Wanted: Wife 4 Navy Seals: A Military romance

by Dee Palmer

  “Bets, he’s seriously hot. I’d tap that if I wasn’t already with the love of my life.” She smiles languorously. She is engaged to Paul, a really lovely guy, who adores her and, as such, I adore him. She continues to explain as we set the table. “He affects you like no one has. I mean you’ve messed around a bit, maybe given the odd blow job I don’t know about, but you’ve never let anyone get that personal with you before. There is obviously something there, and he’s obviously into you.” I blush from root to tip at Sofia’s summation of my abridged sexual history.

  “Oh God, I shouldn’t have said anything.” I shake my head at my own stupidity for sharing too much.

  “Are you shitting me? This is like a whole new Bets, and I love her. Grrrrrr.” She curls her fingers into powerful paws but she’s the lioness whereas I’m definitely Bagpuss, the old saggy cloth cat in the Children’s show.

  “He does affect me.” I pause, pensive as I fold an intricate swan from the napkin. “I can’t explain it, and I can’t control it, and for me that’s a huge worry. What if he keeps turning up? It can’t go anywhere. I’d just be a quick fuck, and I’m not sure I’m okay with that, but when he’s close? Oh, My God!” I’m fanning myself. I think I’ve shocked Sofia, as her mouth drops open and her eyes are wide. I get a cool shiver all over my body, and the hairs on my neck prickle to attention. I spin around to see what’s shocked Sofia, sure that it wasn’t me. It wasn’t.

  “Fuck!” I manage not to drop the glass I am now polishing, but at the expense of the language filter on my mouth.

  “Miss Thorne, now that’s not very polite, is it?” Daniel grins with amusement. He is the picture of calm, with dark grey tailored trousers and a crisp white shirt, with two open buttons at the top, just giving a glimpse of his tanned skin. His hair is messy, as if he has just run his fingers through it, and his eyes are the darkest clear blue, they crinkle at the side. He has the most amazing smile, which he is using at full strength to dazzle. I’m dazzled. Mortified, but dazzled.

  “Sorry, no,” I exhale my reply.

  “No?” He raises a brow in query and his grin is now pure sin.

  “No, Sir,” I answer softly.

  “Mmmm.” His smile broadens. “Would you introduce me to your very insightful friend?” His reference to the conversation he overheard between Sofia and me at the restaurant doesn’t go unnoticed. My shoulders tighten, and my face starts to flame. Great, I’m going to be flashing like a beacon all night. Perfect!

  “Of course, Mr. Stone. This is my best friend, Sofia. Sofia’s father owns the restaurant you were in the other night. Sofia, this is Mr. Stone.” Sofia quickly steps to my side and holds her hand out.

  “It’s good to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.” Her shameless suggestive tone makes me want to kick her right now, and if I had my Timberlands on, I would, but with ballet pumps I’m likely to do more damage to myself.

  “Really?” Daniel laughs. I try to swallow the lump in my throat while wishing the ground would swallow me whole. I am just thinking how unprofessional it would be to get roaring drunk tonight, because I don’t think I am going to get through this evening without liquid courage. “Well, you look busy, so I shall leave you to it. No doubt we shall catch up later. And Miss Thorne?” He turns and is about to leave the room.

  “Sir?” He holds my gaze with heat in his eyes.

  “I shall, very much, look forward to being served by you this evening.” I keep the breath I’m holding until I am sure he has left completely.

  “Holy fuck, Bets! Smoking Hot!” Sofia squeals in my ear. I flinch.

  “And you were so helpful.” I’m trying to be pissed, but she is beaming, and technically she isn’t wrong. “He can think again if I’m serving him all night. Wherever he sits I’m doing the other end, got it? You owe me!” I growl.

  There are ten guests in total, all male and all business associates judging by the topic of conversations gleaned from serving the five-course meal. I only glanced at Daniel once during the night as I served at the other end of the table. He was smiling, looking directly at me with dark intense eyes and an enigmatic grin. I didn’t dare hold his gaze for any length of time, as I felt the instant heat in my cheeks and a deep ache between my legs. Sofia and I have just served coffee and Jean left five minutes ago. Really it’s just waiting to do the final clean, so I feel it’s safe to grab a glass of wine. It’s allowed, sort of.

  “Did you hear what that drunk guy just said about Daniel?” Sofia leans in to whisper.

  “What drunk guy? That doesn’t narrow it down, since they are all drunk.” I snort, the half glass of wine working its magic. Teach me to drink on an empty stomach.

  “The one that seemed more than a business associate, like he’s known Daniel for a long time?” She adds.

  “I know the one, but, no, I didn’t hear anything. I was helping Jean down to the van with the gear.” I start to buff the already polished marble top. I like the way it shines with tiny metallic flecks.

  “Oh, right. Well, he was saying something about Daniel never having had a relationship he didn’t pay for. I wonder what he meant?” Her eyes are wide, and she wiggles her brows, intrigued.

  “Well, he doesn’t look all broken up, so I’m guessing it’s not about paying emotionally, so if it’s financial…I’m thinking, he maybe likes a professional.” I giggle and add, “Oh, he sounds like a keeper!” We are giggling together when Daniel enters the kitchen.

  “There is a man at the front desk asking for Sofia.” Daniel sternly informs us as we snap to attention.

  “Oh, Bets, I’m sorry! I forgot, Paul is picking me up. He is flying out early tomorrow, and I said to come get me here.” She looks pleadingly in my eyes, and I could strangle her for putting me in this situation.

  “Go. I’ll finish.” I assure her, and I don’t want to make her feel bad, so I hold off the throttling for another time.

  “Oh, Bets, you’re the best! And don’t forget, tomorrow night you’re my wing girl.” She kisses my cheek as Daniel interrupts.

  “Bethany, you have a drinks reception at the University tomorrow?” His brow is furrowed like this is a problem for him in some way.

  “Yes, but I’m bringing a change of clothes for her. I am meeting her there and then we will head out. It’s a charity thing, fancy dress, retro eighties and Bets is a backing singer with me.” Sofia smiles enthusiastically. I want to match her smile, but my jaw is just gaping at the amount of information she’d just dished out without fear or favour.

  “Fancy Dress?” Daniel enquires.

  “Yes, you know, all fluorescent pink, and ‘Frankie Says Relax’ t-shirts.” I offer through a tight smile and a grimace aimed at Sofia.

  “You sing?” His interest is piqued, I can tell, really not what I wanted.

  “Oh, good God, no! Mime, and badly.” I laugh at the very idea of holding a tune. “Go Sofs, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I push her toward the door before she can do any more damage.

  “Be good and if you can’t be good…” I slam the door before that sentence is finished and let out a heavy sigh.

  Daniel has left the kitchen, and the men have moved from the dining room. With any luck, I can finish clearing and leave while they are still deciding on which strip club to go to. I load the final bits in the dishwasher and wipe the kitchen tops once more, when I hear the front door close. “I didn’t think they were ever going to leave.” Daniel’s smooth low voice sends a flush of heat across my skin. “Would you like another glass of wine?” He makes it sound like ambrosia, and I find it all too easy to nod at the offer.

  “Yes, thank you, I would. It’s been a long day.” I stretch my neck out one side then the next to ease the sore muscles.

  “And a late night?” He smiles at my frown. Does he mean tonight or last night? “Why did you not serve me tonight?”

  “Oh, no reason.” My hand reaches for the hair on the nape of my neck. I twirl it between my fingers and lightly tug.

  “Lies,
Miss Thorne. I thought we had come to an agreement about lies.” He walks toward me. No, he stalks towards me; I am definitely feeling like prey in this situation. I swallow, my lips part, and I try to maintain the simple function of sucking in oxygen. I just need to swish my hair and push my tits out to make my attraction to him just a bit more obvious. I push out a steadying breath through pursed lips. Get a grip, Bets!

  “I don’t mean to lie, Sir. It’s just I don’t think this is a good idea.” My voice couldn’t sound less certain. My heart is trying its hardest to escape my chest, my body is on fire, remembering the pleasure it was brought to by this man. His body brushes close to my back, and he places his heavy hands on my shoulders. His firm grip squeezes the tension from my shoulders. Oh, God, that feels like heaven.

  “Arhhh, mmmm.” My head drops to the side exposing my neck, and I close my eyes. His finger traces from my ear down my neck, resting on the indent in the center of my collarbone. He taps lightly.

  “This is a good idea. We are a good idea, understand?” His voice is low and demanding.

  “Yes, Sir,” I exhale, tension and uncertainty evaporating with the air from my lungs.

  “Feel what a good idea this is?” He grinds his huge erection into my bottom with a slow roll of his hips. A small moan escapes the back of my throat, and I can’t think for the blood rushing in my head. Think, Bets! Think! This is so not a good idea! He holds my hips firmly and pulls my bottom into his rock hard length, releasing a groan of his own at the movement.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful, so responsive. You glow when you’re aroused, when I arouse you. I’ve never been this fucking hard!” He feels hard, hard as iron. He pushes deeper, his desire undeniable, and I am so turned on that I’ve done this, or my body has done this, and I feel empowered by the thought. He made me come in Mr. Wilson’s office, I’m going to make him come in his kitchen. I turn and drop to my knees, my heart racing ,and my mouth tingling with anticipation.

  “Fuck!” He cries out and slams his hands on the counter behind me before he pushes one into my hair. He gently massages my scalp then his grip tightens. He is not going to stop this, and I’m not going to stop. I want this: to taste him, to make him tremble. I reach for his belt and quickly undo the buttons. I tug his trousers down and carefully pull his boxers over his fierce arousal. His cock lies heavy in my hand as I wrap my soft fingers around its thickness and grip, gently at first and tighter as I hear him moan. I move my hand rhythmically up and down to the base. My lips are close, and I can see the glistening drops of his excitement on the tip. I lick my lips and sigh a warm breath on the velvet crown. I take my tongue and flicker lightly over the head and around the sensitive edge, dragging it down the length of the pulsing veins and back up where I enclose it with my lips and push the tip slowly into my mouth.

  “Holy Fuck! Bethany, Christ, yes! Suck it, suck it all the way down.” His raspy command is punctuated by short deep breaths, as if he is struggling to control himself. I shift on my knees, the hard floor only a mild distraction. I begin a slow rhythm, my head bobbing with the gentle guidance from his fingers as they massage and lightly pull my hair. His cock is big, thick, and long. I don’t have a huge frame of reference, but I’m thinking that it would hurt like fuck to, well, fuck. I want to take him deep, I want as much as I can take, and I want to taste his come. I hollow my cheeks and increase the suction, but this time I swallow as I take him to the back of my throat, and I continue to try and swallow, try to take more of him. “Jesus. Fuck, Bethany, what are you? Shit! Fuck I’m going to come. Fuck!” His grip tightens on my hair, and his hips jerk. Taking over, he fucks my mouth as I try to keep his pace, and he growls.

  “Arhhhhh!” I feel the hot liquid swirl, filling my mouth, and I try to swallow. It takes two attempts, and I’m more than surprised I don’t gag, given the force of his final thrust and the amount of liquid in my mouth. I lick my swollen lips and gently lick him dry. His hands are braced on the kitchen counter, and we both fight to regain some sort of normal breathing pattern.

  He helps me stand, as my legs are stiff, and my knees are sore from the hard marble floor. He puts his strong arms around me and pulls me tight to his firm chest. He holds me, his head resting on mine. His breathing is deep, and his heart is beating like mine.

  “Not what I had planned for this evening, Miss Thorne.” He takes his finger and lifts my chin, making me look into heavy lidded eyes almost black and full of desire. I can feel the raw need for my own release like I need my next breath. “I’m going to fuck you so hard.” The promised threat is absolute in his tone. It brings me back to planet Earth like a violent NASA touchdown. Even if it isn’t just what any girl would dream of as her first time, ‘demanding, angry man wanting to fuck you hard’, I swoon. Besides, can he even do that so soon? Well, I’m not waiting to find out.

  “The bathroom?” My voice is more shaky than I was hoping, and I clear my throat and repeat more confidently. “I would like to use the bathroom?”

  “Of course.” He cups my face with his large warm hands and kisses me firmly on my forehead. He continues to hold me. “I’ll show you. It’s just down the hall.” He takes my hand, and I follow his lead, his fingers gently stroke my wrist, and this tender act feels strangely intimate. He stops to face me, his hands cup my face again, his eyes intense, and I know I won’t be able to leave if he kisses me now. I want him to kiss me. His warm, mint breath and his full soft lips are just millimeters from my own parted lips. He hesitates, and a grin begins to form. He pulls back, and I collapse a little at the loss. “I am going to head to my shower, second room on the left, join me.” It isn’t a request. I swallow and nod, afraid if I say, Yes, Sir,’ that is exactly what I’ll be doing.

  I head toward the bathroom but quietly slip past and out to the front door. I’ve left my coat, as it was in the cloakroom, but I manage to grab my bag. I hit the street and since it’s Friday night, there are plenty of black cabs. I take the first one with its yellow light on and slump back once the door is closed. I pull my lips through my teeth, I can taste him, and my body is still trembling with desire. I did the right thing, I think. I am not under the illusion that my first time would be all hearts and flowers, but I didn’t think it would be a quick hard fuck, either. Although I am not sure that’s what it would be with Daniel, and that’s what shakes me to my core. However, running like I did, now, that was impolite. I can’t help but smile and I draw a deep breath. I’m thinking one of two outcomes could happen now: outcome one, I could be out of his system, brilliant; or outcome two, I have just sealed my punishment-laden future. I shiver a little at that thought. Either way I’ll be the one choosing when I get fucked.

  I knock on Marco’s door. It’s late, again. I decide not to go back to my place, as Daniel knows where I live, and if he has decided to go for outcome two, I think it’s better he doesn’t find me tonight.

  “Bets?” Marco is still asleep as he opens the door. I should maybe get a key.

  “Hey, buddy!” I smile, my tone way too cheery for this late hour. I give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Sleep-over at yours tonight – don’t ask?”

  “As if…” he rubs his face and leads the way to his sofa bed.

  I CATCH A ride with Marco to the restaurant in the morning. Having showered at his place, I just need a quick change of clothes before he drags me to class.

  “Walk of Shame, Bets?” Joe laughs and is joined by a chorus of jeers from the kitchen.

  “That’s right, Joe, blame your niece, though, this time.” I smile and nod my head toward Marco.

  “Danny came round real early this morning asking for you. He looked pissed when I told him you weren’t home. You owe him money or something, girl?” At this he barks out another loud laugh.

  “Something like that. Did he say what he wanted?” I can feel my face flame as I fail to pretend that this is a normal occurrence in my socially barren life.

  “No, but he must have met the courier on his way in at the same time,
because he left the exact same box you got yesterday …I put it outside your door.” He nods toward the stairwell.

  “Okay, thanks.” I can feel my face flush a deeper hue and turn before it’s noticed.

  Marco takes me to our Krav Maga class and I spend a good hour being pummeled into the mats. I bruise like a peach, so I’m going to look like I’ve been hit by a truck for the rest of the week. Back home, I start to strip, as the gym is very basic and with no showers, I am left to body wash in my sink before my next shift starts downstairs. My mind drifts, I bet there was a glorious bath--no, baths, plural--in Daniel’s apartment. How sad is that? Instead of Paris in springtime and deserted islands, I fantasize about heated flooring and plumbing facilities. Before I head downstairs, I pull the unopened box onto my lap and peel the tape off. Inside, the distinctive pink and black colours of the packaging mean I know exactly what I’ve been sent. I lift the tissue paper and see an exquisite lace corset with matching thong in a deep purple with black lace trim. There is also a pair of black silk hold up stockings. I think I will have to make space in a separate drawer if this continues. There will be mutiny if these saucy little numbers are forced to share space with my plain white cotton combinations and thick fluffy socks.

  Sofia has assured me that she has my outfit for tonight and will meet me in the Quad at eight tonight. I can then change in the ladies, and we can grab a taxi and head to the party. I pick a conservative light grey shift dress and black boots with a three quarter length charcoal cashmere cardigan, courtesy of Sofia. My wardrobe is a little light on elegance and a drink reception suggests elegance; well, it does to me. I check my cardigan into the cloakroom and enter the Gallery room where there is a large gathering of Heads of Departments and I am guessing, because I am here, some students, too. I take a glass of white wine and look to see if I can see any familiar faces.

  A tall gentleman approaches in an immaculate grey suit and pale pink shirt with a silver tie, his hair a dirty blonde and short. He has two days’ worth of stubble, which gives him a slightly rough demeanour, and his eyes are a light brown. He smiles, all white teeth and charm.