by Zoe York
“Ben…”
“I just want to look at you.”
She tipped her head back and smiled at the ceiling.
His mouth brushed against the inside of her thigh, his lips hot and his tongue wet. All of her awareness narrowed in on that stretch of skin between where his mouth was moving ever so slowly up her thigh, and the increasing pulse of need in her pussy.
By the time he got to the fine dusting of hair that framed her sex, she was panting for him. Her hips lifted off the bed, and he pressed her back. “Shhh,” he crooned. “Be patient.”
“I can’t wait.”
It was wild to be wanted this much. To be this desirable.
“You want me to kiss you here?”
“Yes.” It was a breathy confession. Yes, she wanted him to suck on her and lick her and probe her deeply with his tongue.
She wanted him to have her scent all over his face when he finally joined her on the bed and kissed her, crowding her into the orange flowers.
His mouth was a caress against her core. When she looked down to where his head was buried between her legs, she saw that his eyes were closed, and he had a wide smile around his very busy tongue.
Had a man ever looked like he was enjoying himself half as much as Ben did in this moment?
And when he finally latched onto her clit, the pull was so exquisite that her arms shook, then gave out, and she collapsed back onto the bed.
Ben slid his hands under her butt, holding her still as he went to town, sucking and licking and consuming her, until she was sure she might die.
She braced her legs against his back and rocked, meeting him stroke for lick, and then she was there, and his fingers were against her entrance, and as he penetrated her, she went flying. He followed her the whole way, until the last aftershock passed. Then he scooped her limp noodle body up and moved her into the middle of the bed.
She watched through lust drunk, half-hooded eyes as he stripped down and joined her.
“Thank you,” she mumbled, still feeling like she was spinning through the outer reaches of the universe. “Merry Fucking Christmas to me.”
He shook his head. “That was for me. When it comes to my mouth between your legs, don’t ever think it isn’t selfish. I love the taste of you on my tongue and I crave the scent of you on my skin.”
“Merry Fucking Christmas to us both, then?” She slid her legs around him, presenting herself for him.
She was warm and ready, but he wouldn’t be rushed.
He held his cock with one hand and her knee with the other, pressing her leg up and out. She was transfixed by the sight of his erection slowly pushing through her slick lips, up to her clit, then back down again.
Ben’s breath shuddered as he stroked the top of his cock, his thumb big and solid, his shaft even bigger. All of him was big, and growing, it felt like. And he was still content to rub against the outside of her body.
Maybe content wasn’t the right word. He was amped up, wound tight with a need she recognized. But he wasn’t in a rush.
This was slow and careful.
It was control.
After six months of being overseas, and unexpected drama on the drive, she could see why he might feel like he needed that. Why he’d wanted to go down on her first, fully clothed, and now was taking his time getting to the extra-good stuff.
But maybe he needed to let loose instead.
“Ben, I want you to take me.”
His cock flexed in his hand. She watched it, and felt it against her clit.
She smiled and wriggled against him. “I want you to take me hard and fast. That will be for me.”
“For both of us,” he rasped.
She started to nod, then threw her head back on a moan as he pushed into her—all the way.
One long, deep thrust.
“More,” she urged.
He hinged his hips and groaned. “God, you feel good. So tight. So warm.”
She breathed his name, and he moved again, his whole body taut as he bowed forward, covering her. He fisted his hand next to her head, his fingers flexing.
“Keep panting my name like that, and I won’t be able to hold back.”
“Who says I want your restraint?” She locked her gaze on his. “Ben.”
He groaned again.
She shook her head. “I want it all.”
“Fuck.” He smiled, though, even if it was on the edge of being feral. His eyes were hot and bright. “It’s never been like this…”
She nodded. “For me, too.”
“I just…” He spread his thighs wider, stretching her open, and suddenly they were moving together in a new way. More fluid. As if they were one.
Everything slowed. She’d asked for more, meaning harder, meaning wild and reckless, and instead he gave her a connection deeper than she’d ever expected.
“Is this okay?” He tangled his fingers in her hair, holding her still as he ghosted his mouth over hers roughly. “I never want to stop. I want to make love to you all night. You feel incredible.”
With each slow pulse of his body, she melted a little more, until she was nothing but soft, endless feelings. A perfect receptacle for his endless stamina, his unexpectedly tender and unstoppable focus.
Like she was the only thing that existed for him in that moment, to hold and kiss and transform relentlessly.
She’d asked him to let go and be wild, to take her, and instead he unleashed something entirely different. And he did go a bit feral, he held her down and took control, but it was the softest kind of dominance, more than she’d ever dreamed of.
As he got closer, he caught her face in his hands and held them together, gazes locked. She couldn’t look away, didn’t want to, even if he saw all of her ridiculous hopes and dreams and fears for what her sweet heart might imagine was in their future. Because what she saw was just as raw and vulnerable.
He was so strong. And all alone. Not anymore. She saw him differently now. And as he pushed her to an orgasm, another peak, she held her breath and rode that wave as still as she could so she could see his pleasure, all over his face.
It was beautiful. And painful. And perfect.
Afterward, he curled around her and she stroked his hair as he fell asleep in a post-sex, post-stressful day, pre-dinner nap.
“Ben, I need to confess something,” she whispered against his temple.
A light snore was the only response.
“I wished for a Navy SEAL for Christmas. But I didn’t know I’d find you, and you’re more than I ever would have hoped for.”
thirteen
Ben had never been a spectacularly good sleeper, and the period after a tour was usually a low point in that regard. But the last few nights sleeping in Chelsea's bed in her cozy apartment, he had slept better than he had in a long time.
He’d been looking forward cocooning with her in Kent’s cabin, a familiar and safe space.
The motel, on the other hand—even with her soft, warm body snuggled up against his—was a strange place and his brain would not allow him to sink into a deep sleep, no matter how hard he tried.
He was aware of the clock ticking the minutes and hours past. He noticed when it was four in the morning, and then six. Slowly, the light outside the window grew, the day arriving no matter what.
He had only known this woman for a short time, but she continued to surprise him with her interesting combination of sweet heart, steely determination, and blunt honesty. When he was with her, he felt seen and adored—even when she was sound asleep. She reached for him and held him, in tune with his unsettled state.
He thought about getting up and going outside for some fresh air. A brisk walk. But he couldn't tear himself out of her arms, and when she did finally wake up, the sweet way she greeted the day—and him—was worth staying in bed. Her hair was a bouncy, happy mess, spilling sexily over her shoulder and flopping over her eyes.
She pushed it off her face and gave him a squinty look. “Is it early?”
“Just after seven.”
“So early.” She gave him a happy smile. “Let me guess, you’ve been up for hours.”
“Something like that.”
Her smile slipped as she searched his face. “Did you not sleep well?”
“Strange place. But the best company I could imagine.”
“Charmer,” she murmured. She crawled on top of him.
They had a cabin to look forward to, one that was more comfortable than this dated hotel room. One that would have a better view of snowy mountains instead of a parking lot.
But in that moment, with Chelsea giving him soft, butterfly kisses, there was nowhere else in the world Ben wanted to be.
Once they’d tumbled around on the bed long enough for her to have two orgasms, he chased her into the shower, then they got dressed and packed up. He loved how effortlessly sexy she was as she hopped up and down, tugging her leggings into place before pulling on an oversized sweater and winding that casual scarf around her neck.
Sexy, pretty, and kind.
And magically his.
He had a flash of memory from before his tour. The stilted dynamic he had with his ex, who never stayed very long at his place and wasn’t one to get dressed in front of him. Not out of shyness, but just a lack of intimacy.
Before Chelsea, Ben had never cared how closely his life was entwined with a partner. He actively hadn’t wanted a partner, in fact.
Now he marveled at how simple a life with Chelsea might be, helping each other get dressed, getting ready together for the day. And as they packed up their bags and headed out to his truck, that made him think of what it might be like to leave her behind for a tour of duty, to spend six months apart. Six months of knowing she would be missing him at home.
Just the thought of that affected him deeply and put his previous breakup into new context. In the past, he had always put his career first. He had no doubt that Chelsea would support him in continuing to prioritize his duty. But it would be harder to leave her than it ever had been in the past to say goodbye to a girlfriend.
They stopped for breakfast at a restaurant on the edge of town. And as she cheerfully ordered eggs and toast, asking him if he wanted to share hash browns, he wondered if it was it too soon for that conversation. Was it too soon to pop the bubble of this escape from reality?
She had said that she knew their lives were different. That after the holidays they would return to real life. She already had told him she worried that their lives were not compatible. They had touched on it. Was it too soon to dig deeper and find out how she would feel about the reality of dating a SEAL?
The turn off for Kent’s cabin was twenty minutes before Carson City. Ben knew the drive, having stayed there before when visiting his mom. By the time they did some grocery shopping and stopped a few times to take photos of the scenery, it was late afternoon when they pulled up the snow-covered drive.
Chelsea’s eyes were wide with wonder.
“You said Christmas magic and you really didn’t overstate the situation,” she breathed.
Ben—not usually one to get swept up in the moment—saw the cabin through her eyes. Picturesque and framed by a forest, it was something straight out of a fairytale.
He punched in the code Kent had texted him, and then gave her the tour. It didn’t take long, because it was a one room cabin with a loft. “It’s not big, but it’ll do as a base for a couple of days.”
Chelsea twirled her way to the big brass bed under the back window, and he followed, standing in front of her as she perched on the side of the bed.
“Since nobody knows we’re in the area…” She peeled off her scarf and reached for his belt.
He hissed a breath as her fingers slid across the taut skin on his belly. “New plan?”
“We can meet up with people tomorrow. This bed is something straight out of my fantasies.”
He wanted to hear more about that. “Is this like a lumberjack thing, or is it more specifically Christmas Elves Gone Wild?”
She giggled.
“I just want to get in the right headspace,” he deadpanned as she unzipped him. “Give me a role, ma’am.”
“Okay.” She licked her lips. “You’re a lumberjack, and I’m a stranded traveler. You are giving me a place to stay for the night, and I’m repaying you with…”
He groaned as she stroked his length in front of her face, then parted her lips and took him into her mouth, slicking the throbbing underside of his cock with her tongue. “Oh, yes. That’s so good. Look at your pretty mouth…”
She bobbed her head, working the whole length of him into her throat. He loved the sight of her lips stretched around him, the contrast between her soft, pink skin and the darker, veiner crudeness of his cock.
He tugged up his shirt so he could see more of where they were connected. Her hands on his hips, her hair brushing his thighs. She worked his pants down his legs, then pulled her mouth off him with a wet pop.
“I need you,” she breathed, shoving off her clothes.
He kicked off his pants and grabbed the condom he’d stashed in the back pocket before they left the motel.
“I’m not usually this…voracious,” she whispered as she pushed him down on the bed and swung her leg over him. “There’s something in the mountain air.”
It wasn’t just here in the cabin. Ben had felt the same unstoppable craving ever since he’d laid eyes on her in the art studio.
“Maybe it’s just us.” He paused to enjoy the sensation of her sinking on to him, the warm pressure of her pretty pussy pulling him into her body. “It’s never been like this…”
“Same.” She braced her hands on his chest and rolled her hips, finding a rhythm. “Ben…”
“Yes. Take it. Make me come with you. I will, Chels. Fuck yeah. Ride me.”
She was lush like this, her tits swaying in his face, her belly soft and her hips working hard. Her eyes drifted shut and she got more vocal. Her cries got into his head and made him rougher, gripping her thighs and thrusting up from beneath her.
He matched her pace, and they moved together, faster and harder, then slower, suddenly, as her body found the edge. She rode it, grinding against him, panting his name, and then keening out a sound somewhere beyond a moan.
Her body clenched around him, a ripple of sensation that rolled his cock and made his balls pulse, and then he was coming, too, long, productive spurts. It felt like a lot, like she’d actually drained him.
It was the most incredible feeling.
“That went from zero to sixty,” he muttered as he stretched out, exhausted.
She tugged a quilt over them. “Not sorry.”
That made him laugh.
It was four thirty in the morning when Chelsea woke and realized Ben wasn’t in bed next to her. She glanced blearily at the clock on the bedside table, then blinked up at the ceiling.
He said he woke up early, but…this early?
It underscored that as whirlwind as the last few days had been, they were still getting to know each other. And she was still learning about what it was like to be in a relationship with someone who was in the military.
A quiet shuffle on the other side of the cabin told her he was moving around in the kitchen.
“Hey,” she said softly when she found him standing at the window, looking out at the porch and the darkness beyond. Snowflakes were falling, fat and sticky ones. “Can’t sleep?”
He turned, his gaze heavy and raw. “Something like that.”
Oh. She was out of her depth, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t try. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He made a face. “Not sure where to begin. And there are limits on what I can say.” Then he turned back to the window, but not before catching her by the hand and tugging her into his side.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed. He was only wearing jeans, and his chest was warm against her cheek.
After a long silence, he kissed the top of her head
. He took a deep breath. “You were right about getting out of the city.”
“How so?”
“I’ve been trying to hold some heavy thoughts at bay. But it doesn’t work like that. You have to feel the feelings. Sit with them a little, and then accept them.”
“That sounds hard.”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Can I help?”
“Just be here.” He squeezed her. “Just like this.”
They stood together in silence for a while before he spoke again.
“I’m thinking about the team that replaced us. How they’re spending the holidays overseas, and it’s dangerous, and some of those guys have kids and wives. Moms and dads and sisters who are scared for them. I’m thinking about the people who will come back with scars they didn’t have before, and they’ll…”
Chelsea got the picture. Enough of it, anyway. “It’s good to be back, but? Is there always a but?”
He nodded slowly. “Always. But what if they get hurt, but what if I’d done my job differently, but what about the people who we were trying to help, but what about the missions that went sideways. The but is extra loud this time, and I don’t know why. I’m really happy with you.”
“Maybe that’s why. I don’t want to assume, but if you have more on the line now…”
He hooked an arm around her and tugged her into his side. He was warm skin and a heavy, beating heart she could feel through muscle and bone. He was alive, and that was more complicated for him than anyone else she’d ever met. Maybe more so than she’d ever know.
“You can assume,” he whispered before kissing her. “Because now I have everything on the line. And then my thoughts get a little intense around you, too.”
“Oh?” Her breath caught in her throat.
He paused a beat. “Do you want to hear this part?”
Her pulse fluttered erratically. “Yes.”
“I think about never meeting you, about our paths not crossing, about this only being temporary, and whoa, there go my nerves. Wooing you, pursuing you, that part is easy. But the thought of being good enough to hold you close forever…that makes me a little worried. I want to be worthy of you.”
