Big Daddy SEAL

by Mickey Miller

  It’s everything I could ever hope to hear. But I’d learned that with us, it was never that simple. I still couldn’t bring myself to offer my heart to a man who lived an ocean away. Saying that word—which I’d said in the past but had not completely meant—put me out there in a way I still wasn’t ready for.

  “I feel that way about you too. Probably since we met the first time in Spain,” I said, trying not to lose control over my emotions. “But Chandler, our lives are on opposite ends of the world. You don’t want the things I do, remember?”

  He clenched his jaw, his eyes still not leaving mine. “I had a tryout yesterday for the NBA. Detroit offered me a spot on the team. It’s not Chicago, but it’s closer to you. I don’t care if you don’t reciprocate, or you think I’m too fucked up to love. I’m going to chase you until the day I die, Amy. I’m not going to end up like Jack fucking Whitehead, too busy sleeping around to love. I’ve reached the end of the road, and it’s you. Only, it doesn’t feel like the end of the road. It feels like the beginning. If you just give me one damn shot.”

  My belly fluttered. “You’re moving back here?”

  “Yes,” he replied firmly.

  “For me?”

  My heart pounded as I looked out the windshield. The snow had begun to pile up, and the outside world was disappearing. The heat was still running inside the truck, and I was getting hot as hell. I took off my jacket in between waiting for Chandler to respond. At the moment, he was staring out the window.

  “For you and me,” he stated. “It’s time for me to move on from my past. I know it’s a big step, me moving back to the States, but I need to know if there’s even a chance for us to make it.”

  Chandler had placed his hand on my jean-clad knee at some point. I hadn’t even noticed. He brought hand up to my waist and pulled me toward his side of the truck. The cup divider in the middle prevented us from totally touching. I faced him and ran a hand through his hair. It seemed like the right thing to do, comfort a man who had just tried to come to grips with a demon of his past that was still very present in his mind and life. I didn’t know if it was subconscious, but his hand squeezed my thigh. I couldn’t help melting inward at his touch. I still wanted him, dammit. And I was beginning to think maybe I was the one with trust issues.

  “No one can hear us right now,” I said. “So you can tell me if you’re feeling weird about this whole day, this whole situation here with your—father.” I gulped as I said the word ‘father.’ Was Chandler okay with me calling him that? “Jack, I mean. And I feel like it’s all my fault.”

  He reached up to my head with a hand, and, gripping me, pulled me into him for a kiss. “Will you shut up for one damn second?”

  The kisses began slowly. He ran his hand gently along my hair, my back, and caressed my neck. He pulled back, and the distance was almost painful. “You haven’t really responded to what I just said,” Chandler went on. “I said I love you.”

  “I, I don’t know what to say. I’ve thrown that word around before, and I don’t think I meant it.”

  “Well, I’ve never said it, not once. And I mean it. And I don’t give a shit if you say it back or not. I only want to hear it if it’s the truth.”

  “Fuck, Chandler.”

  “You want me, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I mouthed. I ran my hand from his chest down his abs but stopped before I arrived at his belt. Desire flowed through me as I recalled the countless hours we’d spend with our bodies wrapped around each other in Barcelona. Here he was wearing his heart on his sleeve, and my brain was struggling to even give him a chance.

  My body, however, had already made up its mind about what I wanted to do with Chandler.

  His large hand wrapped around my waist, he glanced around the interior of the truck and then tipped his chin to the back seat. I smiled.

  “You want to fuck me in the back of the truck?”

  “No, you want to fuck me in the back of the truck.”

  My lips parted. “Is it that obvious?”

  “It is when you know what to look for. And I do.” He smirked. That classic, cocky, Chandler smirk was back.

  I giggled as he grabbed me by the waist and tossed me into the backseat.

  Fuck, I loved it when he was bad.

  He jumped in the back with me and I straddled him. I grinded my body against him, my jeans against his.

  “I want you so bad right now, you have no idea,” he said.

  “Well, judging by this”—I reached between his legs and squeezed his firm cock—“I have some idea.”

  He groaned and looked at me, darting his eyes all around my body. I took my hand off him, sighed, and hugged him, resting my head on his shoulder.

  “Something is bugging you,” he said. “Spit it out.”

  I took a deep breath. “You’re right. Something is bugging me. I guess I just…can’t believe this is a thing. You and me. Me forgiving you. I think I’m crazy. With all the girls in your past…I trust you. I’m fucking crazy. I believe you don’t have a kid, now. I believe that Nina, and Norma, and what’s her face…I believe you when you tell me they meant nothing. Tell me I’m not fucking crazy.”

  Chandler took a long pause and pulled my body closer to his. “I’ve never settled down in the past. You know that. I’ve never lied about anything to you. I’m not a relationship type of guy, that’s for sure. I’m just not built for them. Shit, it’s probably hardwired in my genetic code. Look my father.”

  My body reacted strongly to that. A wave of emotion coursed through me. “So you’re not a relationship guy?”

  “No, I’m not,” Chandler shook his head.

  My heart sank and I tipped my chin down. My eyes were wet with tears. I was sitting here, straddling the man who said he loved me, but he still said he wasn’t a relationship guy. I cried hard.

  Chandler matched my chin with his finger and brought it up again. He was smiling. “I’m not a relationship guy. But I am an Amy’s guy. ” He kissed me lightly on the mouth, then continued. “I don’t want to end up like Jack motherfucking Whitehead, drinking Keystone Light at noon on a Saturday by himself because he’s got no love in his life. Seeing…him…that was the last straw that made me realize that what I thought I didn’t want was just me running away.” He paused, letting that sink in. “I’m done running. I want fucking you, Amy. And yeah, I thought I didn’t want that whole family, marriage, kids, husband thing, and I don’t—unless it’s with you. Are you hearing me? I love you. And I’ve known it for a long time, too.”

  My chest rose and fell. “Since when?”

  “Since the first time I saw you at Doña Maria’s house. Amelita.”

  “Oh God.” I let out a moan. Hearing Chandler say my Spanish name, I tried to keep a cool head—to put all of this in perspective.

  I looked into his green-blue eyes. I caressed his olive-tan skin, and I saw honesty. I saw a man who was submitting himself to my will. I could take his love and toss it aside, assume he was as insincere as the four men who’d told me they loved me before.

  But his eyes told the truth. Everything was better with him. He was a drug I wanted for life.

  “I love you too,” I finally conceded.

  “Goddamn it feels good to hear you say that.”

  Chandler wrapped his arms around me in a squeeze so tight I thought he might break me. He pulled my arms back, and his eyes seared into me.

  Suddenly, we dove into each other like wild animals in mating season. My jeans and shirt came off and so did his we were down to our underwear in under thirty seconds. He ripped my bra off and I gasped, but it was what I wanted. He dragged his tongue from my neck between my breasts and circled my pink nipples.

  The want we had for each other was gone. Desire was also gone. Both had been replaced with a pure, feral, need. Our love had been declared—after five years.

  I lay down on the seat and his thick, hard cock ground against my thigh. I slid his briefs down and he did the same to my panties.r />
  “Fuck me, Chandler,” I panted. “Fuck me.”

  I was so wet. He had no trouble sliding inside despite his girth. Once he was in, I wrapped my legs around him. Despite the cold weather, our bodies were hot and sweaty, pressed against each other.

  “Wait,” I whispered in his ear.

  He stopped, running my hair behind my ear and looked at me with worry in his eyes. “What? Everything okay?”

  “Yes. It’s perfect. Too perfect. This is how we’re meant to be, and I just wanted to feel you linger inside me for a moment before you fuck me senseless.”

  His Adam’s apple shifted in his throat. “Fuck.”

  I felt his dick twitch inside me as I swallowed him whole with my pussy.

  Slowly, we began grinding our hips against each other. He fisted a bunch of my hair, and our eyes locked the whole time we fucked.

  The crescendo was slow and steady. He thrust in and out with a one-two rhythm for a few minutes. Soon, though, we couldn’t get enough of each other. We bucked, flesh on flesh, like it was the last fuck of our lives.

  I couldn’t scream anything coherent. I just moaned and reached my hands behind me on the goddamn window identical to that scene in Titanic.

  He growled as he thrust deep, powerful strokes into me.

  I came hard, clenching all around his dick. “Chandler,” I managed to breath into his ear. “I fucking love you.”

  “God, I fucking love you, too.” Chandler yelled. I cried out, and the earth shook as he came, shooting his hot strands of cum into me.

  “For the love of Christ, Chandler,” I said as he finally finished. My smile turned hazy. “How much did you come?”

  “Just need to make sure you know you’re fucking mine.”

  We changed spots, Chandler lying across the back seat inside of me. I collapsed on top of him in a pool of post-coital sweat.

  “I love you, Amy,” he said again, craning his neck to kiss my forehead.

  “I love you, too, Chandler.”

  I smiled as I snuggled into his chest. Maybe the world outside was cold and harsh, but together, scarred as we were, we were a goddamn beautiful thing.

  Epilogue

  The Casanova Experience EPIC-logue

  Amy

  One Year Later

  Thousands of fans cheered in the United Center when Chandler hit a shot. It was the fourth quarter of a game against Detroit. Chicago's star player had injured his ankle so all of the papers were saying they wouldn't even make it past the first round of playoffs.

  This gave Chandler his big shot to play, and he hit four three pointers to put the bulls up by two with seven seconds to go.

  I could feel the energy in the stadium, all around me, so palpable you could cut it with a knife. Andrea and Jake sat next to me in the front row. They'd gotten a babysitter for their littlest one, but Tate, now eleven, had joined us.

  “Holy shit, Amy, how the fuck did you keep quiet this whole time about the fact that your boyfriend is a star athlete?” Jake beamed, his arm around Andrea. I swear, there wasn't a single picture before last summer of him smiling, but around Andrea and the kid, it's all he did. I'd never seen a bad boy take such a dramatic turn in personality.

  Except I had seen it happen. With Chandler.

  After we drove up from Murphysboro a year ago now, I'd felt as though Chandler had died and been born again. He immediately found a spot on an NBA team, and every sports radio pundit from New York to LA was wondering where this ‘hidden talent’ had come from.

  Tate, Jake and Andrea’s adopted boy, might have been Chandler's biggest fan.

  Chandler guarded their star player as he came down the court with the ball.

  Honestly though, as much as I liked watching his games, my mind drifted to what we’d been doing last night.

  I lay on the bed, face down. My ankles and wrists tied to the bedposts, I could barely move. The lights were dimmed in our apartment, and even if they weren't, I was blindfolded so I wouldn't have been able to see a thing. Chandler’s breath and his body rustling were two of the only things I heard.

  “Are you ready for me, Squirt?” his deep voice said behind me. I trembled, conscious from the indent in the mattress that he was kneeling on it close to me. He ran a fingertip along my body, starting at my ankles, slowly dragging it across the flesh of my thighs and ass, down the valley of my lower back, continuing his path until he reached my neck. He squeezed softly with his hand, not enough to hurt, but enough for me to feel that this was a very strong man in control of my sexual destiny. Strong enough to hurt me if he so desired. He wouldn't.

  “I think so,” I breathed.

  “You think so?” Chandler imitated. I could feel him grinning as he said the words.

  I swallowed and involuntarily pulled on all the ropes, causing my torso to tense. “I mean I am,“ I whispered.

  I felt the bed cave in a little between my legs, and I thought he might be kneeling on the mattress.

  When I felt both of his large palms rubbing in circles on my ass cheeks, I knew I was right. I wanted him and everything he chose to give me.

  “Do you trust me, Amy?” he asked.

  “Yes. You know I do,” I said.

  I could lie to myself and say that I'd actually trusted myself around other men, but that'd never been true. Chandler was the one and only man who I'd gifted my entire being to. He instinctively knew what to do, just how to press my buttons.

  “Good,” he said, and I could feel the heat of his naked body as he leaned over me, the warmth of each muscular arm on either side of my ribs. They must have been just a hair’s breadth from swiping my skin, because I swore I could feel his energy radiating into me.

  I had no idea how he was staying balanced, but I felt one of his full hands as it massaged my lower back up to my shoulder and neck, somehow a finessed but strong grip at the same time. Maybe the fact that Chandler played a sport that requires strength and a strong grip at once has given him an added superpower: massage professional.

  “Chandler, God that feels good.”

  “And I haven't even started with the oils yet.”

  “Mmm” I moaned, drawing the sound in the back of my throat. I relaxed my appendages while Chandler worked back and forth down my upper back and neck, the oil application softening and smoothing my skin. With nothing to look at but the black cloth of the blindfold I was wearing, I felt so relaxed as though I might float away.

  In a moment of introspection, I wondered how the hell I'd gotten this damn lucky. The man who I'd fantasized about--touched myself to since week one of meeting him--was mine. I'd thought about his big arms as arm porn, and soon those same arms would be pulling my hair as he drove his thick cock deep into me, making me orgasm like it was his fucking mission on earth.

  “Amy,” he whispered in my ear. “What are you thinking about?”

  Fuck. The damn man always knew when I was thinking dirty thoughts, it seemed. How did he read my mind? Who knew. But I refused to lie to him, however dumb, seemingly insignificant, or otherwise embarrassing I judged my own thoughts to be. We'd had long talks about the importance of truthfulness and vulnerability and how we would always be that way with each other. I didn't doubt that knowing I could so fully be myself with someone contributed to the complete disappearance of my depression since the day we met Chandler’s father. So I didn’t have any problem telling him exactly what was going through my mind.

  “I was thinking about how good your cock is going to feel so deep inside me once you finally fuck me.” I spoke in a mostly even tone, though my voice caught at the end.

  Chandler said nothing, and his hand stopped the motion he had been making on my back. For a few moments, all I could hear were the deep breaths he was taking.

  “Hey,” I whispered, a little anxious. “What are you doing?”

  “What the fuck do you think I’m doing, Amy,” he growled back. “I’m stroking my cock to that nice, thick ass of yours. You have a particularly nice ass, Squirt. You
knew that though.”

  “Holy fuck,” I breathed out. I always thought my ass was okay, but Chandler’s obsession with it made me feel even cuter.

  “That’s right, Amy,” he growled, leaning close to my ear. “I’m thinking about fucking you right now. I’ve got my hard cock out, and I can’t wait to push this thing deep into your throbbing pussy.”

  “I’m so wet, Chandler, just do it already. Please.”

  “You want to feel my cock inside you?”

  “Ung-huh,” I tried to nod but my chin was stopped by the pillow, preventing the full expression of the movement.

  “Alright.”

  I felt a heavy thud of flesh strike my ass with a slap.

  “How does that feel?”

  “Mmm, it feels good. I love it when you spank my ass.”

  He chuckled, the same cocky laugh that I remembered from the very first day I met him six years ago. He’d completely changed and he hadn’t changed at all, somehow.

  “I didn’t spank you, Squirt. I just dropped my cock on you.”

  “Dear God,” I mouthed, and I felt a few more slaps of his dick, sending ripples across my flesh.

  I tensed and throbbed and pulled on the ropes. I was a thunderstorm between my legs, and wanted to touch myself so bad, but my tied appendages prevented that.

  “Will you please just fuck me?” I begged.

  “Not until you you answer a few questions,” he teased. I could feel him circling the tip of his member on my ass, getting closer to my opening.

  “Anything. I’ll answer anything.”

  “Who does this pussy belong to?”

  “You. Christ, Chandler, it always has. Since the day I met you I wanted it to be yours.”

  “Really?” There seemed to be genuine surprise in his voice. Odd for dirty talk. “When was the first time you thought about me?”