Seal's Professor: A Military Roommate Romance

by Piper Sullivan

  I dropped to my knees before her and pushed her legs wider apart. Eye level with her pussy clad only in a triangular piece of flimsy lace, I inhaled sharply. The G-string she was wearing cut right between her pussy lips and all I could think of was tugging that piece of material against her clit, just to drive her wild. I hooked my finger into the crotch of her panties and twisted it, the thin band cut into her lips and pulled roughly against her clit.

  “Oh my god!” she cried out as her ass slid towards the edge.

  “Do you like that Mrs Muller?” I teased and tugged again.

  “I… yes,” she stammered.

  “How about this?” I asked as I slapped her cunt with three fingers, not roughly just enough to sting.

  She squirmed, trying to close her legs but with me between her I kept her legs apart, “That ain’t happening lass, I want you to experience it all.”

  Her chest was heaving and her tits were dangling like ripe apples from a tree while I sat between her legs inhaling her musky scent. I deliberately pushed my nose right into her panties and inhaled, letting out a deep satisfying groan and Alana gasped.

  “I’m going to eat you and tongue fuck you until you forget your real name,” I ground out as I pulled out my knife from my back pocket.

  Her eyes grew wide and almost fearful as I raised it to her dress where her breasts were exposed and as I slowly dragged the tip down over her stomach to her pussy, I hooked the G-string and snapped the flimsy garment.

  “Oh my god Irish,” she managed to muster as she let out a sigh of relief.

  “You need to learn to trust me darlin,” I said and then used my thumbs to spread her pussy open. Pretty pink and tight, I thought as my mouth watered to taste her.

  “Are you going to… I mean, is it safe?”

  Her innocence was even more of a turn on, and as I blew a breath over her clit and her legs spasamed, I looked up at her, “You’ll never be safe around me.”

  Before she could say another word, I closed my lips over her clit and sucked it into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue. Alana’s breaths grew faster and her moans louder as I tongue fucked her. She let go of the counter and grabbed the back of my neck as she hooked her heels on my shoulders for support. I had no desire to wait, and as I shoved my tongue deep into her pussy and swirled it around, her body trembled. But even as her first orgasm assaulted her, I did not let up. I continued, driving my tongue into her and then dragging it up along her slit. I teased her clit, bit her pussy lips, slapped her ass and did the most delicious things to the most delicious woman. After her third orgasm, I finally let up and she sagged numbly to the floor, trying to stand. I flipped her over and shoved my pants down.

  “Now I’m going to fuck you baby,” I whispered and Alana’s eyes met mine in the bathroom mirror.

  Alana

  Irish was a master at whatever he was doing, but when he did that thing with his tongue when he shoved it deep into me and then dragged it out was enough to drive me insane. Now he had me bent over like one of his whores in the bathroom. The only thing is, I wanted to be his whore. Sick I know, but that’s how he made me feel, he makes me feel dirty and good all in the same time. As he stood behind me, unbuckling his pants, I could see my breasts pressed down against the counter top with him towering over me.

  I wanted to pleasure him, just like he had pleasured me, with my mouth, but Irish was already getting ready to fuck me, it was now or never. Pushing the heels of my palms against the basin I pushed him back away from me.

  “My turn,” I mouthed as I dropped to my knees before him.

  “Holy fuck…” he breathed as he gripped the base of his cock, pointing it straight at my mouth.

  I had no clue if I was about to dismember him or make him cum, I was going purely on exposed porn experience from college, by no means did I have any idea how to give a blow job, but if it was anything like sucking on an ice pop or lollipop, then it couldn’t be that hard.

  I wrapped my hand around his cock, just above where his hand was and guided the head into my mouth. It tasted odd, but nice, a slightly salty flavor as the first drop of his pre-cum touched my tongue. God, I hope I don’t gag! I thought for a second and then slowly took him deeper into my mouth. He was moving his hips, but only slightly, as if being careful. But if I was going to do this I was going to go all out. So I reached behind him and pulled his butt closer letting his cock slide deeper into my mouth, until I felt my gag reflex and then I pulled out, again and again I repeated this. Twirling my tongue around the tip of his cock and dragging it up along the base. Irish’s hands were on either side of my head as he started to pump his cock into my mouth, each time brining me to the brink of suffocation only to let me go. Between my moans and his groans, I couldn’t tell who was having more fun anymore. As degrading as this may have seemed, I loved the power sucking a man’s cock gave me, not just any man. Irish, he was the only one I wanted to have control over me, and who I would want to control.

  Irish cussed and ground his hips forward, and I could feel his body growing taught, his balls hit my chin over and over and sucking sounds filled the bathroom, and then Irish pulled out. It was unexpected, and I almost leaped forward to take him into my mouth again, but instead he gripped my hair, pulled my head back and pumped his cock with his fist until ropes of creamy cum shot out all over my breasts and neck. It was shamelessly sinful.

  The rest of the night, we did everything we could possibly do under the sun, and every second spent with him, I learned more about myself. I wanted to be with Irish, suddenly finding my dad, didn’t matter anymore, nor did the fact that we were fugitives.

  “What if we can’t find my dad?” I asked in the quiet of the room after yet another session of wild sex.

  “He’ll find you,” Irish whispered and kissed the top of my head, “And then he’ll cut off my balls.”

  I laughed but Irish didn’t, he was dead serious, “I won’t let him do that to you,” I said tracing patterns over his bare chest.

  “Trust me lass, your dad will do just what he wants if he feels it is in your best interest. When we find him or when he finds us, we’ll have to put all of this behind us.”

  Suddenly it felt as if the Bronx Raiders were a better prospect than running into my dad, and I hated that I felt this way, but it was the truth. This was his fault after all. He caused this shit, and now I’m in love with a hitman and there’s nothing I could do about it.

  Irish

  We had finally made it to El Paso, bordering Mexico, and we were practically a mile from crossing the border. Once in Mexico we would travel to Brazil where Fergus would be waiting for us. Alana did not know this, but I had known all along. I felt like a dog for not telling her where her dad was, but I couldn’t. If she got into the wrong hands, they would have pulled that information from her without even trying.

  “So from here we’ll travel to Brazil?” she asked curiously as she clutched my hand.

  I nodded and smiled down at her, “That’s the plan.”

  “Then what?” she asked.

  “I don’t know yet, we’ll just have to play it by ear.”

  She bit her bottom lip and glanced around, and I pulled her tightly against my side, “You need to relax, if you look nervous they will suspect something.”

  She took a deep breath and plastered on a smile, and I winked at her, “That’s my girl.”

  We carried on into the building at the Immigration Check point and I took out our passports. I had to give it to Goose, he was a master at fake ID’s and before we knew it we were cleared for entry into Mexico. Now I could finally breathe.

  But my relief was short lived. As we exited the building to the bus terminals, a man walked up to us and addressed us as Mr and Mrs. Muller. No one was supposed to know about us.

  “What do you want?” I asked frowning and Alana clung to my side.

  The tall lank Mexican shrugged and then gestured towards the Limo parked on the opposite side of the street. This cannot be goo
d, I thought as I looked towards the car with the tinted windows. Running now would put Alana’s life in more danger, and it would alert the authorities. We simply had no choice but to follow the instructions of the Mexican who met us.

  “Is it Shamrock?” Alana asked nervously.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Let’s just run,” she urged me on, but I patted her hand and continued straight ahead.

  The Mexican came running past us and then stopped at the Limo and opened the back door for us to get in.

  This was it, today we were both going to meet our maker, and I would have failed Alana. I looked down at her and she met my eyes with her big green ones. Between the two of us, we made peace with what happens next. She gave my hand a gentle squeeze, and I smiled at her.

  “It was a good ride while it lasted lass,” I whispered and then I slipped into the car with her following closely.

  “Fergus?!” I exclaimed

  “Dad!?” Alana said in shock, “What, I mean why are you… I thought… FBI.”

  She made no sense, and I gently touched her hand.

  “Irish, you’re a man of your word, I knew you would keep my daughter safe,” Fergus said in his monotone voice, “I was counting down the days to see you Alana, I really thought that Shamrock would get his grubby hands on you.”

  I looked at Alana where she sat with her mouth gaping.

  “I told you I’ll keep her safe Fergus,” I said and cleared my throat. If he got to know what I got up to with his little princess, I could kiss my Irish arse goodbye.

  Fergus moved closer and leaned over to take Alana’s hand, “If there’s one thing I will regret for the rest of my life, is keeping you in the dark. I just didn’t want you exposed to the dangers of being in my line of business…” he started.

  “What? You kept it from me, my whole life, and when the shit hits the fan, suddenly I have to just except it?” she blurted out and I cringed.

  One thing about Fergus, no-one spoke to him with disrespect, “Alana,” I warned and looked at her.

  “What? So now I must just roll over and pretend that none of this mattered?”

  “Alana,” Fergus started, “I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I wanted you to know that I only did this to protect you, and in doing that, I put your life in great danger. If it wasn’t for Irish…”

  “Leave Irish out of this daddy dearest, this is about betrayal, and you betrayed me.”

  Fergus pulled and rubbed his forehead, “I know, and there’s nothing I can do or say that will justify my actions. Right now, I can only ask you to forgive me.”

  “Never!” Alana cried and reached for the door, but I pulled her back.

  “Hang on, just hear your father out,” I pleaded.

  “Irish, it’s fine; I expected this to happen. But the thing is, I can’t protect her anymore. McCleary was found dead in the parking garage at the New York FBI office and Sully was taken out by Shamrock. There is no way to clear my name even if I could. Without their testimonies and the proof, which McCleary had with him, I’m a sitting duck.”

  I frowned and looked at Fergus, “What are you trying to say?”

  “I’m done, the FBI has already dispatched a team to come and take me, and to be honest I’m tired of running.”

  “But Fergus, you can’t just give up!”

  Fergus shook his head and then looked at Alana, “She cares for you Irish, and you care for her, I could see it the moment you walked through customs. Goose also told me how taken she was with you.”

  “Wait, a minute…” I tried to interrupt, but Fergus held up his hand.

  “You’re the only one I can trust to make sure she’s out of danger. I’ve transferred the last of my funds into an off-shore account for Alana. You need to take it and move on as Mr and Mrs Muller. You have no choice.”

  I was shocked to the core, Fergus was actually handing his daughter to me, just like that? Shocked I shook my head, “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I started and then I looked at Alana and my heart cramped in my chest. How could I just turn away from her now?

  “Dad?” she whispered, “Where are you going to go?”

  He smiled at her and took her hand in his, “I’m not running this time,” he said and closed his eyes, “You two best be on your way before the suits get here. Keep her safe Irish, make her happy.”

  I nodded and then reached for Alana’s hand, “Come, we have to move.”

  She pulled her hand out and flung her arms around her dad’s neck, “Dad please! You can’t just give up!” she cried.

  “Alana, sweetheart…” I begged, “We don’t have much time.”

  Her dad pried her hands loose and nodded, “Be happy love, someday we’ll meet again.”

  ***

  Irish tugged me by my hand, practically dragging me out of my dad’s arms. Although I hated him for keeping his life a secret, he was still my dad. And seeing him so down and out broke my heart.

  Tugged along by Irish’s fast pace, I kept looking back to where the Limo still stood, half expecting to see a SWAT team storming his car, but nothing like that happened.

  “Alana!” Irish shouted and shook me by my shoulders, “I need you to stay with me. I swear to you, your dad will be back one day. Right now, we need to think about us.”

  Us? Did Irish just say us? I blinked a few times and looked up at him, “By us, you mean you and me?”

  He smirked as he pulled me into one of the phone booths, and then rested his forehead against mine, “We are Mr and Mrs Muller, might as well embrace it.”

  A bubble of laughter pushed up from within me, and regardless of the circumstances, there was still a silver lining around the storm of my life, and having Irish by my side to brave the storm, I really didn’t need anything else.

  ***

  THE END

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  Convicted: A BAd Boy Romance

  Jason

  Clink!

  I glanced behind me at the finality of the sound as the security gate of Kenworth maximum security prison slid into place. After eight long years, with two years suspended service, I was finally on the other side. A little older, a little wiser, and a hell of a lot more jaded. If the judge had worried about the threat I had posed to society all those years ago, he had no idea what I was capable of now.

  I was only twenty-two years old, a man or rather a boy, with future plans when I was tried and found guilty for my crime. My age hadn’t given me any reprieve. In fact, it had made me a walking target. It didn’t matter that I was in for involuntary manslaughter. My fellow inmates took one look at the baby face and scrawny frame and only saw fresh meat.

  That first night had been hell. I barely made it out with my life. A bruised liver, four cracked ribs, a myriad of cuts, and a broken jaw had put me in the infirmary for six weeks.

  Battered and bruised, with my jaw wired shut, I lay there wishing someone would come finish the job. But to my dismay, no one came. The ribs healed, and the bruises faded; physically I recovered, but my soul was forever tainted and bruised.

  The pretentious state doctor even had the gall to say, I wouldn’t have any lasting effects from the incident. But apparently, the four-inch scar that ran diagonally down over my right eye and down to the corner of my mouth, made me look less like a pampered princess and more like a hard-core criminal to be feared by my inmates. I had damn near lost my eyesight. If I hadn’t tripped over a crate and fallen backward, the blade would have sliced through more than just my brow and cheek. It would have taken my eye with it. It was that defining moment, as the bandages came off and the doctor smirked at me, as if I was a no-good piece of trash, that I realized I was truly on my own.

  The assault continued, throughout most of my sentence, and although the incidents that follow
ed weren’t even close to the extent of the first one, I feared for my life day in and day out. Closer to my release, Warden Saunders took pity on me and offered me six months of solitary confinement. I eagerly accepted.

  I didn’t spend those six months in solitary confinement feeling sorry for myself, hell no! Instead, I focused on getting stronger, meaner and craftier. When I was locked in my cell, I spent every waking hour working out, using my own body-weight as resistance. I was only allowed outside for one hour a day, but I made the most of it, using the gym equipment, come rain or sunshine, mentally and physically preparing myself for the day I walked out of this god forsaken place.

  At first, I could hardly do one rep without my arms quaking with the attempted effort, but it was the steely resolve within that enabled me to ignore the snickers and taunts from the guards, that kept me going. When my muscles screamed with fatigue and tears burned the back of my eyes, I forced myself to do ten more reps.

  I ate every scrap of food I could get my hands on. It wasn’t difficult to put on weight in prison, the food mostly carbs and saturated fat. But, turning it into muscle took time and discipline. I had both.

  When I wasn’t lifting weights, or doing endless squats, I was shadowboxing in my tiny four-foot by the six-foot cell, working on my technique and speed.

  In solitary confinement, I could read as many books as I wanted. Although they limited my book choices, no martial arts or boxing how-to books, I found ways to get around it by reading biographies on Evander Holyfield, Royce Gracie, and Muhammad Ali. I was even able to get my hands-on books about Pilates and tai-chi and adapted their moves to create my own unique fighting style. I was determined to be ready when I was moved back into general population. I was relentless in my pursuit of strength, speed, and power, and for a good reason.