me until we got back to the house," she sighed happily.
"Changed my mind," he nuzzled her bare belly, kissing her navel. "Can't wait."
"You're a horn dog, sailor man," she murmured, pulling his head up so she could look at his warm brown eyes.
"Only since I met you, Ms. Henley."
She smiled at the handsome man, amazed that they had known each other less than 24 hours and here she was - semi-nude, lying in the grass in an open, although forested area, about to make love. Of course, it helped that she thought he was the most gorgeous male creature on the East Coast.
Trey gazed at the beautiful, partially clad woman lying beneath him. He had lowered his sweats, and poised to enter her when it dawned on him that he was about to make love to her out in the open. Of course, it was his property and the trees shielded them from prying eyes. Nevertheless... it was a heady feeling and he couldn't wait to be inside her.
"I'm surprised you're baring your butt to the world, General-Admiral. I thought for sure you'd whisk me off to some hidden glade in the middle of this forest," she grinned naughtily.
"Not my butt," he chuckled, turning them over so she was on top. "It's yours."
Leine laughed, the sound delighting him. "Ah, I see you like to share," she murmured, wiggling her butt in the air.
"What do you mean?"
"Obviously, you don't care if someone sees my bare bottom and..."
He turned her over so fast the grass and the dirt beneath it ground its way into her bare skin. "Ouch, that smarts!"
"I doubt anyone will wander by and see us, but I'd rather they looked at my sorry butt instead of your beautiful one," he murmured, slipping his hands beneath her, cushioning her bare ass.
A giggle escaped. Mission accomplished she thought.
"What's so funny?" he growled.
"You," she giggled again.
"You think so?" he asked, spearing her with his hard shaft, making her gasp.
"Yes," she whispered as her hips moved forward and her arms slid around his neck. "Definitely you."
His hands cushioned her butt and kept her body close to him as he thrust into her wet heat. The only sound in the forest was their breathing, heavy and ragged. Trey was aware of the afternoon breeze cooling his bare ass, the silence of the songbirds, and the wonderful feeling of being sheathed inside her body.
Leine was consumed by his passion. She reveled in his lovemaking, his skill as a lover unsurpassed in her experience. He angled his thrusts to give her maximum pleasure and all she could do was join him in the wild ride. His arms pulled her to him, and his balls slapped into her ass with every thrust. His breath, warm and heavy, flowed over her like a tender, protective covering.
Trey thrust faster and harder, his muscular hips pounding into her flesh. A ragged humming came from the back of Leine's throat but it was lost in his loud roar of release. He shuddered, emptying into her, and his head collapsed against her shoulder. Her body began to float and he heard her soft purring sounds as she joined him in that place where lovers go.
An awareness of rustling leaves drifted to them on the late afternoon's breeze as the dense woods came back to life. The birds renewed their chirping, cooing and calling their mates back to nest. The late afternoon would soon morph into early evening and Trey had a sudden urge to return to the house.
Pulling up his sweats, he barely gave her enough time to pull up her shorts, when he lifted her back to his shoulder.
"Trey, I can walk!"
"Put me down!"
"Why? I like carrying you like this."
"Put me down!" she demanded.
"Giving me orders again? I see I'm going to have to break you of that habit," he said nonchalantly.
"You are a two-star bully!" She tried to lift her upper body so she wasn't head down. "At least, let me up. I'm getting seasick."
"You gonna' hurl?" he asked with no concern in his voice.
"You do have two stars, don't you?" she asked, ignoring his question.
"I'm going to kick your two-star butt. You are a two-star..."
"Easy, darlin'," he chuckled as his free hand wandered over her soft butt. "You're not in a position to threaten me, you know." Leine squirmed, then laughed softly, enjoying the spanks he delivered as well as their repartee.
"I *will* be a position to kick your butt eventually, so consider this fair warning, Popeye!"
Trey laughed. He loved this game they were playing, especially, since he knew the outcome.
"Even when you're in a position to kick my butt, won't do you much good, little one. Have you forgotten I'm twice your size?"
"Which makes me much faster than you, you overgrown hayseed!"
"Hayseed? Who the devil are you callin' a hayseed?" he barked.
"You, Popeye," she laughed. "You're from Texas, aren't you?"
"We do *not*, I repeat, do *not* have hayseeds in Texas. You must be thinkin' of Arkansas," he said sternly. "And how'd you know I was from Texas?" He gave her bottom a light swat. "You're not CIA, are you?"
"Your drawl gave you away and no, I'm not CIA." That thought made her smile. "But I met someone at the CIA once. Does that count?"
"Who was it?"
"A dapper gentleman, three-piece suit, sort of arrogant air, very cultured voice, sent shivers up my spine. He was probably a spy."
Good God! Sounds like someone I know.
He kept her on his shoulder when they reached the house and carried her into the bathroom. After turning the water on in the shower, he lowered her to the floor, peeled her clothes off and then his own.
"I'm ready for a shower," she said, about to step into the stall.
"Not quite yet," he said softly, bending her over his arm and covering a breast with his mouth. "Need to touch you... kiss you... first."
"You've been doing that non-stop for almost twenty-four hours, General-Admiral. Come up for air!"
He ignored her pleas and continued to kiss her - her mouth, her throat, her breasts, each one in turn - and then he slipped his other hand under her knees and lifted her into the steamy shower stall.
He stood under the spray, her body held tightly to his chest, the hot water cascading down his back while his mouth consumed hers.
"You are utterly delicious," he murmured.
Her hand was behind his neck, kissing him back. "Popeye, you are one sexy man. I may have to jump your bones," she said between kisses.
"I don't see how you're gonna' do that darlin' when you're already in my arms."
"Then I'll wait," she cupped his face and looked directly into his eyes. "And when you least expect it, I'll tackle you and make you mine."
Trey arched a brow, chuckled softly and repositioned her so her legs were straddling his waist and her butt was under the shower spray. "Put both arms around my neck and hold onto me," he ordered.
"It's aye-aye, sir, or aye-aye, Admiral Browning," he corrected her.
"Aye-aye, General-Admiral Browning, Popeye, sir!" she answered smartly.
"Watch it!" he warned. "My hands are on your bare butt and I'm capable of warming..."
"Make nice, Popeye," she demurred.
"I am making nice, little one," his mouth nuzzled her neck as his hands slowly lathered her backside. One hand continued to rub and caress her butt while the other stroked the backs of her thighs. "You are so sweet, darlin', so very sweet," he whispered, moving his mouth to her ear.
Leine was growing wet between her thighs and it wasn't just the shower. Trey's large hands were gentle on her skin. He caressed her, stroked her, and kept her wanting more. She loved the way he touched her, it was so sensuous, so sensual, so sexy, so...
"Oh my god! What are you doing?" she gasped, holding on tighter as shivers skated up her spine.
"Lovin' you, darlin'," he smiled at her reaction to his touch. One hand stroked her folds, a finger slipping in and out of her honeyed warmth. His other hand fondled her bottom cheeks, a gentle finger moving up and down the cleft until he rimmed the small, pink puckered opening of her anus.
"But... but... you're... you're..." her head fell to his shoulder and she gulped air.
"Yes, I am," he murmured softly, pushing past the tight opening, slowly in and out, counter thrust to his other finger darting in and out of her moist heat. "Am I hurting you, little one?"
"No-o-o," she moaned, the glorious sensation taking over her body, leaving her boneless.
"Does it feel good?" his whispered, his voice holding a hint of more pleasures to come.
"Yes-s-s-s." She was his to possess and he knew it.
He held her until she stopped shaking, the shudders from her orgasm making her arch her back, her chest heaving and her breasts pressed hard against his chest. He smiled at the look of her in orgasm. She was existential woman - lush and soft - warm and loving - and she was in his arms, flushed with the heat of her sexuality and the orgasm he caused her to have. She took his breath away.
He set her on her feet and held her, turning her this way and that while his hands soaped her body and then his own. Afterward, he wrapped her in a bath towel and laid her on his bed.
Leine made a feeble attempt to reach for him, but her body was weak - she was exhausted.
"You hungry?" he asked, sitting on the side of the bed and pulling her to his chest. Placing a towel around her head, he began to dry her unruly hair.
"No," she sighed, leaning against him.
"Planning on tackling me in the next few minutes?" he teased.
"Wait till I get my strength back," she warned softly, her body slowly recuperating, her hands exploring his muscular chest, teasing his flat nipples.
"I have to wait?" he cupped her chin. "How long?"
"Popeye! You're not serious!"
When he smiled at her, she thought she'd drown in those warm brown eyes... and his dimples! Lord have mercy on me. I adore that smile!
"Of course, I'm serious," he quipped. "It's Saturday night. Sailors like to get laid on Saturday night."
"What??" she looked incredulous. "We've made love so many times in the last twenty-four hours, I can't imagine how you could..."
"Close your eyes, darlin'," he chuckled. "I'll be right back with something for you to eat."
"You will?" She stroked his cock as he stood, jumping into the game, even though she could barely keep her eyes open.
"Something for your mouth - something you can swallow - get nourishment from," he amended, pulling away from her hand.
Leine arched a brow and pointedly looked at his groin, licking her lips. "I read somewhere," she taunted, "that semen has glucose and..."
Flipping her onto her stomach, he gave her butt a quick swat and moved away from the bed.
She smiled and stretched her limbs, satisfied she could hold her own with the big lug.
By the time he came back with sandwiches, chips and two glasses of wine, she was asleep. Trey put the tray of food on the nightstand and sat on the side of the bed. His eyes traveled over her form, his mind enumerating her charms. He grinned. She had taken inventory of his assets and now it was his turn to inventory hers. And they're beautiful, his mind confirmed what his eyes had been looking at for the last twenty-four hours.
Her dark red hair was a riot of curls and had been unruly since their first shower. It framed her face, masses of it teasing her shoulders. She was trim, but not too slender, her breasts full and round, her nipples a deep shade of rosy chocolate. He knew he was going to lick them any minute now. Her belly was flat, her navel drawing his eye but only momentarily. The paleness of her skin was a sharp contrast to the fiery red mound between her thighs. He kissed her there - gently - his soft lips lingering while he inhaled her woman's scent and then, he moved to her thighs. His hands stroked their length and up again. They were firm, as if she ran every day. He suspected she did but left that thought as his hands moved over her smooth calves and down to her feet. Her toenails were a brilliant shade of red and he wondered if they were an erogenous zone. He knew he had to suckle them when she woke.
He moved his hands to her hips, gently rubbing, and then cupped her bottom as he bent over her. He dropped kisses on her belly, stopping to explore her navel with his tongue. He felt himself grow hard again.
"Good God Almighty!" he swore under his breath. "This woman's gonna' be the death of me." He took the tray of food and sat with it in the chair by the bed. Munching his sandwich, his thoughts turned inward as he watched her chest rise and fall in a steady pattern. Laying the sandwich aside, he drained his wineglass and slipped into bed beside her. Belatedly, he remembered to remove his sweats and turn out the light.
Pulling her back against his chest, his hands cupped her breasts, his chin resting on her head. "You're addictive, Leine Henley. Far too addictive," he murmured, drifting into sleep.