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⚠️ WARNING⚠️
This chapter is full of lemon so you've been warned.
If this isn't your thang, feel free to skip this chapter!
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War was his only reason for living now.

After months of constant gunfire and deployments, John welcomed the silence. Yet, he felt the pang of loneliness creeping in. He was home, but there was no one to welcome him—just the empty comfort he'd grown used to over the years.

John let out a deep sigh as he dropped his duffel bag on the floor. He removed his bonnie hat and moved through the dark rooms, his senses hyperalert from months of vigilance.

As he drew the blinds, his eyes adjusted to the light filtering in from the streetlamps below and moved to the kitchen. The emptiness of his apartment only served to highlight how much he had changed in years. Though he had seen and done many things, such as calculated with lethality mindset.

Part of him was compartmentalizing his emotions, no loss, no sympathy, none. Here, in this flat apartment, his life was dull.

He poured himself two fingers of whiskey, sipping it steady as he stared out the window.

The amber liquid burned warm in his chest as he drained his glass with a grimace. Civilian life seemed boring by comparison. He prefer the adrenaline spike of combat, the joy of a mission accomplished.

At war, every moment held purpose. Here, time blurred into endless mundane days.

Running over his rough mutton-chops, they were unshaven from weeks on the field.

Until, he turned around and froze.

Charlie stood before him, her skin glowing like that of an angel, a gentle smile on her flawless face.

She was wearing a short wedding dress, perfect for the summer weather, with thin lace holding onto her shoulders and the hem of the dress landing above her knees. It fit her well, simple but elegant, as if it was tailored for her. Her wavy hair flowed down around her shoulders, framing her face in a way that seemed almost too perfect to be real.

She stood barefoot on the hardwood floor, her toes curling against the smooth surface.

A knowing, affectionate smile played on her lips, as if she had been waiting for him.

"Charlie..." he managed, his voice barely more than a whisper.

She took a step closer.

"Welcome home," she greeted, her voice sounded like a warm melody.

His heart stutter, caught between disbelief and awe.

"How..."

With a smile, Charlie revealed her perfect white teeth and said, "I've been waiting for you."

John swallowed. His mouth dry from the whiskey that was still taking an effect, he slowly reached out and his hand brushed hers, hoping it was real.

He took in every detail—the way the fabric clung to her, the gentle waves of her hair, and the light in her eyes that spoke of understanding beyond words.

Without a word, she lifted her hand to his cheek, her thumb tracing slow circles along the rough line of his beard. Her touch was soft, as though she was letting him know she's real.

He closed his eyes.

"Charlie..."

"Yes?"

When he opened his eyes, he found her looking at him with a tenderness that made his chest ache. He felt a deep longing in her gaze, a future he'd forgotten how to dream about. He shook his head as he covered his hand over hers.

"Why?"

She blinked as her smile faded. "What do you mean?"

"This," John pointed out, "why are you wearing a dress?"

"Oh,"

It took her a second to figure what he was asking.

"I wanted to wear it because you liked it," her voice was soft and vulnerable, while her other hand came to rest on his chest, just over his heart.

His heart skipped a beat.

He couldn't remember the last time someone had gone to such lengths for him, let alone had him emotionally off-balanced. John tried to find the right words to say, but nothing came to mind. Instead, he did the only thing he could think of—he leaned down and their foreheads touched, and she closed her eyes. She sighed in content.

"This can't be real," John frowned while his eyes still shut.

"Why?" Charlie asked.

He inhaled and exhaled through his nostrils.

"I want you close, but I can't," John said, his expression was stern.

"Don't say that, please," she whispered.

"No," John shook his head and he opened his eyes. "I don't know what the hell am I doing."

"John, stop." Charlie finally lifted her gaze up to him. She was still close. "I'm with you in a long way."

"You deserve better."

"You are better."

John shook his head again, and grunted.

"No, to this day, I still don't know why you would choose an old man like me," he continued. "I'm afraid that I can't give you everything you want and need. You're better off with someone with your age, sweetheart."

"No," she said firmly. "I've made my choice, and it's you. I don't care about your past or the scars you carry, both inside and out. I see the man you are, the man who would give up everything to protect the ones he loves."

John looked away, unable to meet her gaze. "I'm not a good man, Charlie."

"None of us are," she countered. "But that doesn't mean we can't be good together."

He chuckled. "I can't. I don't know if I can give you a white picket fence and 2.5 kids."

"Do I look like the white picket fence type to you?" She frowned. Her hand still resting on his chest. "I want you. I want a man who makes me feel safe, and I know you would drop everything for me at a notice."

John cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs caressing her cheeks as he studied her features. "You deserve more than this life I lead."

"This life you lead," she corrected him, "is the life that made you who you are. Besides, who else is going to keep you head straight?"

Her words struck a chord within him.

A long-buried yearning for something more than bullets and bloodshed surfacing. He knew he should push her away, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Instead, he lowered his head and pressed his forehead against her again. When he closed his eyes and open them again.

"You don't know what you're doing to me, Charlotte."

"Try me."

He stared at her, before he sighed. He shut his eyes and shook his head once more to himself.

"Can I kiss you?" he murmured, his voice barely more than a plea.

She gave him a quick nod before his lips met hers.

Closing her eyes, she felt his hand slid down to her hip, while the other traveled lower until it rested on her stomach.

As their kiss deepened, his hands wandered over her figure, discovering the curves hidden by her dress. He lifted the fabric and let his fingers glide over her smooth thigh, relishing in the sound of pleasure that escaped her lips.

John pulled away from the kiss, leaving a trail of soft kisses down her neck and gently nibbling below her ear. She let out a gasp, her hands clumsily removing his jacket and tugging at his shirt, eager to feel his naked skin against hers.

He let out a low growl before he swept her into his arms, carrying her to their bedroom. Gently, he placed her onto the bed, her wedding dress lying around her like a fluffy white cloud.

Taking a time to study her, he noticed how her hair splayed across the bed while her arms resting above her head.

"Look at you..." he murmured, climbing over her. "Spread out like a gift... just for me."

He traced the intricate lace of her dress, feeling the material beneath his rough fingertips. He captured her mouth in a passionate kiss, their tongues entangle in a sensual dance. The taste of her sweetness mixed in with his whiskey, left him yearning for more.

She explored every inch of his body with her hands, removing his jacket and pulling his shirt above to reveal his bare skin.

Gasping at the sight, she traced her fingers over the outline of his chest, feeling the dark hairs and toned muscles beneath. He responded with a groan, his lips still locked on hers as she continued to explore.

As his hands moved to lift her dress, revealing more of her skin, he could feel the dampness of her sex through her lacy underwear. John hooked his fingers beneath the waistband and pulled them down, eager to experience what she had to offer him.

She raised her hips, allowing him to remove her underwear. He could see the wetness on her folds, and he couldn't resist leaning down to taste her.

His tongue danced over her clitoris, causing Charlie to cry out in pleasure. He savored the flavor of her juice, making her hips moved against his mouth in response.

Fingers gripped on his hair, and she moaned his name.

He responded with a low groan that sent shivers down her spine. Slipping two fingers into her slick warmth, he expertly hit her G-spot with each finger thrust.

She moaned even louder, parting her mouth while her chest rise and fall each time she groan and pant. Her inner muscles tightening around him as she approached her climax. He could feel his own desire building along with hers.

Withdrawing his fingers, John stood up and quickly shed the rest of his clothing. She watched as he revealed his hardened length, the tattoos on his upper body, and his abdomen that she wouldn't want to waste time questioning what those are. They were long enough to fit her.

When he settled himself between her parted legs. His cock, hard and heavy, pressed against her wet entrance. He slammed into her in one hard thrust.

Her gasp tore from her throat as he stretched her in a way that made her head spin. He began moving more, his hips thrusting steady at first before increasing in speed.

Charlie matched his movements, digging her nails into his back as she held onto him. His body began to tense with pleasure, the sensations intensifying in his groin.

Their movements became more frantic as the sounds of their bodies slapping against each other filled the room, mixed with their moans and gasps.

The tightness in her walls signaled to him that she was close to reaching her peak, which only heightened his own need for release. John reached down between them, his fingers finding her sensitive clit.

With practiced precision, he massaged it in quick, circular movements while applying just the right amount of pressure with his thumb.

Charlie couldn't hold back any longer; she cried out and her hips bucked uncontrollably as wave after wave washing over her. Her body trembled and her inner walls squeezed around him, drawing out his own climax.

He couldn't hold back any longer and released himself inside her with a deep, guttural groan. He didn't move right away—he held himself there, buried to the hilt, letting her feel every inch of him.

"I want you to remember this," he said, his breath warm against her cheek. "Every time you sit down. Every time you walk. I want you to feel me still inside you."

Charlie whimpered again, and she nodded.

"Tell me," he growled. "Tell me who you belong to."

Her lips parted. "You..."

He didn't move.

"I want to hear it, love."

"I belong to you," she whispered.

He pulled almost all the way out—then slammed back into her.

A cry escaped her lips, her body writhing under his.

"Say it again."

"I belong to you," she cried out, louder this time. "I'm yours, John—yours."

"Fuckin' right, you are," he snarled, his rhythm picking up, hard and relentless. "This pussy's mine, Charlie. No one else touches you! No one else makes you cum like I do!"

Her mind was gone, floating in the haze of sensation, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter inside her as he pounded into her with raw need. His hand slide under her back, pulling her flush against his chest as he drove deeper.

"You feel that?" he grunted into her ear. "How deep I am?"

She nodded frantically, nails clawing at his shoulders. "I feel you—I feel all of you—John, please—"

He angled his hips just right, slamming into her sweet spot, and her eyes rolled back.

"I'm gonna—oh my God—"

He didn't let up, didn't let her go. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him as she shattered.

"That's it, sweetheart. Cum for me. Let me feel it."

Charlie cried out as her orgasm crashed over her, body tensing, toes curling, her cries raw and real. She trembled beneath him, and he cursed under his breath at the way her body clenched around him.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he groaned, slamming into her one last time before his release ripped through him, growling as he came hard, filling her deep. He collapsed against her with a heavy exhale, their bodies slick with sweat, still tangled and gasping for breath.

Charlie still had on her dress until John used his willpower to rip her dress off from her, making her gasp by attempt. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, his voice deep and husky.

"Come again. On me."

As he sat up, she noticed tattoos peeking out from his chest hair. One, a Latin phrase, was barely visible, while two rifles crossed behind a well-drawn skull decorated his lower abdomen.

She also took note of his muscular right arm, its dark color and intricate design resembling an oak tree in a forest. The worn-out Union Flag on his arm hinted at his pride in being born in the United Kingdom.

She couldn't help but admire it.

As his hands slid down her body and gripped her hips, she straddled his waist as he pulled her onto his lap. She could feel his renewed hardness pressing against her, and she pressed herself against him, causing a deep groan to escape from his chest.

Charlie reached down, her fingers wrapping around his cock as she guided it towards her sex.

As she lowered herself onto him, her body adjusted his length.

"Ha..." she sighed before closing her eyes. "John..."

"That's it, sweetheart. Take all of me," he groaned huskily.
"You're mine now, yeah?"

She nodded frantically before she rode him slowly. Her lips parted as soft moans slipped out. Her hands pressed flat against his chest, feeling the heat of him, the hard muscle flexing beneath her palms as she moved over him.

"You're fucking gorgeous like this, love. So wet for me," he rasped.

Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink—but she didn't look away. Instead, she bit her bottom lip, hips circling a little deeper, a little slower.

"Only you make me like this," she said weakly.

"You don't even know what that does to me, do you?" he asked, voice dark, eyes locked on hers.

She swallowed hard and gave a shy shake of her head. Then, quieter: "I think I like feeling you there... stretching me..."

John cursed under his breath, one of his hands sliding up her back, gripping the nape of her neck as his hips bucked up into her.

Charlie whimpered. "You feel so... thick inside me. I— I can't think when you're this deep..."

His eyes turned feral. His hand tangled in her hair as he pulled her mouth to his, kissing her hard—devouring her.

"Keep talkin' like that," he murmured against her lips, "and I won't last, sweetheart."

She gasped when he bit her lower lip gently, then pulled back, her breath uneven.

"Then don't," she said shyly, but there was a flicker of fire behind her voice. "I want you to cum inside me again. I want you..."

He sat upright and brought his lips to her neck, nibbling and sucking on her skin. She let out a moan, tilting her head back as she gave in to the pleasure he was delivering.

As another climax approached, she started moving her body fast against his. His hands moved up to hold her breasts, his thumbs gently playing with her nipples as she rode him with increasing speed and intensity.

Charlie let out a cry as she reached her second climax, her body trembling. John wasn't far behind when his another release triggered by the pulsating of her muscles around his cock.

They collapsed onto the bed, their limbs interwined and their breathing heavy as they came down again.

John found himself captivated by her, unable to look away from her. He reached out to move a strand of hair from her face.

As she opened her eyes, a soft smile spread across her lips.

John knew that he could never get over her.

My girl.

The way she made him feel, or how she filled the void of loneliness that had plagued him for so long.

"John, please stay with me," Charlie whispered softly.

He leaned in to kiss her quickly before reassuring her, "I'm not going anywhere."

Her eyes sparkled with joy, pulling him closer and wrapping her arms around him as they lay together. His fingers ran through her hair before trailing lower, feeling the remaining wetness between her legs. He leaned in for a gentle kiss before breaking away. He sighed and pressed his forehead against hers.

"What did you do to me, love?" He whispered.

"I want you." She whispered softly.

"I'm... you're young..."

She grabbed his cheeks and kissed him.

"I don't care," she repeated and kissed him again.

"Do you?" He asked.

"Yes."

John chuckled heartily, his gaze locked on her.

"You're cute, not going to lie. I want you too."

She kissed him again. And again. And again until John held her tight.

"I want you," she whispered in between kisses. "You're home with me, soldier. I like you."

He hummed happily and closed his eyes.

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Oh my goodness, folks, Chapter 16 has officially entered the chat, and wow—things got spicy! 🔥

Let's just say John didn't just take charge in the woods—he brought that commanding energy straight to the bedroom. 😏🔥 Our man is nothing short of dominant, and I'm living for how he balances his rough edges with tenderness.

Can we talk about how he had Charlie absolutely melting while still keeping that alpha soldier vibe?

A reminder: Mark your calendars! Three new chapters are coming your way this Friday! And if inspiration (or caffeine) strikes, I might drop an extra chapter this Wednesday!

Follow me on instagram and keep an eye on the notifications, just in case. 👀

Let's hear it—did this chapter leave you fanning yourself or what? 😏 Share your reactions!