Sights on the SEAL: A Secret Baby Romance

by Alexis Abbott

  I whimper with need. I want the same thing. I want him to fuck me hard, to give in to his primal desire to spread his seed. “Please, Adrian. Give it to me. I want you to use me. Fuck me.”

  That does the trick. He grasps my hip and guides the head of his engorged shaft into my slick opening, my vaginal walls shuddering at his entrance. He sheaths himself inside me completely, until I am aching with fullness. He doesn’t even attempt to go slowly anymore. His gentleness disappears, replaced by an animalistic rhythm, thrusting wildly into my cunt. The tip of his glorious cock slams into my g-spot again and again, making me cry out with ecstasy. He leans over and slides his hands along my waist, over my belly, and upward to caress my breasts as he pummels into me, his fingers tweaking and stroking my nipples so that I’m very close to dangerous overstimulation. It’s too much. All at once. But I can’t bring myself to ask him to stop, and I know deep down that I don’t want him to.

  “You make me feel so damn good, Bex. You’re perfect,” he whispers. Tears of pleasure burn in my eyes and I struggle to reply.

  “Oh god… fuck me, Adrian,” I manage to whimper softly, reaching out to brace myself against the steamy shower wall, my hand making a slippery print on the glass.

  “I want you to come for me, baby. I want to feel you fall apart all around me,” Adrian commands, squeezing my breasts as he quickens the pace of his thrusts. And just like that, I can feel my pussy seizing up, my whole body tensing in preparation for the big release. Almost like he has total control over me, over what I feel.

  It’s bizarre — we barely know each other, yet one could nearly believe we’ve known each other for years, we’re so in sync. So connected.

  “Come for me, sweetheart,” he growls, and my body obeys.

  “Oh my god!” I cry out as first one, then a second orgasm comes barreling through me, my cunt twitching and convulsing with ecstasy. My legs buckle beneath me and I start to collapse, my head feeling faint and dizzy. But Adrian supports me, his muscular arms more than enough to keep me up while he continues to plow into my pussy from behind, his heavy balls slapping against me wetly.

  “Fill me up, Adrian, please. Give it to me. I need it,” I moan wantonly, bucking backward against him for encouragement. I’m desperate for it now— I need to feel his precious cream spurting inside of me. I need to feel him use me like the breeder I am.

  “Anything for you,” he groans, and as he grasps my hips, he bellows out my name and releases a thick stream of his seed deep within me. I instinctively clench my pussy, trying to hold onto his cum as long as I can. I can’t deny it — I want nothing more than for Adrian to fill me with his virility, mark me forever as his own.

  Adrian gently wraps his arms around me and turns me back around to face him, stroking my wet tendrils of dark hair back from my temples as he kisses me softly, our bodies pressed together as his seed slowly drips down my thigh. I let out a breathless little laugh, so exhilarated with the way we can both just let go of any sense of self-consciousness and lose control… together. I’ve never felt so free and comfortable with anyone before. Gone is my impulse to hide myself, to cover up. Gone is my shame and nervousness, replaced by warmth and calm.

  “Here, let me wash you off,” he murmurs sweetly, smiling down into my face. He reaches for the luxurious hotel soap, some expensive brand I’ve never used before, and starts to lather my body. His hands, once gripping and insistent, are now so soft and tender, sliding lovingly over my every curve. He grabs the detachable shower head and rinses me off, then starts to wash my hair.

  I’ve never had anyone but me wash my hair — well, except for the occasional hair dresser, of course — and certainly never in such an intimate fashion. Normally, I consider myself a pretty independent person. I do my best to support myself and never ask for help. I can look out for myself and my family without anyone to be my crutch. But there’s something about Adrian. Perhaps it’s the reservoir of incredible strength and power he keeps dutifully restrained, coupled with his immense capacity for tenderness… I just can’t resist. I don’t feel infantilized or condescended to when he calls me “baby” or “sweetheart” or when he carries me around so easily like I’m just a ragdoll. I know he respects me, he understands my own strengths, and I know deep down with a doubt that he will never cross any line I draw out for him.

  Adrian knows my vulnerabilities, but he doesn’t hold them against me. He senses what I want, what I need, without my having to say a single word.

  So I simply close my eyes and give into the delicious sensation of having someone else take care of me. His surprising tenderness is such a sharp contrast to the way he fucks me, all raw passion and unrestrained force. There are many sides to this man, I’m learning, and I am eager to acquaint myself with every single one.

  After we finish showering, we dry off and get dressed, preparing to head out into town for lunch and to start ring shopping. I’m nearly tingling with excitement, I’m so giddy. Once again, I’m walking on air. It’s hard to believe that just a few days ago I was bored and lonely in my Mississauga hotel room, waiting for the next frantic, paranoid call from my client. To his credit, the poor guy has only left three voicemails on my phone in the past couple days. As I strap on my wedge sandals, I’m holding my cell phone between my shoulder and my ear, finally calling the guy back.

  He answers fervently, “Ms. Summers?”

  “Yes, hello, Mr. Green. I’m here. Sorry I missed your calls — it’s been a busy couple of days here. Is everything okay? The system working out?” I reply, trying to make my voice sound as genuinely concerned as possible while also rolling my eyes at Adrian.

  “You wouldn’t pick up and I was starting to worry—”

  “Yes, I apologize. Like I said, I was preoccupied. But I’m here now.”

  “—it’s just unnerving to get your voicemail so many times in a row—”

  “Mr. Green, is there a problem?” I interrupt again, enunciating more clearly. He finally stops chattering nervously and sighs.

  “Well, no. Not really. There was a moment where I thought one of my new g-guards was spying on my w-wife in the shower, but I think I was just being paranoid,” he splutters. I have to stifle a laugh. I feel quite confident that none of my personally-hired-and-vetted security guys would risk his job to peep on someone.

  “I can assure you that no such thing will happen. Not on my watch,” I tell him, grateful that he can’t see me grinning on the other end of the line. “My men are superbly trained and disciplined. I promise you there’s no need to worry. Now, I will be heading back home soon, so if there’s anything else you need, please understand that I will not be readily available. My contract with you ended yesterday, remember?”

  There’s a long pause. Then he goes on, in a rather defeated tone, “Yes, I know. But I was wondering, um, maybe you would like to g-get dinner sometime?” His voice perks up toward the end and my mouth falls open in surprise. Adrian gives me a confused look and I shake my head.

  “Mr. Green, you are married. You just mentioned your wife to me. I have met her. We had a lovely luncheon meeting together, all three of us, you’ll recall?” I tell him slowly, totally shocked.

  I can nearly feel the regret in his voice when he replies, “Oh, um, yes. You’re right. Totally out of line for me to ask that. Terribly sorry— uh, um, well— I will send your check in the mail posthaste. Th-thank you very much for your work, and ah, have a wonderful day!”

  Click. I stare at the phone in disbelief for a moment.

  “What? What did he say?” Adrian asks curiously.

  “The married bastard just tried to ask me out!” I laugh, shaking my head.

  “Well, I can hardly blame him. I mean, look at you,” Adrian replies, shrugging. He kisses the back of my hand and then says, “Come along, my love! I’m starving, and I can’t wait to get started on the ring hunt!”

  The two of us head out to the Café Crepe in the middle of the Toronto hubbub, where we get an outside table so we can li
sten to the birds chirping as they flit along from one perfectly-manicured topiary to the next. This is the kind of charming restaurant I rarely went to anymore, now that I have a tempestuous little girl with me almost all the time. Suddenly, my heart pangs with longing, and a rush of fondness for Maya takes over me. I miss her. This is one of the longest times I’ve spent away from her since she was born, and it’s difficult. Of course, having the massive distraction of Adrian looking right at me is definitely helping the situation.

  The waitress takes our order — an extra spicy Bloody Mary and a Montreal Smoked Meat crepe for him, a mimosa and spiced pecan, apple and brie salad for me — and then flounces away, leaving us alone at our table together. Adrian folds his hands in front of him, looking at me with a kind of amused fascination.

  “It’s still hard to believe,” he says softly. “All that time I spent dreaming about you, just wishing I could see you one more time… and now, here we are.”

  I smile at him. “I know. I feel the same way. It’s almost overpowering, isn’t it?”

  Adrian nods and reaches across the table to take my hands, which are so small and fragile-looking next to his. “Bex, it’s a good thing we came out here in public to talk, because if we were still alone together back in that hotel room… well, I can’t promise we would be able to do much talking. It’s all I can do not to swing you over my shoulder and make you mine. Again and again.”

  I can feel my cheeks flushing bright pink at this confession, especially because I feel exactly the same way. There’s an animal attraction between us almost too strong to fight, but I know that we have serious matters to discuss— fully clothed.

  “First of all, I think it’s about time I see a photo of our daughter,” he says, beaming proudly.

  “That sounds wonderful,” I reply, overjoyed. I scoot my chair around to sit beside him and take out my cell phone, pulling up the photo gallery and flipping through an almost endless album of baby pictures. Maya in her first professional photograph. Maya in her high chair with birthday cake smeared all over her face. Maya sleeping peacefully in a hammock strung between two old trees in my parents’ woodsy backyard. Adrian is nearly speechless, and I can feel the downright adoration burning off of him as we coo and smile over pictures of our little girl.

  Our food and drinks arrive and we continue chatting, with me sharing anecdotes and funny stories about Maya’s first steps, her first word, the antics she’s gotten into since learning how to crawl, and everything in my life seems to be perfectly aligned. For once. I feel utterly content and yet buzzing with excitement for the future. I can’t wait for Adrian to meet his daughter. I can’t wait to begin the next chapter of my life with the man of my dreams.

  Still laughing at some comment Adrian made about Maya’s hair sticking straight up in one of her baby pictures, I glance up and do a double take over his shoulder.

  My smile fades as my instincts hone in on an individual down the street, perched on a motorcycle and dressed in gray leather, despite the warmth of summer. I squint, trying to see his face more clearly. Something about him unnerves me, puts me on edge.

  Like I’ve seen him before.

  And he’s looking at me the same way.

  Adrian

  “Okay, so...let’s talk metals.”

  I smile and glance over at Becca as we start walking away from my car and heading into the lavish jewelry store downtown. It’s a tall building with black, shining marble interiors and soft white lighting that makes every inch of the staggering wealth inside visible. We’re ring shopping, and I won’t accept anything but the very best for her.

  “Let me guess, you’re not a ‘gold’ kind of lady?” I say, holding the glass door open for her before stepping inside. I feel a number of heads turn to look at us as we walk in. That’s partly because of the fact that we’re obviously a young couple looking for a ring, but my height tends to have that effect on just about anyone.

  “Well, it’s just that you see yellow gold everywhere,” she says, smiling playfully as she eyes the rows of jewelry in glass display cases.

  An attendant bustles up to us in a matter of seconds, but I hold him off with a look, and he nods respectfully, backing away. I want my girl to have her time to peruse before we let the salesmen start courting us.

  We’ve dressed the part of what we’re here for, too. Becca convinced me to put on a designer crimson button-down I still have. My muscles have grown since the last time I wore it, so it’s a tight fit, but she seems to like it rolled up to the sleeves, my black pants showing off my powerful thighs as we walk.

  As for her, she’s been drawing eyes all day in a nearly matching red crop top, jeans that display those beautiful, long legs of hers, and a pair of heels that click as we peruse the store, a strappy white leather bag dangling off her shoulder. Her sleek hair spills down her shoulder and frames her face beautifully, accenting those gorgeous cheekbones that make for a breathtaking smile.

  “Alright, so maybe white gold?” I suggest, stepping over to a dazzling display of rings in various shades and sizes, and I smile at the sight of her looking so awed by everything she sees.

  “White gold’s alright…” she trails off, and I roll my eyes.

  “So what are you leading me to?”

  She pauses in front of a small display of rose gold jewelry, and I raise an eyebrow. “Rose gold? Didn’t think you were the type, but I like it.”

  “Hold on, ‘type?’ Don’t tell me you have an eye for jewelry,” she says, grinning up at me, and I laugh a little.

  “You’d be surprised what skills you pick up in the SEALs.” In truth, one of my earliest operations had been shutting down a high-profile jewelry heist in Monaco to fund arms purchases by terrorists. Doing so had entailed learning everything there was to know about jewelry and its forgeries, but she doesn’t need to know the gritty details. “My one request is that we don’t do diamonds.”

  “Oh, thank god,” she gushes, gliding around some of the other display cases and taking in the sights of huge rubies, shining topaz, and sparkling amethysts. “Everyone has them. I want my ring to be different.”

  That, and there’s more blood behind the production of any given diamond than your average unmarked firearm, but that’s not something I ought to bring up out loud in the middle of a jewelry store. By the look Becca and I exchange, I can tell that she’s well aware of that herself. Her job had her dealing with the armed forces of just about every western nation, after all, up to their elbows in every kind of problem.

  It’s so strange, having the connection to someone like Becca that I do. Both of us are trying to put on this facade of a civilian life, but there’s so much underlying it all that the people around us don’t see. But Becca understands it — maybe not to the degree of what all there is to know about SEAL life, but it’s something, and damn, does Becca ever make it sweet.

  The thought of having her as a wife makes me swell both with pride and with lust. She’s been through so much, so treating her to picking out whatever ring she desires feels all the more satisfying.

  “I can’t say they’re my favorite either,” I admit with a chuckle. “So what do you think, maybe a nice sapphire?” I show her over to a display of white sapphires that look quite a lot like diamonds to the untrained eye. But when you’ve had to dig through a Serbian mobster’s suitcase to pick out one such a jewel, you don’t forget what they look like.

  “Oooh, that is pretty,” she agrees, but I don’t fail to notice her glancing sidelong at me with an incredulous smile at my competence in spotting jewels. “Rubies are nice, too, and the shade might complement the rose gold nicely.”

  “A pink ruby would be nice against the metal, too, if we’re just going all-out with this nontraditional engagement ring,” I suggest, and her eyes sparkle at that visual, her smile spreading even wider across her face. To my surprise, she slips her arms around my waist and hugs me as she looks down at all the displays, letting out a soft, contented sigh into my side.


  “I think a nontraditional ring would be good for us,” she says, her tone light-hearted as I give her hip a squeeze, wishing I had somewhere more private to take her; every moment we’re together makes me want her more. “We’re kind of a nontraditional pair, you know?”

  “You’ve got a point,” I laugh, finally gesturing to one of the attendants keeping their distance to come size her finger for us. But as the attendant hurries off to go get the necessary equipment, Becca turns up to me, a hint of worry in her eyes.

  “The more I think about it, the more it feels like we’re kind of working backwards in our relationship.”

  I tilt my head to the side, stroking her back and giving her an even gaze, trying to gauge her thoughts. “And how do you feel about that? Does that upset you? I know what you mean, I suppose—missing out on the fairy tale romance of falling in love, getting engaged, married, then having a kid. That we’re not getting that.”

  She hesitates, chewing on her lip a moment, but it’s not like trying to break bad news. Rather, she seems to be figuring out how to put the words together before speaking slowly.

  “Maybe, a long time ago, there was a part of me that wanted that.” She turns to face me, wrapping her small arms around my massive torso, not able to reach all the way behind me, but contenting herself to feel my rock-hard abdomen.

  “But all that went out the window when I found out I was pregnant,” she says, a smile lighting up that irresistible face again. “That life isn’t for me. I haven’t looked back ever since I became a mother. This stuff doesn’t work out the way the movies try to sell it, and honestly… I’m so glad it’s happening the way it is,” she says, burying her face in my chest.

  I lift her chin up and bend down to kiss her, feeling her heart flutter as I pull her in close to me, and for a moment, I forget the jewelry store is even around us, everything falling away except for the two of us.