by Cassie Cole
“More,” I moaned. I wanted him, all of him, right now, no more delay or acclimation. “I’m yours, Logan.”
“You’re mine,” he agreed.
He thrust forward hard. I was as wet as could be but his cock wasn’t, and there was a fraction of pain as his head, then shaft, then base entered me in one long stroke. My gasp was part cry as the pleasure shuddered through me, finally being taken by the chiseled SEAL I’d been dreaming about for the last day. The rejection of last night was long forgotten as he held my legs wide and moaned to the ceiling.
“You want it hard?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
He pulled back slowly, then slammed his cock into me again. The soft sheets of the bed slid underneath my ass and head but his grip yanked me back to the edge of the bed forcefully, like it was unacceptable that my body dare slide away from him. Again and again he threw his cock into me, a battering ram against my inner walls, and I drank in the sight of his beautiful body working between my legs.
“I’ve wanted to make you mine for days,” he said, green eyes locking onto mine. “Since the moment I saw you.”
“Yeah?”
His biceps flexed as he gripped my legs tighter. “I wanted to rip off your clothes and feel your cunt the moment I laid eyes on you.”
“Yes,” I groaned, reaching out to touch his chest, to feel the lines of corded muscle underneath my fingertips of the man who was fucking me with reckless abandon.
But Logan was having none of that.
“No,” he grunted, deftly pressing my legs together so he could grip my ankles in one hand, then snatched my wrist with his other. “I didn’t say you could touch.”
“Oh, but I want to touch,” I moaned while his cock swayed inside of me.
He bared teeth at me in a vicious grin. “You’ll want whatever I give you.”
I practically came then and there as he rotated my legs to the side with one hand, so that I was laying sideways on the bed. He planted one knee on the bed behind my ass and leaned over me, holding my two wrists together and then pressing them onto the sheets in front of my face. Holding all of my limbs down with both of his arms.
“Tell me I’m yours,” he said, pausing inside of me.
I obeyed without thought. “I’m yours, Logan.”
“Tell me.”
“I’m yours!”
“Say it!”
“I’m yours!”
He fucked me hard, washboard abs slamming into the cheek of my ass while I lay on the side, pinned down by the muscular man. The angle made his cock rub roughly against my forward wall, so intense that I would have squirmed if not for Logan’s muscles holding me down. Each thrust was harder than the last. I wished I could touch myself, but somehow being unable to turned me on more than any rubbing of my clit, and soon I was shivering and shuddering underneath his powerful thrusts.
“Karen,” he moaned, his body covering mine like a ceiling of chiseled muscle. “Oh Karen…”
“Come with me,” I begged, still on the ragged end of my own orgasm. “Come inside of me, Logan, I need it, please…”
His kiss was deep, tongue warm and wet as he moaned deep within his chest, and when he pulled back he finally let go of my limbs so he could grip my waist with both of his hands, pulling me into his pelvis as he screamed, screamed his climax like a man who was dying, and the pained look of ecstasy on his face filled me with more satisfaction than any microbiology dataset.
34
Logan
I could be myself with Karen.
Out of all the women I’d been with, I’d never been able to completely let loose. To be myself, my real self, unleashing my animal-like desire on a woman in a way that scared us both.
But with Karen, I wasn’t afraid of what they would think. She pulled it from me in a way that left me breathless and scared.
I clutched her tiny waist so tight I left white finger marks when I eventually let go. She grinned up at me like a girl who had won a bet.
“There he is.”
“What?”
“The man I’ve wanted to fuck me for the past two days.”
I chuckled, half embarrassed. I slid out of her—out of the warm, wet, loving embrace of her lower lips—and quickly went to the bathroom to clean up. When I came out, she was waiting outside the door with her arms crossed under her breasts, her lower half still totally nude.
“What’s that all about?” she asked.
“What?” I wondered how a person could be so comfortable in their nudity. Just standing there without any pants on. I couldn’t do it. Once finished, the urge to conceal myself and zip back up was overwhelming. I couldn’t be vulnerable like that.
“You rushed off,” she said. “Like you were embarrassed or something.”
“Why would I be embarrassed?”
“You tell me.” Her finger traced a line across my pants, where I was still semi-hard. It sent a shiver up my spine for a dozen reasons.
“I don’t know.” I walked past her and retrieved my shirt from the ground. When I turned, she was right there next to me, grabbing the shirt.
“You’re self-conscious!”
“What?” I blurted. “I am not.”
“You are.” The look in her dark eyes was half surprised, half amused. “That’s why you left your pants on. What’s a Navy SEAL like you doing being self-conscious?”
“I don’t know,” I said stubbornly. I’d never talked about this with a woman, and it was strange and unnerving suddenly talking about it with her. “I just don’t like people looking at me.”
Her eyes lit up. “How did you get through boot camp? Don’t you have to get naked in front of your men all the time?”
“That doesn’t bother me,” I said. It seemed obvious to me, but she didn’t seem to get it. “It’s different when… it’s other people.”
“You mean women,” Karen said. “You don’t like to get naked around women.”
I crossed my arms. “That is accurate, yes.”
Her gaze softened. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make fun of you. It’s just that someone like you…” She gestured at my body. “You’re ripped, man. You should be proud to show your body off.”
I went to the sink to wash my hands, but she followed me. Waiting for an answer. “That’s not the part of me I’m self-conscious about.”
“Oh,” she said. I looked at her in the mirror and she nodded. “Ohh. I get it.”
“Uh huh.”
Why was she making such a big deal about this? I didn’t like women looking at my junk. It was an insecurity I’d had all my life. Lots of people were uncomfortable with nudity. It wasn’t a big deal.
She put her hand on my back. Her touch was soft and comforting. “So I guess a group shower is out of the question?”
With any other woman, I would have laughed in their face. Of course showering together was something I didn’t want to do. I literally just told her I wasn’t comfortable being nude around women. Did she expect me to shower in my bathing suit?
But Karen made me hesitate before answering. I didn’t feel comfortable with it yet, but there was a glimmer of hope. Like maybe I could be vulnerable around her.
“What if I close my eyes?” she said.
“You’ll peek.”
“I promise not to.”
In the end, we compromised by wrapping a thin washtowel as a blindfold around her head. To her credit, she didn’t laugh about it or make fun of me anymore. That helped.
She stripped her top and stepped into the shower. I admired her nude body as she turned on the hot water; long legs, smooth skin with freckles on her shoulders and neck, pronounced shoulder blades and a curve to her back that was begging to be kissed. I felt myself stir again at the sight of her. I wanted to bend her over in the shower, to slide inside of her again…
“Give me a minute,” she said, sweeping her blindfolded gaze across the open shower door.
“Why?”
“Just because.”
I carefully removed my pants, then boxers. Even with her blindfolded I had the urge to step to the side so I was out of view. I forced myself to stand in place.
“What am I waiting for?”
“For me to pee!” she said, exasperated. “I’m peeing, okay?”
“Okay.”
She cocked her head in the shower. “Wait. So you’re okay with peeing in the shower, but not okay with someone seeing your dick?”
“Everyone pees in the shower. That’s not weird or gross at all.”
“Everyone has seen a dick, too,” she pointed out.
“Not mine.”
I couldn’t tell because of the blindfold, but I was certain she was rolling her eyes.
When enough time had passed, I stepped into the shower behind Karen and closed the door. We stood there awkwardly for a moment. I wasn’t sure what to do—I’d never done this before. But she reached behind her and pulled me against her body. My flaccid cock wedged between her ass cheeks and she sighed.
“There we go. Now we’re showering together. How do you feel?”
I took stock of myself. “Fine, I suppose.”
“Not so scary, huh?”
Karen opened the bottle of free shampoo on the shower ledge and proceeded to lather her honey-colored hair. She used the extra bubbles to rub down her body, cleaning her arms, then neck, then chest, then lower body. After that she squirted some extra shampoo into her palm and felt around for my head, rubbing the soapy liquid into my hair. The sensation of having someone else—a lover, even—massaging my scalp was both calming and sensual.
“Nice?” she asked.
“Mmm hmm.”
The process of showering with another person was strangely intimate. Knowing she couldn’t see my privates helped me relax and enjoy the experience as we cleaned ourselves, and each other. Once my junk and ass were squeaky clean, she stared at me from behind the makeshift blindfold.
“Okay, you can leave now.”
I snorted because I thought she was joking. When I realized she wasn’t, I said, “What? Why?”
“Because I need to shave my legs and stuff, and doing so removes some of the mystery between a man and a woman. So if you’re done in here…”
I kissed her. She wasn’t expecting it because of the blindfold, but quickly melted into my embrace as the steaming hot water ran over our lips and skin.
“I’m glad you came for me,” she whispered.
“Me too.”
“Now get out. And hand me my toiletries bag while you’re at it!”
I grabbed a towel and covered my lower half. “Copy that.”
35
Karen
“Copy that,” Logan said as he left the shower. I raised my blindfold in time to see him giving his cute little tushy a shake as he grabbed a towel and covered himself.
I giggled to myself. I’d been with guys who were a little shy in bed. Back when I was a teenager, when my first serious boyfriend Tommy Mintage and I finally did it in his bedroom while his mom was at the grocery store. He’d wriggled out of his skinny jeans like a man who didn’t think anyone would ever see his nude self, and didn’t breath a sigh of relief until he was under the sheets with me.
But that was natural. Especially for someone who was 17.
Logan? A drop-dead-gorgeous Navy SEAL?
His insecurity boggled the mind.
I shook my head and told myself to cast aside any preconceived assumptions. He couldn’t help being self-conscious any more than I could help feeling fat whenever I wore leggings. At least this explained why he was so reluctant to sleep with me in the first place.
But the way he fucked me…
I shivered despite the steamy water. The way he’d manhandled me to the bed, taking me however he wanted, holding me down while he had his way with me…
Oh man. That was the stuff fantasies were made of.
“Here you go,” he said, hand appearing in the shower with a bag of toiletries.
“You deserve a kiss for your good deeds,” I said.
His head appeared, grinning slightly. I pecked him on the lips and shooed him away so I could shave my legs and lady parts.
I found him fully clothed and sitting on the couch, one leg crossed over the other while he typed on a laptop. He had his full duffel bag on the floor.
“So how’d you get here?”
“I flew.”
“You didn’t take the ferry?”
He looked up from the screen and snorted. “Right, because a seven hour ferry is better than a 30 minute plane ride?”
“I thought the ferry was nice.” I went to my bag and pulled out clothes until I found my bathing suit. I froze with it in my hands. “Wait a second. What’s the plan here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you come here to take me back to Barcelona? Because you don’t seem in a hurry to rush me back.”
He closed the lid on the laptop and tossed it on the bed, then folded his hands in his lap like a lawyer. “I haven’t decided what the plan is yet.”
I felt a surge of hope. “I might get to stay?”
“I’ll think about it.”
I squealed and threw my arms around him. He patted my back and shook his head. “Is Mallorca really that exciting?”
“A vacation is exciting,” I said while shimmying into my bathing suit. Logan looked away politely. “Like I told you: I’ve spent a full semester staring at data on a computer screen. I need this.”
He retrieved his bathing suit from his suitcase and wandered toward the bathroom to change. “Fair enough.”
When he was dressed, we finally went out into the hall where Linda was waiting. She lifted her wide sunglasses off her eyes and made a satisfying grunt when she saw Logan.
“My room didn’t come with any snacks on the pillow.”
She flinched, and the amusement that was on her face disappeared.
“You! You’re the man who—”
Logan strode to her and clamped his huge hand over her mouth. She looked at him with large, scared eyes.
“I’m here to protect Karen,” he said quietly. “That means avoiding drawing any attention. I’m just a friend accompanying you two on this trip. Understood?”
Linda swung her eyes toward me. I nodded. Only then did Linda bob her head up and down in agreement.
Logan removed his hand and smiled. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
He walked ahead of us on the way down to the beach. Linda turned to me and whispered, “I thought you were exaggerating all the stuff about the SEALs!”
“If only.”
The Mallorca beach was stunning in the afternoon sun, with beaches as white as you would see in the Caribbean and wide, blue beach umbrellas arranged in neat rows. Linda and I grabbed two piña coladas from the nearby bar and then picked three beach chairs next to each other closest to the water.
Logan dropped his backpack on the ground next to my chair and then removed his shirt, a motion that flexed every muscle in his freaking body. All conversation from the people on the chairs around us quieted for a few seconds as Logan’s insanely muscular, V-shaped torso was revealed. It sent a sexy tingle through my lady parts, even though I’d actually been with him less than an hour ago.
“And he doesn’t want to draw any attention?” Linda muttered, her mouth hanging open as she stared along with all the other women within 100 feet of Logan.
“Now then,” Logan said as he dropped into the chair next to me. “I think it’s time we established the ground rules.”
“Nothing says vacation like rules,” I said with a smile.
He moved his chair closer to mine, until we were only a foot apart. “First rule,” he said quietly, “is you don’t tell anyone. Not about me, not about you. No personal details to anyone who asks. Not even about your microbiology graduate studies. You’re just an American girl relaxing on the beach, and I’m your friend.”
“Makes sense.”
“Next, you don’t go an
ywhere without my permission. Pretend we’re an Amish couple and I’m the overbearing husband. If you want to go somewhere, you tell me first, and I have veto powers.”
“I’ve never seen an Amish guy who looks like that,” I motioned with my finger.
He stared back at me, deadpan. “I would like a verbal agreement.”
“Okay, I agree.”
He took a deep breath. “Now the big one. If I think there’s a threat, we pack up and leave. No questions asked. No arguing.”
“Okay.”
“Same if I get word about our mission plans.” He pulled out his phone and waved it at me. “Even if that’s 15 minutes from now, we’re packing our things and you’re leaving the island with me. We’ll put you in a safe house while we complete the mission. It’s the only way to be certain of your safety.”
I wasn’t sure if I would go peacefully if we had to leave right after sitting down on the beach, but I didn’t have a choice in the matter so I nodded.
“Thank you for being reasonable.” He rose from the chair. “Let’s enjoy ourselves. I’m going to get one of those piña coladas.”
I gave him a skeptical look. “Am I really safest if you’re drinking alcohol?”
“I’m getting a virgin piña colada,” he said blankly. “They’re delicious.”
Linda and I giggled as he walked back up the beach, turning every woman’s head along the way.
36
Karen
Even though it was the tail end of the day, the hour we spent on the beach in the late afternoon was exactly what I’d needed. We sipped on our slushy drinks and gossiped about our friends back in Wilmington, and reminisced about how much we would miss Spain.
That part was sinking in fastest, now that we were all packed and out of the apartment we’d called home for the last semester. We were leaving. I wished I could stay here forever. Not that North Carolina was bad. It just wasn’t this.
The text message I got from Cairo scared the crap out of me;
