“Fuck—”
He filled her with a lurch deep inside her. He stroked her insides, angling his hips, setting up a long rhythm accentuated by his kisses. Under her ear he sucked her flesh, probably leaving a mark. He pulled her arms up over her head and held her wrists together with one hand as he slowly pumped her.
As the minutes slipped away she whispered to the side of his face and into his ear, repeating the words he wanted her to say, because she wanted him to know she was completely his. He groaned to each command, rammed deeper, slipped his arms underneath her back and pulled her shoulders down, forcing him deep inside her.
She was floating on a cloud as she matched his hips, meeting him halfway and pushing back against his chest, wrapping her legs around his waist. She knew she could orgasm at any second. She knew Rory could make her come just from the way his tongue had earlier played with her sex. But now, she began to lose control. The slow burn he’d started began to roar as his girth filled her, as his kisses became more urgent, as he explored her body, biting and kissing. He rooted even deeper. Her muscles seized him as she gasped, feeling the delicious long rolling orgasm overtake her just as he shuddered and plunged in deep and held.
Her eyes had been closed, and she realized tears streamed down the sides of her face as the feel of him filled all the vacant and empty spaces of her soul. He paused, brushing thumbs across her cheeks, nibbling under her ear and then whispering, “You okay?”
She opened her eyes and didn’t hold back. She didn’t mask the need she had for him, how desperately she wanted him to play her body like an instrument. The barriers of fear and doubt were shattered. She knew it wouldn’t last, but it made the surrender to his body all the sweeter. She could worry about everything tomorrow, sort it all out, pick up the pieces, if need be. Right now, everything she’d ever wanted to feel, had hoped to feel with a man, was happening in her bed.
As he continued his rhythmic hip pattern, she could feel him come. Megan hoped her smile told him what she could not voice. She fed him mewling noises she could not hold back, accepting him deep. Her lips were feeding from his, telling him not to stop, hopefully telling him she never wanted it to end.
He quieted slightly, his belly pressing into hers, her orgasm blooming in every cell of her body, as the spasms overtaking his groin slowed. Her body melted beneath him, her breathing returned to normal. He pushed inside her one more time, as she met and accepted the full plant of his cock with a dull ache. And then he whispered something she hoped she’d never forget.
“Gawd, Megan.”
And that was enough.
Chapter 4
‡
He wore Megan draped across his body, her perfumed hair with the red streaks spread out in the twilight sky, looking as though she was on fire.
So much for being absolutely fuckin’ right.
Whatever she’d bottled up had come loose. Her appetite met her need, which should have scared him. But for the first time, he wanted a woman to need him. He could fill her up. She was starving for it.
And so was he.
She was sleeping, and he fell into her rhythm, inhaling and exhaling in tandem, feeling her soft sex crowning his thigh. He thought of all the lovely things he wanted to say to her, but knew he shouldn’t. He knew speaking would mess up what he now felt, something he rarely felt.
Happiness.
It was more than he thought he was entitled to feel. He wondered what it would have been like if his parents had returned, if he’d grown up with a family.
He tried to breathe without waking her, unable to take his eyes off her, already knowing he’d feel a twinge of regret when he had to leave her, which was curious. She was fire and ice. Salt and caramel. She was tucked inside the hard exterior of his soul and rested there under his protection.
He must have twitched or done something, because she jolted and rose up quickly, rolling to the side and covering herself. He could sense her heavy thoughts tossing about the room as she sat on the edge of the bed away from him. The alabaster surface of her skin was flawless and made her look like a statue.
He inhaled without a sound, and let his index finger trace down the middle of her back, traveling over the ridges of her vertebra. She tensed at first, then rolled her head to the side and speared him her hungry blue gaze.
“Come here, Megan,” he said, worried he’d been a little too loud.
She touched her shoulder with her ear in a shy move that hinted at some deeper feelings. Was this possible?
You ready for this? You’re gonna mess it up, Rory. You know this.
He could see heat in the coral shaded corners of her lips, how they quirked up at the ends.
He removed his hand from her backside and placed them underneath his head, looking up at the ceiling his chest swelling at the mere thought of what they’d done, how good it felt, and what he wanted to do again soon, like he was king of the whole fuckin’ world. She watched him without saying a word. He was going nuts wondering if she was having the same fantasies he was. Maybe she didn’t notice he was getting hard again.
He heard the sheets rustle and felt her cool hand on his cock. Her hair swept across his chest as she rose up on top of him, holding his package with one and squeezing her breasts together with the other. The sheets formed a warm tent around her, capturing her scent and warming his insides like a blast furnace.
Whatever she had in mind, he’d let her do it. His only job was to make it last as long as it fuckin’ could.
By now, ordinarily, he would be thinking up ways to exit quickly. His pattern was always the same; let them down slowly. It never really was their fault. After all, he didn’t want to be attached except for the occasional hookup. He was good at saying goodbye, and he was good at not shaming the girl into thinking he wasn’t coming back. He left the door open so they wouldn’t feel rejected. He didn’t know why it was important, but it was.
Those thoughts swirled around in his head as he was toweling himself off. The soft sound of music floated in from the other room where Megan had disappeared to when she got dressed ahead of him. He slipped on his cargos and tee shirt, which now smelled of their combined sweat from the embrace in the bookstore. Barefoot, he traveled without a sound and found her sitting at her dining table, ankles crossed, hands clasped together. She’d put on some comfortable jeans and a sweatshirt. She’d left her hair down and he pictured what her nude form would look like perched on the bed waiting for him. Wet strands coiled around the back of her neck. Their shower had gone on so long the water was used up and Rory had to finish in the cold.
Megan sat like a little girl, waiting. She was dazzling with no makeup. A beauty with skin like Venus. Hair combed just enough, but mostly messed up, like he loved it. Suddenly, he realized the situation he’d created, as well as the enormity of the problem ahead of him. Was he just getting rusty at doing this? Or was he tired of it all?
He took a seat across from her as she watched him. He placed his palms over her folded fingers and saw her jump. She was prepared for what he usually told girls at this point.
“I don’t really want to go, but I have to, Megan.” His nervousness matched her actions.
“I understand.” Her brave smile broke his heart. He really didn’t want to do this, but he knew he had to. He had no right stringing her along.
“I enjoyed this—”
“Please, Rory. Don’t tell me things that are not true. Just go. You don’t have to do anything but thank me. I had a wonderful time.”
He suddenly liked her better when she needed him. Tilting his head, he was about to ask her a question when she interrupted his thoughts.
“I’m fine. Really. Don’t ruin the evening by saying something stupid, something you don’t mean.”
But this was stupid. Really stupid. The charm of the late afternoon and evening was wearing off. He’d wanted to linger in her arms, but now he was awake. What the hell was he thinking? She was rejecting him. She wanted to be rid of him.
He stood, expecting her to stand and walk him to the door, perhaps hint at some future reconnection, but she did none of those. Megan walked back to her bedroom, slipping past him without touching, without looking, and slammed the door.
The Scupper was filled with lovelies from the beaches and regular Navy guys who wanted to be mistaken for SEALs. They were too loud and too interested in the ladies to be Team Guys. He scanned the back and found a table for six with Tyler, T.J., Fredo and their newbie corpsman, Derek. The young kid from Oregon would be deploying with them in three months.
On his way over to the table, one of the regular Navy guys bumped into him and spilled beer down his chest. He stepped back and examined the wet stain going down his front, onto his pants, and swore under his breath.
“You fuckin’ swear at me, son?” the Navy guy asked. He was a nasty drunk, and was easily forty pounds heavier and about three inches taller. Rory sized him up right away as a bully. His entourage looked to be no older than eighteen and probably easily distracted with a little alcohol and frog hogs. They smirked back at Rory and suddenly he didn’t like it. He didn’t like that he had to leave Megan’s bed to go experience this. He didn’t like that he had to wear beer which would smell like piss the rest of the evening. He didn’t like that this guy had the wits of a flea and wanted to pick a fight with someone he knew nothing about.
He heard Fredo’s chair move and knew he’d have to be quick about it. Rory punched the guy right under his nose and swung up, which instantly sent blood spurting up and over him, covering his colleagues behind him. Fredo was behind Rory in a flash and restrained his arms while T.J. and Tyler were between the crowd and the now immobilized Rory to make sure there was no further bloodshed.
“You fuckin’ hotheaded pussy, Rory,” Fredo spewed as he yanked his arms back so hard it popped his shoulder and hurt.
Now Rory whirled around and faced Fredo.
Fredo was ready for him, but retreating a safe distance. “Really? You want a piece of me, you fuckin’ asshole? What happened, Miss Hot Pants make you soft?”
Rory bolted toward Fredo, his hands out in front of him to reach for his neck, but Fredo was quicker, running backward and egging him on until they were outside in the courtyard filled with low glowing fire pits populated with couples having a romantic evening out in the San Diego air. T.J. and Tyler formed an effective shield from the Navy regulars, who accordioned at the doorway, swearing and trying to look dangerous.
Fredo flew over the low stucco wall of the patio and onto the sidewalk of the Strand. He stood with his hands on his hips and shouted back at Rory before he could follow him there. “You fuckin’ lay a hand on me and you’re done. Completely done, asshole.”
Given the thirty seconds of fresh air and a slight distance from the angry faces in the bar, Rory found himself calming down.
T.J. put his arm around Rory’s shoulder. “First, we get you drunk and then we get you laid.”
“Already laid.”
T.J.’s low rumble kind of cheered him up. “So that’s your problem, you frog.”
“Fuck’s not my problem.”
“If you say so.” T.J. sighed and punched Rory in the upper arm. “Well then, let’s get you drunk. You’re coming home with me.”
From across the patio, Fredo glared back at him, and then turned, shaking his head from side to side and headed down the sidewalk, disappearing into the night.
The new guy hung back with Tyler.
“You’re a hothead, Rory. That can cost you. Big time.” T.J. yanked on his shoulder, rattling his brain. Rory tried to get away, but T.J. wasn’t having any of it. He wrapped his massive arms around Rory, almost getting him in a neck lock. “What’s so damned important it’s worth giving up your career?”
“I’m not thinking of giving up my career.”
“You pop Fredo, he’ll make sure you do. You don’t mess with him.”
“Tell him he should watch his fuckin’ mouth then.”
T.J. whipped around and faced Rory. Cocking his head, his best friend clicked his tongue and squinted. “I’ll let you tell him when you apologize tomorrow.”
Rory stepped back so he was out of T.J.’s extensive arm reach. He felt like he was shitty company, getting shittier by the moment. He knew a lot about black moods from some of the guys who came back just a little too much on the edge. He wondered if perhaps he wasn’t having some kind of delayed reaction. Maybe this wasn’t about Megan after all. Hell yes, this isn’t about Megan at all.
He’d set out to do one thing: hook up with her. He’d planned it, carried out the mission in his mind, followed the steps he’d devised and executed flawlessly. He’d even enjoyed it. So what the fuck was happening to him?
Chapter 5
‡
Megan used her yoga class as a distraction the next morning. She didn’t look around the room to see if Rory managed to brave seeing her again, and she accepted it as the first step to moving on. Last night had seemed so real, so perfect, and not anything she should be craving now as she twisted her body into difficult positions, stretching out the kinks in her neck, elongating the muscles of her thighs and calves.
It was a Bikram, or heated class, and she was drenched from forehead to toes in a matter of minutes. Her breathing was labored. She used the anonymity of her own perspiration to allow the hot tears to flow down her cheeks. The cathartic purging of something deep inside her felt like a painful birth. It left her weak afterwards, yet grateful it might help her toughen up quicker.
Time would heal everything, she knew. Day one was the worst. Then day two, and then day three. After that, she could relax and let in those random thoughts of the feel of his mouth on hers, on her sex, the deep guttural moans he made when his body was loving hers. But she was forcing them out into the cold today.
She hadn’t noticed Lindsay in the class, so when her friend came up to her with her bright face and expectant smile. Megan didn’t know what to say at first.
“Tell me you had a fabulous time last night,” Lindsay said, stabbing her with a sly half smile.
The yoga class had drained her of emotion, and she didn’t feel like pretending or playing nice. “We did.” She retied her shoes one by one, hunching over the bench while Lindsay blotted her wet body with a towel.
“Megan, what are you hiding from me?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Come on,” Lindsay pressed while they walked out together. “Over coffee. You gotta tell me.”
Megan started to protest but Lindsay would have none of it and interrupted, “I couldn’t sleep last night. I was tossing so badly, Brady finally made me sleep in the living room.” She dipped her face down low and tried to make eye contact. “Megan, what’s wrong?”
Megan touched Lindsay’s upper arm. “Nothing. Look, why don’t I meet you at Starbuck’s?”
On the way to the rendezvous, Megan wondered what exactly she was going to tell Lindsay. Anything she would say would get right back to Rory, in all likelihood. She drove to the strip mall, stopping first at the convenience store next to the coffee shop to get some milk.
The Middle Eastern attendant was new and didn’t smile. He was wearing a wrinkled shirt and his hair was uncombed. He sported a light dusting of the beginnings of a beard. She smelled alcohol on his breath, which surprised her. His eyes wandered to her chest and Megan suddenly felt undressed.
She took her milk, declining a bag, and hating the feel of his eyes on her backside as she headed to the exit of the store through the gauntlet of liquor bottles, nearly colliding with a young dark-haired man who could have been his brother.
She retrieved a cooler bag from her trunk and placed the milk inside it, zipping it shut. Just before locking her car, she eyed the dark cave of the little store and mentally decided she’d not shop there any longer. Something was caught in her radar, but she couldn’t figure out what it was.
Lindsay, who had already ordered them two lattes, was seated in an overstuffe
d green velvet chair across a tiny rounded table from another one. Megan collapsed into the generous reading chair, resting her arms and crossing her thighs. With her eyes closed, it felt good to relax and allow the chair to comfort her.
When she leaned forward and grabbed her coffee cup, the warm liquid tasted delicious and settled Megan’s nerves. From the corner of her eye, she saw Lindsay studying her. She raised her drink. “Thanks. Can I pay you for this?”
“No, silly. My treat.” Lindsay bent over the table, the zipper of her hoodie clanging on the plastic tabletop. “So I want to know all about it. Every detail.”
Megan knew Lindsay’d be asking questions until she got what she wanted. She thought she was ready, but her resolve evaporated as soon as she opened her mouth to speak. She rolled her shoulder and pursed her lips. “We had a good time, but Lindsay, it just—,” she was searching for the words, “—It just went up in smoke. Something happened. All of a sudden, he couldn’t get out of there fast enough.”
Lindsay nodded to her paper cup. Without looking at her friend, she asked, “So, how was it?”
“The sex?”
“Um hum.”
It was a good question. Up until the end, she would have said twelve on a scale of one to ten. He was responsive, attentive, appeared into her, and could barely leave her alone, even when she slipped into the shower. He’d followed her. And then it all vanished.
“It was nice. Real nice.”
Lindsay frowned into her cup and hesitated before she asked her question. “He hurt you?”
“No! Nothing like that.”
“So what do you mean it all vanished?”
“Well, he was there one minute and then gone the next. Like that.” Megan snapped her fingers. “I’ve thought about what I said or did, and I just don’t get it. But there was no question that he needed to get out of Dodge.”
“You must be interpreting it wrong, Megan. Why the sudden change?”
“Beats me. I have no idea.”
SEAL My Home: Bad Boys of SEAL Team 3, Book 2 (SEAL Brotherhood Series 9) Page 3
