Badass: A Stepbrother SEAL Romance (3 page)

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 slid 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.

It was quick and it was dirty. He wasted no time before he pulled on a condom, and then he started giving me sexy orders:

“Spread those gorgeous thighs for me, babe. I hope you like it hard, ‘cause you are gonna get fucked like you’ve never been fucked before. Arch your back. I want those breasts pushed up where I can see them, hon. Those tits are too fine to be ignored.”

As he drew back his pelvis and thrust into me, he dipped his head and tongued my nipple. Oh god oh god, it felt so good.

“Raise your hips a bit, doll. That’s it. Grind your muff against me now. You want it quick and dirty…well give me dirty. You like this? Tell me.”

“I love it,” I gasped. I didn’t usually talk dirty during sex, but right now I’d do just about anything he asked.

“Yeah?” He slid ever so slowly in and out, then quickened his pace. “Tell me. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me. Harder. Faster.” I lifted and ground against him, just as he had told me to do. I did some thrusts and added a few circles for variation. I was going to give as good as I got.

I could tell by the sound of his voice that I was getting to him, whether or not he wanted to admit it. “Okay, princess. Here we go, then. Hang on.”

I hung on, my fingers digging into his back and ass as he slammed into me. With the way he’d told me to arch my hips and the position he was holding, my clit was getting direct stimulation. That was fine with me! He had an awesome way of grinding against me with every entry that sent me soaring. I tried to reciprocate by clenching my inner muscles on his dick every time it sank in deep and I was rewarded by his shudders of pleasure. “Yeah, babe, give it to me,” he muttered. “Give me everything you’ve got.”

I did. I felt crazy-wild and almost out of control. He filled me up and I absolutely loved it. Quick and dirty, yeah.

The sweet tension locked and loaded faster than I’d ever dreamed it could happen. Pleasure ricocheted down my spine and out into my limbs as I felt myself explode into climax. I keened softly as my muscles convulsed around his cock. His movements sped up and he stiffened and erupted, too, holding himself up on his powerful biceps as his last few thrusts speared me.

We ended up panting in each other’s arms, hearts slamming and breathing in gasps. One of us started to laugh after a few moments…I’m not even sure if it was him or me. But soon we were both laughing, because wow, that was intense.

As we both tried to regain some small measure of rationality, I rolled onto my side and Shane rolled with me and cuddled me from behind, his arms around me and his pelvis tucked against my ass. One of his hands stroked my hair. Neither of us spoke, but it felt cozy and good. My eyes drifted shut and I think I may have drowsed for a few minutes. Perhaps he did, too.

But then I felt him shift, which jolted me back to wakefulness. He got up from the bed and disappeared through a door that was, I realized, the bathroom. When he came back a couple of minutes later, I had climbed out of bed and was looking for my clothes.

Shane was still naked. And beautiful. “Hey. Whatcha doing? If you need the bathroom, it’s through there.”

“Getting my clothes back on,” I said. I was feeling a mild panic. I’d really liked what had just happened between us. Too much. I had to get out of here before I started wanting it to happen again. Because that would be insane. I didn’t even know this guy. I had just fucked some guy I’d met about an hour ago. I’d never done that before in my life.

He caught one of my wrists in his big hand. “No clothes. I like you naked. Well, I like you in the thong, too, but right now naked is fine.” His other hand cruised down my front from my collarbone to one of my breasts. His thumb rubbed my nipple. “That was quick and dirty. We still got slow and smooth coming up. And maybe a few other variations.”

It didn’t take more than a few caresses from him before I was ready to forget about leaving. While he stroked my breasts and paid special attention to my super-sensitive nipples, I couldn’t help staring at his hard, lean body—those muscles, those tats, all that youthful energy. The tight curve of his ass fascinated me. The way his cock rose right back up when he touched me, even though he’d come not that long before.

I reached out for that prime cock and slid my hand up and down the shaft. He grinned as he thickened even more, until my fingers could barely contain his circumference. I ran my thumb over the rim and pressed the underside with just a hint of my nail. His spine arched. “Damn. That’s good. You have great hands.” Then his hands were on my shoulders, pressing me down. “Show me how good your mouth is.”