The Real SEAL : A Fairytale Navy Seal Romance
Page 1
Table of Contents
Copyright
Title
1 - Ariella
2 - Victor
3 - Ariella
4 - Victor
5 - Ariella
6 - Victor
7 - Victor
8 - Ariella
9 - Victor
10 - Ariella
11 - Victor
12 - Ariella
13 - Victor
14 - Ariella
15 - Victor
16 - Ariella
Epilogue
BONUS!!!
Keep up with Cherry Starr!
Contents
Copyright
Title
1 - Ariella
2 - Victor
3 - Ariella
4 - Victor
5 - Ariella
6 - Victor
7 - Victor
8 - Ariella
9 - Victor
10 - Ariella
11 - Victor
12 - Ariella
13 - Victor
14 - Ariella
15 - Victor
16 - Ariella
Epilogue
BONUS!!!
Keep up with Cherry Starr!
Copyright © 2017 by Cherry Starr
www.AuthorCherryStarr.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover by Cherry Starr.
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—
I’ve spent my life serving my country.
I don’t have time for love.
The people of America need me on duty—not in some woman’s bed.
But when I save Ariella, injured and drowning, I know life will never be the same.
Everything about her rocks me to the core. Her beauty, her grace, her body…
But can I set aside my mission, my duty, and even my form to be with her?
—
- 1 -
My name is Ariella, and I’ve always had a fondness for animals.
Soft. Slippery. Fuzzy or finned. I can’t get enough of their cuddliness and charisma.
From the upper deck of my step-father’s magnificent yacht, I watch the mating rituals of the Hawaiian Monk seals below. Their gray coats shine in the fading daylight as the independent males fight for the few females in the area. It’s a lot like real life. Damn, but I envy the females down there. If only I had a big strong defender to fight for me, too. One that would sink his sharp teeth into my skin—sure, functionally injuring me, and whose lust for me would statistically threaten the span of my life—but still. The idea of a man fighting for rights to me was an undeniably arousing thought.
I lean over the railing, bikini-clad ass up in the air, and watch as the male seals take on one another for a chance to mate with the females. I hardly register the footsteps on the deck behind me as two large hands cup my butt. A hard cock presses against me.
“There you are,” Logan, my on-again-off-again boyfriend says. “Being a weirdo again?”
“I love watching them, you know that.” The seals start barking, making an enormous racket that bothers everyone in the marina but me.
Arf, arf, arf! they sing, their voices a riotous chorus.
“Sometimes I think you’re more into the fish than you are into me.” His breath smells like beer, but when I glance over my shoulder, through the veil of my long red hair, he’s got his shirt off, offering me a view of his chiseled chest and six-pack abs. It’s almost enough to distract me from my internal whine that seals are not fish, you idiot. I also forget why I keep holding out and not just giving in to his sexual demands.
I’m a virgin—a virgin who loves animals and still lives off my parents. And sure, maybe I’m a bit of a spoiled little princess, too. But it’s not exactly like Logan is any position to judge. I know damn well he still lives off his dad’s trust fund. And he has his own sexual problems, what with being a gigantic manwhore and everything. I’m also privy to an unfortunate knowledge of his coin collection, and like… at least marine life is interesting.
“You know I’m into you,” I insist, running my hand down his hard chest. Honestly, I’m just waiting for the right guy. One who’ll claim me as his own and take what’s rightfully his, but will be sexy and smart and charming. He’ll be my perfect ‘daddy’. It’s not like I’m not willing to fool around with other guys, anyway. I’m just not willing to give them the perfection of my V-card.
“Prove it,” he says, hating the attention I give to the sea life that surrounds the yacht I’m living on this summer. My mother kicked me out after graduation and my step-father, who’s always had a soft spot for me, told me I could stay here until I figure out what to do next.
The seals splash below and I steal a glance. Three males have cornered a female. One is aggressively biting her neck.
I sigh.
“Sit down,” I tell Logan, pointing to the plush chaise. He raises an eyebrow but does as I say. If I don’t put out, he’ll get mad. I don’t really want to spend the night alone on the boat. It’s a little scary out here sometimes without the security of his company.
I move between Logan’s legs, running my fingers through the soft hair on his abdomen. He shifts his hips forward, his cock already straining against his trunks. The Hawaiian sunset casts the deck in a hazy pink glow and the sound of the animals mating below makes the scene perfect. I could do it now, I think. Just tug off my bikini bottom and sit on his dick, ride that sucker like dolphin.
I could, but something holds me back.
Instead, I get on my knees and tug Logan’s adequate, yet not stellar, dick out of this shorts. I mean, the guy is only like eight inches long. He’s swinging in minor leagues here. For a girl who’s holding out for the best, it just doesn’t meet the lofty standards I’ve set. My hungry womanhood deserves nothing short of a girthy ten inches.
My disposable boy toy leans his head back against the pillow and I touch the cum already oozing from the tip. “Yeah, that’s more like it,” he says, reaching for the tie holding my breasts in my suit. They burst free and he palms one roughly, getting a good handful before giving it a squeeze.
I like to take my time, but Logan is always impatient. As with every sexual encounter I indulge—never penetrative, except for oral—I consider this a learning experience for when I finally do find my true daddy. Then I’ll know what I’m doing.
Logan excites easily, his fingers rubbing the dusky peaks of my nipples furiously. He pushes his cock toward my face until I sigh and open wide, taking him in like a good little princess.
“Fuck, Ariella,” he whines after only a few minutes. His excitement causes my own and I feel the heat building between my legs. I reach for his hand, intending to push it down to the slick crevice of my pussy lips, but find he’s already using it. To drink another beer.
“Dude,” I say, around his dick, lifting from it with an audible pop. “A little focus over here?”
He rolls his eyes but discards the beer and reaches between my legs. I’m already soaked and he’s not bad at letti
ng me ride his hand, although I’d probably do it better myself. I tilt my butt back to get more friction, which is when he shoves my bottoms down and rudely yanks me off his cock.
“What are you doing?” I ask, but he’s planted me on his lap. I feel the hard, bruising heat of his steel rod seeking the shimmery gold of my glorious virgin hole.
“Come on, it’s too much,” he begs, trying to position me over his dick. His eyes are strained with tension, the edge of his jaw tight and twitching. “Just give it a second and it’ll be all over.”
I blink at him. “I’m sorry, is that supposed to be an endorsement?” But his hands clamp around my waist and I squirm to get away. “No!” I fight against him. The tip of his engorged staff presses into the crease of my vagina. “This is not how I want it?”
“Then how?” he asks, veins appearing on his neck. He’s pissed. And horny. And about to spurt his load everywhere. “I’ve tried everything, Ariella. Romance. Flowers. Booze. You’re just a fucking tease.”
“I’m not a tease!” But maybe he’s right. After all, I’m never going to give it to him. No matter what he does he’s just not man enough for me. Just look at him there, whining like a spoiled little brat. My perfect daddy will be above that kind of childish behavior.
When I look in his eyes I feel a hint of guilt for the pain I see. But there’s something else, too. Anger.
He pushes me off his lap and I’m bemused. For a second there, it was almost like had what it took to claim me like a real man. I land hard and naked on the deck and in seconds he’s standing over me, cock in his hand. He’s jerking himself off, pumping his hand up and down his rock-hard shaft.
“I think you’d rather fuck those animals out there. That’s who you’re really waiting on. A whale or a dolphin or one of those fucking endangered sea turtles you’re so obsessed with.”
“Leave the animals out of it,” I snap. He’s hulking over me, veins popping in his neck. My own cunt is sore from his cock pushing and prying. It’s not pleased about the neglect either.
“God, you’re just…” he says, but the final words come out as a grunt. He tilts his head back. With a strangled cry, he pumps his eight inch cock until cum shoots out the tip, showering me with it’s shimmery rain. It lands all over my chest, stomach, and legs, all hot and sticky. As disgusted as I am with Logan right now, I crave the taste of it and am disappointed he didn’t blow in my mouth.
The last of it oozes from the top as he milks himself fully. The jizz lands on my toes.
“Let me know when you’re ready to be with a real man,” he says, grabbing his beer and his shorts before storming down the stairs.
- 2 -
I’m Sergeant Victor Alfa, Navy Seal, and yes, actual fucking seal. The Seals are that exclusive group of military men that doesn’t exist. But I’m part of the group that really doesn’t exist. At least not on paper.
The Navy doesn’t want the American citizens to know just how fucking literal they can be.
Born on Johnstone Atoll, an abandoned airstrip in the Pacific, I come from a long line of Alfas. My great grandfather, Peter Alfa—a mere human, back then—was brought to the desolate, man-made island when he and eight other sailors betrayed the US government by revealing top secret intelligence. Their crimes were legendary, and although they deserved to finish their years in prison, their superiors decided to forsake them to the hellish Atoll where nothing but pavement and seals flourished.
Family and local legend says that my grandfather, isolated and ashamed of his betrayal, fell in love with the sea. They say that he loved the ocean with such an intensity that, when mingled with his hatred of himself for his crimes, my Grandpop achieved something amazing: He transformed into a seal.
I can never know how true this is, but it’s a fact that all Alfas are now cursed to this form, the harsh reality of his betrayal haunting our lineage even to this day. Our previously strong Alfa heritage had been sullied, laid to waste, with one rash decision. Since I was a mere pup, I’ve wanted nothing more than to restore my family's legacy. But it's no small task. My own father was always more inclined to the sea life than his human side and had difficulty finding ways to be productive to society.
As he taught me, being a seal does have its advantages. Aggression is an attribute in this form. Strength and domination are a signal of the fittest, and Grandpop passed that down the Alfa genetic chain to me.
That’s not all he passed down.
I knew I was different from my father, right from the start. Sure, I had a seal body. I had flippers and ate fish and could swim with the rest of the pups. But I also had an interest in the human part of the Atoll. I grew fixated on the airstrip and the boats circling the shores. I watched the soldiers come and go. I studied the machinery. I obsessed over the uniforms.
And one day, just like my Grandpop, I wanted something so bad, with such intensity, that it actually happened.
I became a man.
A man who became a soldier.
A man who, then, for the safety and security of my fellow countrymen, became the baddest-ass Navy Seal the country has ever seen.
Finally, I’ve found myself in the position to believe that clearing my family’s reputation might one day be possible. I ache at the thought of my future son in my current position, struggling to cover the distance I lack the strength and dedication to conquer.
I spend my days and nights on top secret missions. Assassinating terrorists. Reporting on enemy submarines encroaching on U.S. territory. Participating in search and rescue. My missions are many. My time is spent isolated, and at times, even lonely. But I’m focused. Driven. And 100% in the game, all the time. My brothers in plastic flippers are understandably intimidated by me, but I know they likewise admire my ethic.
Nothing—not power, money, nor even pussy—distracts me from my commitment and dedication to both the US Military and my mission to restore my family’s name. I’ve taken an oath to Uncle Sam and they own my ass until I’m dead or discharged.
Until today.
It’s nothing more than a standard patrol. Clearing and assessing the shoreline around Oahu, something I’ve done hundreds of times before. It’s the perfect mix of cardio, strength training, and military intelligence. Pure SOP. Today isn’t different from any other day, until my life turns upside down.
- 3 -
I watch Logan go, stunned that it’s come to this. I mean, we fight at times. Okay, so we fight all the time, but never like this. Never so final. I jump to my feet, racing to the yacht’s railing.
“Logan!” I cry, oblivious to the fact that I’m naked and soaked in his salty jism. The horn of an even larger yacht sounds, entering the marina. The bigger boat brings rocky waves that send me lurching across the deck. I grapple for the railing, the boat moving too fast for the small marina. I don’t want Logan to leave like this. I don’t want to spend the night alone. “Logan, come back! I-I-I’ll—” I struggle to find the words that’ll make him stay, but embarrassingly, all that comes to mind is: “—I’ll let you do me in the butt!”
He keeps walking.
The boat passes and sends my yacht into a final round of waves. The mating seals have quieted down, but even they are disturbed by the motion of sea. I let go of the railing to reach for my bikini top but another, larger wave sends me reeling. I fly toward the back of the boat, ultimately slipping and falling on a slick spot of Logan’s seed.
I don’t even know how it happens, but suddenly I’m tumbling ass-over-tits over the railing, smacking my head against the side of the boat before sinking like a rock. I fight against the pull of the dark water now that the sun has set. My struggle for air, and to get away from the ropes beneath the boat, is frantic and clumsy and horrifically futile. I push up and grab a gulp of air but immediately sink beneath the surface. I blink, panicking. I’ve spent my life in the water but I feel sleepy and confused. Surely this is the end and my parents will find my body, naked and covered in that complete asshole’s jizz. Gah, how embarrass
ing!
My life flashes before my eyes. Blow job, blow job, hand job, blow job, foot job, boob job, no job. I can’t believe I’m going to die with an intact hymen. Really, is there no justice?!
Just then, something soft brushes against my back. A fast-moving dark blur cuts through the water beneath me. I spin and reach out, my fingers slipping off what can only be a body.
“Help!” I scream underwater. Only bubbles emerge from my mouth, but miraculously, I feel myself being lifted toward the surface. There’s pressure under my curvy, heart-shaped ass, and then the brush of something soft and gentle between my thighs. The next thing I know, I’ve emerged, gasping for air and cradled in the cozy arms of a magnificent beast.
“Oh my god,” I cough, fighting for oxygen. Once again, I feel the whisper of softness against the exposed curve of my breasts, and then the nuzzle of an insistent mouth on my bare thighs. I blink again, using my hands to push the water and wet hair from my eyes. That’s when I come face to face with a literal, actual seal.
My head spins again from lack of oxygen. I must be going insane, believing that this seal is actually saving me. But my arms are weak from exhaustion and I start to slip back under. The seal pushes me again from the water, his flippers strong and comforting. He leads me right to the ladder of my own yacht and nudges my elbows until my fingers grab hold.
With the seal’s help, I emerge from the water one perilous rung at a time. When I reach the top, I teeter forward, landing with a smack onto my soft, smooth belly. I almost hug the deck, so happy to be safe. I hear the sound of a large flop and a slick landing, and I roll over to cautiously look. Yet again, I come face to face with that seal. A long metal chain loops around his neck, swaying between us. At first, I suspect the seal must have gotten caught up in some of the harbor’s litter, but I’m too stunned to do much more than gawk.
“You saved me,” I say in amazement, and taking quick advantage of having such a glorious creature so close, reach up to cup his wet chin. He roughly nuzzles his whiskers against my palm and I smile in awe.