Inside his apartment, he pushed the woman back against the door and said in a gruff voice, “You have to do everything I say.”
“Is that so?” She puckered up her lips. “You think that you can make me?”
“I know I can.” He roughly cupped one of her breasts. “I told you that you shouldn’t trust me.”
“I’ll kick you in the balls if you try something I don’t like.” The woman’s eyes half closed.
“Anything but that.” He couldn’t keep the edge of sarcasm out of his voice, so he pressed his mouth against her to distract her from noticing it. He could feel her lipstick smearing, and was satisfied with the thought that he had ruined her excessively perfect cupid’s bow. The woman melted underneath him, and she offered no resistance when he pushed his tongue between her teeth. She was similarly submissive when his hand went inside her dress.
He had learned ages ago that, despite the posturing, most of the women who frequented bars were dead fish in the bedroom – he assumed it was because if they were good enough in bed to keep a man interested, they wouldn’t be out looking for one night stands with strangers. Consequently, he knew better than to ask the woman to kiss him back, or to expect any sensuality for himself. If he played it straight, sleeping with her would be no more exciting than masturbating.
He still had to work his way up to being able to fuck her.
Hartmann felt like he was getting too old for this repetitious and one-sided conquest.
He was doing this because he was angry at Carol for turning his life upside down, but he wasn’t allowed to touch her. If he bedded Carol too quickly and too aggressively, she would run to captain Lambert and sob about rape, so he had to play it cool and aim for the future.
Thinking about Carol made his manhood twitch.
Hartmann ran his hands through the woman’s hair and clutched it tightly in a fist for a second before relaxing. She gasped responsively.
He remembered how strands of Carol’s hair had been stuck against her cheek, and he had pulled them free while she while she had stood paralyzed.
“Go over to the couch,” he ordered. “Wait for me on your knees in front of it.”
The woman obeyed readily, and he shut himself in his bedroom. He kept a few silk scarves in the closet for playing with, but he took his time in retrieving them; the wait was essential. To really cinch it in, he went to the master bathroom and ran a comb through his hair, then flashed a smile at the mirror to ensure that the facade was impenetrable.
Out in the living room again, he stepped behind the woman and tied the scarf around her eyes to blindfold her, and kissed her neck before whispering, “You’re going to love this.”
“I hope you’re man enough to back up those words.” She grinned. “I’d hate to be disappointed.”
Hartmann let himself wince. Yes, bitch, I’m big enough to make you scream, he thought. Provided she hadn’t stretched herself out too much with exotic dildos, anyway.
He hated that woman, almost as much as he hated Carol for stealing the Suit away from him. With the blindfold covering half of her face, it was easier to imagine that he had Carol there in his apartment with him. It wasn’t the first time he had indulged in that fantasy.
Pathetic, plain, boring Carol, who without any knowledge of the effect she had on him, was making him so hard it hurt. He ached to bury himself deep inside Carol, irregardless of whether she passively accepted him or actively touched him in return. Fuck it, he didn’t even care if she wanted him to, as long as she didn’t tattle on him.
He had to keep the woman distracted enough that she didn’t kill his boner; and quiet, so he could pretend it was Carol he had blindfolded and completely at his mercy.
He would never be allowed to take Carol off the Base. Even if he seduced her, how would he consummate his desire with her corporal chaperon and watchful captain looking after her?