Chapter 2

CHAPTER

TWO

Greg

I'm at my laptop, the soft glow of the screen casting shadows around my dimly lit room. I can't shake her from my mind—Kelly, with those expressive brown eyes that seem to see right through me. It's like a tickle in the back of my brain, an itch I just gotta scratch. So I do what I do best. I dive deep into the web, slipping past the usual crap on social media to find the real her.

My fingers fly across the keyboard with a precision that's second nature, honed in places where information means the difference between life and death. It doesn't take long before I've pieced together her schedule, her habits, the little tidbits that make up her day-to-day. There's a pang of something—guilt, maybe?—but it's drowned out by a surge of something else entirely as I click through her pictures.

There she is, laughing with a vibrancy that fills the pixels before me. Her style's all bright colors and confidence, hats tipped just so atop her long brown hair. I lean back, letting my mind wander, letting the fantasy take shape. My hand moves of its own accord as I unzip my pants and fist my hard cock.

I stroke it swiftly as I picture what it would be like to have her here with me. To hear those quick, excited words spill from her lips while my name rides on her breathy moans.

When my cum bubbles up from my tip, the release is sharp and sweet. A momentary escape that leaves me hollowed out and even more restless than before.

"Shit," I mutter, swiping a hand down my face. This isn't me, or at least, it shouldn't be. Stalking a woman online, getting off to a digital ghost—it's a line I never thought I'd cross. But with Kelly...hell, it feels like I don't have a choice.

I tell myself to stay away, to let whatever this is fizzle out. But the next thing I know, I'm walking the streets, tracing her steps like some lovesick shadow. I know her favorite spots now, the rhythm of her life in this city. And it's no surprise, really, when I end up outside that same coffee shop, the one where we first met.

I tell myself I just want to see herself up close again.

I know it's a damn lie, though.

"Hey, stranger," greets that warm voice, knocking the wind clean out of me. She's there, looking every bit as radiant as she does in her online world, maybe more.

"Kelly." Her name's a reflex on my lips. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Total coincidence," she says, but her smile tells me she doesn't buy it any more than I do.

"Right," I say, matching her grin with one of my own. "Coincidence."

"Well, since you're here, I'm fixing to hit up an art exhibit. Would you like to come?" Her invitation is sudden, but it's warm and inviting and sincere, and my heart stutters in my chest.

How the fuck can I say ‘no' to those pretty brown eyes?

So, I trail behind Kelly, my footsteps silent as a ghost's. We're in the art museum, surrounded by more beauty than I've known since my desert days. But it's her—Kelly, with her brown hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of silk, pondering over paintings with that look of wonder in her eyes. She's the masterpiece I can't stop studying.

"Monet's brushstrokes are just...orgasmic, don't you think?" Her voice pulls me from my reverie, a playful lilt dancing in her words.

"Orgasmic?" I chuckle, closing the distance between us. "That's one way to describe them."

"Look closer," she insists, her finger tracing the air near the canvas, careful not to touch. "It's like he made love to the canvas. Each color, each line—it's an intimate dance."

"Intimate." The word hangs heavy between us, loaded and dangerous. Like a grenade with its pin pulled.

She turns to face me, those expressive eyes locked onto mine. "Art is all about emotion, Greg. It's raw, exposed...vulnerable."

Vulnerable. She says it like it's something beautiful, not a weakness that could shatter you into a thousand irrecoverable pieces.

"Is that so?" I manage, my throat tight. We move through the gallery, shoulder to shoulder, but there's an ocean of unsaid things stretching out between us.

"Yeah," Kelly nods, her gaze lingering on a painting of lovers entwined. "It's...passionate."

"Passionate," I repeat, and she looks at me then, really looks at me. There's heat there, under the surface, simmering. My heart thuds against my ribcage, a staccato rhythm threatening to break me open.

"Let's grab coffee after this," she suggests, her voice a soft caress against the buzz of the museum.

"Sounds good," I agree, because coffee means more time with her, more chances to soak her in like the parched earth soaks in rain.

But as we walk, I can feel the familiar itch of my scars, the ghosts of a past life whispering in my ear. They're always there, lurking, waiting for a moment of weakness to drag me back to hell. I'm broken in ways Kelly can't see, haunted by memories that paint a far different picture than the ones on these walls.

"Greg?" Her hand brushes against mine, a jolt of electricity. "You okay?"

"Always," I lie, offering her a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. Because here's the thing—I want her. God, how I want her.

But there's a war inside of me, battles being fought every day and night, and I can't help but fear I might drag her into the trenches with me.

"Come on," she says, tugging me toward the exit. "I need that coffee."

"Lead the way," I say, and follow her out into the sunlight, trying to shake off the shadows that cling to me like cobwebs.

But even as we sit across from each other in the café, our laughter easy and conversation flowing like wine, I know I'm walking a razor's edge. Every moment with her is both agony and ecstasy, a reminder of everything I yearn for and everything I'm terrified to reach for.

Our knees brush under the table, an electric current passing between us with each accidental touch. Her eyes, warm and inviting, lock onto mine, and I can tell she's serious about peeling back my layers.

"Talk to me," she urges softly, her hand reaching across the table to lightly cover mine. "About anything. About everything."

I hesitate, feeling the weight of my past pressing down on me. But something in Kelly's gaze tells me it's okay to let go, to unravel before her. So I start talking, words spilling out of me like rounds from a chamber.

"The military...it was my life, you know? But out there—in the dust, the heat, the noise—it changes you." My voice is a low rumble, almost drowned out by the clinking of cups and the murmur of other patrons. "And coming back home, it's like you're a puzzle piece that doesn't quite fit anymore."

Kelly squeezes my hand, her thumb tracing circles on my skin. "But you're here now, Greg. With me. And I want to help you find where you fit, even if it takes a while."

Her words are a balm to the raw edges of my soul. And as I dive into the darker parts of my service—the fear, the loss, the relentless nightmares—I feel the walls I've built crumble brick by brick. She listens, not flinching at the horrors I describe, not judging the man who's been forged in the fires of war.

"PTSD is a tricky bastard," I confess, the confession scratching its way up my throat. "It sneaks up on you when you least expect it, stealing your peace, your sleep, your control."

"Then we'll fight it together," she says fiercely, her resolve sparking something within me. "You're not alone, Greg."

The vulnerability in her eyes mirrors my own, and I realize I'm done fighting this—fighting us. I lean forward, closing the distance between us until our lips are a breath apart.

"Kelly," I whisper, my heart thundering against my chest.

"Greg," she whispers back, a tremor in her voice.

Our mouths meet in a kiss that's both a promise and a plea, soft and slow at first, but growing deeper, hungrier. It's a collision of need and longing, a silent acknowledgment of the connection that's been simmering between us from the moment we met.

My hands find their way into her hair, tangling in the soft brown strands, pulling her closer. She responds with equal fervor, her arms wrapping around my neck, her body pressing against mine. The world shrinks until there's nothing but the taste of her lips, the sound of our mingled breaths, and the undeniable truth that we belong to each other.

"God, Kelly," I groan against her mouth, "I want you so much."

"Then have me," she breathes out, her desire a match to my own.

We leave the coffee shop and walk the short block to my apartment.

Neither of us speaks. I can't, and I'm afraid if I say anything it will break this moment.

I know better. I shouldn't do this. I'm at least ten years older than her and jaded from the military. She's too young and pretty and vibrant and carefree. I'll only taint her.

But god help me, I can't stop.

I pull her into my apartment and into my arms.

And then my lips are on hers again, my tongue slipping into her mouth.

She moans into the kiss, her hands pulling at my shirt, seeking skin. The feel of her fingers tracing fire across my chest shreds the last of my restraint. I lift her up without breaking our connection, and she wraps her legs around my waist, a perfect fit against my body.

We stumble into the bedroom, our movements desperate, fueled by a hunger that's been building since the first glance. As we fall onto the bed, clothes are shed without care, each piece a barrier we can't wait to destroy.

"Greg," she pants as I trail kisses down her neck, tasting the salt of her skin, "please."

Her plea is my undoing. My hands explore every curve, memorizing the landscape of her body as if it's a map to my salvation. When I find her hot and ready, the sound of her sharp intake of breath drives me wilder. I position myself at her entrance, looking into her eyes for any sign of hesitation.

There's none—just raw, unbridled desire.

I push into her slowly at first, giving us both time to adjust to the feeling of being connected so deeply. Her eyes flutter shut, lips parting in a silent cry of pleasure that sends shockwaves through me.

And then I go completely still when I realize she's unbelievably tight.

"Kelly, are you a virgin?" I look down at her in shock as she bites her lip and nods.

I close my eyes tight and try to control my breathing. Mine! She's all mine. Only mine.

"You beautiful, perfect thing," I groan out as I can't control myself anymore and start pumping in and out of her.

She whimpers, and I feel her pussy flutter around me, and that only drives me wilder.

"Fuck, baby, this little virgin cunt has got me going crazy, you know that? You know how perfect you are?"

Kelly doesn't speak. She simply cries out and clings to me as I fuck into her harder and harder.

With each thrust, I go deeper, both of us losing ourselves in the rhythm we create together.

Her legs tighten around me, pulling me in closer as she meets my movements with urgency. The room fills with the sounds of our breathing and the soft cries that spill from her lips each time I touch just right.

As we climb higher together, our bodies slick with sweat and need, Kelly's cries grow louder, more insistent. "Greg...I'm close," she gasps out.

Hearing her on the edge sends me reeling. "Yes, baby, that's it. Come for me. I'm right there with you."

With a few more thrusts, I follow her over, our climax tearing through us like a storm. I hold her tight as I flood my cum into her, my cock spasming harder than it ever has before.

Mine! This woman was made for me. It's all that goes through my mind as I mark her with my seed.

Lying there in the aftermath, Kelly's head on my chest and our limbs entangled, I feel a peace settle over me—a stark contrast to the chaos that usually reigns in my mind. Her fingers draw lazy circles on my skin as she plants soft kisses across my collarbone.

"I've never felt anything like that," she murmurs against my skin.

I tighten my hold on her. "Neither have I," I confess softly. For once not afraid to acknowledge the depth of what's happening between us. This isn't just physical—this is soul-deep, transformative.

Maybe for the first time since returning home from war-ridden lands, burdened with scars seen and unseen. Here in this quiet moment with Kelly—I dare to hope for something more permanent than fleeting peace. Maybe even something like happiness.