Erotic fiction by Michele London
“The war is over!”
The cry was taken up by the hundreds of voices of the barracks inhabitants. Marie remained silent, the thundering of her own heart enough to fill her ears as a slow heat of excitement rose around her face. The war was over! She would be going home, soon!
Home. Her excitement became clouded. Home again, to dinners and dishes, laundry to wash and beds to make, and endless rounds of social calls and bridge parties. She swallowed hard and clenched the roll of bandages she had been stacking neatly in a drawer.
The dormitory she’d been working in emptied as the other nurses ran to celebrate in the corridor with the soldiers. Marie looked around her with an increasingly heavy pit in her stomach. The war was over; and so what was to become of her now?
“All right, there?”
She swiped away foolish tears and turned to face the familiar voice. Captain Marshall, lately one of her less seriously injured patients, stood in the doorway, hands at his sides. He attempted a smile, but it faded.
“Good news, eh?”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, the best we could have hoped for.”
He came into the room, the hardware on his smart blue uniform tinkling as he walked.
“I'll miss you, you know. Odd as it sounds for a soldier to admit to missing the infirmary. What will you do?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Go back to Newport, I suppose. Try to, pick up where I left off.”
“Is it possible?” he wondered, his voice low enough that it might have been said for his own benefit.
His hand covered hers, and it was warm and solid and strong.
“I can’t think which is worse. Being torn from the ones we love by a bullet, or being left alive and yet never able to see you again.”
“Don’t say that! If you had been killed, I…I don’t know what…”
“But I wasn’t, by god’s grace. And now I’m here, alone with you for possibly the last time. Peacetime will separate us more than war ever did.”
Marie feigned bravery, straightening her shoulders and plastering on a smile.
“We’ve done our part here. Now we must do our further duty and help to rebuild the world.” He pulled her to him to swiftly and with such urgent need that she lost her breath.
“There is no world without you!”
She gently extricated herself from his arms and turned back to her bandage rolls.
“There is, though.” she said. “There has to be.”
Though she would not look at him, Marie could feel her captain standing behind her, staring at her. The fresh scent of his aftershave reached her nose, and she put a hand on her chest to steady herself.
“Will you at least kiss me goodbye? Send this soldier home with a bit of luck?”
She knew she shouldn’t, but her strength could extend only so far. The thought of sending him away now, and refusing herself this last moment, was too much suddenly, after everything else she had borne. So she set down the bandage and turned to him.
“Just a k –“
He stopped her words with a heavy kiss, running his fingers up into her hair and crushing her face into his. She feigned resistance for a moment, but soon she was wrapping her arms around his neck, twisting he curves of her body to fit into him.
“I can’t leave you,” he said.
“You must. It’s our –“
“I don’t care about duty!”
He lifted her bottom up and onto the empty dormitory bed. His hands ran up the length of her thigh, pushing the gray nurse’s skirt as far as her hip before she caught his wrist.
“Don’t, Marshall. Don’t do something we’ll both regret.” He looked into her eyes, holding her stare when she wanted desperately to break away.
“Will you?” he asked. "Will you regret this?"
Marie bit her lip. She knew she ought to lie, knew it would be kinder to them both in the end. But after all they’d been through together, and with so little time left now, she hadn’t the strength for it.
“No,” she replied.
She leaned into him then, and he responded, kissing her with the ferocity of the battle-tested, taking what he knew they had won at a hard price. His fingers worked the buttons of her blouse in short, deft movements, laying bare her chest before she could pretend to modesty. At first he only held her breasts in his hands, gently cupping their warmth as he continued to ravage her mouth. But then he began to work her nipples, stroking and squeezing them until Marie moaned into his kiss and felt a heat dampening her sex. He pushed the simple cotton bra up and over to free the small, soft mounds beneath, and his mouth dipped to where his hands had been.
They did not trouble to be gentle. He nipped and suckled and tugged, taking her between his lips and his teeth in turn. He slid his hand up to her mouth to help her muffle her cries, and she took one of his fingers with her tongue. His groan against her skin encouraged her on, and she ran her mouth the length of that digit and twirled her tongue around its tip.
He was pushing up her skirt again and this time she did not make him stop. His hand was inside her panties, his fingers slipping through her wet folds to find the core of her desire. When he did Marie cried out, grasping his shoulders and burying her face in his shoulder. He held her knees apart with his hips and kept her close, working his fingers over her in rapid circles until her legs began to shake. Her breathing came in short, high pitched gasps, and she bucked and stiffened against him, calling his name in a harsh whisper.
She caught her breath for a moment, her forehead resting on his chest. But Marshall moved quickly, freeing himself from his own trousers and turning her to face the bed. She bent forward, her tender breasts pressed hard into the rough, army-issue linens. Marshall shifted her panties far enough down her legs to admit himself into her warmth, and eased the full length of his manhood into her. He waited a moment, letting the feeling of fullness settle in her groin, and then he started moving, rocking them both back and forth across the bed in increasingly rapid strokes. Marie clutched at the sheets she had only just tucked into the bed, and rode out the rhythm of his need. His size and his power, and her desire, left her breathless and wanton. Before long she was pushing back against his thrusts, urging him deeper.
He bent his chest to her back, covering her hands with his own and pulling himself harder and faster into her, grunting and groaning in her ear until, with several last sharp thrusts, his climax overcame him. He slowed then, to a languorous pace, and Marie could hear the breath in his lungs starting to slow. His hand was caressing her hip, and she knew a sudden satisfaction that had eluded her for long years. He had been right after all; there was nothing of this she would regret.
Michele London is an author, editor, and romance consultant with Scarlet Girl. She is a regular contributor to Scarlet’s Letter and the archive of articles at ScarletGirl.com. She writes dark fiction and erotic fantasy, and dips into real-life tales of sexy for the lovely ladies as a Scarlet Girl pleasure party consultant in the San Francisco Bay Area.
If you like this bit of erotica, and would like to see more, please let us know.
In the meantime, for 10% off the items of your choice from ScarletGirl.com, just enter code "MAR13" into the Coupon Section at checkout.