Sights on the SEAL: A Secret Baby Romance

by Alexis Abbott

  “Please, Adrian,” I beg softly. “Please. I need you.”

  “Whatever you say, baby girl,” he growls, unzipping his pants to let his enormous cock spring free and rub against my ready, aching hole. I buck against him, urging him to fuck me — now. As he pushes inside of me, I moan and clench around his swollen shaft, feeling so full and complete yet again. Adrian makes me feel like I’m a whole person again, like nothing up until now has really shown me true contentedness, nothing like what he does to me when we’re pressed close together like this.

  “I saw my life flash before my eyes,” I whisper as Adrian begins to thrust with forceful, nearly violent movements, like he wants to use me. Like he could easily break me into pieces. “And nothing made me so sad to leave this world as the thought of being without you,” I finish, as my climax builds and builds.

  “I can’t believe I nearly lost you,” he replies, his breathing rough and ragged at my ear. I bury my face in his warm neck and press a nipping kiss into the soft flesh there so that Adrian groans and fucks me even faster. He’s slamming into me now, striking my g-spot like a battering ram until I’m crying out and grasping at him, my body pulsating with overwhelming shocks of ecstasy. I can feel the walls of my cunt twitching around Adrian’s cock, squeezing his hard length, bringing him close to the edge, too.

  There’s a loud, nearly deafening sound as the ground begins to rumble and shake beneath us, and I realize — vaguely, with some distant part of my brain — that the train is approaching! But I can’t bear to rip myself away from Adrian yet, not now. My legs are still wrapped tightly around his waist as he fucks me with wild abandon, his cock spearing me with every violent thrust. Finally, his hands ball into fists on either side of me and he’s gasping for breath.

  “Oh god, fuck!” he cries out. “You feel so good, Becca!”

  “Give it to me,” I plead, “fill me up!”

  “Fuck… Bex,” Adrian groans, and just as the ground starts to vibrate more intensely with the approach of the train, he releases a thick, hot stream of seed deep inside my clenching cunt. We barely have time to take a breath before Adrian hops to his feet, zips up his pants, and helps me hurriedly put on my clothes. The train is within sight now and we need to dive into the bushes so we aren’t spotted by the conductor or any passengers before we find a railway car to jump onto. Adrian takes me in his arms and we roll into a rough patch of underbrush to watch the train rolling toward the clearing. The sound of the horn blowing and the screech of metal on metal makes my head ache and my vision swim. I’ve never been so close to a train before — well, without being inside the train, of course. I realize with a sinking feeling just how difficult it will be to jump that high and fast onto a railway car. It is a feat of athleticism and grace I don’t know if I can pull off properly, and if I don’t make it, the results will undoubtedly be deadly.

  How has my life turned into one harrowing near death experience after another?!

  But before I get the chance to ruminate further on the chances I might actually die attempting this maneuver, Adrian takes my hand and dashes out of the bushes, yelling, “GO!”

  He takes one flawless, almost gazelle-like leap and lands on the side of a brick-red car, but in the process, his hand lets go of mine to grasp the side. I know in this split second my only chance of survival is to follow suit — I have to jump.

  And so I do, but to my horror I am nowhere near as graceful or strong as Adrian. I leap forward and immediately begin to slide down the side of the railway car, my fingernails digging into the chipped red paint as my feet scramble for a foothold. I get a dizzying flash of deja vu, as once again Adrian has to reach out and swing an arm around me to yank me upward to relative safety, but the first time, he misses.

  I slide further down the side of the car, my toes barely locked onto the little ledge of wooden moldings beneath me. Adrian quickly and nimbly shimmies along the side to jump into the opening, full of what smells like coal and hay. He is attempting to get in a better, more stable position before reaching out to give me a hand, and I look forward to see that there is a thick tree branch poking out from the woods, directly in line with where my body will be hanging off the side of the train in less than thirty seconds.

  Adrian flings a hand out to me, just a couple feet to my left, shouting, “You have to jump! Trust me! Jump and take my hand!”

  Adrian

  The weight of Becca’s body as I grasp her hand feels like nothing as adrenaline rushes through my body. I wrap my hand firmly around her wrist as she gets a hold of mine, a deep ravine below the train now passing under us, and I haul her up onto the train car with a grunt, just before a sharp tree branch splinters violently against the side of the car.

  She melts into my arms once she’s up, hugging me tightly and shivering while I move her away from the car’s entrance, the rhythmic rumbling of the train’s motion all around us. I brush her hair out of her eyes and kiss her deeply, and she sighs into it, a moan that at once savors my touch and revels in the relief of being once again safely in my arms.

  “I don’t think most train travelers go through that every time,” she breathes when our kiss breaks, a lopsided grin on her face.

  “No, but most travelers don’t get caught having as much fun as we do,” I say, holding her chin in my fingers to watch her eyes sparkle up at me in admiration.

  I’ve had people put their trust in me, but with Becca, it feels all the more right, like a glove that’s a perfect fit. Every moment I get to protect her feels fulfilling in a way I never even knew in the SEAL service.

  Becca turns to take a few cautious steps toward the huge sliding door of our train car, glancing out at the wilderness below us. The ravine she nearly fell into was deep and deadly, but it was also thankfully short. Before long, the train is back into the woods, and there’s greenery all around us, the sweet smells of the forest filtering into our car.

  I step up beside her and put a hand on her shoulder, stroking it reassuringly. “Just a smooth ride back to town from here. You should get some rest and enjoy the ride. It’s probably going to be a while.”

  “Suppose a train car is better than the forest floor again,” she jokes, making her way over to a corner of the train and taking a seat, setting her backpack to her side and pulling out her blanket to start wrapping it around herself. “Do you think we’ll get in trouble for being out here like this? In the train car, I mean?”

  “I’d like to see someone try to tell us off for it,” I laugh, “but I don’t think your average hitchhiker like us is fleeing from a bunch of murderous Russian hitmen.”

  She looks a little less amused by the statement than I’d intended, so I come to take a seat beside her, my huge form getting slowly to the ground and pulling her in tight beside me.

  “Hey, don’t worry, Bex,” I say, my voice low. She leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder silently. “I don’t know who all they’ve got out there looking for us, but as long as I’m here, they’re going to have more on their plate than they can handle.”

  She nods, silent a few moments. “There was something really peaceful about that guy we met back there in the house. Jones. I don’t know what it was, but even if it was all kind of rough around the edges, there’s something… I guess ‘quiet’ is the word for it.”

  I nod, understanding her meaning perfectly, and I feel a swelling of pride in my chest as she says it. “That’s a good way of putting it. Long way away from all the noise of the city. Everything that comes with it.”

  “I’ve never really been much more than a city girl at the end of the day,” she says, snuggling in closer to me, “but with you at my side out there, I feel so protected, you know? Like there’s nothing out there that could really hurt me, even though we’re so far away from everything.”

  “The wilderness has a lot more dangers than it lets on,” I say, feeling her relaxing more and more with the steady, rhythmic bumping beneath us. “It’s not made for mankind. We haven’t tamed it, r
ipped it up and remade it how we like it. There’s a level of give and take you have to consider when living out there.”

  “I don’t know about any of that,” she admits as I take her hand in mine and plant a kiss on her head.

  “I can teach you,” I say, and she looks up at me curiously.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I grin back down. “Teach you what herbs are good to keep and which are toxic, how to track wild game, how to tend livestock…”

  I notice the intimidated look on her face, and I chuckle, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Maybe we’ll just start with building a campfire.”

  “No, no, I want to learn,” she says, her sparkling smile warming my heart as she sits up a little. “It’s just a little overwhelming, how much I’m gonna have to change. But there’s nobody I’d want to make that change with besides you, Adrian.”

  We look into each other’s eyes, silent for a few moments, just enjoying the quiet company of one another along with the uncomplicated background noise around us. The rustling of the trees almost has a rhythm to it as the train engine rumbles along, and I feel truly peaceful for the first time in a long time.

  For a half-hour, that spell of peace holds both of us entranced, warm and secure in each other’s embrace as Becca gets lulled into a peaceful sleep by the train, and I listen to the world around us.

  It’s only a few minutes after Becca’s fallen to sweet sleep that my ears prick at something unusual.

  I glance out the door, furrowing my eyebrows. The sound of the train is the same as always, chugging along at an even pace along the tracks. Why did I just think I heard something different? It was another rumbling, steady sound, but it wasn’t quite what we’d been enjoying the past few moments.

  Then I hear the noise more distinctly outside — the revving of accelerating engines. Motorcycle engines.

  “Becca, get up,” I say immediately, springing to my feet. Becca awakes with a yelp, startled, but this isn’t the time for gentle awakenings. I need to get her moving. Now.

  “What?! What is it?” she says blearily, but her eyes quickly alight with attentiveness as they meet the concern in my gaze and see me pulling out my pistol, checking the magazine and readying it.

  “We have company,” I say, looking out door and clenching my jaw. The train has taken us alongside the highway, forest giving way to farmland, and now I can hear the sounds of motorbikes rapidly approaching us.

  And there are a lot of them.

  “Oh my god,” Becca gasps, hearing the sound too, “how did they find us?” I don’t give a response. I know the most likely answer is that they tracked us to Jones’s cabin and interrogated him for our whereabouts. I curse myself. I knew leaving him behind alive wasn’t a good idea. My training would have had me silence him to ensure our safety, but I was still fighting the monster I left behind in the service — do I really have to become so ruthless to preserve our safety?

  It might be too late.

  “Get onto the roof,” I say calmly, as evenly as I might have given instructions to civilians before a firefight really got bloody. “Keep your body as low as possible. They’re going to be looking for cars like ours and peppering them with bullets. If you’re up there, I can buy you some time while I deal with them.”

  “I’m not going to leave you behind!” she protests, but I kiss her deeply, wrapping my hand around the back of her neck to pull her into me before I break away and guide her toward the roof access — a small, rusting ladder with a hatch at the top of the car.

  “You aren’t leaving me behind, baby,” I say, “I’ll die before I let that happen.”

  She gives me a longing look full of desire, but she swallows the sob coming to her throat and nods, turning and climbing up the ladder.

  Not a moment too late, either. No sooner is Becca pushing herself flat against the rooftop than I hear a shotgun blast hit one of the cars behind us. There are other cargo cars that could accommodate people, so it sounds like I was right — they’re spraying each with bullets in an attempt at flushing us out.

  At least they won’t be looking at the car roofs, then. I pray there’s no one else around that could get injured.

  I hear nearly a dozen bikes roaring up alongside us, though, and I realize I’m going to need to think on my feet for this. All I have is six rounds and my combat knife, and the knowledge that Becca’s life is on the line.

  I really ought to let the bikers take a few shots at me to even the odds.

  Thinking back to how the bikers approached us the first time they struck, I made a mental note of where to strike first. Because as soon as I reveal myself, I’m going to have about a second before I’m riddled with bullets.

  I whip around from the cover of the metal door and see just what’s coming my way, my pistol at the ready. In a split second, I see what I thought I’d heard — about a half dozen motorcycles roaring forward, guns aimed at the car they’re passing. And I’m sure there’s another half dozen on the other side of the train. Before the ones in the lead have a chance to react to my presence, I act.

  My pistol fires two rounds, and two men die before they know what hit them. The leaders of the pack fall, and their bikes go with them, spinning out of control to the now-alarmed mobsters that were following. As the vehicles careen to a crash, they take out two more of the pack, sending men screaming to the ground as they hit the dirt before their own bikes roll over them and crush them.

  I pull myself back into the car as bullets come flying from the other two gunmen. I hear the sound of the engines roaring as they blaze forward, eager on avenging their allies, but as soon as the first of them comes within sight, I fire a round into his neck, and he chokes on his own blood as he drops his weapon, his bike veering into the train and pinning him against the side before he lets the acceleration go and falls to the ground a mangled body.

  I hardly notice the carnage under the wheels, too busy putting a bullet in the last man’s head as he watches the massacre with wide eyes.

  The six on the left side of the train are dealt with just as I hear the thud of boots hit the floor of the car, and I whirl around just in time to catch the fist of the man who just leaped aboard.

  Behind him, I see the driver of the bike that delivered him onto the train.

  That makes my heart leap into my throat. If the bikers are carrying passengers, then some of them might be climbing on top of the cars. Becca!

  No more time for fooling around. I deliver a swift strike to the man’s solarplexis with my knee, making him double over before my hands wrap around his head. With a swift twist, there’s a crack as I break his neck and let him fall to the ground outside in a tangled mess of a roll.

  The driver who dropped him off is dumbfounded as I race towards him, putting my gun away and taking out my knife.

  I leap onto the bike just as he starts to veer away, and I land right behind him, my weight nearly toppling the vehicle and making it swerve to the right, into the crowd of stupefied other bikers.

  He shouts something at me in Russian, but I’m not paying attention to his words. I reach into his holster and pull out his pistol, and before those around me can react, I’ve fired off three rounds and taken down three bikers. Their engines sputter as they crash to the ground, and the two of them that bore passengers crush their riders under them.

  Two bikes left. The driver in front of me is getting bolder in his moves to try to shake me off, so I draw my knife across his throat and let him slump forward before shoving him off the bike and taking the handles myself.

  The engine roars forward as I veer off to the right, aiming for one of the bikers, who lets out a shout as I approach. He fumbles for his gun, but my knife is already out. I feel the heat of our engines as I drive the bike right up alongside him to plunge my knife into the back of his neck, and he lets out a gurgling scream before slumping down on his handlebars, the weight of his body pushing the acceleration down and sending him hurdling forward before his bike spins out of
control.

  I feel a searing pain on my shoulder as a bullet grazes me, and I turn my attention back to my left, where the last bike’s passenger aims his gun at me. There are two on the bike, one driving, one leveling his pistol at me. I hit the brakes just before he fires, and the barrel flashes as bullets whiz in front of me.

  He swears, but I cut him off with a quick shot to the head. The passenger gunman’s blood sprays out onto the driver, who cries out in horror while I speed forward.

  Before he can react, I cut left hard, and my bike connects with his. Suddenly, he’s too busy trying to keep his bike from falling over to worry about me. But I’m relentless, pushing my bike further against his until he’s nearly getting crushed up against the side of the moving train.

  “Maniac!” he splutters as he fights to keep me from ramming him against the train car, his thick Russian accent muffled under the train engine’s sounds.

  “Should have thought of that before taking this job,” I spit back at him before elbowing him in the head. He loses control of his bike, and it skids to the ground as part of his body gets caught under the rolling wheels. I don’t look back at the sound of a sickening crunch.

  Something on top of the train as my attention.

  I didn’t fail to notice that one of the bikes no longer had a rider on it. As I look up to the top of the train, I get my answer as to why.

  Glaring down at me with a look of vicious malice is a familiar face: the face of the Spetsnaz commander who’s been haunting my nightmares for years. I feel my heart pound with fury as his visage twists into a cruel smile, and he gives a mocking salute before he disappears from sight, moving towards the front of the train.

  Right where Becca was headed.

  I speed over to the train car. There’s no ladder leading to the top, just the metalwork that forms the structure of the car itself. I have no time to waste looking for safe access. In the breadth of a second, I stand up on the seat and handlebars of the bike and leap off it before it can slow down, and as my hands find purchase on the metalwork, I hear it crash in a ball of fire and twisted metal behind me.