Hot SEAL, New Orleans Nights

by Delilah Devlin

  She leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. “I like this.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I wish…”

  Don’t spoil the moment… “Shhh… Maybe we shouldn’t talk.”

  “And maybe we should…?” She turned her head. “That day…”

  “Amelie…” he said, his voice a low warning growl.

  She heard the warning but didn’t stop. “You lettin’ me go like that… You broke my heart.”

  “You’re the one who decided to go.”

  “It wasn’t going to be forever. I never intended for it to be forever.”

  “Sure felt like it.”

  “If you’d asked me to stay, I would have.”

  He held still. “Then why go at all? You knew I was crazy about you. Why play that game?”

  She moved away from him and turned on the step to face him. “My father was pressurin’ me. Told me if what you and I had was real, that me being away for a while wouldn’t matter. That I could see you every break and spend my summers with you. The school’s program was better for me.”

  “And I see how you’re usin’ that fancy degree.” Inwardly, he winced at his own snide tone.

  She ducked her head. “When I left, I thought I’d be able to come back and see you. That maybe you’d be less angry, and we could pick up where we’d left off. But you were gone…”

  “Didn’t feel like there was anything left for me here. Every place I went…” He shook his head. They were sharing truth, but he felt like an idiot admitting how gutted he’d been when she’d gone.

  “I have a confession to make.”

  By her expression, she wasn’t sure he’d like hearing what she had to say. But he held still, pulling on mental armor to keep from reacting too much to whatever it was.

  “I missed New Orleans, and my aunt needed help in the shop, but that was only part of the reason I came back.” She paused and cleared her throat. “I hoped that, one day, you’d walk into the shop and see me, and that you wouldn’t look at me like you hated me,” she said, her eyes filling and her lips trembling.

  “Cher,” he said and moved closer. He couldn’t stand to see her near tears. “I could never hate you.”

  “I’m so sorry, Thibaut. I loved you. I really did.”

  And then she went and did it. Her shoulders shook, and she began to cry. He did the only thing he could and reached out for her, pulling her onto his lap and holding her while she wept.

  Thibaut wasn’t sure how he felt about what she’d said. Yeah, there was still anger over so much wasted time. The life she’d thrown away with him would have been beautiful. But they’d been so young and their tempers so volatile. If he’d responded by holding her rather than kissing her off, maybe everything would have been different.

  When she quieted, he contented himself by simply hugging her against him. This was Amelie, after all. His first and only love. Reconnecting with her, even if they didn’t figure out a pathway forward, had soothed some of his old resentments. He felt more at peace.

  Her soft fingers traced a path from his eyebrows to a cheek and down to his mouth where she rubbed across his lower lip.

  “Cryin’ make you horny?” he drawled.

  “Yeah,” she whispered. “Are we crazy? Borrowin’ more trouble?”

  “Maybe, but my cock likes you sittin’ on my lap.”

  Her body shook, but this time with soft laughter. “You’re an idiot.”

  “I figure we should take our pleasure where we can, mon chaton.”

  “So, I’m a kitten now?”

  “You sound like one when you get close.”

  “Stop!” And she giggled.

  “Baby,” he growled, “you’re still wearin’ that skirt.” He picked her up and turned her toward him, which forced her to straddle his lap. Once she rested against him, he gripped her hips and began grinding her down on him.

  She shook back her hair and let her head fall back. An invitation he couldn’t resist. He began nipping the side of her neck and the crest of her clavicle, then he bent farther and rooted at her breast through her clothing.

  For her part, she didn’t seem to mind so much if the neighbors saw anything happening in the shadows. She pulled up her dress in the front then thumbed open his jeans. He braced his hands on the step and lifted his hips while she knelt over him and pushed down his pants. “My panties,” she whispered when she’d finished baring him.

  He reached for the delicate fabric and tore it away. Then she was sliding her hot, slick sex down his dick, her hands clasping his shoulders. He helped her, cupping her hips to force her to move faster, and bouncing his own ass off the step to meet her strokes.

  When they came, he mouthed her breast and pushed her down hard on his cock so he could rock her slowly, forward and back, prolonging the tremors that shook her frame.

  “Was it always this good?” she whispered in his ear.

  “It’s better,” he said, giving her nipple a bite.

  “Ow,” she said, although not so sharply he was afraid he’d hurt her. Then she made another confession. “I liked that. And I liked it when you slapped me.”

  “You mean when I slapped your ass?” he said, not bothering to keep his voice down.

  “Shhh! Thibaut!” She smacked his chest then hid her face in the corner of his neck.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said more softly, already planning how he’d use that little golden nugget of sexual power.

  “We should probably go upstairs.”

  “You don’t like fuckin’ on the porch?”

  She nipped his neck then straightened. “I loved it, but my aunt could walk out here—”

  “She’s blind.”

  “Nearly blind. She sees shadows. Doesn’t mean I want to fuck with her sharin’ the same space.”

  “Darlin’, I love it when you say ‘fuck’. It’s cute. You get kind of breathless. Turns me on.”

  “Everything turns you on—skirts, cuss words—”

  “Your pretty tits and round ass.”

  “Stop,” she said and pressed her chest against his.

  The tips were spiked and hard, and he could feel them through her dress and his shirt. He slid a hand between them and molded a full breast with his palm. “I haven’t spent enough time loving these.”

  “They’re just tits. Everyone’s got ’em.”

  “There you go again. Dirty words.”

  She squeezed herself around his cock. “I won’t have any words left I can say around you.”

  She drove down on him, and he reached beneath her skirt and spread her labia, feeling her wet flesh and his hardening dick. He tucked a finger between her channel and his waning girth. “There’s a little room.”

  “Not for long.”

  “No, not for long.” And they were lost again, this time moving slowly together.

  He knew how they must look. The pretty woman with her flowered dress spread all over his lap, her curly hair bouncing, her full lips kissing the air. For his part, he was just the dick beneath her, because she was the entire show. He’d never seen anything like her. Never would again. And she was warm, slick, soft, fragrant—every good thing he’d ever wanted in a bed partner, but then add her mouth, her heart… He couldn’t think of another woman he’d ever want for a wife.

  That’s crazy talk, he told himself.

  But was it really? She’d loved him once. He could make her fall in love with him again.

  All he had to do was figure out what made her melt like butter that didn’t include sex, because a woman needed more than just a happy pussy. Although, what they were doing right now was very close to perfect bliss.

  Chapter 13

  Amelie couldn’t remember climbing the steps to her bedroom the previous night. The last thing she remembered was biting down on her lip to keep from screaming when her second orgasm hit. She stirred and glanced at the blinds. It was still dark outside, so she settled down again and turned toward Thibaut to spoon a
gainst his back.

  She stretched her legs and slid them close to his, loving the way it felt, the soft hairs brushing her smooth skin. She pressed her breasts against his back and felt the familiar tingling in the tips announcing their arousal. So, she inched closer, trying not to give way to the temptation to rub against him, because then he’d awaken and she’d lose this chance to be close to him, to give him feather touches he’d never know about, while she pretended he was hers.

  Her fingers traveled up his back, over his shoulder then down his arm. She spent time riding the crest of his bicep, thinking about all the hard work he’d done to make them so impressively “bulgy”. She stroked toward his hands and down his fingers, aligning hers against the backs of his to judge their length. His hands were large, and she knew the palms and pads of his fingers were callused, and that excited her, too. She loved that he worked hard, that he pushed himself physically, because all that strength he’d built gave her pleasure when he held her.

  She trailed her fingertips over the edge of his hip then slowly moved downward, until she felt the crisp curls at his groin. Holding still, she listened to his breathing, still deep and even. Then she moved again, following the curve of his flaccid penis then down to his balls. Cloaked in furry velvet, she couldn’t stop hefting them in her hand. Such a funny part of the male anatomy. So key to pleasure and procreation. She caressed them again then lightly wrapped her fingers around his cock—which wasn’t quite as flaccid as it had been. As she held it, barely squeezing, it filled…lengthening, widening. A testament to evolution or God, she didn’t know, didn’t care. Thibaut’s dick was simply…glorious.

  “What are you doin’, cher?”

  “Nothing. Go to sleep,” she said, smiling because she knew she’d made that impossible.

  “You didn’t get enough before? You’re gonna wear that pussy out.”

  She squeezed him harder. “As if. You can go back to sleep. I’m just…exploring.” She slid her hand up his shaft and gripped it hard, just beneath the cap. Then she ran her thumb over the top. Fluid smeared. “Oh, I’ve made another mess.” She lifted her thumb to her mouth and licked it away.

  “Goddamn.” Abruptly, he turned to face her and placed his hand against her back to bring her flush with his body.

  She hadn’t let his cock go. And now, all she had to do was lift her upper thigh…

  Thibaut got tired of waiting for her to move it and lifted it atop his hip. Now, she was open. She pointed his cap at her entrance then shimmied her hips to bring him deeper. He took the more direct approach and stroked straight inside.

  “Oh my,” she whispered when she could catch her breath.

  Lying sideways on the bed wasn’t the most conducive to movement, but it was more intimate. She lifted a breast and pointed the tip at his nipple and circled it.

  He hissed a breath between his teeth but didn’t stop shoving his hips forward and back.

  “Your nipples are sensitive…?”

  “Aren’t yours?”

  Hell, yeah. “You sent me over when you bit mine.”

  He grunted. “I wanna move faster.”

  That was all the warning she got before he rolled her to her back and, without missing a stroke, continued fucking her. Happily, she raised her legs and hooked them behind his back. She ran her hands up and down his sides, then slipped them between their bodies to scrape close to where their bodies met.

  He pushed up with his hands, and they both glanced downward. Moisture silvered his dick as he pushed in and pulled out.

  “I like watching how your pussy takes me,” he said, his voice husky.

  “I like watching while I feel your dick crowd into me.”

  “Crowd?” he asked, pushing and twisting inside her.

  “Yes, you’re so thick, so fucking big. I look at you and think…it’s impossible, but then you’re inside, all the way up me.”

  “Damn, baby, I’m not gonna last long.”

  “I’m close. Just give it to me harder.”

  He began to circle and pound, changing the rhythm, making her climb his body because she was close, but then he moved a certain way and she stalled, only to have him build her up again…

  She leaned up and nipped his shoulder. “Finish it.”

  “So bossy.”

  She reached beneath his dick and palmed his balls. “Finish it.”

  He gave a laugh and lowered his torso until he was balanced on his elbows. He resumed pounding, pulling up his knees a bit for more leverage then thudding harder at her center.

  Beneath him, Amelie writhed, her head thrashing, her back arching. Her feet smoothed up and down his thighs until she was there again. Then she opened her legs wider, stretching them out, pointing her toes toward the ceiling, finally forgetting how to breathe as she pitched over the edge.

  When he collapsed on top of her, he scooped her lips with his and bit her bottom lip. “We keep forgetting condoms.”

  “Didn’t forget. Don’t care.”

  “I’ll take care of you.”

  And because she was still pinned to the bed, her face so close to his there was no hiding, she couldn’t brush away the tear that slid down her cheek. “And if you don’t, I’m okay with that, too.”

  Chapter 14

  Thibaut woke to find sunlight peeking through the blinds. He smiled and slid a hand to his side, but the bed beside him was empty. He bounded out of bed, filled with energy. Last night’s sex had been a better workout than running a mini-marathon with his teammates.

  He was pretty sure he was making progress in his quest to win Amelie’s heart. If it took sex to knock down her walls and be real with him, then he was up for the challenge. He hadn’t been talking shit when he’d told her he’d take care of her if their condom-less sex resulted in a pregnancy. Although…he hadn’t said the word “pregnant”, and hadn’t specified how he’d take care of her, which now made her tears seem like not such a good thing after all.

  “Fuck.”

  He hurried through a shower, dressed, then made his way downstairs. Before he reached the kitchen, he heard a familiar, booming voice.

  The second he stepped into the room, his father stood, a huge smile spreading across his face as he gave him a quick fierce hug. “Son, thought the SEALs broke you of sleepin’ all day.”

  Thibaut glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s only seven. Why the hell are you here botherin’ Josette and Amelie so early in the morning?”

  Amelie raised her eyebrows. “He’s takin’ us crabbin’! Yay!”

  Yeah, he could see how thrilled she was. “You ever been?”

  “Can’t say I have,” she said, fiddling with her hair.

  “Nasty critters,” Josette said with a shudder. “Never could cook ’em without gettin’ bit.”

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about that. Thibaut’s mama’s gonna have the propane stove ready when we get back. She’s doin’ the cooking, and you’re all invited.”

  Josette smiled at that. “I can make a pie. Maybe get Gloria next door to drop me off when I’m done.”

  “Won’t you need help, Tante?” Amelie said, a hint of desperation in her eyes. “Why bother Gloria when I can drive you?”

  “And you miss out on an adventure with two handsome men?”

  “Now, how’d you know I was handsome,” his father teased.

  Josette laughed. “Arnie Cyr, the way you flirt, only a handsome man would have that much confidence.”

  His father threw back his head and laughed.

  “You sure it’s not too early in the season for crabbing?” Thibaut asked his father. The fall was the best time of the year.

  His dad shrugged. “The crabs’ll be a bit small, but they’ll be tasty.”

  Thibaut slipped his arm around Amelie. “Sweetheart, looks like we’re goin’ crabbin’!”

  But first they had to drink coffee and eat thick, buttered slices of Josette’s freshly-made sourdough bread.

  Maybe an hour later, his father chec
ked his watch. “Better get out the door. High tide’s in just over an hour and it’s thirty-five minutes to the canal.”

  “Marquez?” Thibaut asked, naming his favorite canal for catching crabs.

  “Of course.”

  Both men stood. Amelie was a little slow to rise.

  “You’ll need a hat, so you don’t burn that pretty nose,” his father said.

  “And you’ll need some muck boots,” Thibaut said.

  “Use my garden boots,” Josette chimed in. “They’re on the back porch.”

  Ten minutes later they were all seated on the bench seat in the front of his father’s ancient Ford pickup, headed to the canal. The sun was bright, the traffic light. All in all, a good start to the day.

  “I’ve never been crabbin’,” Amelie said. “I’m not sure I can kill one.”

  “You eat crabs?” his father asked.

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’m a Louisianan—of course, I eat crabs—and crawfish. Doesn’t mean I want to kill ’em.”

  “And you won’t,” Thibaut added cheerfully. “Mama will do that when she drops ’em in the pot.”

  From her curled upper lip, that didn’t make Amelie any happier.

  “Don’t worry, sugar,” he said, patting her thigh. “You’re gonna love this.”

  Twenty-five minutes later they arrived at a gravel parking area. They hiked over the levee to get to the canal then found a “likely” spot for crabs.

  “How do you know it’s ‘likely’?” Amelie asked, looking up and down the canal.

  He knew what she saw, a grass-covered levee, taller grass beside the water, brackish water.

  “Because we’ve fished and crabbed here before,” his father said as he dropped a bucket with an oil cloth tied around the top.

  Thibaut lowered the large cooler he’d brought, along with the net, and smiled as his father unknotted the twine around the bucket and removed the oilcloth. The smell of rotten chicken wafted in the air.

  “Good Lord,” Amelie said, and waved a hand in front of her face before she took a step back.

  His father laughed. “Crabs like strong odors. They love bacon, but so do I. They love fish heads, but I didn’t have any in the freezer, so it was chicken necks,” he said, picking up a piece. “Now, watch what I do.”