Filthy SEAL

by Amy Brent

  “Okay, Shelby, I should have called you,” I said with a defeated sigh. “I was just always on the road, traveling from one town to the next, trying to make a name for myself. I mean, I asked Cody for your number and he said he’d get it for me, but he never did.”

  “Oh, so it’s Cody’s fault that you’re a selfish asshole,” she said, rolling her eyes again. I swear, she was making me dizzy with all that eye rolling.

  “No, goddammit, it’s not Cody’s fault,” I said. “And who says I’m a selfish asshole?”

  “Just everybody who’s ever known you,” she said, hands in the air, knife and fork waving like she was conducting some kind of greasy spoon orchestra. “You’ve always been a selfish asshole, Luke, ever since we were kids. And the sad thing was, me and Cody let you get by with it because we both loved you like a brother.”

  I blinked at her for a moment. I had never thought of myself as selfish. Truth was, I’d never thought about myself as anything other than a good old boy from Texas who appreciated a good cold beer, a good hard ride, and a nice tight piece of pussy. What was selfish about that?

  “So, you’re pissed at me because I haven’t called you since we both left home,” I said, nodding in slow comprehension. “Let me ask you something. Let’s say I had called you. Exactly what would you have expected me to say?”

  It was her turn to look at me like a dog watching a ceiling fan. “What you do mean?”

  “I mean, did you expect me to say that everything was good and I was just checking in? Or that I missed you so much that it hurt? Or that I lay in the back of my truck many nights staring up at the stars and wishing you was lying next to me?” I huffed and spread out my hands. “I mean, seriously, Shelby, what did you want me to say?”

  “Well, all of that, I guess,” she said. All the air seemed to go out of her as she set back and put the knife and fork on the table. She had tears in her eyes. Goddammit, I hated it when a woman cried. She gazed into my eyes. “I reckon I wanted to just hear your voice.”

  I felt like a shit heel. I reached across the table and held out my hand. She put her hand in mine and my fingers closed around hers. “I never stopped thinking about you, Shelby,” I said. “Not for one second. But the God’s honest truth is, you and me, as much fun as we had, we had different takes on life. You wanted to get an education and build yourself a career that didn’t include ranching and riding and shoveling shit. And I just wanted to ride bulls. I didn’t want to force my dreams on you and I knew you well enough to know that you’d never force your dreams on me. So… well, I just figured if it was meant to be we’d come back around to each other one day.”

  She squeezed my hand. “And here we are.”

  “And here we are.” I smiled and let my eyes go around her face. “And you ain’t changed a bit.”

  “Oh bullshit,” she said, tugging her hand away. She picked up her Coke and sucked on the straw. My eyes watched her lips purse, watched her suck on the straw. It was the first time in my life that I had been jealous of a damn straw.

  “I mean it,” I said, picking up my glass to toast her with it. “Shelby Cates is still the prettiest dang girl in the state of Texas. Period.”

  “Well, I think you might have sustained one too many concussions,” she said. Her face went serious and she nodded at my side. “Seriously, how bad was it? And don’t give me that ‘I’ve had worse’ bullshit.”

  “Well, I don’t really remember getting gored.” I leaned back and gently touched the bandage beneath the scrub shirt. “One minute I was on the back of the sumbitch and the next minute I was tossed in the air like a rag doll. Somebody said I came down on the bull’s horn and he flung me around till he got tired and then tossed me aside. One of the cowboys that visited me in the hospital said there was a YouTube video of it, but I ain’t seen it and have no desire to do so.” I took a sip of Coke and set the glass on the table. “I mean, why would anyone wanna see themselves getting gored by a damned old bull? Not me.”

  “How bad was the damage?” she asked, a look of sadness in her pretty eyes.

  “Well, it was considerable I guess,” I said. “Punctured my stomach, ruptured my spleen, cracked a few ribs.” I worked up a smile for her. “If you’ve never been gored, I do not recommend it. It can really fuck up your day.”

  “So how did you bust your stitches?” she asked, arching her eyebrows and giving me that look she always gave when we were kids and she caught me doing something I should have, like jacking off in the bathroom to her Cosmo magazine when I was fourteen.

  “Like the nurse said, I got up by myself to take a leak and passed out on the floor.”

  “Why don’t I believe you?” she asked, eyes rolling yet again.

  “I do not know,” I said, picking up the last chunk of my burger and stuffing it in my mouth. I smiled and chewed and smacked my lips. “You need to get your eyes checked. They seem to roll around an awful lot.”

  “Only when I’m around you,” she said.

  She picked up her fork and went back to work on her plate. I couldn’t help but stare and wonder where we would be today if I hadn’t gone off the ride the circuit and she hadn’t gone off to college.

  Would we have had a future together?

  If so, would we still be together today?

  Shelby wasn’t the type to live on a ranch and pop out babies. And I wasn’t the type to stay in one place for too long. No sir, whatever water had gone under the bridge between us was probably water well served. I seriously doubted even Shelby would have put up with my shit for this long.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: Shelby

  We sat and talked for what seemed like hours. I heard all about Luke’s adventures on the rodeo circuit and bored him to death with highlights of my six years at A&M getting my Masters in agriculture. I want to work with seeds, I told him, developing wheat and rice seeds that would grow anywhere in the world, in any climate. It was a big goal, which flew right over his head.

  “I’m not sure there’s much call for that sort of thing, Shelby,” he said, scratching at the stubble that covered his chin.

  I frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Can’t you just buy little packets of seeds at the Home Depot?” he asked with a shrug. “Or buy rice in a bag at the food mart?”

  I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not, but I was pretty sure he was. Lordy, how many times had this boy been dumped on his head?

  We talked about home and horses and cattle and trucks and Cody and Daddy and Texas football. He asked if I was seeing anybody special and I just chuckled to avoid telling him he had more luck riding bulls than I had riding men.

  I knew better than to ask if he was seeing anybody. The more accurate question would have been how many women was he seeing?

  We did not talk about the number of women he’d been with or the number of men I’d had, although I was certain his count would far outnumber mine.

  As I watched Luke shove the last of his fries into his mouth, I felt the anger that had festered inside me for so long slowly fading away. I had been pissed at him because he had never called me after he left home. I painted myself as the poor girl whom the hero left behind. But as he said, the truth was, I’d never ever tried to call him either. I said it was because I never knew where he was, but that wasn’t entirely true.

  Cody kept a pretty good track on Luke and told me several times that Luke was riding in rodeos near College Station where I was in school and around Houston just a short drive away.

  I could have easily gone to see him if I’d wanted to, but I never did.

  Maybe Luke was right.

  He didn’t want to force his dreams on me and maybe I didn’t want to force mine on him.

  Or maybe I didn’t know if I could resist just chucking my dreams to follow him around the rodeo circuit if he ever asked me to. I’d never had much willpower when it came to Luke Daniels.

  Not as the little girl who followed him around like a lovesick pup.

  Not as
the teenager who spent many nights lying in his arms.

  And not as the woman sitting across from him now, gazing into his eyes as little jolts of electricity arced across my nipples and little drops of joy-juice soaked into the crotch of my Victoria’s Secret panties.

  I glanced at the clock above the counter. “Holy crap, it’s almost nine-thirty,” I said. I glanced out the window. Yep, still dark. Duh. “We’d better get back on the road. We won’t get home till after midnight at this rate.”

  Luke’s lips curled into a smile. He nodded out the window. My eyes followed his gaze. He was looking at the motel office that sat cattycornered to the diner. The neon sign in the window read: VACANCIES.

  He gave me a shrug and said, “We could just stay here tonight and head home in the morning. I mean, if you wanted to.”

  I slowly brought my eyes around to his. The air between us seemed to grow warm and moist, filled with electricity, like the air before a Texas thunderstorm.

  I gave him a sympathetic look and said, “You do look tired.”

  His head slowly bobbed. “Yes, ma’am, it has been a long day.”

  “And your doctor would probably recommend that you get lots of bed rest.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m sure he would.”

  I glanced at his side as the warm juices started to flow freely between my legs. “Did the doctor say that you should avoid strenuous activity? I mean, I don’t want you busting your stitches.”

  “The doc said I could do whatever I wanted to, so long as I was careful,” he said seriously. “Physical activity in moderation is good, I think he said. And you know me. I’m all about the physical activity.”

  “Well then, doctor knows best,” I said, reaching for my purse. I took out a twenty-dollar bill and set it on the table. “You pay our check. I’ll get us a room.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE: Shelby

  I led Luke to room 10 and opened the door. A wave of musty air rushed past us, as if it had been locked inside the room for years and couldn’t wait for me to open the door so it could get free. I coughed and waved at the dust I’d kicked up just by opening the door, then reached inside the door and flicked on the light. A bedside lamp flickered to life.

  “Well, it ain’t much,” I said, stepping aside to let Luke pass. “But we’ve both probably slept in worse.”

  “Who said anything about sleeping?” Luke asked with a grin. He held his side as he walked over to sit on the edge of the bed. He glanced around the room. “It’s a shithole, but it’s better than sleeping in the bed of a truck, which is where I spend most nights.”

  The room was standard issue roadside motel straight out of the 1970’s. There was a double bed covered by a spread with a scenic cowboy riding a horse while roping a calf print. On the wall above the bed was a painting of a similar cowboy on a similar horse roping a similar calf. The spread and the painting had probably been in this room for decades.

  There was a nightstand on one side of the bed with the lamp and an alarm clock that was off by several hours. A little round table and two chairs sat in front of the window, which was covered by heavy drapes the color of red wine. The air conditioner was beneath the window. I fiddled with the controls for a moment. It spat and sputtered, and finally made a noise like a diesel engine cranking to life and blew out air that was just slightly cooler than the thick air already in the room.

  There was a rickety-looking dresser with an old, old, old television set sitting on top of a yellow doily that had probably once been white. The TV was so old it didn’t even have a remote control or a cable running into the back of it. I could only assume that most people checking into Mel’s Diner, Convenience Store, and Roadside Motel did not do so to watch TV.

  I had bought a six-pack of Coors in the little store scotched between the motel office and diner. I set the cold beers on the dresser, then popped the top on two of them. I handed one to Luke and kept one for myself. I put the cold bottle to my lips as I walked over to the door leading into the bathroom and pushed it open with the toe of my boot.

  Again, standard stuff; toilet, tub, shower; all relatively clean and free of traces from past visitors.

  “You feel like a shower or a hot bath?” I asked. “No offense, but your hair looks like somebody plastered it to your head with a trowel.” I noticed he was holding his side again. “Is it okay to get that wet?”

  He tried to smile. I could tell it hurt. “The doc said I probably shouldn’t get this wet for a few more days. I can shower, but I need to cover it with plastic somehow.”

  “Then we won’t worry about a shower until we get you home and I can figure out how to wrap plastic around you or something.”

  “If you can get past the smell for tonight, that sounds like the best plan.”

  “I think I can manage.” I took a long pull at the bottle and stared at him for a moment. I could barely believe I was in a shitty motel room with Luke Daniels, after all these years.

  He was sitting on the edge of the bed with his feet on the floor and his hands on his knees. I had to smile because he looked so ridiculous in the hospital scrubs and cowboy boots.

  He held out his arms and wiggled his fingers at me. “Come here.”

  I set the beer on the nightstand and moved to stand between his knees. He put his arms around my waist and pulled me toward him, resting his forehead between my breasts. He sighed as I wrapped my arms around his head and pulled him close. I rested my cheek on the top of his head.

  “I’ve missed you, Shelby,” he said quietly.

  “I’ve missed you, too, Luke.”

  “I want to make love you,” he said, looking up at me with dreamy eyes. “But I’m afraid I can’t do much more than lie here.”

  “I think we can make that work,” I said, putting my hands on his cheeks and lowering my lips to his. His lips were rough, but they were warm and his tongue was moist and when I stuck my tongue into her mouth so he could suck on it, the past came rushing back and I nearly came in my jeans.

  God, how I’d missed the taste of this man.

  I kissed him long and hard as his hands came around to undo my jeans. He hooked his thumbs into the waistbands of my jeans and panties and forced them down over my round ass and legs. I was still wearing my boots, so the jeans and panties gathered just below my knees.

  I broke the kiss long enough to pull off my t-shirt and unhook my bra. When the bra slid down my arms, freeing my aching tits, Luke sighed his approval and cupped my tits in his hands. He kneaded my milky globes as his tongue said hi to my nipples, drawing circles around them, nipping with his teeth, sucking them between his lips.

  “Get this off,” I said, breathless already, tugging at his shirt. “Just raise your arms and I’ll help you.”

  “Son of a bitch,” he said, wincing as I pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it aside. I put my hands on his muscular shoulders and glanced down at this bandage. It was still clean, no sign of blood. I put my finger under his chin to lift it up so I could see his face. He was sweating a little, but his eyes were bright and he managed to give me a smile.

  “We’re gonna have to be careful,” I said. “I don’t want you to do anything to pop those stitches. I’d hate to have to call the cook to sew you up.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said as his hands slid from my breasts to my ass. He flexed his fingers into the soft flesh of my ass and let his little fingers slide down to tease my asshole. He glanced down at the neat patch of curls pointing toward my clit. “Maybe I can just lay back and you can just do a slow ride, like in the good old days.”

  “Hmm, I can do that,” I said, kissing him again.

  He kept squeezing my ass with his left hand, then brought his right hand around to slide between my legs. I spread my thighs so he could slide his fingers across my sopping pussy, lubing them up so they would slide easily inside me.

  He began fucking me with one finger while his thumb rolled my clit from side to side. I was two seconds away from cumming all over his hand. It had
been awhile since I’d been touched by a man down there. Especially a man I cared about. Luke’s fingers were hitting all the switches, turning on my water works, sending shudders of orgasm throughout my body.

  “Fuck... I’m gonna… cum… already…”

  Luke started thrusting his fingers in and out of my pussy at a faster pace. He put his lips to my nipple and sucked hard as his other hand dug into my ass cheeks. I got on my tiptoes and pulled his head into my chest and came in a downpour, washing over his hand like a torrential Texas thunderstorm.

  I’d always been a gusher. When I cum I shoot juice out of my pussy like water through a firehose. As Luke rammed his fingers as deep inside of me as they’d go, I came in great bursts, showering his hand with a flow of hot juices that splashed all over the insides of my thighs and dripped to the floor.

  My sudden release of juices and the smell that filled the air made Luke moan in delight. He looked up at me and smiled. “I’d forgotten what a mess you always made,” he said, planting kisses across my breasts. “Remember how we used to sleep on towels because you’d get the bed so wet?”

  “I remember,” I moaned, still trying to catch my breath. His fingers were still inside me. I wiggled my pussy against his hand and flicked my tongue across his lips. “I remember how you used to shoot a load in the air like a water fountain when I pumped you hard with my hand. Do you still do that?”

  He grinned at me. “Why don’t we find out?”

  As I went to the bathroom to get a warm washcloth, Luke shimmied out of his boots and scrub pants and lay back on the bed with his head on the pillows and his legs spread wide. I gasped a little when I saw his monster cock for the first time in years. I had forgotten how long and thick it was, almost like one of those big foot-long silicon dildos you can order off the internet (or so I hear).

  His cock stuck straight up from his curly pubes like a flag pole ready for a salute. I felt juices flowing again in anticipation of having his cock in my hands, in my mouth, and especially, in my pussy.