Bound by the SEAL (ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights Book 5)

by Zoe York

  He shifted one hand around to curve against her neck. She’d braided her hair tonight in a twisty plait that curled over one shoulder, leaving the nape free for him. He rewarded her attention to detail by stroking up and down her vertebrae there as his other hand moved south, seeking the hem of her dress.

  Underneath he found a formidable pair of spandex shorts.

  She started laughing, but didn’t move. Her eyes danced as he gave her a look. “What? I’m not interested in anyone other than you seeing my butt cheeks tonight.”

  He cupped her sex through the thin material. “Good plan. I’ll reward that later.”

  She rocked her hips and he pulled his fingers away before she could get a good grind against his knuckles. “Not now?”

  He shook his head. “No. Now you’re being punished for hiding that sweet pussy from me.”

  She laughed. “For the best. We don’t want to go out for dinner smelling like sex.”

  “Well, I might want to…until someone noticed. And then it would cease being sexy.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against her ear. “But I do love the smell of you on my fingers.”

  She shivered and he hauled her close for another kiss. The fantasy of having her ride his hand would have to be enough to get them both through a meal.

  “Speaking of dinner,” he growled, stepping out of grabbing range. “You look fantastic, so we should go out. Any preferences?”

  She gave him a sideways look. “Well…”

  “What?”

  “How would you feel about driving into Sunshine Bay?”

  He shrugged. “Sure. The night is young.”

  And it was pretty sweet cruising along the oceanside two-lane highway with the top down on his Jeep and Arielle’s hand clasped in his, their fingers resting on her bare thigh. When they curved around the dormant volcano that rose mightily above the capital city, she pointed out a pull-off at a gravel parking lot.

  “That’s a great hiking path,” she shouted over the wind.

  “Then we’ll have to go!”

  That was the extent of their conversation on the drive, thanks to the wind, but as soon as they found a restaurant and were seated, the words flowed out of them both with ease.

  They talked about hiking, sailing, cooking, and once the table next to them got cleared, and they had some privacy, the conversation turned to kink.

  “So you’ve got some experience in the BDSM community,” he said, keeping his voice low.

  She blushed, a dark pink bloom under her golden skin. “Some.”

  “But not here.”

  She shook her head. “I did lurk on the Fetlife boards for the Caribbean, but it was all too close to home. Most of what I’ve done was in Miami and New York.”

  “So nothing serious. No relationships.”

  She shook her head. “Not with power exchanges. I tend to gravitate toward guys who are naturally dominant, but none of the guys I’ve dated have ever hinted at knowing anything about kink, and I don’t really want to teach them, you know?”

  He did. It would take a big leap of faith for a bottom to lay it all out there and hope that her partner just got it. The safety concerns alone made him anxious.

  “How about you?”

  He took a long sip of water before answering. “There’s a decent kink community in the military. It’s pretty quiet, but it’s either learn from each other, or pretend to be someone else completely in civilian kink circles. That’s not a great way to establish trust. So we tend to slide into it through a military buddy who can vouch for us in his private circles.”

  “You don’t do stuff like Fetlife?”

  “We do. I do, for sure. But that can’t be my only connection to the world, because I’m definitely a lurker there.”

  “And…relationships?”

  He liked the bite of jealousy in the question. He smiled, slowly. “I’ve dated in the scene. But nothing serious.”

  “And vanilla relationships?”

  “Nothing serious there, either. Job makes it difficult.”

  “Different job, now.” She gave him a slow up and down appraisal. Did she know this was a trap? No, she probably had no idea. But he wouldn’t fall for it.

  He kept his expression lazy. Indulgent. Whatever Arielle wanted, that’s what he wanted. “And the woman I’m interested in doesn’t do commitment.”

  Her eyebrows shot right up and her lips parted.

  He’d surprised her.

  He liked that.

  She lifted one shoulder, the silky red fabric sliding over her skin. “That’s true.”

  “Are you afraid of our connection getting too intense?”

  She shook her head. “No.” I’m not afraid of anything, the set of her jaw promised.

  “Arielle.” She almost glared at him. He grinned. “I’m not going to go soft on you. I promise. Your terms, no matter what.”

  "And if my terms are I'd like to keep this just between us?"

  "I'm fine with that. But for the sake of full disclosure, you should know I got your number from Cara."

  "I figured."

  "She doesn't strike me as the none-of-my-business type."

  Arielle arched her eyebrow. "No?"

  "No."

  She laughed. "You're right. But we can tell her that you struck out.”

  “Did I?”

  She gave him a brilliant smile. “Oh, most definitely not.”

  “Then sure. If that’s how you want to play it.”

  "I think it's for the best." She took a deep breath. "Since neither of us are the commitment type."

  "Right."

  She narrowed her eyes. "Right?"

  He grinned. "I'm the 'let's get cheesecake to go so I can eat it off your naked body' type. Does that work for you?"

  "Absolutely."

  THIRTEEN

  BY THE END OF THE DAY ON THURSDAY, BRAYDEN WAS BONE-TIRED AND WELL-STOCKED WITH TOOLS.

  He’d ended up buying out that contractor who was leaving the island. He was anxious about making the investment, but in the worst case scenario, he could always re-sell the equipment and at least break even.

  And there was a part of him that was happy to be setting down some roots on Miralinda. Really, if the tools didn’t get used in the proposed renovation, maybe he’d hang out his shingle as a handyman.

  There was also the small matter of being known as the guy who had all the power tools. A fellow Navy SEAL, Evan Silva, called him late in the afternoon. “Hey man, rumor has it you know where to get construction materials. Can you recommend a lumber store that won’t rip me off?”

  “Sure thing. How about my backyard?”

  The next day, Evan showed up on a boat, full of talk of impressing a woman. Brayden knew a bit about that, not that he was telling Evan or Mick about Arielle just yet. After dinner on Wednesday night, he wasn’t sure she wanted to tell anyone about them, and seemed to have sworn Cara and Daphne to secrecy.

  "I'm quickly learning that the island way is to grab any deal you're offered, because who knows when it'll happen again," Brayden said as he led the way to the sugar mill he’d started converting in a workshop. He’d also picked up some lumber, and that was convenient, because Evan wanted to make an entertainment unit with his own two hands.

  That made Brayden’s goal of wanting to give Arielle a few kinky orgasms seem kind of weak in comparison. In his defense, he thought, they’d be pretty killer orgasms.

  He started laughing at that, and had to stop trimming the boards in front of him for a minute as he regained his composure.

  “What was that all about?” Mick asked when he finally stopped shaking.

  “Hard to explain,” Brayden said, taking a deep breath.

  “Private joke?”

  “Something like that.”

  Mick gave him a curious look but let it go. They worked for the rest of the day, trading stories back and forth about the ex-pat civilian life. It sounded like ReefCo was proving problematic for their friends on Duchess Island, a
nd Mick and Brayden quietly agreed that they’d do whatever they needed to support their fellow SEALs.

  ~

  After seeing Evan and his custom-built entertainment unit off—and wishing the man luck with his plans—Brayden headed back to the bunkhouse.

  He walked into the kitchen just in time to overhear Cara trying to sweet talk Mick into dinner with her mother.

  “But baby, she wants to talk about an engagement party.”

  “That’s not motivation for me to jump into the shower and head on over.”

  “How about if I join you and help you wash off all that hard work you did today?”

  Brayden cleared his throat and the couple twisted around to look at him guiltily. He’d made some vague noises over the last two days about striking out with Arielle, and apparently that made him a sympathetic figure. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just…” He pointed toward his room. “You know. Be over there.”

  Cara flipped her corkscrew curls over her shoulder. “We’re going out for dinner, but there are leftovers in the fridge.”

  “Excellent. I’ll make short work of them.” He stopped just before disappearing down the hall, as if the question he was about to ask was totally casual. “How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

  They glanced at each other, then Cara shrugged. “Maybe just two hours? I don’t know. It depends on how long it takes to agree on what an engagement party should look like.”

  Mick rolled his eyes. “It won’t take long at all. I’m down with whatever.”

  She elbowed him in the side. “Except that you’ll insist it’s casual.”

  “Of course. Who in their right mind would say otherwise?”

  “The same woman who’s making us go to church every week. Be grateful she’s not insisting on the counseling the minister offers.”

  Mick blanched.

  Brayden left them to it.

  Two hours wasn’t enough time to safely invite Arielle over, not at the last minute. But he could get creative.

  ~

  “What are you doing right now?”

  Arielle closed her eyes and let the excited heat wash through her as Brayden’s low, warm voice rang in her ear. “Lesson prep for tomorrow.”

  “Sexy.”

  She laughed. “And now I’m moving away from my desk…what are you doing?”

  “Thinking about you moving away from your desk. Thinking about you stretching out on your bed.”

  “You have a very accurate imagination.” She wiggled out of her yoga pants and followed his instruction. “You sound…naked.”

  “Wishful thinking, I’m afraid. But I can get more comfortable. How about you?”

  “I just took off my pants.”

  He breathed in. “Excellent. What else are you wearing?”

  “Panties and a tank top.”

  “No bra?”

  “Never at home.”

  She got a long, sustained groan for that. Then, “Do you like the brush of fabric against your nipples?”

  She squirmed as his words heated up her skin. “I do.”

  Admitting that so easily, so freely, was a rush in itself.

  “What do you want to hear next? Do you want me to tell you what to do to yourself, or what I’d do if I were there?”

  “Both.” She couldn’t help it. She was greedy for him. “Start with one. Surprise me.”

  “Maybe they’re the same. Maybe if I were there, I’d stand at the foot of your bed and watch you squirm as I tell you to slide your hand under your shirt and cup your breast.”

  She did just that. “Are you touching yourself, too?”

  “Imagine that I am. That I unzip and wrap my fist around my cock as I watch you play with your nipple. I can’t see it, but I can see the way you bite your lip. The way your eyes drift shut because it feels so good and you want to lose yourself in the feeling.”

  A sigh slipped from her lips as she pinched and pulled, his words just as arousing as the experienced touch of her own fingertips. And her eyes did drift shut, because it was easier to picture his cock that way. She wanted to watch him get himself off. But not at the foot of the bed. “I want you to kneel over me,” she whispered. “Not touching, but close. I want to hear you as you get turned on.”

  “I’m turned on right now, gorgeous.”

  She smiled to herself. “But you’re not close to losing control. I want to hear that. The way you start to shake, the heavy breathing. The catch as you hold your breath a bit, then let it go.”

  “You’ve been paying attention.”

  “I’m a good student.”

  “I’ve noticed that. What else have you learned?”

  “You like the taste of me.”

  He swore under his breath. That gave her a thrill, that just the mention of him going down on her had that much effect. “Yeah,” he said. His voice was gravelly now. “And I think you’ve taken charge of this call.”

  “By accident.”

  “Back on track now. Speaking of that pussy I like to lick so much…how wet are you?”

  “Very.”

  “I don’t want you to touch yourself.”

  She froze with her fingers on her lower belly. “That’s mean.”

  “I want you to imagine I’ve tied you up. Your arms are bound to your body, your hands on the inside of your thighs, holding your legs open.”

  “I could turn my wrists,” she whispered, trying to imagine how that would work.

  “You could. But you’re a good girl, and you won’t.” Oh, he had more faith in her than she had in herself.

  “Not even if someone came in to your apartment. You wouldn’t move.” She squeaked, because being caught in a compromising position was a serious nightmare, and he knew that. For a second, she forgot that in this fantasy, he’s with her. “It’s okay. I’d send them away. I’d leave you bound and helpless for me, and when I got back, I’d run my hand up your thigh and find you dripping for me.”

  “Please…”

  “What do you want?”

  “Let me touch myself.”

  “Not yet.” He inhaled slowly, and she pictured him stretched out on his bed, rubbing himself lazily as he tortured her.

  Maybe she should sneak into the bunkhouse. Let him catch her trying to steal something from his room.

  “I want to see you spread out for me.”

  She pushed at the waistband of her panties, then dragged her hand higher again, up to the flat plane between her breasts. “Any time.”

  “Right now.”

  She strained to hear anything—the squeak of the old wooden floorboards outside her apartment, the heavy fall of his footsteps on the stairs. Nothing.

  She licked her lips. “My door is locked.”

  “And what if that wouldn’t stop me?”

  Her head spun with the possibilities.

  She could hear him breathing as he pressed the phone receiver closer to his mouth. “Arielle?”

  “I…” She realized her legs were shaking and she rolled onto her side, pressing them together. Oh, the ache. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I would if you wanted me to.”

  In the distance, she thought she heard a small click, and her pulse sped up. She pushed herself off the bed. “I think I always want you.”

  It was a stunning confession she hadn’t known she was going to make, but the words maybe meant something different to him. Something baser, more like permission, because there was another click, and now she knew it wasn’t her imagination.

  Frozen to the spot, she had to wait as her apartment door swung open, then closed. As steps approached and a larger-than-life sex maniac filled her bedroom doorway. Tonight, Brayden wore a fitted black t-shirt, stretched tight across his chest, and cargo pants. He looked bad-ass. A fantasy she hadn’t even known she had.

  He paused a beat as he took in her position. “You got up.”

  She swallowed hard as she blinked at him. “I…”

  His gaze was hooded. Hot. “Next time I’ll actual
ly have to tie you down.”

  Her heart pounded in her chest as she moved closer to him. This was officially out of control, this burning heat between them.

  She stopped in front of him and slowly sank to her knees. Without a word, she lifted her shaking hands and covered his bulge. His erection pulsed against her touch, and she leaned in to rub her face against him though the heavy cotton of his pants.

  A clock ticked in her living room.

  Outside a car accelerated, the sound fading as it drove off into the unknown.

  Dusk had settled while they’d been talking on the phone, and now her apartment was hung with shadows.

  “You know,” she said, her voice shaking as she opened his zipper. “Normal people just call and say, ‘hey, can I come over?’”

  He laughed silently, with his entire body. “Right. I missed the Netflix-and-chill lesson.”

  She breathed in the scent of him as she worked him free of his pants and boxer briefs. “I forgive you,” she whispered, her lips brushing an eager drop of moisture at the tip of his cock.

  He shuddered as he sank his fingers into her hair. “Thank Christ for that.”

  FOURTEEN

  HE SPENT SATURDAY RIGGING UP WIRELESS, STORM-SAFE SECURITY CAMERAS.

  If Mick noticed that Brayden had skipped his usual hemming and hawing over the cost of something, and gone straight to an overnight shipment of all the tech he needed, it didn’t come up.

  Instead, his partner joined in as Brayden worked on the map of the property in the main kitchen.

  “That’s a good obstacle course site right there.” Mick pointed to a flat run of ground along a bluff that rose above the ocean. “Might need fencing, though.”

  “What do you think about stairs every hundred feet? And then, yeah, fencing in between. I don’t know how much the maintenance would be on all that…” Brayden scratched his chin. “Not sure. I’m used to Uncle Sam budgeting for that.”

  “If it draws people in, it’ll pay for itself. What’s the range on the transponders on the cameras? How far out can we go?”

  “Range is a mile. I bet more, though. Way longer than the space we’ve got, so we can go right up to the property line.” The property wasn’t that big. They’d gone for a run along the bluff that morning, and figured the usable chunk of land was half a mile long.