Bad Boy SEALs

by Scarlett Avery

  BAD BOY SEALs

  Scarlett Avery

  Copyright © 2018 by Scarlett Avery

  Scarlett Avery / Absolutely Naughty Publishing

  Edited by John Hudspith

  Proofread by Chrissy Becker and Ali Skrzypiec

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental. This book is for sale to adults over 18.

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Bad Boy SEALs / Scarlett Avery

  ISBN 978-1-987943-60-3

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  Foreword I

  Dear Reader,

  Due to Amazon changing their approval requirements (again!), the title of this romance has been revised. It was first released as Our Dirty Little Princess.

  Please don’t be confused… the characters are the same. Their story is the same. We just have a new title and a new cover.

  Scarlett

  Foreword II

  Prologue

  Holden

  Abandoned by my mother when I was only ten, I vowed to never allow a woman to get close to me.

  To hurt me.

  To rob me of my sense of being.

  To turn my heart into stone.

  I use women as a necessary release because jerking off becomes tiring after a while.

  Once I’m done, don’t expect me to cuddle after I’ve fucked you.

  There’s no chitchat happening once I’ve reached my release.

  And there’s no fucking way you’re staying the night—no matter how many times you beg or try to manipulate me.

  Uh-uh.

  You’d be gravely mistaking me for someone who has the ability to care. I’m simply not that guy. At least I’m honest and up front about it.

  That’s one of the many things my best friend and I share in common—bang ’em and leave ’em. Lucky for us there’s more than enough willing pussy happy to skip the ‘wine and dine’ preliminaries and dive straight into a dirty ‘sixty-nine’. Once I drop my pants, women are more than content to have a go at my very big cock. I don’t blame them.

  It’s been like this since my best friend and I hit puberty. By the time we started serving our country and defending freedom, it became even easier to score. That uniform works wonders. We used to call it the ‘pussy-magnet’. Now we wear outrageously expensive bespoke suits. Different outfits. Same results.

  Everything was fine until she came stumbling into my life.

  Our first encounter was a fluke. I never expected to find her again.

  Imagine my surprise when I unexpectedly see her gliding across a room. She was beautiful the first time I laid eyes on her, but the second time around, she was breathtaking. I swear my heart stopped for a beat or two.

  My insatiable lust for her was only dampened by the fact that deep down inside I knew that…

  She was way out of my league.

  She was way too young.

  She was way too innocent.

  But fuck if I’m going to let that stop me.

  I couldn’t help myself. I needed to taste every inch of her.

  I never expected it to mean much more than another conquest.

  I never expected my best friend to want her as much as I do.

  I never expected it to be the three of us.

  I never expected her to capture my heart the way she did. And Brandon’s.

  I never believed in destiny. I carve my life one stroke at a time.

  She changed that.

  She changed me.

  She changed us—our dirty little princess.

  Foreword III

  About the British Monarchy in this book

  In respect to the current Royal Family ruling Britain, I’ve created a fictitious Royal Family. In this story, King Albert Christian Patrick David II is in power. He's eighty-five years old and he’s ailing. He and his wife, Princess Edith Mary of Battenberg, have three children, triplets, Victoria III, Duchess of Wales, Louis Hewitt, Duke of Cambridge and Alice Louise, Duchess of York. The triplets are fifty-five years old and they all have children of their own. It's a well-known fact in Britain that King Albert’s grandkids are spoiled rebels who often make it to the front page of the gossip papers and websites.

  Foreword IV

  About Britain’s Prime Minister's Residence

  Britain’s Prime Minister resides at 10 Downing Street, colloquially known in the United Kingdom as "Number 10".

  Foreword V

  About Brandon and Holden’s Titles and Nicknames

  Both sexy heroes in this ménage romance are former Navy SEALS officers.

  Holden

  His official title is Chief Petty Officer Holden Reid Barclay.

  I also refer to him as, Barclay or by his nickname, Viking.

  Brandon

  His official title is Petty Officer Brandon Matthew Buckingham.

  I also refer to him as, Buckingham or by his nickname, Royal.

  The other nicknames in the book are easy to understand.

  Enjoy!

  Foreword VI

  I can't thank you enough for purchasing this sizzling read.

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  It's taking me a whole lifetime to get to the point where I’m able to live out my dream every single day.

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  To thank you for buying this romance novel, I’d love for you to lose yourself in even more sultriness, sexiness and seduction!

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  * * *

  Dirty British Romance Trilogy

  Romance #1: Deliciously British

  Romance #2: Bad Boy SEALs

  Romance #3: You're All I Think About

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  * * *

  CHAPTER 1

  Holden

  It’s eleven thirty and the streets of Notting Hill are bustling with activity. Londoners are crowding restaurants and bars. Brandon and I just finished dinner and we’re now playing tourists.

  We stroll unrushed in silence taking in our surroundings. Suddenly, my eyes zoom in on a sprawling four-story white house. It really stands out and commands your attention.

  “Stanley Crescent," I note. “Looks like this is where all the rich kids hang out," I chuckle.

  "Seems like it. We might want to come back here and play with them." Brandon laughs. "Let's go check out the big ass houses on that street."

  "Good idea," I reply. “What did you think of the restaurant?” I ask as we cross a street. Brandon shrugs. “That much, huh?”

  “I know it has three Michelin Stars and it made it onto the World’s 50 Best Restaurants list three years in a row, but I got to tell ya, this whole concept around sampling menus doesn’t do it for me. If it weren't this late, I’d suggest we find another place to make up for the bite-sized portions.”

  “Just give me a real meal,” I complain.

  “Amen to that.”

  I chuckle. “Do you remember that dinner with those two execs—” Something catches my eye as we set to cross an alley. I do a double take. “Did you see that?" I grab Brandon's arm to slow down his stride.

  "What? Where?"

  "Way down there."

  “Huh?” Brandon moves his head from left to right, his gaze following my pointed finger. "Holden, that alley is deserted."

  "No, it isn’t.”

  “You’re dreaming stuff up.”

  “I’m not crazy. I saw a couple limos go by," I state.

  "I'm standing right beside you and I didn't see a thing.”

  "That's because you were looking on the other side and talking at the same time."

  Brandon takes a few steps forward. “Well, I'm looking down the alley and there isn't even a stray cat roaming around."

  "Something's up." I stick to my guns.

  "Are you sure?"

  My head whips in his direction. "Brandon Matthew Buckingham, how many years did you serve under my command?"

  He lifts his hands up in truce. “Long enough to know your instincts are spot on. Okay, Chief Petty Officer Barclay, I take that back."

  I open my mouth to say something, but once again, two more limos whoosh by. "Did you see them this time?"

  Brandon nods. "I did."

  "A string of limos in an affluent part of London? My money's on a private party," I conclude.

  “You want to go check it out? We’re dressed for the occasion after all," Brandon says, flicking the lapel of his jacket.

  "Damn right."

  We set off on a jog. We’re running shoulder-to-shoulder. After a few minutes, we slow down to a walk.

  "Not much is happening," Brandon says in a low voice. “Other than a lone white Vespa scooter, there aren’t even any vehicles—”

  Suddenly, loud music fills the air. Brandon and I freeze. We both look up at the sky as if we’re expecting to find clues. There isn't much time to come to any conclusion of any sort. Just as quickly as noise bursts into the night, it's now muffled. It only lasted a few long seconds, but it's enough to let me know that my gut is right.

  Just then, the sweet laugher of women echoes not too far from where we’re standing. When our gaze meets, Brandon and I grin at each other like fools.

  "Come on, let's go see what's happening." I wave at him and we both start jogging again. When we reach the end of the alley, we slow down. We’re now hugging a brick wall. I poke my head out to catch the action. "Nice," I say, soaking in the view.

  "So?" Brandon whispers behind me.

  I turn my head to face him. "There are at least a dozen limos parked outside. There’s a sign with arrows. One pointing to the Warwick Club, the other pointing to the Warwick Champagne Club. Looks like a private club.”

  “Are there any bouncers or doormen?” Brandon enquires.

  “From what I can see, there are a couple of guys doing the rounds. No one is at the gates. There’s an intercom just outside the property. My guess is that each limo driver rolls down his window, announces their presence and then the gates open.”

  "What if the real manpower is inside?" Brandon suggests. "We know all too well how that is."

  "Maybe, but I doubt it. Everything seems pretty contained."

  “Okay, but there are still two goons at the door. How are we going to sneak into that party? With our size, it's not like we can tiptoe inside incognito—” Another limo goes by. “Seems like things are just getting started," Brandon rubs his hands together.

  "We’ve always been lucky bastards," I return his grin. “Let’s do this!”

  “All right,” Brandon says.

  As we turn the corner, I wonder how we’ll get past the gates. As I scour around me, I notice a group of three guys who look like they’re part of the catering crew coming out of a bushy pathway located to the right side of the gates.

  “Did you see that?” I ask in a low voice.

  “Yup. And that’s exactly how we’ll get in,” Brandon grins. I nod in agreement.

  We walk toward the pathway to enter the property. Once we’re on the other side of the gate, we weave our way past chauffeurs leaning against their vehicles. From the raised eyebrows, I’d say we’re not fooling anyone, but no one has accosted us, so we keep walking. We stroll down a long driveway, doing our best to look like we belong here. Every step takes us closer to the clubs. Soon, we’re right in the heart of it. We can now clearly make out the boombastic bass of the soulful house music. Immediately, I notice six women in party mode being ushered to the side of the Champagne Club by the two guys that were posted at the front door. Perfect timing.

  “Well, that’s interesting,” I say.

  “What?” Brandon asks. I point to the Champagne Club. "No men. Only women," he observes, peering inside the building.

  “That explains the odd looks the chauffeurs were shooting our way—”

  What the hell?

  A set of doors flies open and a group of giddy and boisterous women burst out from the main club. Both Brandon and I shift our attention towards the unexpected diversion. The woman leading the pack is sprinting in a pair of vertiginous heels like her life depends on it. I shoot Brandon a furtive look and his crooked smile tells me everything I need to know. I'm not the only one who's noticed her.

  "Wow," he mouths.

  I answer with a nod.

  "Oh, my God. That was crazy fun," the brunette wearing those sexy heels cheers. The other girls following her laugh in agreement. Everything about these women screams privileged. "I'm so hot," the brunette says, fanning herself with both hands.

  Yes, you are, sweetheart.

  In a moment of euphoria, she turns around to face us. That's when I take all of her in. My eyes travel from her black heels to her gorgeous face framed by a cascade of long hair. I drink up every inch of her. The dangerous heels are only surpassed by a cock-hardening fitted blush-colored dress that does wonders at revealing the sexy little body underneath it. Fuck. Since she’s blinking furiously, I can't make out the color of her eyes. Although we’re standing not that far away, she doesn't seem to notice us. Her friends, on the other hand, definitely do. Brandon and I are hard to miss. I’m guessing she might have had a few too many to drink. Without warning, she flips around and addresses her audience. “You know what?” she asks.

  “What?” the crowd of women inquires in unison.

  The brunette does this little dance where she shimmies her hips from left to right, throwing her head in the opposite direction sending her hair flying in the air. When she moves her body, her breasts and her ass scratch at the fabric of her dress. I wouldn’t mind cupping and squeezing that fine ass. I stifle a groan. I shift my eyes towards Brandon. Just like me, he’s com
pletely riveted. After a few long seconds of that saucy hip movement, she speaks again. "I say we do it again," she shouts with both hands in the air.

  "Yay!" her group of friends cheer right back.

  Everything that happens next unfolds in a blink of an eye.

  The brunette turns around and launches forward.

  “Oh no,” she mumbles, tripping on something.

  “Watch out!” a woman shouts behind her.

  “Holy shit!” another says.

  “Dear Lord,” someone prays.

  “Jesus Christ!” a chorus of voices.

  Without even thinking, I leap to the rescue and that's when I notice that Brandon has the same reaction. I take a quick step to the right and position myself to use my body as a shield just in case Brandon doesn’t catch her in time.

  “Oh, God,” the brunette shrieks just before I grab onto her left arm. I lift my head up as Brandon’s hands close in around her waist.

  “We got you,” I reassure her, clutching her elbow to prevent her from falling. This close, her soft scent travels to me, filling my lungs. Damn. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s a seductive scent. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s her natural aroma combined with an expensive designer perfume. Whatever it is, it’s doing things to me.