Wanted: Wife 4 Navy Seals: A Military romance

by Dee Palmer

  “I don’t want to feel this way, Daniel,” I sigh, and his eyes crinkle with concern.

  “What way?”

  “I don’t want to feel upset that you’ve been with other women--of course you’ve been with other women, hundreds probably, to be as good as you are--and it doesn’t matter. But it shouldn’t make me feel, I don’t know, I don’t know what this feels like, but I don’t like it.” I fold my arms defensively around my body. How can he make me feel safe and vulnerable at the same time?

  “Now I wish I hadn’t asked,” He pulls my arms away from my body and scoops me into his lap.

  “I know, I know. You don’t need some crazy, needy, cling-on, which is what this feels like at the moment.” I try to wriggle away.

  “Will you stop! Stop wriggling, you’re making me hard.” He shifts his hardening erection to make me fully aware of this fact. “That is not why I wish I hadn’t asked. In fact, I love that you’re a crazy, needy, cling-on. It’s the nicest thing you’ve said about ‘this’.” He waves his hand between us. “But you seem to think I’m a manwhore, and for that I wish I hadn’t asked.”

  “Not a man whore, just a sexy as sin guy with mad skills in the bedroom, stamina of a long distance runner, and the sex drive of a teenage boy,” I mutter, but he laughs aloud.

  “I work a lot, I work out a lot, and the women I have fucked in the past have been very casual acquaintances, and there haven’t been hundreds. There have been a lot, though.” He narrows his eyes, expecting a reaction, but this is not news to me. As unpleasant as the feeling in my stomach is, I never imagined he was celibate. “Because I rarely fuck the same woman twice. I don’t want them to believe that it is more than what it is, physical exercise.”

  “Physical exercise?” I must look shocked.

  “Yes.” He is unapologetic, “And I would like to clarify my sex drive mirrors yours, Miss Thorne, and it has never been like ‘this’”--again with the waving hands--“with anyone before. You make me like this.” He nestles in to the crook of my neck and inhales. “You drive me fucking crazy.”

  “Oh.” Although I am not sure I entirely believe him.

  “Oh, indeed.” He draws a deep breath and runs his large hands up and down my spine.

  “I like your type of physical exercise, beats getting pummelled into a mat any day.” I shift and slide my legs on either side of his waist, and he grips my bottom, needing and pulling me hard against his crotch.

  “I’m not averse to pummelling you into the mat, too, you know.” He smiles wickedly, “Anything to keep you in line.” He slaps my cheeks. “But, this”--he grinds up with a thrust of his hips--“is not just fucking, and it’s not just physical exercise. You need to understand that, Miss Thorne.” He kisses the soft spot below my ear, and I melt, but I don’t respond to his declaration. I open the door and scramble out as we’ve reached our destination. I look back in the car as Daniel is busy pulling at his trousers, and I smirk.

  “Problem, Mr. Stone?” He releases a guttural noise that makes my sex clench. So to help the situation I bend down and whisper, “If it helps, my birth control is effective immediately, so we’re good to go bareback any time you’re ready.” I wink, slowly licking my dry lips and smiling sweetly.

  “Fuck!” He growls. “There is no way I’ll be getting out of the damn car now. You had better get back in here.” He lunges for me, but I skip back just out of reach. “You really don’t want to do this, Miss Thorne.” His tone is menacing but his eyes are on fire with lust and mischief.

  “You’re probably right, but I’m not sure I want to get back in there, either, you look feral.” I laugh nervously but keep my distance.

  “You have no idea.” His voice is low and controlled; his only tell being a slight twitch in his jaw. His lips are in a thin line and his eyes are more black than blue. My tummy is dancing with butterflies, and I make a snap decision to turn and head into the building. I hear the car door slam. I am a mixture of lust and panic, and my heart is racing. He can’t be really angry, but now that I think about it, it was mean to leave him with a raging hard-on. Then again, by his own admission, he is always hard. Besides we are at his place of work, so I can’t imagine I will get the full force of his retribution surrounded by his employees. I think I’m pretty safe and I take a seat in the sparse but plush reception area.

  I may need to think again. Daniel strides purposefully towards me with a dark scowl and a smile that doesn’t touch his eyes. Shit! He stands before me all menacing and male, blocking out my field of vision. He radiates power in a wave that washes over me, and I quiver as I look up through my lashes.

  “Miss Thorne, allow me to show you around.” His voice is calm; this might not be so bad. “Before we address the serious issues you have raised.” I stand, and he places his hand on the small of my back, then moves me toward the security desk. I burn at his heated touch and tremble at the thought of what ‘addressing the issues’ entails.

  “Eddie,” Daniel addresses the man behind the desk.

  “Mr. Stone, good afternoon, Sir.” Eddie straightens his shoulders a little in Daniel’s presence.

  “Is Mrs. Jones feeling better, and did she get the flowers?” Daniel inquires.

  “Yes, Mr. Stone. It was very kind of you, and she’s definitely on the mend now, moaning about my cooking, which must mean she is getting better.” He chuckles.

  “Good to hear, not about the cooking, but I’m glad she’s better. Eddie, this is Miss Thorne, I would like you to swipe her print and give her code five clearance.” Daniel’s request causes a sharp look of shock on Eddies face and a quick glance my way.

  “Code five?” His query is obvious in his tone.

  “Would you like me to repeat my request?” Daniel switches from warm to ice in an instant. It’s unnerving.

  “No, Sir. Miss Thorne, would you mind placing your finger on this pad?” I look to Daniel and he gives me a curt nod. I am not going to defy him again—well, not today anyway. “There, all done. Here is your ID card for general access and you just need your print for everything else. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Thorne.”

  “You too, Mr. Jones.” He returns my smile, telling me to call him Eddie. I am again moved along by Daniel’s large hand on my back. We enter the last lift in the row, and the doors close. The tension is palpable, but he makes no other move to touch me, just his hand on the small of my back. “What does code five mean?” I ask tentatively.

  “It means you have the same access as I do, to the building, the private lift, my offices, and my apartment.”

  “Well, no wonder he queried your request.” I shake my head at this, my eyes wide with disbelief.

  “No, he shouldn’t have done that. My requests are not queried. Ever.” His clipped tone highlights his extreme irritation.

  “Why have you given me code five access? It’s crazy, Daniel.”

  His stern expression softens for a brief moment. “Because I want you everywhere I am, and I don’t want the slightest possibility that my security might prevent that.” His sentiment is touching and sends an instant warm glow through my chest, but the rapid return of his fierce glare disperses the warmth just as quickly as it came.

  His secretary is a smart young man named Colin, who unfortunately wears a little too much product on his hair. He is handsome in a skinny, waif, model kind of way. His smile is genuine and he seems really friendly, although I don’t get to shake his hand as my outstretched arm is intercepted, and I am drawn into Daniel’s office. He does seem to have a thing for panoramic views, and this one is no exception. The view takes in the docks, over toward Greenwich, and beyond on a clear day. His desk is a vast expanse of glass and chrome, and he has a wall of ever-changing screens behind his chair. There is a soft seating area and a smaller desk directly opposite his. It seems odd that he would share an office, given that his company takes up the top four floors, and he owns the building.

  Daniel walks over to his desk and I walk to the window, which is not
for the faint-hearted or sufferers of vertigo. It is breathtaking. “Colin, move my three o’clock meeting to now, and I want my schedule cleared from three on today, is that understood?” He cuts the call. “Now, Miss Thorne, that desk”--pointing to the smaller one--“is yours. The laptop is yours, and if you need anything else--supplies, books, whatever--ask Colin, and he’ll source it for you.” I go to object, but the serious look he fires at me has my mouth snapping shut. “Good girl. Now, I have a meeting that can’t be avoided.” He stalks slowly toward me. He is all predator, and by the rate of my heart, I am definitely hunted prey. I stand my ground, willing my legs not to quake. He is so close, my body thrums with desire for him, and he hasn’t even touched me. “You can work from your desk, but I also want you to take this time to think how I should punish you.” I suck in a sharp breath and pinch my thighs together at the instant tingle. “I don’t think your behaviour was very polite, do you?” He runs his nose up the side of my neck, his voice, warm and breathy, whispering against my skin.

  “No, Sir,” I softly reply.

  “What should I do?” His kisses along my collar bone, searing a scorching trail across my sensitive skin. “Mmmm, Miss Thorne, what do you want me to do?” A muffled moan escapes my throat and I can feel my body tremble. I know the words he wants to hear and I know I’m wet, because I want to say them, but mostly I tremble because he knows I want to say them.

  “I want you to punish me, Sir.” He drops his eyes to meet mine, and I have never seen such pure undiluted desire. He steps back, and I am wishing I had a fraction of the cool reserve he displays. My body slumps, and I press my hand against the window for support.

  “And I will, Miss Thorne.” His slow smile is filled with wicked promise. He presses a button on his desk. “Send the Projects team in, would you, Colin?” I’m startled as the door to the office opens, and I can only imagine what I look like, all flushed and panting, wide eyed, looking like a deer in the headlights. Three suited men enter and shake hands with Daniel. I turn to take ‘my’ seat behind ‘my’ desk in an attempt to hide. Daniel proceeds with his meeting, and I try to focus on some coursework, which is impossible, because all I can think about is my impending punishment. I spend the next hour shifting from one butt cheek to the next in a futile attempt to detract the building pressure in my core. I get practically no reading done, as I am fascinated by the meeting before me. Daniel commands the room with power and authority; his demands are stern and never debated. He barks a few orders, which make me jump, and he is not afraid to use colourful language. But it’s when he is quiet that he is his most menacing. His low tone is followed by an absolute refusal to accept any excuses for the slightest deviation from his objective. It makes me shiver, and it makes me wet.

  The sound of the door locking brings my attention back to the room, which is now empty. I had eventually managed to start some course work and hadn’t noticed his team leave. It is just me and a smouldering mountain of lust and desire advancing toward me. I can see the obvious strain in his trousers, and I’m pleased he is as turned on as I am. I feel like I’ve had an hour of foreplay, and I am just about ready to explode. “You weren’t joking about not negotiating, you just demand. It’s very intimidating. Do you have a high success rate with that approach?” I gaze up through my lashes.

  “In all things, Miss Thorne, one hundred percent until I met you.” His voice is sensual like velvet, and my mouth is instantly dry.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I laugh nervously, “are you telling me you haven’t got everything you wanted from me; that you are not a hundred percent satisfied with our fun?” I challenge.

  He laughs loudly. “Oh Miss Thorne, you have no idea. I am more than satisfied. It is just that I have had to make adjustments for you and your commitments, which is something I never do. I am not in the least satisfied with that; you distract me, and again, that is not something I am used to.” He stands in front of me, and I open my legs for him to stand between. He groans in appreciation. “Like now, you have distracted me.” His heated gaze fixes on mine, but I am not at all distracted. I know exactly what I want, and I frantically fumble for his buckle and zip. He places his hand to stop me, and I look up, incredulous. “Is that a punishment for you, Miss Thorne?” And I grin, he knows it isn’t, and I panic a little that he might deny me.

  “No, no, it’s not, but I really want to taste you, really want you deep in my throat.” My own breathy request makes his breath catch and his blue eyes darken. He is trying to keep control.

  “That’s not how punishment works, Miss Thorne.” He runs his hand through my hair and gently cups my chin. I pout. “Have you ever been punished before?”

  “No, Sir.” I shake my head.

  “Never been spanked?”

  “No, Sir.” My heart is beating a deafening tattoo in my chest.

  “Well, aren’t I the lucky one?” His mouth curls, his pleasure at this information blatant in his eyes, and his voice is sinfully smooth. He takes my hand and leads me over to his desk, where he sits and pulls me in between his legs. He rakes his finger nails up my legs, lightly scoring my skin and setting it on fire. He grabs my panties and pulls them down.

  “Really, Bethany, I don’t know why you bother wearing these, when I am always going to take them from you.” He screws them up and puts them in his pocket. He stands, our bodies touching, the heat immense, and he can feel me tremble with want and anticipation. He turns me and pushes so I’m bent over his desk. My heart is pounding and as he gathers my skirt and hitches it over my bottom, I sigh softly and drop my head to the desk with a dull thud. His breathing is deep and controlled, mine is shallow and ragged. He nudges my legs apart and groans at my easy compliance.

  “Now, Miss Thorne, I am going to spank you for ten strokes with my hand, as it’s your first time, and I’d like you to count. Do you understand?” I nod. “Miss Thorne?” His strict tone reprimanding.

  “Yes, Sir, I understand.” I’m so consumed by the rush of emotions inside, I doubt I could count to three.

  “Good girl.” He stands to the side and presses his thigh against my leg. His hand is hot on my backside, gently caressing, smoothing over both cheeks. “God, you look amazing, open for me, waiting for me, I am so fucking hard it hurts. I can’t do more than ten strikes because I need to be inside you.” My core clenches at the thought, and the pressure is sweet agony with my legs spread wide. The first strike catches me by surprise with its timing and sting, and I cry out.

  “You need to count for me, Bethany, or I will have to start again, and that will make me cross because like I said, I need to be inside you.” His gruff direction is followed by a moan.

  “One.” I exhale. My cheeks clench in anticipation. The second strike is just as hard and just as shocking. “Fuck, that hurts!” I say with gritted teeth but add, “Two,” because I don’t want to start again, and I don’t want him cross.

  “It’s supposed to.” He pauses, “But feel.” He swipes his finger the length of my folds; I’m dripping wet. “You’re so wet, baby.” Three, four, and five are in quick succession and I pant each number. I begin to relax, and I can feel the fierce heat radiating from my cheeks and spreading like liquid, warming my entire body, making it tingle with need and desire. I am dazed when he pulls me upright and turns me to face him, slightly dizzy, I didn’t realize we had finished.

  “Please.” I’m not sure what I’m begging for, but I need him. It’s all I needed to say, and he lifts and holds me braced on one arm. I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. He strides to the wall of windows and slams me against it. Pulling at his zipper, he frees his erection with a grunt, and I can feel the hot velvet tip move against my wet folds, sliding toward my opening. I try to sink down to take the tip inside, I need him inside, and I can feel myself quiver and clench trying to tempt him further, harder, deeper. He looks deep in my eyes, and I can’t look away if my life depended on it. He slams into me with an animal wildness that winds me, and again he
draws back and plunges deep, fucking me hard, relentless, feral. He is so deep this way, and he fills me, hitting the wall of my womb, but I am clawing at his back needing him closer. He grinds his hips into mine, steps into me forcing his cock deeper still, forcing a silent scream from me.

  “You need to take all of me, baby.” His voice is demanding, and I thought I had. “You’re holding back, let me in.” He’s pushing hard into me, relentlessly, and I tilt my hips and feel the very last of him sink inside, and he holds his position, buried to the hilt, deep and throbbing at just the point of pain. His gaze is raw, intimate, and fixed on me. I see him, and he is looking at me, looking into my soul. There is only us, and I am rocked to my core with this revelation. The force of my orgasm takes me by surprise, and my whole body convulses, riding the pleasure and grabbing greedily at his cock. He lifts me away from the glass and walks back to his desk still impaled deep inside. Holding me tight until my climax ebbs and ripples away, I sink breathlessly into his sweat-dampened shirt.

  “I could stay inside you forever. You feel so good, so perfect.” He kisses me with barely contained passion, and I can feel myself start to build again I can’t get enough of him, but he stops and withdraws from me. He is rock hard, and with a sexy smile he kisses the tip of my nose. I must look confused as to why he has stopped when he so clearly isn’t finished.

  “You took your punishment very well. I’m pleased, and I think a different kind of pleasure would be an apt reward.” His eyes darken, and his smile is deeply sensual.

  “Different?” I have barely regained my senses from my first spanking, and he wants to try something different.

  “More intense.” He once again turns me around and bends me over his desk. I can’t stop the trembling in my legs. “I believe I said every part of you belongs to me. Let’s explore that, shall we. Do you trust me, Bethany?”

  “Yes.” I have answered this question before, but I am glad he asked again, particularly now. I do trust him.