Woolwich Wildfire
"Army captain Ngozi returns from deployment to find her neighbor's son all grown up—and very interested in showing this thick Nigerian soldier how civilians say welcome home."
Captain Ngozi Eze hadn't been touched in eighteen months. Deployment did that to you.
So when she came home to her Woolwich flat and found Jake—Mrs. Patterson's son, who she remembered as a skinny teenager—helping his mum carry groceries, she felt something she probably shouldn't.
He was twenty-three now. Built. Handsome. And staring at her like she was everything he'd ever wanted.
"Captain Eze," he said. "Welcome home."
"You've... grown."
"So have you." His eyes dropped to her body. "In all the right ways."
He knocked on her door that night.
"Mum's asleep," he said. "I brought wine. Thought you might want company."
She should have said no. He was her neighbor's son. She'd watched him grow up. This was wrong.
"Come in."
The wine loosened things. He asked about deployment. She talked about the loneliness, the isolation, the need that built up over months and months.
"You must have missed... being close to someone," he said.
"You have no idea."
"I could help with that."
She laughed. "Jake—"
"I'm twenty-three. I've wanted you since I was sixteen. I'm not a kid anymore, Ngozi."
The sound of her name in his mouth changed everything.
He kissed her first. Confident. Not tentative at all.
"I've dreamed about this," he murmured against her lips. "About these curves. This body. God, you're beautiful."
She pulled off her shirt, let him see her—thick waist, heavy breasts, belly soft and inviting. Everything civilian men seemed to want.
"Still want me?"
"More than ever."
He fucked her like he was trying to make up for all her lonely months.
On the couch, on the floor, against the wall where her medals hung. He was young and eager and surprisingly skilled.
"How does that feel?" he asked, thrusting deep.
"Don't stop. Please don't stop."
"Wasn't planning on it."
They went until three AM. Until she was satisfied in ways she'd forgotten were possible.
"This stays between us," she said afterwards.
"Obviously." He kissed her forehead. "But Ngozi? This isn't a one-time thing. Not for me."
She looked at this man who'd once been a boy next door.
"Then welcome me home again tomorrow."
"Yes ma'am."
Woolwich had never felt so good to come back to.