“That’s fucked up, man,” Armando said. “You’d think they’d take the word of their security officer over a junior officer.
Kyle and Cooper agreed. “Maybe the night in lockup has set the Moroccan straight,” Cooper offered.
“Not likely,” Kyle replied.
Christy, Devon and the rest of the SEAL wives wanted to watch the multi-country extravaganza after dinner, which meant the men had to accompany them. The Team settled in on an upper-level, unoccupied corner next to an exit. The sightlines were excellent, Mark thought.
It was going to be a long night as the ship barreled down the east coast of Africa for its planned stop the next morning in Tenerife.
Mark had arranged to meet Sophia in their cabin after the show. He hung back from the other SEALs and their wives, and already had his backpack equipped with a bottle of champagne, two glasses and some desserts he’d confiscated from the dining room earlier. Sanouk, Rory and Tyler left for the casino to see if they could improve Sanouk’s winning streak.
Devon and Christy were looking through brochures for the island tour they had scheduled. Gina had her head on Armando’s shoulder, their fingers entwined. Mia sat next to them, with Fredo by her side. Libby claimed not to be feeling well after dinner, so she and Cooper went back to their cabin. Jasmine and Malcolm Jones had peeled off to listen to a singer at the jazz bar downstairs.
A spotlight shone overhead and soon the undulating body of a Chinese contortionist unpeeled herself from a green fabric pod that hung from a trapeze. Her face was covered in bright blue and green peacock-like designs dotted with rhinestones. She did a controlled roll down a swath of red silk, joining the rest of the Chinese acrobatic team who erupted in bright circus animal costumes. Dancers from various countries followed them, including Roberto and Sophia, who danced a smooth, sensual tango that made Mark’s hands clench. He nearly tore the arm off the padded auditorium seat. Kyle and Nick were having trouble keeping a straight face. Mark noticed Sophia was careful not to look anywhere near their little group, but he sensed she knew exactly where he sat.
The large samba number incorporated everyone, including the Moroccan dancers with their ancient, reedy musical instruments. Azziz was playing an odd-shaped, tiny, single-stringed base guitar with a small belly. Their rhythmic chanting was backdrop to colorful, rippling dancers showing lots of leg and midriff.
While the production showcased the blending of music and dance from all around the world, and at the end of the grand finale Roberto and Sophia were at one end of the stage, while the Moroccans were all the way at the other.
The audience loved it and demanded an encore. Mark was getting impatient to see Sophia, and get her away from Roberto. The effeminate entertainment director had his face heavily made up like a woman, but sported a tux. He bowed to the side as Roberto acted as the master of ceremonies at the end, introducing the other talent. In a well-aimed display of poor manners, he neglected to introduce the Moroccans. Kyle, Nick and Fredo swore under their breath.
Here we go again. For someone supposedly trying to be on his best behavior, Roberto had pulled off one of the most obvious insults possible. He treated the Moroccans like they didn’t exist. Before the curtains could close Roberto looked up into the balcony and waved to the SEALs and their wives. Christy and Devon waved back.
“I’m outta here,” Mark said as he hoisted his backpack and quietly ducked outside the exit door.
He came out onto the gray painted surface of the lifeboat deck. He’d already made one trip earlier in the day to leave a couple of soft blankets, a thick bedspread from his own bed, and two pillows. If she wasn’t allowed to sleep in his cabin and he wasn’t allowed to sleep in hers, he was going to insist they spend the night together in the boat.
He unsnapped the plastic door, carefully setting down the backpack. He heard the glasses clink, and carefully pulled out the French champagne, pushing aside the vinyl padding on the bench seat next to the bed he’d created, and setting the champagne bottle on the emptied framework. He set the two glasses next to it, and then took out two pieces of apple pie he’d pilfered from the kitchen, four chocolate-covered strawberries, and a couple of clean forks. He’d wanted to bring candles, but didn’t want to advertise the location of their love nest.
He heard a metallic squeak and then quiet closing of a door that led from the meeting room to the chilly outside. He saw her beautiful face through the clear plastic doorway.
Beads of sweat still clung to her upper lip. Her chest sparkled with glitter, the cleavage of her ample breasts shiny with moisture. Her dancing had released a wonderful womanly scent, her pheromones, which hit him right across the chest, making his breath hitch.
He was going to show her the goodies he’d brought, but she ran to him and held him close.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“I’ve missed you. It’s been over twenty-four hours, Mark.”
He smiled at her urgency, at her need of him. “I’ve been thinking about nothing else all day,” he whispered just before he covered her mouth with his.
She was mewling into his lips, sucking his tongue as she slid her fingers under his shirt to palm his nipples and then pinch him.
“Ouch.”
She giggled, but didn’t stop her exploration.
“I’ve brought champagne, Sophia.”
She lazily leaned backward, allowing his arms to support her lower lumbar zone. Her dark eyes, lined in heavy kohl and shimmery green and blue shadow, explored his face while her pink tongue darted out as she licked her red lips. Best of all was the feeling of the warm, feminine triangle at the juncture of her legs, which she slid slowly up and down his upper thigh.
“Wonderful. Feed me some champagne, then,” she whispered.
He sat her down on one of the covered benches, sat beside her, propped the champagne bottle between his thighs and opened it. The cork’s pop echoed off the plastic and metal walls of the boat, and the champagne began to fizz out over the top. Instead of holding a glass underneath it, Mark drizzled the cool bubbles into his mouth, and then held the bottle over hers so she could enjoy the froth, too. Champagne bubbles spilled down her front, making the tops of her breasts glisten in the moonlight.
He pulled her hair clip away, releasing her beautiful curls to tumble over her shoulders, and then he grasped her upper arms to pull her towards him. She smiled and he was filled with need. His hands roamed over her back until he found her zipper, and peeled the red dress from her delicate skin, leaving it pooled around her waist.
He dipped his lips to the place beneath her chin, and kissed his way down, lapping and sucking the champagne tracks. His hands moved to the back of her red bra and he released her pillows of flesh to his waiting lips and tongue.
Again she arched backward as he held her with one arm splayed at her shoulders, bracing her in place, as she separated her thighs and allowed his palm to rub and press against her pubic bone. He could feel the heat of her moisture gather underneath the satin.
She inhaled as he hooked a finger in her panties, pulling them aside to expose her peach. Her nude lips were fondled and separated by his thumb and fingers as he made a slow, circular exploration of her nub, watching her eyes flutter, watching the way her pink tongue darted out between her red lips, calling to him to taste her. He coated his fingers in her milky moisture, feeling the smooth slickness of her ready channel. He removed her panties and slid his two fingers in and out of her opening slowly, rubbing and massaging the delicate petals of her sex.
He liked that she wanted to speed it up, but he planned to take his time with her. He could do this all night, if it came to that. He’d make sure her fire was fully stoked before he plunged in.
She begged him with her eyes, spreading her thighs further. He bent down and licked the length of her, nibbling on her lips, curling his tongue over her nub and sucking her to a stiff peak as she jolted with pleasure.
Sophia was balanced precariously on the padded bench, so he gen
tly slid her down to the floor, on top of the doubled-up bedspread, her head propped on the two pillows he’d brought from his own cabin. Her soft body sank into the light gray fabric, her head into the clean, white cotton of the pillows. Her hips rolling, she bit down on her lower lip, and reached up to spread her hair out to the sides. She held herself, inserting a finger into her own opening, while he undressed without taking his eyes off the way she pleasured herself. Her red dress was still draped across her waist. When he got naked, he lifted her legs by the ankles with one hand and with the other smoothed the dress over her soft bottom and up off her thighs.
He threw her dress behind him and covered her nude body with his own.
She pointed to the champagne bottle and her eyes widened, the crinkly laugh lines expanding at the sides in devilish play.
“You want some champagne? Like I wanted the water?”
She nodded her head.
“Are you going to be quiet tonight?” he whispered.
She shook her head from side to side as he brought the bottle to his lips and drank. He leaned over her and allowed the bubbly to pass from his mouth to hers. He licked the trickles of delicious bubbles down her cheeks, into the hollow at the top of her shoulders at the juncture of her long, graceful neck.
“Sophia, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met,” he said.
“I like the way you make me feel, Mark. My Marko. My mysterious American lover. The man I dream about every night.”
“Really? You dream about me?” he whispered to her ear as he nipped her earlobe.
She nodded, one forefinger tracing the line from his lips, down his neck, down the middle of his chest down, down to his package. She reached for him, squeezing him, moving her hand gently up and down his shaft and fingering the moisture at his tip.
Suddenly she sat up, pushing him back onto the spread. Taking the champagne bottle, she took a big sip, then bent down, her breasts touching his chest, her perfumed hair falling all around his face. Her red lips descended over his and she allowed him to drink from her mouth. She followed up what he had done, licking the errant ribbons of champagne down his cheek and neck.
She sat on him, rubbing her mound slowly up and down against his shaft, coaxing him to stiffen and harden even more. He could feel the soft tissues of her sex as she rubbed herself lazily over his crown, teasing him.
She took another sip of the champagne, and with her mouth full, slid down his legs and slipped his cock between her lips, bathing it in the cool liquid, rubbing him with her bubbling tongue. She sucked and lapped at his sensitive skin, suckling his balls, then drawing his shaft deep down her throat, fully enveloping him, then squeezing her lips, encircling his cock as she sucked and pulled him straight up, as hard as a concrete lamppost.
Mark was getting so engorged he thought he might spill prematurely. She purred as she licked him with the sandpaper of her tongue on his underside all the way to his tip, pulling and sucking.
He launched himself up to meet her, chest pressed against chest. “My turn,” he said. He held the back of her head and gently helped her back down to the bedspread. He took a big swig of the champagne and leaned over her sex, pouring the champagne over her labia, lapping her as he did, then trickling the liquid slowly down her slit, saving some for her opening, and, with his tongue swirling her insides, let the golden liquid drip down inside her.
Her hips rocked, her abdomen rippling like when she danced. She squeezed her own breasts. He followed up by placing his hands over hers. Taking one last look at her pink folds, he positioned himself at the entrance to her ripe, quivering peach. Her beautiful abs pulled as she gasped in anticipation of his rooting. He slowly moved into her, watching her eyes, the way her breasts raised and fell with her heavy breathing, reveling in the feel of her thighs hugging his. Her movements were as liquid as the champagne they’d poured all over each other, the places where their flesh touched igniting the flame inside his soul.
When he was fully seated, he angled back and forth in slow, deliberate motions, moving inside and out of her all the time, watching her face to judge the effect his filling her had on her. Her fingers found his nipples and she twisted one. The pain was delicious. He smiled down on her. She slid her hand between them and ringed the seat of his penis, feeling the place of their joining, squeezing his balls as he filled her delicious cave with his girth, and then stroked back and forth against her internal walls. He couldn’t get enough of her. He couldn’t touch enough of her softness, her rippling body that wrapped itself so deliciously around him, accepting him, loving him.
He pulled up one of her legs, his palm cupping the soft bend behind her knee and forcing her thigh back to the side of her chest. He twisted his body to move at a slight angle, adjusting his knees until he was perpendicular to her. She rolled to her side as he pumped her in deep rhythmic movements eliciting rolling moans. He pushed into her as far as he could go, desperate to encase himself fully in her warm channel.
She kept turning until she was on her belly. He was still buried in her channel, and spread her cheeks wide as he moved to his knees. He pulled an orange life vest from under the bench and slid it under her lower abdomen to raise her hips, allowing him deeper penetration. She groped for the blanket, squeezing as she moaned into the fabric, pushing her sex up and onto his shaft. She reached back, leaning on her shoulders and reached behind, finding his butt cheeks. She pulled him into her, grinding him deep, squeezing his flesh until his ass burned.
He leaned forward, smoothing a palm along the ridge of her spine, tracing a finger along the indentation all the way to her neck, all the while pumping into her, forcing her knees apart further. His other hand went underneath her, pressing a thumb on her nub. He ran his thumb over and over her clit, feeling the juices flowing from her.
She buried her head in her hands, using her knees to prop her little sex up against him. Spreading her legs outside his, she pressed herself against him. Her jerking motions told him she was ready to shatter. He became desperate to taste her.
He flipped her over. Sophia wore a dazed expression, already fully engulfed in orgasm. He pulled himself out and placed his mouth on her sex and sucked while she vibrated against his tongue. She came for him, moaning his name over and over again as he tasted her.
“Yes, baby,” he said between kisses. “I’ve got you. Come for me, baby.”
She raised her pelvis up to his mouth again, watched his face as he devoured her pleasure.
“You taste so good, Sophia. I’ve never tasted anything so wonderful. Ever. Come some more for me, baby.”
She writhed, moving her hips in figure eights. His tongue darted in and out while her lips swelled. He felt the hot, pulsing squeeze of her insides.
“Inside, Mark. I want you inside.”
“Yes, baby.” He inserted himself again, felt her delicious ripples, and the friction of her swollen lips, and the pulsations coming strong. She spilled over the edge, her ecstasy exploding all around him. He felt the tightening in his balls as he began to spill seed inside her, riding her orgasm, stoking the fire of her desire, which engulfed both of them.
Chapter 19
‡
Kyle was told Mark hadn’t slept in his bed the night before, and that some of his sheets and pillows were missing. He hoped his buddy had been careful, staying out of sight from Roberto and any of the other crew or staff.
Christy returned to the cabin after a workout with Gina and Devon. Kyle knew they were supposed to get ready for the shore excursion on Tenerife, but he’d decided to take of this rare opportunity—he was being lazy and not feeling one ounce of guilt. He watched the blue sky and deeper blue-green waters of the ocean, furrowed by white caps in the wake of the ship.
Christy climbed into bed with him and they looked out the window together.
“What’s wrong?” He knew when Christy climbed into bed with all her clothes on, even if they were skimpy workout clothes, that she wanted to be close to talk to him. Close enough that
she could kiss away any concerns he might have.
“I think Libby’s pregnant again, and she’s just as sick as the last time.”
It had been hard for all of them when she lost the baby at almost four months, even though Coop had been around to console her. The wives took turns cooking for Coop, cleaning their house and letting Libby sleep until she got her strength back and her head cleared. She’d taken it as a personal failure that the baby didn’t survive the early pregnancy.
But this time things could be worse. Coop would be gone, since the Team was going to deploy shortly after they returned to San Diego. All of them had seen what it did to a man who had troubles at home. Wives and kids could get sick. Parents and grandparents passed away. Life didn’t just stop because they were overseas. It was a hard fact of life in the military, but especially for the SEALs, since they would frequently be out of communication for weeks at a time.
Christy was the one to organize the help, and he was proud of her for it. He brushed the hair off her forehead with his fingers, and let her slip her arms around his waist and snuggle close to him.
“I think she’ll do fine this time, Christy. She’s stronger than anyone gives her credit for.”
“I’m worried, all the same.”
“Not everyone can crank them out as easily as you can, babe.”
She was quiet. He reared back on the pillow and twisted to take a look at what he could see of her face.
“What?” he asked.
“I want another one. Brandon needs a little brother or sister.”
Kyle was thrilled, but didn’t want to make the load any heavier than it already was since the Team was leaving so soon. He didn’t like the idea of Christy being pregnant when he couldn’t be home for it. He’d loved being able to watch every part of the process when Brandon was born since they flew him home just in time for his birth.
“We talked about waiting until I get back.” He watched her eyes. Unspoken was always the consideration he might not come back. She wouldn’t be the first wife to want to retain a little piece of him stateside, just in case.
Cruisin' For A SEAL: SEAL Brotherhood #5 Page 13