Chapter 140
Claire's POV
Daniel’s face was a mix of shock and embarrassment, his ears turning a deep red under the dim light of the single bulb overhead. The tension from moments ago still hung heavy, but now it was laced with something playful, something daring. I wasn’t about to let this go.
I stepped closer, my bare feet brushing against the rough floor, closing the small gap between us. My fingers trailed over his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his thin shirt, the heat of his skin seeping through. “Why put this off for later, Daniel?” I purred, my voice low, teasing. “I want to talk about it right now.”
His jaw clenched, and I saw the flicker of unease in his blue-gray eyes. He didn’t move, but his chest rose and fell a little faster. I tilted my head, letting my gaze drop to the underwear still dangling from my other hand. “Did you shoot your load on these?” I asked, my tone sharp with mockery, watching for any crack in his stoic mask.
Daniel’s hand shot out, grabbing my wrist—not hard, but firm enough to stop my teasing touch. His grip was warm, calloused, and his face stayed cold, but those damn ears of his betrayed him, burning even redder. “Claire,” he muttered, his voice a low growl, rough like gravel.
I wasn’t backing down. I leaned in, my breath brushing his neck, catching the faint scent of soap and something distinctly him. “Come on, tell me,” I pressed, my eyes glinting with amusement. “What did you think about when you were jerking off with these? Was it me on my knees? Or maybe me riding you, taking every inch of your cock until you couldn’t hold back?”
His grip tightened for a split second, and I felt the subtle tremor in his fingers. He didn’t answer, but the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed told me everything. My smirk grew. God, I loved this—pushing him, watching him squirm under that tough-guy exterior. It was like peeling back armor to find the raw, vulnerable mess underneath.
Inside, my mind raced back to Seattle, to those heated nights in his apartment. I remembered leaving that black lace pair on purpose, tossing it onto his bed with a sly grin after we’d fucked until the sheets were soaked with sweat. And the nude pair—stained from a morning when he’d pounded into me so hard I could barely walk after. He’d acted so cool then, so detached, folding them away without a word. Now, seeing them here, carried halfway across the world in a war zone, made my chest tighten with a weird thrill. This was payback, and I was savoring every second of having the upper hand.
I pulled back just enough to look at him, my voice dipping into a mock-serious tone. “I even sniffed them before I slipped them back into your bag,” I said, watching his eyes widen a fraction. “Still smells like your cum, you know. That thick, musky scent of you unloading all over my panties.”
His face twitched, a muscle in his jaw jumping, and I couldn’t hold back a laugh. I stepped closer again, my body brushing against his, feeling the tension radiating off him. “Mr. Brown,” I said, dragging out his name like a scolding teacher, “be honest with me. How many times did you defile my poor underwear? How many times did you wrap them around your hard cock and stroke yourself until you spilled?”
He didn’t answer, just stared at me with those stormy eyes, his breathing shallow. I wasn’t letting up. I tapped my chin, pretending to think. “Once?” I asked, raising a brow. No reaction, just that steady, heated gaze. “Twice?” Still nothing, though his shoulders seemed to stiffen. I grinned, leaning in until my lips were inches from his. “Three times?”
There it was. His muscles locked up, a subtle but undeniable flinch. His face stayed hard, but I caught the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. Bingo. Three times. I bit my lip to keep from laughing out loud, the rush of victory making my pulse hammer. I had him, and we both knew it.
“Claire,” he said again, his voice thicker now, almost a warning. But I wasn’t scared. I was buzzing with the power of this moment, the way I could unravel him with just words. My heart pounded, not from fear, but from the sheer thrill of controlling this beast of a man, even if just for a few seconds.
Before I could push further, Daniel moved, quick and deliberate. His lips crashed onto mine, hard and punishing, stealing the air from my lungs. His hands gripped my hips, fingers digging into my skin through the thin fabric of my borrowed shirt, pulling me flush against him. I gasped into the kiss, tasting the salt of his sweat, feeling the roughness of his stubble scrape my chin. This wasn’t sweet or gentle—it was raw, a silent demand for me to shut up.
I pulled back just enough to catch my breath, my lips tingling from the force of him. “Seeing me here, are you happy now?” I whispered, my voice husky, teasing even as my chest heaved. “Finally get to shoot your load in the right place instead of my panties?”
His eyes flashed, a mix of irritation and something hotter, darker. He let out a short, exasperated huff, almost a laugh, before his teeth caught my lower lip in a warning bite. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make me feel it, a sharp little jolt that sent heat straight down to my core. “You’re impossible,” he muttered against my mouth, his breath warm and uneven.
I grinned, sliding my arms around his neck, my fingers threading into the short, coarse hair at the back of his head. I tugged lightly, pulling him down into another kiss, deeper this time, hungrier. His tongue pushed against mine, rough and demanding, and I felt the hard length of him pressing against my thigh through his pants. The room seemed to shrink, the air thick with the smell of dust and desire, the sounds of our heavy breathing mixing with the distant hum of the camp outside.