I pride myself on being one of the guys that don’t have any demons. My parents are still married, I was never forced into sexual slavery as a child, wasn’t kidnapped, whipped, sliced, or emotionally or mentally tortured…I’ve never used alcohol and drugs as a crutch. I grew up in the south where I played varsity sports and the whole town knew my name. There’s no skeletons in my closet. I am a well-adjusted asshole, thank you very much.
Eyes wide, I respond, “Well then, it’s been real, Cass. This is definitely goodbye. Thank you for everything. Despite your assumptions I did enjoy our time together.” Ignoring her jab at my non-relationships, I focus on what I want the outcome of this conversation to be. “I care for you. I always will. But I can’t give you anything else. I never could. I never wanted to.”
“Ouch. Way to let a girl down easy. Let me ask you one question.”
Standing, I walk toward the locker room—the lights in the warehouse turning off in large sections one block at a time. I put the phone on speaker and change clothes quickly.
“Shoot,” I say, knowing she’ll ask anyways.
Less tearful and more angrily she asks, “How long are you going to lie to yourself about the real reason you don’t let women in?” Now I’m getting pissed off, but as if on queue, my call waiting chimes. It’s Morganna.
“You’re confused, Cass. I think you mean the other way around…I’m in women all the time.” She silences and the phone line goes dead. Taking a deep breath, I tap the button to switch to Morganna’s call. My fucking head hurts.
“I thought you would be here when I got home!” she snaps out, her voice sharp with a hint of humor. No greeting——straight to business. Closing my eyes, I shake my head. Morg isn’t giving me mixed signals, per se…she’s doing the same thing she’s always done after Stone’s death. But now it feels different. Because my girlfriend is calling me out. And because maybe she was giving me mixed signals earlier.
Smiling, I tease, “Someone needs to sew you up? The axe murderer got you good?” I know exactly how screwed up it is. How I can be there for Morganna whenever she calls and yet I can’t offer a normal relationship to another very worthy woman? It may be fucked up, but nothing makes me feel this good. I don’t have to worry about feelings, or the future. We just are. We understand each other without trying.
Morganna laughs as a response, the musical sound quieting my rapid-fire thoughts. “I’m on my way now. Get sex details ready,” I order. Saying goodbye to Sloane and a few other guys, I exit the gym and find my truck. And then I drive as quickly as possible to the only place I want to be.
CHAPTER FOUR
Morganna
Past
“YOU KNOW I’M going to be the last person you date, right?” Stone asks. Actually he doesn’t ask—he tells me. I let him think I think he has the upper hand. We’re both bull noses—not opposites in the least. Surprisingly, it works for us. Polar opposites of a magnet, we repel each other with all of our might, but then with a flip we’re sealed perfectly together. Matched.
I scoff at his question. “That’s making a very large assumption, Mr. Sterns. I don’t think you’re taking all possible date factors into account. Some girls like romance,” I explain, gaze piercing his. He never breaks eye contact first.
He flashes a bright, white grin. A grin that always affects me.
“I mean, typically wining and dining are at the top of most girl’s lists. Perhaps even a walk on the beach. Not a teeth-gritting boat ride that makes me wonder if gravity is ever your friend. I’ll give it to you, I did see the beach from your boat tonight. You are awarded one romance point for that.” He took me on a romantic speedboat ride, the jutting waves cascading over my silk, Italian blouse anytime he hit the wake just so. In other words, every other wave.
Don’t get me wrong, being able to ride in a boat year round in San Diego is preferable to the cold, rainy east coast where I’ve spent the bulk of my years. This was the sole reason I packed my bags and moved here. San Diego was supposed to be a quick stay-cation for a year or two before I started dominating the world with my prestigious law degree. Now with Stone dominating my every thought, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to leave this Morganna-specific paradise. He kind of consumed me whole, right from the get-go. He knows what he wants, that’s for sure.
Stone has me wrapped in his massive arms on his patio sofa. It’s a beautiful night, like always. “Not yours,” he deadpans, his lips brushing my ear. “Those boring things aren’t on your radar. I know exactly what’s on your list. You aren’t the average woman.” He pulls me on his lap. Like a magnet being pulled, I go. Goosebumps rise at his mere touch on my arms, my neck—a reaction I’ve never had because of another person. Ever. Not even on Prom night when I finally let my long-term boyfriend talk me into, messy, condom-breaking, awkward sex.
Thomas Stone Sterns is like a chemical formulated to interact with my libido…a love catalyst. His brawny good looks aside, I think it was the way he always took control even though he knew I was fully capable of doing the same. We’ve been dating for six months and nothing has felt so right. It’s not work to keep our connection strong.
Although I was hesitant to start a relationship with someone in his profession, I couldn’t deny the blazing attraction that trails that type of personality. He’s type A to a fault. Stone is always fixing something or making something better. Dominating a new hobby or helping me find ways to streamline my own organizational skills and time management. My compulsive tendencies are only a tip of the iceberg in comparison to Stone’s. I think it’s what makes SEALs such anomalies.
He learns more quickly than anyone, listens like no other, and takes all matters, big or small into his own hands. You will never see him point a blaming finger at anyone. Stone is the first person to lend his free time, even though it’s sparse and rare. He is a man who loves with his entire being and completes tasks with his full attention. The love Stone has for his best friend, Maverick, is a love second to no other. It’s like they’re brothers except the bond is different. It’s stronger. They are one person—one soul—a fact that automatically draws me to Maverick as someone who can be trusted and respected. Those are qualities that most people in my life aren’t granted. I’ve seen too much bad. I’m jaded. I guess in that respect I have come to an understanding with Stone. He’s seen horrific things and dealt with monstrous people, and yet he always chooses the high road. I have nothing but admiration for him. The reasons behind his decisions are always honorable and his intentions pure.
I knew from our very first date, when Stone challenged me to a game of cutthroat paintball, that our relationship would be one that I wouldn’t let go of easily, if at all. I sigh, remembering the red paintball welts that littered my entire body after that date. A few days later when they morphed into purple and blue bruises, I let him kiss every single spot he pelted. On his insistence, obviously, and also because I was wearing a bikini and the spots were glaring. Erotic connection without sex is the only way to describe it. I wanted him right there on the pool patio, lips glued to me like they were supposed to be there. Basically a stranger, our connection was fierce and undeniable.
“I was just remembering our first date. That was probably the most unromantic date that ever took place in the history of the world. I had to wear long sleeves for a month. In the middle of summer. You just lost your solitary romance point because I remembered that,” I proclaim, rubbing my thumbs down the side of his permanently stubbly face.
Tracing his lips, I draw my own face nearer as each second passes. I want his lips on mine. Stone knows it. He runs both of his hands through my hair harshly, pulling the ends, forcing my chin up to the dark, night sky. My breathing speeds as I let him have control. Feeling him breathe on my neck, in varying puffs of air, I try to think what his face looks like in this exact moment. I press myself closer to his body, his hard shaft pressing against me, nudging me in just the right place.
“Kiss me,” I order, wanting to say “make l
ove to me” instead, but nice southern girls don’t start it. By God, they always finish it though. As sure as the sun shines, I’ll finish whatever Stone starts.
Stone laughs, a panty soaking, manly sound, and places a wet kiss on the center of my neck, my hair still locked in his grip. The rest of my body, or the parts that weren’t affected by his mere hands, buzzes to life at the introduction of his mouth and tongue. A small moan escapes when he presses his wet mouth directly below my ear, trailing his lips down to my collarbone and down the top of my cleavage. Historic divas with heaving bosoms have nothing on me right now—I can barely control my own responses to his touch. With a mind of their own, they just want more of him. All of him. I want his control. I want my own lack of control with him. I crave it.
He loosens his grip on my hair and I drop my chin to look at his face. Feral eyes glinting in the moonlight, he looks at me, one feature at a time like he’s deciding what to devour first. He’s out of control. I’ve never seen this look and I know exactly what it means. Sex. Finally. After all of this sexual tension we are going to have mind-blowing sex. And it is going to be the best sex of my whole life. I don’t even have to experience it to know it’s a fact.
I lick my bottom lip when I watch his gaze dart to my mouth. “What’s on your mind, Stone?” My placement on his lap is such that I can feel him pulsing against me. I rub myself against him again, leaning toward his mouth, and press my lips firmly against his. His large hand wraps around the back of my neck as he clutches me against him, not letting me back away a centimeter.
Our teeth meet when he says, “I’m thinking if I have your permission I want to take you to my bedroom and do all sorts of things with you.”
I smile against his mouth. “What makes you think you need my permission? Is that what you’ve waited for all this time?” I ask, my lips molding into his kiss the second I stop speaking.
He breaks away, grabs my chin to direct my gaze to his. “Once we have sex that’s it, Morganna. I’ve never felt like this about anyone. I know exactly what I want. It’s a life with you in it. Always.” Remember what I said about the man knowing what he wants? There’s no backpedaling with him, so his words hit me square in the heart. That’s it. Our future might as well be set in stone. Knowing he’ll want more than a non-verbal response, I try to formulate just the right answer.
In the end I keep it simple. Two words that tell him everything. “Permission granted,” I whisper, running my hands down his tightly coiled arms. He doesn’t waste any time. Standing up, me wrapped around him like a clothing article, he lumbers at a fast pace down a small, blank hallway to his bedroom. I place a wet kiss on his neck as he slides my body down his until my bare feet reach the carpet. Backing a few steps I feel his bed behind me and sit. Stone’s fiery brown eyes haven’t left me since I moved away. His chest heaves several times in the span of one of my heartbeats.
A heartbeat that now resides in my throat, because I’m scared. Obviously not of sex; I’m scared because I don’t know what I’m missing at this point. I’m willing to bet in an hour I’ll have a new favorite activity and another reason to stay in San Diego. In the same breath, I decide that it’s okay because I have feelings for Stone. If I’m being honest with myself, I love him.
Stone grabs the neck of his shirt and pulls it over his head in one fluid movement, tossing it on the floor. That’s the first sign that he means business. The second is when he drops his pants and boxer briefs the next moment, like he can’t stand to wear clothing another second. In two strides he’s in front of me, his shaft positioned directly in front of my face.
I swallow loudly. “I knew you packed heat, but I guess I wasn’t aware of the caliber,” I admit, eyes glued to his rigid, veiny shaft. Making a move to grab it with one hand, I’m stopped with a strong hand restraining my wrist. “What? I can’t touch? That’s no fun,” I drawl, pushing my bottom lip out in an over-the-top pout.
He shakes his head. “Not yet. Tonight. This is mine. Maybe tomorrow I won’t be wound so fucking tight. Give me the control.” It’s not a question. The dominance in his voice intoxicates me and causes every hair on my body to stand on end. All I can do is nod. My eyes wander from his stormy face to his rippled bicep, the place his bone frog tattoo calls home. It’s their SEAL call sign, if you will. I’ve never thought a career was so hot until this moment as I watch that dead reptile dance and flicker in the dim bedroom light.
“Lie down,” Stone commands, breaths choppy. I’m momentarily broken from his dominance fog.
Laying down and scooting up toward the pillows, I say, “You’re going to have to calm down a little bit. It’s like you’ve ran a marathon and my panties are still on.” I smirk. He smirks. His chest stills at once, like a magic trick.
“Like this?” he asks. “I don’t just want control of you, Morg. I have control over everything. Including myself.” Stone points at his chest and then my shorts.
Sliding off my shorts and panties at the same time, I pretend to be caught up in undressing instead of his pristine body on display. There is such a thing as rude staring. Sure, it probably doesn’t apply to situations such as this, but I want more of demanding Stone. Except it doesn’t come. His lips are too busy to demand anything from me. Tracing the inside of my leg and up my thigh, he stops before he finds out just how turned on I am, and begins his descent down my other leg. I take it upon myself to start unbuttoning my blouse before I see stars and can only concentrate on one thing.
Stone slides up my body and finishes undressing me easily, kissing each breast as soon as they are exposed. My eyes close as I relish every sensation—hot hands on my waist, wet tongue on my nipples, the grazing of his large dick as he purposefully rubs it against my leg in his unhurried pursuit.
“How can you be so good at this?” I ask in a rush of breath. I’m curious, too. It’s not an “I’m so hot and bothered and this is a compliment” question either. His lips are at my ear, tracing every pleasure-bursting cell. “It’s not like you’ve practiced lately,” I continue, eyes closed. No need to second guess; I know I’m the only woman in his life.
He smiles against my neck. “I have. Actually every day since I laid eyes on you.” Stone’s fingers brush down my stomach before gently stroking my core. “Exactly like it was in my dreams,” he explains, tracing small circles with two fingertips. A moan escapes in my next breath. “My wet dreams,” he adds. I think his words do actually cause me to become wetter.
“Kiss me,” I say. He does. Not where I intended, but I can’t say I’m disappointed. His scruffy whiskers rub against my upper thighs so I part my thighs further, giving him more room to work. My hips rise off the bed uncontrollably when he slides his fingers inside of me while furiously licking my clit at the same time. Pulling on my hair, because I have nothing useful to do with my hands at the moment, I open all of my senses. I have a solitary desire: get his erection to fill me as quickly as possible. His fingers only give me a sample of what I need.
“That feels so good,” I whisper, knowing he won’t respond. Because that would mean removing his mouth from me. “Stone. I need you inside me. Please. I want you inside me when I come.”
His deep eyes flick up to meet mine.
“Now,” I order, knowing I have his full attention. Grabbing his face, I guide it up to mine and I kiss that man senseless, tasting myself on his lips. I don’t feel him move, but I hear him rustle beside his bed and then the crackle of a foil condom wrapper.
“We doing this, M?” Stone asks, resting his forehead against mine.
His face resting between my hands I say, “We’re doing this.” He tears open the wrapper with his teeth, in that skilled manner guys have. My muscles flex as I watch him roll the rubber down his swollen shaft.
Kissing me at the same time, he slides into me. We both sigh in relief at the same time. I lean up and kiss his neck, his jaw, and then capture his lips with mine. “I can now say I love everything about you, Morganna,” Stone growls.
“And I love everything about you.”
He slides in and out of me at an infuriatingly slow pace.
“I’ll love you even more if you fuck me like you mean it.”
He shakes his head, but the dominant man obeys me. He makes love to me and fucks me in this proverbial balance of perfection like no one ever has before. When we come at the same time, I know I’ll never get enough of this man. I want to keep him all to myself. Sometimes one good lay is all it takes to convince your heart of the feelings that were there for quite some time. Luckily for me, what Stone and I have between us is so much more than blistering passion—it’s called staying power.
San Diego wasn’t going to be a vacation at all. It would be the beginning of the most monumental love story of all time. “I’m gonna tattoo your name on my chest,” Stone whispers into the shadowy room.
“Don’t do that! It’s a bad omen,” I laugh. I’m from the south, I believe in the weird superstitions. All of them.
“Nothing can be bad as long as you’re mine,” he replies.
CHAPTER FIVE
Steve
Present
I DON’T WANT to look like a complete asshole, but if it does appear that way, I can always just explain that I’m concerned for M’s safety. Phillipe, Morganna’s assistant, finally got around to viewing the security footage from the night the side door was destroyed. Guess what else was destroyed? The fucking video footage. It was worse than a television from the 1980’s—all squiggly black and white lines with flashes of the door every few minutes. Basically, it was useless. After convincing her to upgrade her system, I chalked it up to faulty equipment and moved on. It would be completely warranted to just check-in today. It’s what a good best friend would do.
The Crazy Good SEAL Series: Books 1-3 Page 38
