Wanted: Wife 4 Navy Seals: A Military romance

by Dee Palmer

  “We are going to leave, I need you to come with me now.” He tightly grips my hips, growling his demand. I clench, my core on fire.

  “Bets, we’re on in five, you better have a few more of these.” I let out a huge breath as Sofia places two more shot glasses in front of me. Daniel takes them from her, and for a moment I think he is going to tell her we’re leaving, and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t stop him, but the corners of his mouth turn up.

  “If you are going to do tequila shots, Bethany, there is only one way to do them.” His voice is hypnotic. He takes a piece of lime and holds it up to my mouth.

  “Open.” I obey, and I swear I hear him moan. I gently grab the fruit between my teeth. With that, he cups my chin and tilts my head, exposing my neck. He leans closer and drags his warm tongue along the vein that must be pumping madly, if my heart rate is anything to go by. I shiver at the contact, and my breath hitches. He sprinkles a small pinch of salt on the damp area he created and picks up the shot glass.

  “Cheers!” He has the widest grin. He firmly licks the salt from my neck, downs the shot, and presses his lips hard against my mouth and sucks the juice from the lime. “Mmmm, your turn?” He raises a brow.

  “Holy Hell!” Sofia gushes in my ear. I gape at him, I’m a tingling ball of desire but manage to shake my head, laughing as a deep breath rushes from my body.

  “Wow!” I silently gasp, utterly speechless and dripping wet.

  Daniel’s eyes burn through me. “Looks like you’re on, ladies?” he informs us coolly, nodding toward the stage. I reach behind him to grab the other shot.

  “I’m still going to need this.” After I swallow, I blow out a cooling breath to calm the effect of Daniel, not the liquor.

  The heat from the lights is fierce on the stage, but it also has the effect of making the audience invisible, which is fantastic. I put the guitar strap around my neck and tug ineffectively at the hem of my dress.

  “Bets, sultry and sexy. No smiling.” Sofia winks at me, the picture of confidence.

  “Too scared to smile, Sofs.” I snort. The loud bass and drum kicks in of our chosen track, “Addicted to Love” and I watch as Marco dramatically grabs for the microphone stand, casually winking at me over his shoulder. I laugh again, then quickly remember no smiling, so I pout instead. The song belts out from the wall of speakers behind us, and with the effect of the shots making their way through my body, I start to sway, synchronising my movements with Sofia’s at my side. It’s easy, fun, and the audience is cheering and, better still, I can’t see any of them. Sofia shouts at me to stop smiling, but I can’t help it, I’m having too much fun. I love dancing, although this is really just a gentle roll of my hips. Sofia is right, it does feel good to do what my body wants for a change. Marco is giving his all for his big finale and the stage lights go out. There are shouts for another track, and before I can leave the stage, I hear the first bars to “Bad Case’” I look to where Daniel is standing and can’t help my own grin, because with the lights out momentarily, I can see clearly and I catch a glimpse as he sets about adjusting his trousers.

  The lights go back on on the stage, and Sofia comes up behind me to spoon, grinding gently against my butt, taking our routine up a notch in the sexy scale. She has ditched her guitar, and I do the same; she has her hands on my hips. This song is a little faster and it’s more fun to jump around a little. Facing each other as Marco dominates the front of the stage, Sofia starts licking her lips suggestively, I laugh and mirror this, and it doesn’t feel like exhibitionism because I can’t see anyone else. The edge of the stage starts to fill with some of the audience and I feel strange hands rest on my hips, only to be snapped away. I turn to see a man stumble away from me and Daniel’s furious dark eyes, and all too quickly the seat of his pants, as I am swept up and over his shoulder. He tugs roughly on the hem of my dress preventing full exposure and I can’t help giggle at his attempt to protect my modesty.

  “I don’t share!” He growls as way of an explanation and strides off the stage. My head inches from his backside. I giggle again. It’s the alcohol. I’m thinking I could just sink my teeth into that tight arse; definitely the drink talking! He strides through the crowd until he is outside, and I can hear him speaking to his driver. He carefully slides me down the front of his toned firm body and places me on the pavement. He looks angry.

  “This is normal for you?” His face is dark, and there is fury in his eyes, effectively killing my playful buzz.

  “Yes, Daniel, absolutely fucking normal, between working full-time, a full-time part-time degree, and visiting my…” I stop myself, and he raises a questioning brow. “Between all that,” I continue with just as much anger as he is radiating. “I do this every night!” I point toward the club and return his scowl.

  He shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair a few times before he speaks again. His voice is softer. “Sorry Bethany, it’s just, you look so sexy, so natural, so confident. Did you hear the crowd?”

  Oh, the irony. “Well, Daniel, that’s called drink. It gives me courage and makes men horny, and that has very little to do with me!”

  “Why do you do that?” His dark brow furrows, but I can’t get my head round why he is angry. Why he is even here? Why me?

  “Do what, Daniel? What do you want from me?” He is standing so close we are touching, He takes his hand and sweeps it up the back of my neck, fisting my hair and pulling my face to his.

  “This is going to go two ways. Firstly, you have been extremely impolite, and your behaviour has been disappointing, for which you will be punished. Secondly, I believe we have some urgent unfinished business, and because of this, your punishment will have to wait. Because now, right now, I am going to fuck you until morning… Miss Thorne, I am going to make you come until you beg me to stop.” His breath is hot against my mouth, “And I know I’m going to love to hear you beg, do you understand, Miss Thorne? Is this acceptable to you?” He looks deep into my eyes.

  “Yes, Sir.” My head no longer has a say, because my body has chosen.

  DANIEL FIRMLY HOLDS my hand as he waits for the doorman to open the side door, opting to avoid either of the rotating doors. He walks briskly across the checkered marble foyer of The Savoy, I actually do a ‘Pretty Woman’ style stumble as I take in the grandeur. The vaulted ceilings are cream moulded plaster with pale green inset squares. The polished dark wood paneling and hanging glass light fittings are in keeping with the art deco period of the furniture placed at either end of the vast reception area. If I wasn’t so nervous, I would be extremely intimidated. I have been to The Savoy before, but only to do my silver service training, and I am wondering why Daniel has brought me here and not to his apartment. As if he senses my unease, he squeezes my hand lifting it to gently graze his lips across my knuckles.

  We walk in silence along the narrow corridor, the thick carpet bounces under my aching feet. He glides the key card with precision and steps aside the open door to let me through. Inside the suite he drops my hand and walks toward the built in bar, while I tentatively walk toward the window. The floor to ceiling glass allows for the most spectacular view of the Thames; directly across the river, the London Eye is lit in ever changing colours, and the lights on the boats along the river sparkle. The view is stunning, romantic, really, with a million city lights shining the length of the river bank. I can hear him pour some drink, and I tremble as he walks over to me.

  “Drink?” He hands me a crystal glass with two fingers of golden liquid. I take it, I don’t much care what it is, and I sip. My face wrinkles.

  “That good?” Daniel’s laugh is warm. I drink the remainder in a large gulp. He laughs again.

  “Someone’s in a hurry.” He takes my glass and together with his, places them back on the bar.

  He stands close behind me, his arms slide around my waist and he pulls me tight against his body. His mouth is hot against my neck, and I tilt my head back against his chest. He whispers in a low voice, “I am goin
g to take my time with you, Miss Thorne, and I would very much like you to do exactly as I ask.” He runs his nose down my neck, inhaling, sending a shiver the length of my body. “Do you think you will be able to accommodate me? Do you think you can obey?” I have no choice but to listen to my body. All my sense of self-preservation I left, along with my head, back at the party just before I stepped into his car. My heart is racing, and my breath is rapid The heat at my core is forcing a pressure between my legs like I’ve never felt, and the urge to grind back to get some release is unbearable. I sigh and sink a little, but his strong frame holds me in place. I so don’t want to embarrass myself and come across as the novice I am. It’s not a big deal, because it’s not like I was intentionally saving myself. It’s just that life got in the way before now, and now I really do want to obey him.

  “Yes, Sir.” He steps away and I am instantly cool. He brings the chair from the table over and places it in front of me. He removes his jacket and tie and eases back into the chair. He stares at me with heavy lidded eyes and slowly pops the first two buttons on his shirt.

  “Good girl. Now I would like you to take off your dress.” His voice is smooth and rough at the same time. I am nervous, but this warm fire inside burns and fills me with courage I was unable to glean from the alcohol I just drank. The material of my dress is very stretchy and I am able to pull and slip it off my shoulders, a slightly better option than hauling it over my head. I peel it down my body and allow it to slip to the floor, stepping out of the material I return my gaze to Daniel. He raises a curious brow.

  “Something wrong?” My voice catches. I panic at his expression and drop to my knees to pick up my dress, I can’t do this. I am so far from being a temptress. He surprises me and instantly joins me on his knees. He holds my shaking hands, the concern etched on his face.

  “Bethany.” His voice is so soft, so calm, and he has the sweetest smile. “You are breathtaking. I was just surprised by the ‘Plain-Jane’ underwear. Because if you’re trying to detract from how fucking beautiful you are, you are shit out of luck.” He grins and gathers me in his arms, lifting me as if I weigh nothing. He sits me on the edge of the bed and my bottom sinks into the thick soft covers.

  “Now, shall we start again? “ He tilts his head and flashes this killer, heart-stopping smile.

  “Yes.” I sigh, my skin prickles. “Sorry…yes, Sir.”

  “Good girl. I want you to lie back and hold your hands above your head and keep them there. You will want to move them, but I want you to keep them right there. Do you understand?” His commanding tone makes me shiver even though I feel able to burn marks into the sheets with my body heat. I nod.

  “I need to hear an answer, Miss Thorne?” His sterner tone makes me jump.

  “Yes…Sir.” I manage to speak past the lump in my throat.

  He stands beside the bed and pushes between my legs. He runs his strong hands, exerting a light pressure from my knees to the tops of my thighs in long sweeping strokes. “Your skin is so soft,” he rests his warm hand on my hips before tracing his fingers lightly up my side across my stomach and down to the edge of my panties. “Cold again, Miss Thorne?” He chuckles as my hard nipples strain against my plain white cotton bra. I struggle to contain a moan and I feel my back lift a little from the bed.

  “Did I say you could move? I don’t think I did?” He removes his hands and I whimper at the loss of his touch. I instantly still. “Good girl.” I can hear the smile in his voice and it makes me smile too. He hooks his fingers into the edge of my panties and gradually pulls them down. My breath hitches, and I pinch my eyes shut. “Eyes, Miss Thorne. Oh I want to see your beautiful eyes when I make you come; keep them open.” It’s an effort, but I open my eyes, my stare fixed on some innocuous patch on the ceiling. I feel a slight dip in the bed, and then his arms cage my thighs as he holds my hips and draws circles with his thumbs. I want to wriggle and squirm, but I don’t want him to stop. The scorching heat from his breath is just above my sex, and I’m trembling in anticipation. He can feel it, he chuckles. “You’re so responsive. I bet you’re dripping right now, before I even touch you.” I’m thinking he’s probably right.

  “Arhh!” I yell as he drags his finger through my soaking folds.

  “Fuck, Bethany, that’s so fucking hot!” He continues to stroke in a tortuously slow rhythm. I need to move to release this pressure or I’m going to…

  “Arhhh!” My body arches from the bed as he sinks a finger deep inside and curls to stroke the most sensitive of spots. Fuck! An uncontrollable full-body shudder engulfs me, and I can’t catch my breath. Sparks of light dart across my tightly squeezed eyes, and my core clenches and continues to contract around his fingers, trying to make the pleasure last. He massages me lightly bringing me down from the second most amazing orgasm he has drawn from me--two for two, Mr. Stone. I sag deeper into the covers.

  “Did you close your eyes?” His voice is raw, his eyes intense.

  “Oh, sorry. Yes, I did, I couldn’t help it.” I lift my head and smile, surely that’s a compliment. I can’t read his expression, I can see the desire, but I can’t read the mood.

  “Well, let’s try that again, then, shall we?” He is grinning.

  “Again? You’re serious? I don’t think I can, no offense,” I quip.

  “None taken,” he replies playfully. Oh, good, he is in good mood.

  “Fuck!” I scream as he takes a long sweep of his tongue up the sensitive folds and circles my clit. He is in a good but serious mood.

  “Eyes!” He growls. I force my eyes wide and breathe deeply to try and steady my racing heart. He clamps one arm across my hips to hold me in place as I feel the need to evade this onslaught of pleasure. His tongue is relentless and despite my misgivings I can feel the familiar build of pressure as he takes long steady sweeps, from the top of my clit down to my entrance where he dips the tip of his tongue further into my body.

  “Oh God, Daniel, I…” I’m panting, breathless and gasping.

  “Don’t you dare close your eyes, I want to see you come, I want you to come.” He looks up through his long lashes as his tongue is replaced with expert fingers as he pushes me once again over the edge.

  “Fuck.” I manage to grind out through gritted teeth and I manage to keep my eyes open. A warm sheen covers my body and I am equally on fire as I am chilled with uncontrollable shivers. Before I can come down fully from my second high of the evening, Daniel once again places his mouth over my clit and sucks in a deep swirling motion, gently grazing the nub with his teeth. I feel the rush of an instant orgasm on me, and I scream. I hope he can’t see my eyes now, because there is no way I can keep them open. My hips buck wildly against the extra pressure Daniel has placed on me to prevent that very movement. My back arches as I release an agonising moan. I don’t know where that orgasm came from, but it has shaken me to my core, and I am left in a quivering heap, unable to move. Daniel continues to lightly lap at me with his tongue carefully avoiding the over-sensitive tissue.

  He crawls up my body, and he sits, his strong thighs pinning me to the bed. My eyes may be open, but I can still see large black blobs floating across my field of vision. His fingers trace up my tummy and push behind my back. He unclips my bra and gently pulls it from my arms. “You have perfect tits.” This makes me smile. This whole situation feels kind of out of this world, so to hear such a normal, somewhat crude, turn of phrase, makes it a little more real. His hands are hot, and he squeezes then runs his thumb and fingers across my tightened nipples, rolling and pinching. The sensation is sending sparks directly to my clit. I can again feel a slow throb between my legs. Jeeze, this can’t be normal?

  “Mmmm, now I’m pretty sure you could come again if I continue to do this, but really, I am so fucking hard, I can’t think of anything else right now other than being buried deep inside you.” I smile, and my breath hitches. He is right about coming again. I’m insatiable. I like the feel of his weight on me. I like that his frame covers mine,
and he looks so happy. “I want you on top.” He demands, my smile fades. He repeats in a reassuring tone. “I would like you on top, Bethany, because you are very tight and I am…” He pauses to look down.

  “Fucking enormous!” I add my contribution with a grin.

  “Well, anyway, you can control how deep and how far much better if you are on top.” I hear him swallow deeply at his own explanation, but that sort of makes sense. I nod tentatively.

  “I need to hear an answer, Miss Thorne.” He holds my gaze, his eyes pools of liquid lust.

  “Yes, Sir,” I say with a mix of false confidence and true nerves.

  “Good girl.” He stands and removes his trousers and boxers in one smooth move, taking his socks and shoes too. He pulls his shirt over his head and my mouth waters. His chest is carved muscle, tanned and defined. He has a sprinkling of hair that gathers at his happy trail and he has that curve of muscle at his hip that seems to point to all the goodness. He is way, way better than the diet coke man, because he is real, and he is in front of me. My mouth is dry, and as I think about his taste on my tongue, I lick my lips to try and generate some moisture.

  “Hold that thought, Miss Thorne, I need to bury myself inside you first.” He tears the foil wrapper in his hand and expertly sheaths himself. I push the unwelcome thought of why he is so proficient at the task from my own lust-addled brain. He then crawls, again like a panther up my body, devouring me with a predators’ gaze. He slides his strong arms round my back, and he holds me tight. I can feel the hard steel of his erection against my stomach, and I clench at the thought. He flips me over so I am on top, my face pressed against his hard pectoral as he runs his fingertips up my spine, leaving a tiny trail of sparks. He takes one hand up into my hair and pulls it into his tight fist. I am forced to meet his gaze. The look we share is pure desire.