James Bucky Barnes, the former soldier, doesn't think he's got any gentleness left in him. But Grace Juniper Cunningham, the former child prodigy, strongly disagrees.
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"𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯."
"𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴�...
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I wanted to be in love with Bucky.
I wanted to spend every second with him until I knew him and loved him the way I could feel that I used to. I thought I should be focusing on other things—on remembering, on Natasha's tour, on whatever was going on with Tony. But I felt like that could all wait. Bucky couldn't. He needed me. He deserved it.
I reached my arms out to him right after my orgasm, wanting him back. "So fucking cute," he muttered, and climbed back on top of me like I wanted.
"Off?" I asked, tugging at his shirt.
He pulled it off smoothly, discarding it on the floor. "Here's something else: I can't say no to you. I give you whatever you want. Try not to use it against me."
I wasn't sure what to say, because I was torn between gazing at him—so muscular, oh god—and wanting to cry when I saw the scars all over him, concentrated around where he'd lost his arm. I wanted to know more, but now wasn't the time, and I didn't want him to feel like all I saw was the scars.
"You're so hot," I blurted out, and then covered my face with my hands, because what a dumb thing to say.
He pulled my hands away and pinned my wrists down on the bed so he could watch my face amusedly. "Why are you getting shy now? I just ate your pussy."
"I don't know!" I tried to move my wrists, and he let go so I could. "No, keep them there," I said. "I wanna feel how strong you are."
He shook his head and laughed at me, but did what I wanted, keeping my arms in place, not budging as I pushed as hard as I could. I couldn't even feel him exerting any energy to keep me in place.
"That's so hot," I said.
"You're just easily impressed."
"I can't believe you're my boyfriend."
"Like I said: easily impressed."
"I want your cock in me so bad," I said seriously.
"Yeah? Start calling me—"
There was loud knocking on the front door, carrying all the way through the living room into the bedroom. Then I recognized Natasha's voice. "Grace! I had a tour planned!"
"You fight a war with a guy and you think you can trust him," Bucky muttered. He rolled off the bed and stood up. He was almost out of the bedroom when I called out to him.
"Bucky—wait." I tossed him his shirt.
His lips twitched up. "I think Romanoff would be able to control herself, doll," he said, but he put it on anyway as he went to the front door.
I heard it open while I pulled my clothes back on. "Hi. Welcome to my home," he said mockingly, but I didn't think I understood the joke.
"You think I won't kill you with Grace in there to see it?" Natasha answered. "Because I will."
