Bad Boy SEALs

by Scarlett Avery

  “I love knowing that you’re indebted to me,” he laughs. "Abigail has been texting me since seven this morning complaining that you had muted your phones. From her messages, you’d think there was a world catastrophe looming, threatening to destroy the planet. I know better now. I was in no rush to get back to her. I was enjoying a quiet lazy morning—cup of tea in one hand and iPad in the other. You know how I hardly know my own name before at least three strong brews in the morning, especially on a Sunday when I can pretend I don’t serve a nation.” The worst part is that he’s right. “Suddenly, it hit me that Abigail will probably resort to disrupting one of your officers if she can’t get through to you directly. Officer Stohler texted me back and confirmed my suspicions. I thought it would be judicious of me to come to your rescue. I’d hate to have you in a capricious mood all day just because of a conversation with my wife," he says.

  “She was driving me batty,” I huff. “You're definitely my savior.”

  “You know I’ll always be there to protect you, ladybug. Well... until the right one comes along, that is,” he chuckles. "For the record, I have no problems if my future son-in-law was American."

  I roll my eyes into the phone. "Is that a not-so-subtle hint?" I ask.

  "Of course not, ladybug. I'm just telling you he doesn't have to be British. As long as he’s a good man. A former military man would be preferable, but not required." If you only knew.

  It’s best to put an end to this conversation before it takes a nosedive. "Since I'm up, I'm going to take a cue from your book and I’ll enjoy a lazy morning before meeting you for lunch."

  "That's your way of telling your old man to mind his own business," Daddy retorts.

  “Don’t be silly, Daddy, I’d never dare to call you old,” I quip.

  We both laugh.

  CHAPTER 36

  Holden

  The doorbell rings and soon after a voice calls out. “Knock, knock, knock, it’s me.”

  I race to the door. With a hand on the handle, I ask, “Who’s me?”

  “Amelia.”

  “Amelia?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you alone?” I ask. "You can never be too sure nowadays. Danger lurks at every corner."

  I’m careful not to look through the peephole so she doesn’t see my shadow.

  “Whatever. You already know the answer to that question.”

  I do. I’m sure she’s shaking her head.

  Amelia shared the good news half an hour ago. I had planned to show up at her door, but she insisted on coming on her own. Since we live in the same building, her officers didn’t feel the need to walk her to our place.

  “You’re British?”

  “Holden,” she laughs. “Don’t be a wanker.”

  The fact that Amelia just texted us to let us know that she was stepping into the elevator to our penthouse, makes this childish game even more fun. I love how she’s not afraid of being silly.

  “Wait up. Let me check with my best friend,” I tease. “Hey, bro do you know of an Amelia? A British chick?” I ask Brandon as he strides towards me already grinning.

  “Amelia? I don’t recall?” He piggybacks on my lightheartedness. “So much has happened since we got here,” he says, his grin taking over his face.

  “I hear you.”

  “Did we meet her at a party or a club?” Brandon asks.

  “Beats me,” I respond, shrugging for effect.

  "Hey, that's not funny. You know exactly who I am. Let me in," our little Princess huffs from the other side of the door.

  "Sorry, sweetheart, you're going to have to give us a little bit more than that to go by before I open the door," I retort.

  "Fine. You're holding my knickers hostage and I'm here to rescue them. Does that ring a bell?" she shouts.

  Her repartee is so on point it catches me by surprise. I struggle not to burst out laughing.

  "Yeah, that's still a little vague. We have a drawer full of knickers. Which color are yours? Are they cotton or lace? Maybe that’ll jog my memory," I laugh.

  Brandon nearly loses it. “Fuck, you're an asshole," he whispers.

  "You definitely know how to make a girl feel special," Amelia volleys.

  "I do my best, sweetheart. So who are you again? Anastasia?"

  "It’s Amelia." I hear the amusement in her voice.

  "Hmm. I still can't remember how I know you. Can you give me another clue?" I tease.

  "Sure." I brace myself for her response. Brandon shakes his head as if to say ‘I'm in trouble now’ his face contorted in a hilarious grimace.

  “Right. Well...” Her voice goes down to dangerously low levels. “I’m the short brunette with green eyes who was riding your tongue until the wee hours of the morning calling for God and all the saints in Heaven to save me. Ditto for your best mate. Does it ring a bell now?" My cock confirms that it definitely does.

  I swing the door open, ready to crush my lips against hers and kiss the hell out of her for that smart comeback. When I take her in, I freeze. My jaw drops open. And I don’t mean figuratively. I bring my right hand up to my chest convinced that I'm having a heart attack at the tender age of thirty-five. "Holy fuck!" I exclaim.

  "What is it?" Brandon asks from behind me. I'm so in shock that I can't even respond. I hear his footsteps against the wood floor. In no time, he’s standing besides me. "Jesus Christ. What the hell are you wearing, woman?" he demands.

  "Clothing, of course." Little minx. "What did you expect? It's not as if I could waltz around this building naked."

  "That's not clothing. That's a weapon of seduction," Brandon's voice trembles. He's dead right. "You actually wore that little number to all the official functions you had lined-up today?” Good question. "Didn’t your father die of a coronary attack? For God’s sake, how the hell didn’t this sexy dress," Brandon waves his finger furiously up and down the length of her body, “elicit concern amongst your security team?"

  "That's why I wore this cardigan," she says, lifting her hand and waving a sweater in the same shade as her scandalous dress, "until I got into your lift. Once the door closed, I peeled out of it. I wore something entirely different—much more demure—to spend the day with my father.” She grins mischievously. “I changed before coming here. It's all about strategic thinking, Petty Officer Buckingham.”

  This girl is playing us like a violin.

  "So this is a planned coup?" I ask.

  "Indeed it is, Chief Petty Officer Barclay. I had to pull out the big guns. I'm outnumbered—two against one. Not to mention that you’re much taller and much stronger than I am. Let’s not forget that you’re trained as lean and mean fighting machines. Poor little me," she actually brings the sides of her mouth down in a frown and bats those gorgeous eyelashes helplessly at us. What an actress. "Since I have every intention on walking out of here with the knickers I was forced to surrender last night and—it goes without saying—the ones that I'm wearing now,” That's wishful thinking. “I had to dress for battle."

  Amelia is wearing a seductive crimson dress with a very lowcut V neckline that crisscrosses under her breasts. I'm not sure what kind of bra she's wearing, but wow. I’m okay with her having smaller breasts, but what ever she has underneath that dress pushes up her tits in such an inviting way, creating a little crevasse that has my cock twitching. I have to control myself not to grope them like a pervert. What makes matters worse, is how a few strands of her long cascade of hair flirt with the tempting slit between her breasts. Damn. It's impossible to look away.

  The bottom part of her dress clings to her slender body, giving the right emphasis to her hips and her slim waist. Did I mention it doesn't go past her mid-thigh? Yeah. The crimson shade plays nicely with her flawless alabaster skin. When I drop my gaze to her feet, I have to bite my lower lip to muffle a groan. Her feet are strapped with what I can only describe as a cross between a sandal and a shoe. Of course, they’re high heels and the nude color showcases her dainty toes painted in the s
ame bright shade as her dress. I don't even have to tell you that the sight of them make my already impossibly hard cock that much harder. So far, I've always seen Amelia as an angel, tonight she's playing the role of the little devil to a T.

  When Brandon speaks again, I'm reminded of how I’ve temporarily lost my voice. "I can tell you this much, your knickers are the last thing you should worry about leaving here tonight." He pauses and walks right in front of me until he towers over her. He slides a hand down the middle of her back and slams her body against his. "It's a dangerous game you're playing, sweetie. Clearly you're not afraid of getting burnt. In that case, we’ll give you exactly what you want." She opens her mouth to respond, but Brandon shakes his head. "With that dress—and what I suspect being a cock-teasing lingerie combo hiding underneath this daring little number—you'll be leaving your soul behind by the time my best friend and I are done with you. Is that strategic enough for you, princess?"

  CHAPTER 37

  Amelia

  Just like yesterday, Holden, Brandon and I are sitting on the upper deck enjoying another laidback evening. All three of us are leaning against our seats, stuffed silly, leisurely sipping a wonderful Château Gruaud Larose. The bold red—dubbed the best in France—with a hint of sweetness, is one of my favorites.

  The twinkling stars and the soulful lounge music playing in the background only add to the perfect ambience of the night. I was only partially joking when I said on Friday night that I could live up here. Has it only been two days? It really feels like I've known them for much longer than that.

  The lasciviousness expectations are there hanging in the air, looming over us like a lustful promise. Even when we're not talking, it's unmistakable. I guess I brought this upon myself since I judiciously selected my outfit to get a reaction out of them. They didn't disappoint. They may not have mentioned the dress or the shoes since they opened the door, but the way they've been eating me up with hungry eyes suggests my devious ways are paying off. Until meeting Brandon and Holden I didn't know how dark and dangerous piercing blue eyes could quickly be veiled with the most desirous indigo shade. Blimey.

  In an effort to distract myself from a naughty thought that crosses my mind, I flame up the conversation again. "I know I've said it before, but I have to repeat myself, the view from your penthouse is absolutely breathtaking."

  "Our view is your view," Brandon jokes. I return his smile.

  “I have to thank you for forcing us to appreciate it more," Holden says.

  "I agree. We lead such a high paced lifestyle that it would've been very easy for us to miss all of this," Brandon says between sips.

  “It was meant to be," I cheer.

  "What do you mean?" Brandon asks.

  "Considering it’s only June and this is London after all, I'm almost tempted to say that you two brought the nice weather with you when you crossed the pond," I smile.

  "We have many hidden talents," I can attest to that. "But, my money is on Mother Nature. She has Her hands all over this one," Holden grins. "Do you want another slice of cake?" he changes subject.

  "God no. I've already had two slices. I can't possibly have another bite. Not after that scrumptious dinner."

  "You approve?" Holden questions.

  "I think I've done my fair share of oohing and aahing throughout the meal to answer that," I retort. "I've always considered myself a pro at ordering takeaway and catered meals. I’ve lost my title. You guys dethrone me."

  "I'm glad you enjoyed it," Brandon says.

  "I love how after a full day of events—which most likely included tons of finger food—you still brought an appetite," Holden comments.

  "Actually, I played my cards right. I did enjoy lunch with Daddy and my aunt, but since I knew I was coming here, I was a good girl. Other than the occasional Perrier, I didn't bother with food for the rest of the afternoon. I'm glad I abstained. This was definitely worth it," I observe.

  "On Sundays Très Gourmet tends to have a fairly elaborate selection for those of us who can barely boil water, but I have to say this week they’ve outdone themselves," Holden says.

  "I agree and so does my protruding stomach," I laugh dropping my eyes to my tummy.

  Brandon leans forward and reaches out for a strand of hair. He curls it around his index finger like a corkscrew and pulls gently, bringing my face closer to his. "You don't have to worry your pretty little head, sweetie, I know of the perfect way to work that off," he whispers loudly. "Give us an hour and you'll be famished again," he promises.

  I know exactly where this is going, but I came here on a mission. "Brilliant idea! I was just going to suggest a round of billiards," I smile devilishly.

  "A wh-what?" Brandon stumbles.

  “Pool as you Americans call it.”

  “That’s not what I had in mind.” I laugh internally at how well I caught him off guard.

  “I want my panties back, Brandon," I say firmly.

  "Not a chance." He lets go of my hair and sits back. "They're ours,” He sulks.

  “I don’t think they’re your size,” I retort.

  “Don’t you play coy with me, Miss Cavendish. You know what I mean.”

  “I really don’t.”

  “Holden and I paid our fair share for those panties—one lick at a time. I think you'd agree." Bastard.

  "That's bribery," I protest.

  Brandon leans into the table again and grabs my hand into his. The contact is searing and the charge travels straight to my clit. "What are you saying, princess?" He narrows his eyes. "I guess you don't want my mouth on you tonight," he threatens. Oh shit. My plan involved me rescuing my panties and riding their tongues. It was never meant to be a one or the other option. "I'm disappointed, but remember, it's your decision." His eyes never leave mine.

  Holden places his hand against his best friend’s back and says, "Let's indulge her, Royal. She wants to play pool, we’ll play pool."

  I doubt Holden is one to concede so easily. The question is what does he have up his sleeves?

  Brandon turns his head. "You can't be serious, Viking."

  Holden leans in. He reaches out and intertwines his fingers with mine. "Tell me, princess, why did you really wear that dress tonight?"

  "I told you already. It’s a strategy thing." I don't even sound convincing to myself.

  Holden scrutinizes me carefully. "Are you telling me that’s why your cheeks are so red?"

  I clear my throat. "It's a very warm night," I offer as an explanation.

  "Hmph," Holden says. That one word reverberates through my body.

  "What?" I ask in a broken voice.

  "I bet if I were to drop to my knees, force your legs open, pull your panties to the side, stick my tongue out and dip it inside your needy pussy, it would be far warmer. I’d be willing to bet a cool million that you’re very wet. Those panties you’re so desperate to leave with are soaked.” Okay, you win. “I think that's the real reason you wore that dress tonight. Last night wasn’t nearly enough for you. It’s okay for you to ask for more. We’ll gladly oblige. Nothing would bring me more pleasure than to feel your hard little clit against my tongue while your ass rubs against my face as you chase your orgasm." God, is it possible to melt from a man's words?

  "That was raunchy as hell. My fucking cock is about to jump out of my jeans," Brandon rasps.

  Holden turns his attention to his best friend. "Don't worry, I'm as hard as an iron rod. She does that to me too." Sweet baby Jesus. Holden’s gaze meets mine again. “So, do you still want to play pool?"

  “Wh-what?” I’m confused. I thought we were talking about his tongue against my clit.

  “Pool? Billiards? Remember?” he stresses.

  God, that seems like ages ago that we were talking about that.

  "Yes," I let out in a faint voice.

  "Good. So do I. Let me explain the rules of the game, princess.”

  “Rules? How can there be rules when I initiated this?" I ask, miffed.

&nbs
p; Holden’s eyes turn to slits with two aquamarine dots peering through. “You’re under our roof. You follow our rules." Why am I so aroused hearing him say that? “Ready?" I nod. "Amelia, you know how it works. I want words," he demands.

  "I am." My God that came out strangled.

  "Good girl." I'm not sure why it does something to know that I’ve gained his approval, but it does. "If you win, you get your panties back and you keep the ones you’re wearing now. You can even go home after that. You don’t even have to kiss us good night. Neither Brandon or I are sore losers. We’ll gracefully accept the outcome."

  "Whoa—” Holden lifts his hands.

  "It’s only fair. Let her go back to her place. Remember, she has a treasure chest full of toys to keep her entertained for the rest of the evening. How can our tongues and our fingers possibly compare to that kind of horse power?" The man is evil. His words are laced with sarcasm. Brandon grins, seemingly satisfied with his best friend’s answer.

  What Holden just describes makes it sound like I’ll end up with the shorter end of the stick. I don't see how I come out of it a winner.

  "And if I lose?" I know it's a lethal question, but I just can't help myself. I have to know.

  "That's where the fun begins.” Holden’s gaze is ominous. “If you lose," he pauses. I nod coaxing him to continue. "You ride our tongues...” Oh, I can handle that. Another pause. His gaze travels to Brandon's. They exchange a silent conversation I’m not privy to. Even so, what I read in Brandon's eyes is so suggestive it's unsettling. Holden zooms back to me. I wait with bated breath for him to finish his sentence, "and our cocks like a fucking Euro train all night long." Dear God.

  And just like that he delivers his verdict and seals my fate.

  CHAPTER 38

  Holden

  Our seemingly sweet princess is far too sly for her own good. How dare she show up at our door dressed to kill without warning? As if that wasn’t enough, she has demands. That’ll be the day. Brandon was ready to hand her back her panties—like a gentleman. It was a done deal. We had talked about it. When she started giving us ultimatums, all bets were off. She wants to push our buttons? Guess what? Three can play at that game. Who does she think she is waltzing in here flaunting her sassiness like it’s going out of style? She might be a cheeky little thing, but she’s dealing with two dominant alphas who have been around the block a couple hundred times.