Pleasing Her SEAL

by Anne Marsh

  “You want my biography?” His fingers stroked a little deeper, fondling her butt and moving closer to wicked territory.

  “That’s an exit, not an entrance,” she pointed out, but darn it, she sounded breathless.

  “I thought you wanted to play games,” he rasped, bending his head to whisper the words into her ear. He followed up with another wicked stroke.

  “Yes, but I want to pick the game.”

  His hand squeezed, his finger moving. The thought of where they could take this sent pleasure streaking through her. She could feel his calluses on the sensitive skin, the pads of his fingers tracing the small dimples.

  “If you pick tonight, do I get to pick tomorrow? In the spirit of being fair.”

  She could let him choose. She could give up control. He’d make it memorable and he’d absolutely make sure she came. He was kind of a gentleman like that.

  “One night at a time.”

  “Chicken,” he chided gently.

  Probably. “I’m not a kinky sex expert,” she warned.

  His husky laugh said it all. “Do I look as if I am?”

  He was big and rough around the edges. But also safe. She got the strong sense that the man lurking behind that hottie exterior was keeper material. If he was all tough badass on the outside, he was a sweet marshmallow on the inside.

  “A gal can hope.” And there was no time like the present to find out what he looked like naked, so she grabbed his hand and towed him into the bedroom. Not that he was putting up any resistance right now, but she’d worked too hard to get here to risk him bolting now. Mason had all these gentlemanly notions and she didn’t need anything scaring him off.

  “Strip,” she ordered, throwing herself onto the bed. “Give me a show.”

  He arched a brow. “Just like that? I don’t merit any foreplay?”

  But his hands went to the edge of his T-shirt, fingering the cotton as another smile quirked at his mouth. She loved this looser, more fun side of Mason.

  “Up.” She waggled her fingers. “Make me a happy woman, okay?”

  He shook his head, but pulled the shirt over his head in one swift move. Oh. Sooo worth waiting for. She considered making him put the shirt back on, just so she could unwrap her present again. Or make one of those animated GIFs of him. Fortunately, there was still plenty more to unwrap. If she was lucky, the rest of him would be just as cut.

  “Now it’s your turn.” He didn’t take his eyes off her as he folded his shirt neatly and set it over the back of a chair. Wow. The man was a closet neat freak? That didn’t bode well for them. She shoved a silky kimono, a pair of sleep pants and tomorrow’s clean thong off the bed, making room for him to sit down. She was...messy. And that was a generous estimate of her housecleaning skills. Plus, the resort had been out of rose petals and the freebie champagne had yet to show up. Overall, her planning skills sucked.

  “Who said this was a tit-for-tat relationship?”

  “I could convince you.” He dropped onto the bed, making short work of his boots and socks. She sighed happily. There was really nothing better than a man in just his blue jeans, and he deserved a reward for getting naked. In that spirit, she swung herself over his lap, setting her hands on his shoulders.

  “Please do,” she crooned, and he smiled slowly.

  “Okay, then.” He reached one hand up to cup the back of her neck and pulled her down to him for a kiss.

  * * *

  UNLIKE HIS, HER LIPS were soft and champagne flavored. She exhaled, rocking against him, riding his lap and his dick as though she was a cowgirl and he was her own personal stallion.

  He deepened their kiss, licking the seam of her mouth, catching that breath. She stilled against him, as if she wanted to capture the sensation, drink it in and not miss a moment of it. Or maybe he was projecting because that simple kiss felt damned good. He did it again, licking deeper. She opened up for him on a gasp, her tongue brushing against his and then retreating in a wicked dance. He felt her shiver, her nails digging into his shoulders.

  She kissed him back, her tongue exploring his lips and then his mouth. Heat surged through him, and suddenly playing fantasy games didn’t seem like such a great idea. He wanted to be inside her, taking her deep, hearing her call his name as he thrust and she came. They could go slow the second time. Or tomorrow.

  He kissed her more intimately, his tongue exploring her mouth thoroughly. When she moaned, he decided she really liked what they were doing. Thank God, because she’d tell him exactly what he was doing wrong, too, if she felt his kissing needed improvement or direction. His Maddie didn’t hold back.

  Her tongue tangled with his as she angled her head, trying to find a way to take him more, deeper, hell if he knew except it was raw and sloppy and the biggest turn-on ever. He’d be the best lover she ever had and then maybe she’d give him another night. Another chance. And at least he kept his dumb-ass thoughts to himself as another bolt of pleasure seared through him.

  When he finally broke their kiss, his breathing sounded ragged, but she got to him and he didn’t mind her knowing. Not like she could miss the evidence pressing against her sweet pussy. Her mouth was slick and wet from his kiss, her lower lip trembling. She stared at him, a dazed look in her eyes, her breath catching.

  “Do that again.” She punctuated her order with another naughty wriggle.

  “Happily,” he growled, pulling her down for another kiss. His hands got busy, too, sliding her straps down. One good tug and her breasts popped free. That wasn’t nearly enough, so he cradled her against his chest, pulling her dress and panties down and off, before falling back on the bed with her.

  He definitely had her attention now, because she leaned up an elbow and grinned cheekily at him. “So, big guy, are we doing it missionary style?”

  * * *

  HE LOVED A good challenge, because he gave her another one of his slow, panty-melting grins. “Right. You prefer kinky.”

  She had a feeling she preferred him. Since he still had his jeans on, while she was buck naked, she reached down and popped his buttons, working her hand inside his boxers. If it was make-Maddie’s-fantasies-come-true night, she knew exactly where she was starting. His penis butted against her palm and she fisted him, dragging her fingers slowly up the hard length. “This works for me.”

  He pulled away. That was the wrong direction. He was supposed to be moving closer, like get-inside-her close, not putting distance between them.

  She squeezed his dick, running her fingers over the thick crown. “Stay put.”

  “I’m coming right back.” He peeled her fingers off him, pressed a kiss against the tips and then tucked her hand against her pussy. “Think of something to do while I’m gone.”

  “I’m not waiting for you,” she warned. “And you’d better come back naked.” Kinky games were one thing. Walking away was definitely not on her list of sexy things.

  He flashed her that quick grin of his. “Then I’ll hurry.”

  “Masturbating’s only sexy if you watch,” she called after him as he disappeared into her hallway. She tried to listen for him, but the man moved like a stealth ninja. When he returned a few minutes later, he had a bowl in his hands. The contents rattled softly as he set it down. The good news was that he’d listened to her and lost his pants somewhere on his journey. And yeah, his penis was spectacular.

  She levered up on her elbow, her hand falling away from her pussy as she stared at him. She’d rather have him than her fingers. “What’s that for?”

  “You’re impatient. You know that, right?”

  Ha. And he was an overachiever in the patience department. “Do you really care?”

  In answer, he pulled an ice cube out of the bowl and drew it over her collarbone and down the slope of her chest. She didn’t even try to hold back her shriek.
>
  “Oh, my God, Mason, that’s cold! You can’t try everything you read about on the internet.”

  He didn’t stop, just kept dragging that damned ice cube lower. “Shh. You’re spoiling my game.”

  He touched her again, moving the ice cube lower. Honestly, she wasn’t sure how she felt about this. It seemed kind of silly, really. And they were totally going to make a mess out of the sheets and the resort had one of those eco-friendly policies where they only changed things on request and... Oh. He circled her nipple with the ice cube and the tightening sensation shot straight to her clit. She’d had no idea there was any kind of connection there, but now the ice was an exquisite torment she couldn’t get enough of. She pressed into his touch and he did it again, drawing a smaller circle this time. Okay. She could be convinced.

  “Like that, don’t you, sweetheart?”

  “Mmm...more,” she demanded.

  He took orders well. He followed the ice cube with his mouth, his tongue exploring the skin he’d chilled. Heat. A tingling chill. A jolt shuddered through her as the erotic sensations washed over her. When his mouth closed over her nipple, sucking, she bit her lip at the raw feeling.

  “I’m not cold anymore.” If her words came out more moan than words, that was entirely Mason’s fault.

  “Good,” he said hoarsely. “Let’s see you how like this.”

  His devilish fingers, chilled from the ice cubes, slid through her folds. It was too much and not enough, a raw, erotic shock that had her arching up against him. Except...she wanted to touch him, too.

  Go big and own it. She peeked in the bowl, hoping for inspiration. And, hello, naughty idea. Not only had he brought ice, but he’d brought Popsicles. She’d had no idea her villa’s kitchen was so well stocked. Or that Mason had such a creative imagination.

  She grabbed a cherry Popsicle, which was definitely her new favorite flavor. At least her mouth wouldn’t turn bright green or purple. Unless Mason had undisclosed alien sex fantasies, that wouldn’t be a hot look.

  “It’s still my turn,” he growled, still fingering her pussy.

  “You bet.” This was all about making him feel good after all. She eased the Popsicle into her mouth, pretending it was a certain part of Mason. Sure, the Popsicle was way too small and cold, but she worked it for all she was worth. Moving her mouth up and down the icy treat, swirling her tongue around the top. When it popped free with an audible sound, he groaned.

  “You play dirty.” He sounded approving.

  Absolutely, and always in bed. Handing him the Popsicle, she reached for him, intending to go down on him. “Hold this and hold on. I’ve heard guys love this.”

  “Now that I’ve got this?” He waggled the Popsicle. “Nuh-uh. It’s still my turn, sweetheart.” He dropped down the bed, maneuvering his shoulders between her thighs, pushing her wide. She had just enough time to wonder what she looked like before something cold slicked over her pussy.

  “Mason—”

  “Shh. I’m working here.” He parted her and then he ran the damned Popsicle around her clit. Oh. The shiver working up from her toes had absolutely, positively nothing to do with being cold, because she was hot all over.

  * * *

  MADDIE SHRIEKED SOMETHING. Mason couldn’t tell what, didn’t care, because her hands were pulling at his shoulders. The sounds she made were more erotic than the dirtiest words because she didn’t hold back. This was his Maddie, letting him touch her.

  He’d make this good for her. He’d make this fantasy come true, and then he’d find out what else she dreamed about and do that, too. Whatever she wanted, she got it.

  He moved his mouth over the skin of her thigh. She tasted sweet, felt even softer, and the heat of her...the speed with which her Popsicle was melting pointed out the flaw in this plan of hers.

  “Mason,” she pleaded, her hips moving against his hands. More words followed his name, disjointed and throaty. He loved that he could make his smart, funny Maddie stop thinking and lose her train of thought.

  Abandoning what remained of the Popsicle, he tossed it away. Maddie opened her mouth, but he didn’t think she was about to criticize his lack of housekeeping skills. Just to be sure, however, he moved his mouth higher, closing the distance between him and her sweet spot. He licked her where she was cherry red, swiping his tongue up her slit. The icy cool of the Popsicle burst on his tongue, a bright hit of artificial flavor, followed by the taste of Maddie. And that taste? Absolutely exquisite.

  He tipped her farther back onto the bed, cradling her hips with his hand. She sprawled on the mattress, her fingers pushing first into the sheets, and then fluttering to his shoulders. His head. Touching him in as many places as she could. Not good enough, not yet. He went back to her cherry sweet spot and covered her with his mouth.

  She shrieked his name, her hands grabbing on to his head and holding on. Yeah. Just like that, sugar.

  Her legs fell open and he ate his sweet treat. Licked up her cream as he found her clit and pressed with his tongue. Flicked and rubbed as he pushed the tip of two fingers inside her slick channel. She shrieked some more—when she let go, she let go, which was just one more thing he loved about her.

  Love.

  Wait.

  He froze for a moment and the chill sweeping him had nothing to do with ice or Popsicles, because that L-word wasn’t supposed to pop into his head right now. Or ever. But her hands tugged on his head, her hips bucking against his face, and now wasn’t the time to ask himself which it was, love or sex, because he could feel her thighs tensing, her heels digging into his back, and she was so close. Instead of thinking, he gave her more, sliding his fingers in, rubbing the pads of his fingertips against that one particular spot that makes her clench.

  “Mason.” His name. A breathy sigh this time. Funny how when she came, she got quiet, just letting go and coming undone in his arms like all the fireworks were on the inside now and required all her attention. And he had her, holding her tight until she finished and he could move up, pull her into his arms. Funny, too, how just this would be enough, making her feel good. Making her happy.

  Fuck.

  It really might be love after all.

  * * *

  MASON’S JAW CLENCHED as he pulled her into his arms. She was still humming, coming down from the most amazing orgasm high ever. Part of her had an immediate date with her pillow, and the mattress had never seemed softer, better, but she had Mason wrapped around her—and he had an erection that wouldn’t quit. Wasting it would be a shame.

  So she rolled onto her back, tugging him over her. He let her, settling easily between her hips. She wrapped her legs around his waist and it was just like before, except now he was kissing distance away. Knowing where his mouth had been got her hot. The wet slick of her juices on his lips was one of the most erotic sights she’d ever seen and she pressed her fingertips against his mouth.

  This was probably the moment when she should say something witty or memorable—or at least appreciative. Instead, she was more of a babbler and nonstop talker. She also gave directions, because there was no point in forgoing an orgasm just because her partner wasn’t getting it right. But Mason was...Mason. And he wasn’t like any of her other lovers. They were nice guys or—more often—bad boys, because if she was treating herself, she liked to do it right, with guys who knew how to make sure the night was fun. Mason was fun, too, but he was also something...more. If she hadn’t still been quivering, her legs weak from the most incredible orgasm she’d had in months or possibly forever, she would have taken a moment to think about it.

  Instead, she ran her hands up his arms. He was sweat slicked, the muscles cording in the sexiest way as he held himself up over her.

  Since it was her turn—and she really, really wanted to feel him inside her sometime soon—she traced those delicious biceps with her hands. F
ollowed with her mouth, leaning up to tongue his nipples. He groaned, a husky sound that was part curse, part her name.

  “I’m right here,” she said, as if there was any question of that.

  Then he lowered his mouth, taking her. Their tongues tangled and all the games, the erotic refinements, didn’t matter half as much as that raw connection. She tasted him. Licked him. Learning his mouth, his throat, the hard, ridged planes of his chest. His hands and mouth were equally busy, roaming over her curves, and his fingers found her pussy again. There was nothing fancy or sophisticated about this, just the exquisite heat of his touch and the need to press as much of her against as much of him as possible.

  Eventually, he threw out an arm, reaching for the condoms on the bedside table. She was no help at all as he tore a packet open, because she was just waiting for him to put himself inside her. Or for her to take him. Right now, either worked for her as long as it happened now, now, now.

  He dragged the tip down her slit and that was one more jolt of pleasure. His eyes were glazed, too, though, his breath coming in rough pants, and she pulled him closer so she could feel the tension and need vibrating through his big body. Whatever this was, whatever they were doing here in her bed, right now he was all hers.

  He entered her slowly, inch by inch. And that felt so much better than his tongue or his fingers, filling up an empty place she hadn’t realized she had. He paused when he was seated deep inside her.

  “Okay?” He asked the question as if he was dead serious, and she knew she should tell him that she didn’t always need sweet and gentle. It was okay for him to not be a gentleman, to be just a little rough and let go all the way. He pulled out a few glorious, friction-filled inches, before pushing back inside her.

  “Better than okay,” she whispered, and then gave him a hint, drawing back and slamming back against him, forcing him deep and hard inside her body.