Sights on the SEAL: A Secret Baby Romance

by Alexis Abbott

  I wrap my fingers around his engorged cock and begin to slowly stroke him up and down, my thumb sliding along the sharply-sensitive ridge on the underside. Adrian groans into our kiss, sending a delicious thrum of vibrations down both of our bodies. I tighten my grasp ever so slightly, pumping his cock with one hand while the other cups the back of his neck.

  Adrian’s own hands rove down my shoulders and arms, then slide over to caress my breasts. I can feel my nipples stiffening under his gentle, careful ministrations, as spirals of pleasure spin through my core. I can feel myself getting wetter by the second, my pussy aching to have Adrian’s glorious cock sheathed inside of me once again. I moan into his mouth, sliding my fingers up and down his shaft.

  Without further ado, Adrian lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist, his cock springing free of my grasp to press against my ass. With his arms braced around me, supporting me, he reclines me backward, my hair dragging the water’s surface, so he can lean in and nip at my breasts. His tongue roams across my nipples, his teeth lightly grazing them with tiny pinpricks of pleasure. I whimper and tilt my head back, overwhelmed by the contrasting sensations of his warm mouth and arms with the cool water. Goosebumps rise up along my flesh and I give into Adrian’s control, falling limp and pliable in his powerful arms. He can do whatever he wants with me — I belong to him. I have belonged to him ever since the first moment we laid eyes on each other in the crowd, from the first words he spoke to me, from the first time we touched at that desert bar.

  He lifts me up again, close to his chest, kissing me with biting teeth. He tangles a fist in my hair and pulls my head to one side with gentle force, exposing my sensitive neck. For a moment I have the bizarre sense that I’m about to be bitten, infected with some kind of vampiric poison. And I don’t fear a thing. I want whatever Adrian has in store for me, without question. Without doubt. I trust him implicitly, and I long for him to mark me.

  “I can’t seem to keep my hands off of you,” Adrian growls, his voice low and rasping at my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. His lips hover just behind the shell of my ear, his breath warm and ticklish on my neck. Then he dives forward and kisses me there, his lips sucking at my soft flesh until yet another mark begins to darken, added to the line of purplish-pink splotches he’s already left behind. It’s like a signature, like a tattoo on my skin, branding me as his own.

  “I need you,” I whisper, my eyes rolling back in my head. “I’ve always needed you, I just didn’t know until we met. You’ve been in here, coursing through my veins for so long…”

  Adrian moves me a little so he can position the head of his cock at my ready opening. With both his strong arms still supporting me completely in the chilly lake water, he lowers me down onto his cock, spearing me as I ride him. I cry out with delight as he pushes fully inside of me, filling me up so perfectly, like we are made for each other, two interlocking puzzle pieces finally reunited.

  I am amazed at his incredible strength and control. He bounces me up and down on his cock so easily, like I weigh nothing at all. Sure, the water makes me a little more buoyant, but my body is almost totally out of the water, lifted up with my legs wrapped tightly around Adrian’s waist. He grips me by the slope of my midsection, his fingers digging into my hips in a way that is simultaneously painful and sensual. I crave the pain. I need the tension. Because it makes the final release that much more exhilarating when it comes.

  And come it does. Fast. And hard.

  Before long I’m shrieking his name, calling out, “Adrian! Oh god, Adrian!” as my body convulses with ecstasy. I feel so full, so complete, so overstimulated in the very best way. With every thrust I feel myself pushing closer and closer to another delicious edge. Adrian fucks me with abandon, lifting me up and slamming me down on his cock again and again.

  “Fuck, Bex! You’re so good, baby. Such a good girl,” he groans in my ear, his breath coming fast and ragged by now. I can tell he wants to let go, he wants to give into the tidal waves of pleasure riding over him. I decide to help him along — he’s always so in control, and I feel a sudden need to watch him lose it, totally give up. So I start to clench my pussy more tightly around his swollen cock, squeezing him as I bounce up and down. Adrian’s hands grab at my shoulder blades for support, his mouth falling open as he lets out a groan of heady approval.

  “Just like that, gorgeous, just like that,” he murmurs roughly, leaning forward to kiss me as I ride him faster and faster. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come. Tell me you want it, baby girl.”

  “I want it,” I moan between desperate kisses. “I want you to come, Adrian. Please.”

  “Tell me you’re mine,” he demands in a low growl. I tighten my cunt as much as I possibly can.

  “I’m yours. I belong to you, Adrian,” I whisper breathlessly. I can feel Adrian’s balls tightening up, his whole body tensing for the big release. “Please, I need you to give it to me,” I go on, urging him to let go and fill me up like he’s done before. I find myself hungry for his seed, greedy for it.

  “Fuck, yes, baby!” Adrian groans through gritted teeth, and with one final thrust he pulls me closer to him and comes. Even with the cool water lapping up around my thighs and pussy lips, I can still feel his stream shooting up inside of me, filling me up so completely. I give a satisfied moan and collapse in his arms, feeling his cock spasm violently inside my cunt with the last few spurts of seed.

  After a minute or so of standing huddled together like this in the lake, we finally let go, both of us laughing with exhilaration. Every single time we fuck, it feels like a new experience, like we rediscover each other entirely with each kiss and touch. I’ve never felt this way before, so enraptured in Adrian’s body, his words, his own pleasure. I want him to feel just as good as he makes me feel, and I know Adrian has the same desire for me.

  We spend the next ten minutes or so just swimming around in the shallow waters, playfully splashing each other, laughing and joking. The sun is beginning to slip over the horizon, the forest surrounding us coming slowly to life. I can hear owls hooting, crickets chirping. The very moon above hangs heavy and luminous, like it’s illuminated more brilliantly than usual just for our sakes.

  “We should probably head out, huh?” I suggest, swimming up to Adrian and kissing him on the cheek. He grabs my face and kisses me full on the mouth, causing me to shriek and giggle.

  “Yes. I have a feeling that swimming in the lake at night is just asking for trouble,” he answers with a wink. “Besides, we still have a long way to go, don’t we?”

  I nod and take his hand, the two of us wading back to shore. We lean against the rental SUV for about five minutes, letting our bodies air dry slightly before patting ourselves down with a blanket from the backseat, getting dressed, and getting back on the road again.

  As we drive down the curving, wild roads, I begin to hear another noise emerging from the soundtrack of nocturnal nature sounds and the low rumble of the SUV’s engine. I furrow my brow, trying to determine whether it’s thunder or… something else.

  “Do you hear that?” I ask, turning to look at Adrian. To my dismay, there is a look of distinct concern on his face, which indicates to me that it probably isn’t just thunder I’m hearing. “Adrian, what is it? What is that noise?”

  “It sounds like motorcycles revving their engines,” he replies flatly. I listen closely and realize that he’s right; that’s exactly what it sounds like. But there’s not usually anyone else out here this time of night. It’s a very sparsely populated area, and I don’t recall ever seeing a motorbike on these roads.

  The look on Adrian’s face is enough to make my skin prickle with goosebumps. If my strong, courageous warrior is concerned… well, that doesn’t bode well for me.

  Adrian

  Motorcycle gangs tearing through rural areas aren’t that uncommon, I tell myself, but I’d also be dishonest with myself if I ignored the memory of that silver-haired Russian back in the city. His eyes are still bright and pi
ercing in my mind, and my instincts tell me he was looking at me with purpose.

  But I try to dismiss it as we make our way further through the woods that are flitting by us, dense trees and brush getting thicker as we move deeper in. I know a lot of veterans who get back from their tours and feel jumpy for the next few years after they return. They have trouble sleeping because of what haunts their dreams, they act differently towards loved ones because of what happened in combat, and they find themselves without the support they need.

  Nobody wants to go through that, and we fight against it with every fiber of our being, but nobody who goes through it has a choice in the matter.

  As I feel the SUV’s rumble under me, I think back to the man, trying to search my memories for his face. I know how to memorize a face quickly, but the Russian I saw back in town doesn’t ring any bells. Someone like that would stick out in my memory. In any case, he looks too old to be anyone I might have run into in my service days.

  At least, that’s my impression. But between the fireworks and my concern over what might be pursuing us, I’m not sure if I can even trust my own impressions.

  I know Becca must be nervous. It takes a lot for someone like me to be put on edge, but then again, I have my PTSD episode looming over my shoulder, and despite everything good that’s been happening lately, I feel it in my side like a knife, threatening to press in. It infuriates me, but I have to live with it.

  Then I feel Becca lay one of her gentle hands on my massive one, and I’m able to control my reflexes and even feel some measure of comfort from the gesture. I look over at her and give a reassuring smile in return. She knows what I’m going through. This fight against myself would be twice as hard if I didn’t have her at my side, regardless of all the mental and physical fortitude I’ve built up over the years.

  I glance in her lap at her phone and notice it’s open to a radio streaming app, but it’s just spinning its wheels. I wonder if she’s trying to find that song once more. We must be too far in the country for a decent wireless signal to cut through the trees.

  She closes out of the app in defeat and opens her mouth to speak. I’m expecting her to ask me if it’s okay, if I’m feeling pain, or if I’m worried, but she never ceases to surprise me.

  “Hey, no matter what, we’re in this together.”

  I feel a smile come across my features as her words soothe me like a balm, and I turn my hand over to give hers a firm, comforting squeeze.

  I see a hill up ahead, and I know that’s the place to be. It’s a good vantage point for what’s coming.

  “I’m going to pull over up here,” I say in response, nodding over to the side of the road as I start to bring the vehicle to a stop.

  “Why?”

  “Need to make a call to a few friends,” I explain, putting the car in park and climbing out of the seat. Being on the hill will help boost the cellphone signal, so hopefully I’ll be able to get through.

  There’s something about the open road when you’re stationary that makes you feel so far from everything else in the world. The gravel crunches beneath my feet as I step out of the car in the middle of the woods. It feels like emerging onto a giant’s causeway, remote and derelict, save for the rumble of motorcycles in the distance. As comforting as the remoteness feels, to some degree, I can sense the tension in the air as thickly as I might sense the humidity of an incoming storm.

  No, I tell myself, giving my head a shake as I pull out my phone, I’m just being paranoid. You’re back in a stable part of the world, Adrian, you don’t need to see shadows in every corner. I might not need to, but I do. And I can’t help but remind myself that the last time I dealt with shadows in every corner, a good man died.

  I want to call one of my old squad mates up. I’ve wracked my memory over and over for a clue about that silver-haired guy, but maybe one of my men has better recall than I do. But when I put my phone to my ear, I hear a flat tone, and I glance at the screen to realize that I have no service.

  I have an impulse to mutter a curse, but I don’t want to do anything else to put Becca more on edge. I satisfy my urge by squeezing the phone until I feel something start to give, then stick it back into my pocket.

  “No service,” I call to the car, and I see Becca’s anxious face nod, glancing behind us. I’ve noticed it too: the rumble of the motorcycles is getting louder by the second.

  “It’s still at least a half-hour to my parents’ house,” Becca says as I climb back in the car, “but this road isn’t patrolled very much.”

  “Good,” I say, putting the key into the ignition, “I’m not too keen on meeting whoever’s rolling up behind us.”

  “What’s been bothering you about it, Adrian?” she asks, putting her hand on my arm again, furrowing her brows. “Canada isn’t exactly known for its fierce biker gangs.”

  “Exactly,” I say in a low tone, turning the key.

  The ignition clicks.

  I can practically feel the color draining from Becca’s face, but equipment malfunction is something I’ve had to deal with on a daily basis in the military. I try a couple more times to start the ignition, getting the same dull click.

  “Battery’s dead,” I say, finality in my voice as I turn around and reach into the backseat, rummaging around in my bag.

  “Dead?” she says, the edge of alarm in her voice. “We don’t have a cell signal out here, Adrian, what do we—”

  “Get ready,” I answer before she can finish, drawing my pistol out from my bag in the back seat, loading a round in the chamber and glancing into the rear-view mirror.

  I hear Becca take in a sharp breath, looking at me in confusion a moment before blinking a few times as she realizes the sounds of the motorcycle engines are getting closer. “How did you get that into the country?!”

  “It’s not the first time I’ve had to smuggle weapons in,” I say calmly. That’s the simplest part of everything going on right now, truthfully. “That, and a few friends on the inside. Never know when you’ll be stranded in the woods with a gang on your tail.”

  “Are you sure about this, Adrian?” she asks, trying desperately to keep her voice even. I glance over at her. I know this must be a lot to process in such a short time. She left behind everything to do with high-adrenaline firefights and firearms years ago. As far as I know, she might even be suspecting that I'm being triggered into another episode. And truthfully, I feel like I’m slipping back into my natural role, but she must feel like she’s slipping back into a nightmare.

  It’s a feeling I can understand well. So it’s up to me to guide her through that nightmare however I’m able.

  “I know you think I’m being overly cautious, Becca,” I say, reaching out to stroke her hair, showing her just how steady my hands are in the face of uncertainty in the wilderness. “And that’s not an instinct you should lose. But experience has punished me for not being prepared for the totally unexpected. If I’m thinking too far into this, then these bikers will, in all likelihood, pull over and offer us a hand to the nearest mechanic.”

  I glance into the mirror again. The bikes are going to be on us any second now.

  “But if I’m right, and I’m not ready, then the consequences will be worse. So I need you to trust me, Bex,” I say, taking her hand and kissing it as I look deeply into those eyes, a storm of emotion within them. “Get into the back seat and lay down on the floor. Don’t move from there until I tell you it’s safe, do you understand?”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Becca nods. She doesn’t smile — she knows that niceties need to wait for now. She hauls herself over the middle console and gets down onto the floorboards. As she does, I start rolling down the driver’s side window. She hears the sound and raises her head a moment.

  “What’s that for?”

  “Just trust me,” I say calmly, and she complies, lowering herself as much as possible. I hear her take a deep breath, just as I’m taking one at the sight of the bikers appearing over the horizon behind us.<
br />
  It only takes one glance at the gleaming black weapons in their hands for my combat training to kick in.

  I dive for the passenger’s seat and kick the door open just as the sounds of bullets ring out across the forest.

  The gunmen take the bait, and as I move back to the driver’s seat, bullets riddle the interior of the door where they thought someone was about to burst out. As their attention is focused on the passenger’s side, I use the driver’s side door to rest my shooting arm on and take aim in the side mirror.

  I assess them in less than a fraction of a second. There are four of them. The three firing at the door are wielding Uzis, unleashing a spray of bullets in the general vicinity of wherever they point. If they kill anyone with those out here, it would be sheer luck. They intended to scare their victims out of the vehicle.

  I’m not half so foolish.

  The man in the front of the pack, though, holds a military-grade Kalashnikov shotgun in his hand, and by the look of him, he’s someone of authority.

  But one thing stands out to me above all the rest in this crew of assassins: none of them are wearing the colorful yet highly specific patches that would betray them as members of a biker gang. These kinds of gangs pride themselves in their work. If it were some crew of bangers out for glory, they’d be flying their colors. These men are after something different altogether.

  In that split second, the leader is the only one who notices my pistol out. He veers out of the way just as I line him up in my sights, but I’m not about to let the shot go. I fire off a quick, precise round, and one of the Uzi gunmen’s brains spray out behind him in a fine mist before the weight of his body lays down the bike and sends it skidding across the road.

  His comrades have to swerve to avoid him, and I hear shouts of expletives in Russian. Glass shatters in the back window as I lower myself down, the bullets hitting all around me and piercing the front windshield as well.