by Linda Barlow
Her pupils dilated at my request. I’d throw in some incentive. I removed my equipment and peeled off my wet suit, revealing my tattoos and rock-hard body. There, that should do the trick.
Chapter 3—Cassie
Whoa. Had this jerk really just said that?
He had. He was standing there in the sand, with sparkling droplets of sea water cruising slowly down some of the sweetest muscles I had ever seen, cocky as hell, demanding that I buy him off with sex? What a jackass!
Did he seriously think I might consider it? Did other women lie down for this asshat and spread their legs?
Damn, they probably did. It wasn’t just his gorgeous pecs...and abs…and quads… It was the whole package. He had that “I’m so bad, babe. Nobody can fuck you like I can” thing going for him. The wicked grin, the jutting chin, the way he’d swooped down and carried me out of the water, the “I dare you” glint in his blinding blue eyes.
I was a total sucker for bad boys. I know. It’s a weakness. It had never brought me anything but heartache.
I ramped myself up to resist. I had to forget the hot flash that shot through me when he’d bumped his body up against mine in the water. That totally hadn’t happened. No way.
He was hot, but so what? There were gorgeous, super well-built guys aplenty in the San Diego area. Marines, Navy guys. SEALS, even. But I didn’t usually hit the bars where the military types hung out. What with keeping up with my courses and working part time at the Birch Aquarium, which was associated with my grad program at the Scripps Institution of Oceanography, I didn’t have time for a social life. I didn’t want to get mixed up with those guys, anyway. Not that this creep looked all that military, especially with his longish hair. But how did he get that buff bod?
Stop staring at his body, Cassie! God, I could swear the boy was preening—showing off what he had to offer, jutting out his pelvis to show off what I could see was a big, hard dick. Dude was seriously packing.
His hair was long and he had scruffy whiskers that were not quite a beard—as if he only shaved once or twice a week. I would not think about how those rough whiskers would feel against my bare breasts. Between my thighs…
Stop it, girl! Get a grip!
Maybe he was some kind of surfer dude, hanging out day after day on the beach, waiting for the perfect wave. And the horny chicks.
“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” His voice was deep and had some kind of sexy Western drawl. “How it would feel to have me inside you. How you’d writhe and pant and clench your pussy around me. How you'd scream out my name as you came hard around my cock.”
Whew! I wanted to fan myself. “I don’t even know your name.”
Um, why had I said that? I needed to distract myself from the absurd feelings of lust his stupid words inspired. What was wrong with me? Had it been that long since I’d last gotten laid?’
Yeah, sadly it had. What with finishing college, settling in at UCSD, and fretting that I was in over my head with grad school and a job, I hadn’t gone looking for hookups.
“Name’s Shane,” the big jerk said. “Can’t wait to hear you scream it out loud.”
“Asshole suits you better.” I turned my back and stalked away. But stalking on a sandy beach isn’t that easy to do. I was just trying to keep my dignity, not that I had much left.
The worst of it was, I knew he’d been right to call me out over the baby sea lion. I was a serious ocean wildlife researcher, and I knew better than to interfere with the natural order of things. Rescuing injured sea mammals was not my job, and it could do more harm than good. Only the strong survive. In the wild, whether on land or in the sea, fitness was everything—that was how nature worked.
I couldn’t regret it, though. Not when I thought of the way those big, soft eyes of the sea lion had looked into mine. Now that the foreign material was off his neck, he would do fine. I had probably saved a life today.
My tormenter came after me. Of course. He wasn’t the type to give up easily.
“You don’t think I’m letting you walk away, do you? Think about the trouble you could get into if I told someone.”
“Yeah, right. Who’re you gonna tell? Anyway, your word against mine.” But I stopped. Was it because I really thought he could cause trouble for me?
I don’t think so. I think I stopped for other reasons altogether. I remembered the sweet sensation I’d felt when his body had pressed up against mine in the water. Damn! I wanted to feel that again.
“Okay.” He gave me a thousand watt smile. “Forget the sea lion. Forget getting in trouble.” He took a step closer so he was in my space, blotting out the beach and the sea and the moon. There were crystals of sand dusting his tan skin. Tats—beautiful whirls of ink. Marble-hard flesh, muscle, and bone. “Forget everything but this.”
I felt his hands grip my hair and my shoulder just before his mouth captured mine.
When his lips smashed into mine, it was hotter than, I don’t know, just about anything. Crazy. Wild. There I was, out on a beach at night, pressing myself into the rock-hard body of some stranger who had grabbed me and hauled me to shore without even asking permission to touch me. And now he was doing it again. Touching me. And, wow, it felt so incredibly good.
It was as if I’d been given a hit of a powerful drug. As soon as he pulled me into the cradle of his thighs, where I could feel his cock jutting into my belly and jerking as if it were already inside me, I turned into some kind of wild woman. I’d seen marine animals go into a mating frenzy—sharks went nuts sometimes—violent fucking that left blood in the water. If he—what did he say his name was, Shane?—if Shane was a shark, then I was a goner, because I needed that fat, hard dick inside me in the worst way.
I was kissing him back, grabbing his hair, his shoulders, his ass, and digging my nails into his hard butt as we ground our bodies together. “Not here,” I said, with my last trace of rationality. I wasn’t going to screw in the sand like a couple of sea lions, was I?
“Come with me,” he ordered, looping a strong arm around my shoulders and leading me up the steps away from the water.
I went. It was crazy, I know. I’d probably regret it, but I was going to fuck a cocky, arrogant bad-boy jerk.
I should have been ashamed of myself. But something deep inside me was fizzing with the thrill of my own wildness, my own daring. I never did stuff like this. But, dammit, I was doing it tonight.
Chapter 4—Shane
Well, that was even easier than I thought it would be. She didn’t even put up a fight. Just hopped on the back of my bike, wrapped her tight body around mine, and let me take her back to my place.
The cool ocean air blew around us, and I savored this peaceful drive. My last few hours of freedom were always the ones that remained ingrained in my mind during my deployment.
Our ride along the coast had us leaving pretentious La Jolla for rowdy Pacific Beach. I pulled up to my apartment. It was small, had bars on the windows, and was a short walk to one of my favorite watering holes.
She removed the spare helmet I’d given her and her hair cascaded over her face. Her red locks were wild, wet, and sandy. I couldn’t wait to see her naked, her hair brushing her nipples as she rode my cock.
I led her inside and she sat on my couch, rubbing her hands on her thighs. No matter how sexy she was, I could tell she was nervous. I wanted to put her at ease, at the very least assure her that I wasn’t a serial killer.
“You want a glass of water? All that salt water dehydrates you.”
She nodded yes and I poured two glasses and sat down next to her. I tried staring deep into her green eyes, but she was avoiding eye contact.
After she gulped down her water, she looked up at me. “So, what do you do? Besides diving solo at night.”
That was what I did. Though I was usually wearing night vision goggles and jumping out of a zodiac boat. “I’m a diver. Working for a boating company. Maintenance on the ships, scraping barnacles off the bottom.” I didn’t
flinch. Navy SEALs never told people what they did for a living. Unless we wanted to get laid. She was already in my apartment after only knowing me for less than an hour, so I decided impressing her wasn’t worth the effort.
“That’s cool. I’ve done some diving, too, but I don’t do it much unless it’s for research. I love the ocean. We have a sailboat—my dad, that is. He loves to sail and to fish.”
“Yeah?”
“That’s how I got interested in marine biology. I started out in biochemistry, but I was also interested in environmental science, so marine bio seemed like a natural fit. Did you go to college?”
I took a sip of my own water and studied this girl. She was smart, smarter than my average lay. “I’m self taught.”
Her eyes focused on the door, probably trying to plan an escape route if she deemed I was a psycho. “Really? That’s cool. School’s not for everyone. I love it, but sometimes you learn even more by just observing. That’s why I was out there tonight. Watching the sea lions in their natural environment, listening to their vocalizations, you learn so much more than you ever would by reading a book.”
I didn’t react to her, but I was impressed by her accomplishments. She’d never want to get serious with a guy like me. Not that I was looking for anything more than a one-night stand. Girls like her always wanted to be fucked by a SEAL. Just the same way that rich banker guys wanted to bang hot supermodels. But once these pretentious types of both sexes enjoyed their time fucking in the slums, they’d run off and marry respectable partners to appease their families.
“So what’s your name, smarty pants?”
She bit her lip. “It’s Cassandra, well, Cassie. My parents both majored in Classics. My dad actually wanted to get his doctorate in Classics, but most universities closed their programs, so he’s an economics professor.”
Yup, way out of my league. She was going to be a Ph.D., and came from an academic family. I was a fuck-up in high school, joined the navy the day I turned eighteen, and left for boot camp the week after I graduated. But I wasn’t a dumbass—I was a Navy SEAL corpsman, a trained medic. I saved lives. I even had it in the back of my head that one day after I retired, I’d go to med school. But that dream was far away for now.
Her eyes were now staring at a sketch I’d drawn of a lake near my home in Montana.
“That’s really cool. Who’s the artist?”
“No clue. Just something I picked up at the flea market.”
Her head tilted as if she was trying to get a closer look at the drawing. I needed to distract her before she started asking more questions. “Let me show you something.” I took off my shirt, and pointed to my upper shoulder blade.
Her pupils widened. “You have a tattoo of Sammy the Seal? That was my favorite book as a kid.”
“Mine too. My mom used to read it to me every night.”
She smiled and shifted her position on the sofa so her hips pointed toward me.
Enough small talk. I’d given her a personal anecdote, a glimpse into the emotional connection that women craved. Now it was time to hear her scream my name.
Chapter 5—Cassie
The motorcycle ride to Shane’s place had been exhilarating, and I’d focused on how good it felt to be pressed against his back with the powerful Harley engine roaring and pulsing between my thighs. It felt as if we were flying.
But once we got off the bike and he ushered me into his small apartment, I started getting nervous. What the hell was I doing here? I didn’t know this guy. He’d helped me out on the beach, yes—that female sea lion had been enraged by what she’d perceived as my threat to her pup. She hadn’t been zooming in from the deeper water to thank me. Sea lions were smart, but not that smart.
But just because this diver had done me a good turn in the sea—and been a total ass about it—didn’t mean he was trustworthy.
He’d demanded I pay him back with sex. Was I really going to? Now that I was here, did I have any choice?
I could just turn around and leave. If he tried to stop me, I’d scream my lungs out. Someone would come running to my aid, right?
If you were going to do that, why did you climb on the back of his bike?
Okay, my mind was doing somersaults. I wanted this tall, buff, grinning sex god. I just didn’t want anything bad to happen.
He must have realized that I was on the verge of losing it, because he changed his aggressive attitude a bit. Asked me a couple questions about myself. I made a feeble attempt at conversation, too. Meanwhile I was looking about the place surreptitiously, trying to get a better read on him.
The first thing I noticed was that his apartment was neat and sparkling clean, which was unusual in a guy living alone. There wasn’t a speck of dust on the floor or on any of the surfaces and the carpet had obviously been vacuumed recently. Through an open door that led from the living room to his bedroom, I could see a double bed that was tightly and precisely made. Wow. Maybe he had a cleaning service come in once a week? Seemed unlikely, since the apartment was modest. When I asked what he did for a living, he said he cleaned barnacles off the bottom of boats. Seriously? Was that even a real job? If so, it probably didn’t pay much.
He was a diver, though, and divers could probably get hired to do all sorts of things. Could you make a career of being a diver? Maybe he did tourist dives? Or maybe he worked for some big shipping company where cleaning off their barnacles was a really important job?
There was some nice art work on his walls, I noticed. Mostly drawings and sketches, carefully framed. He didn’t seem like the type of guy who would invest in art, so I wondered if he had drawn them himself. He’d been quick to turn aside my one question on the subject. He obviously wasn’t too into talking.
He could be a serial killer, for all I knew.
Just when I was once again beginning to plot my escape, he ripped off his shirt (oh my god!) and showed me his tattoo. Well, one of his tattoos. It was Sammy the Seal—one of my favorite childhood characters. I’d loved that book! This big, strong dude with the laughing eyes and the big-ass grin that melted me all the way down to his toes had gone into a tattoo parlor and asked for Sammy the Seal ink?
That took balls. And maybe a sense of humor, too? Playfulness at least. That tattoo would stay with him forever.
I felt myself relax. Now that his chest was bare, I was remembering what I’d come here for. And why I’d agreed. And suddenly I didn’t want to wait.
“I have a tattoo, too,” I told him. And, as he had done, I pulled my top over my head. Thank God I was wearing good underwear. I don’t know why I had put on the black bra and its matching thong. I didn’t usually wear man-killer undies. Just luck, I guess. Of course, my clothes were still wet and I was a bit sandy, but I guess the same was true of him.
He slid right up next to me on the sofa, looking at the spot I pointed to on the upper slope of my right breast. I had a small dolphin there, spine arching in a joyful dive. It was tiny, but artfully inked.
“That’s nice,” he said, touching my dolphin with the tip of one finger. His voice was low and husky and I knew it wasn’t just the tattoo he was talking about.
I arched my spine too, pushing my breast into the palm of his hand. He made a small sound and then his fingers clamped down on me. He kneaded and caressed while pulses of arousal beat between my legs. His other hand slipped into my hair and tilted my head back. He kissed my mouth—gently at first, then more insistently. I opened to him, enjoying his taste, his faintly salty smell, the pressure of his lips.
I kissed him harder, engaging his tongue. His beautiful body was right there, so I stroked my hands over his shoulders and his back, marveling at the ridges of muscle shifting under his smooth skin, like marble under silk.
His fingers compressed one of my nipples, making me gasp. Some kind of special heat enveloped me and I wanted more, wanted it faster, harder. I reached for the waistband of his pants and his cock was there, just under the surface, trying to burst through the fabric. I s
lid my hand along it, squeezed, grasped, and heard him groan. Then he was tearing at my clothes and I at his.
Somehow we exchanged the needed information, yes I was on the pill but of course he had to use condoms. He had plenty, he assured me, as he coaxed my lust-crazed body from the sofa to the bedroom to that perfectly-made bed.
He didn’t bother to unmake it. He tossed me down on the coverlet, stripped off his pants and his shoes and pulled my shorts over my hips. He growled when he saw the thong. Then he laughed and flipped me over onto my belly. “I need to admire your ass. Yeah. It’s definitely worthy of admiration.”
I giggled too. “I’ll say the same for your cock.” I pushed my hair away from my eyes and looked back over my shoulder to get a better look. It was one awesome-looking cock—huge and hard and jutting. My pussy was drenched at the thought of having that inside me.
He crawled onto the bed with me and I felt him straddling my legs from behind. My bra had vanished; I think it was still in the living room. He tugged on the thong between my ass cheeks, making me ride the taut fabric in front. My clit just about had a heart attack.
His face came down near the back of my neck and he said softly in my ear, “So how we gonna do this, doll? Quick and dirty? Or slow and smooth?”
His voice practically caused me to come. Damn, he was hot.
“Both?”
He laughed and brought one hand down hard across my ass cheeks. I yelped, but not really in protest. “Anything for the greedy lady. Let’s start with quick and dirty, then.”
I squirmed and tried to roll over. He allowed it. I lifted my hips so he could remove the thong. His hand slid in where it had been. “So hot and wet for me,” he whispered. A finger stabbed into me and I arched in pleasure. “I knew you wanted to fuck me the moment I saw you.”
Well, that was a bit much, but I was too far gone to take offense. So what if he was a cocky asshole? He had magic fingers—he knew just where to put them and what to do with them. Right now that was good enough for me.
