Sights on the SEAL: A Secret Baby Romance

by Alexis Abbott

  Yes, Adrian and Maya adore each other already, and it warms my heart to see them together. For once, after years of struggling and feeling incomplete, I’m beginning to feel like I have everything I could ever want. Everything is right with the world. Adrian took care of our little mob problem, and since then all has been smooth sailing.

  And now we’re all gathered into this beautiful wooden mountain lodge in the Ontario countryside overlooking a lush, green valley, so that Adrian and I can make it truly official. I have said my vows, and Adrian has said his, and now the minister is about to say the words I have been dreaming of for so long.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride,” he recites, beaming at us proudly. He is an old friend of the family, and I know he is probably just as moved as the rest of us.

  I turn and lock eyes with my gorgeous, handsome husband, and once again my breath catches in my throat. It’s so hard to believe how lucky I am to have found him again. This is everything I have ever longed for — and it’s mine. At last.

  Adrian wraps his arms around me, pulling me in for a passionate kiss, full of emotions neither of us could ever hope to name or describe, but what feels like a welcome home. Like we’ve both finally found the place we truly belong — in each other’s arms.

  The congregation of family and friends all cry out and applaud with joy, watching us embrace each other in this beautiful place, with the misty mountains a gorgeous backdrop behind us. Adrian leans in to whisper in my ear, and his warm breath sends a delicious shiver down my spine.

  “I love you, Bex. More than anything. I can’t believe you’re finally mine.”

  I kiss him again, fervently, my hands finding his as we walk back down the aisle through a shower of confetti and flower petals. We all head out into the vast green estate for the reception, which is lit with hanging lanterns and string lights, to look like some kind of magical forest fairy party. Adrian and I cut the cake, with the help of our little daughter, and then the drinks and music begin. Everyone crowds out onto the grassy dance floor in a rush of joy, singing along and swinging around. Adrian and I can’t keep our hands off of each other as we spin in circles on the dancefloor, gazing into each other’s eyes. As much as I love the carefree togetherness vibe of the reception party, there is a bigger part of me that cannot wait for the night to be over… so I can finally be alone with my new husband.

  Finally, around midnight, the festivities slow to a halt and the guests say their exhausted congratulations and goodbyes to head back to their respective rooms for the night in this mountain chalet we’ve rented. Adrian and I quietly rush upstairs to our suite, which is on the top floor, with a balcony overlooking the breathtaking scenery of the landscape.

  As soon as the door shuts behind us, Adrian’s lips are on mine, kissing me so needfully that I almost want to do it right here on the floor. But instead, Adrian scoops me up into his strong arms, causing me to yelp in surprise. “Where are you taking me?” I giggle.

  “To bed, my little wife,” he replies, kissing me on the cheek. He cradles me down onto the plush, king-sized four poster bed and starts to undress out of his multiple layers.

  “I love seeing you in a tux,” I purr, sitting up to watch him. “But god, do I love even more watching you take it all off.”

  “You’re next,” he growls, smirking at me as he shrugs out of his designer jacket.

  I stand up and strip out of the gorgeous bridal gown, revealing the lacy white lingerie underneath, which I picked out specifically as a wedding night surprise. As soon as Adrian’s green eyes land on me, his mouth falls open in disbelief.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he breathes, stepping closer to kiss me again. His hands roam down my shoulders to caress my breasts through the lacy fabric. The sensation of his fingers running across my nipples through the lace makes me tremble and lean into his touch. I want him so badly. Adrian quickly takes off the rest of his clothes and stands before me stark naked, his enormous cock jutting out like a spear between us. I can’t help it — I fall to my knees and take him into my mouth greedily, my tongue trailing up and down the underside of his sensitive shaft until he’s groaning, his fingers tangling in my hair.

  “Fuck, Bex, that feels so damn good,” he moans, thrusting gently into my mouth until the tip of his cock brushes the back of my throat, almost making me gag. But I want more — always more. Before I can go any further, though, he stops me and throws me onto the bed, then leans over to unclasp my garter and bustier, causing them to fall away and leave my body exposed.

  He sucks in a deep breath before diving in between my thighs, his tongue lapping at my juices and suckling at my clit until I’m crying out and grasping at the sheets. He slides a finger inside of me and strokes expertly at my g-spot, and it only takes another few moments before I’m coming in his mouth, my pussy clenching around his finger.

  “Ohhhh, Adrian!” I cry out desperately, overwhelmed with ecstasy. He stands up and wipes his mouth before bending down to kiss me.

  “You taste like heaven,” he murmurs, his hands sliding over my breasts and tweaking my nipples, sending little spirals of pleasure down my body. He knows just how to play me, every miniscule touch and breath bringing me ever closer to yet another orgasm. It’s like we just fit together. Perfectly.

  “I want you inside me,” I mumble. “Please. Mark me as your own. I belong to you now, mind, body, and soul.”

  And it’s like I’ve thrown kerosene onto an already blazing fire, because the very next moment, Adrian is pushing his massive cock inside my aching cunt, thrusting into me with abandon. “I’ve wanted to make you mine for so long, Becca,” he whispers raggedly, leaning down to kiss me. He strikes that deep, dark spot within me again and again until I’m screaming with another climax, clutching at his back as I wrap my legs around his waist, wanting to be as close to him as possible. I never want him to let me go. This is where I belong, right here, with him.

  He fucks me mercilessly, until there are tears in my eyes, until I can no longer speak coherent words, the two of us moving in perfect, relentless harmony together, back and forth. Finally, we both cry out as we come at the precise same time, Adrian shooting his virile seed deep inside me as my pussy clenches around his cock. We cling together for a moment, breathing heavily, too in love and overwhelmed to even move. Finally, Adrian collapses next to me and kisses my cheek, stroking my hair tenderly. He stares at me with a wistful smile on his handsome face, shaking his head as though he can’t believe his good luck.

  “This is more than I could ever dream of,” he says softly. I snuggle into his arms and kiss his bare, muscular chest. “It’s so hard, though, Bex. Every time I look at you it’s all I can do to keep from fucking you and putting another baby inside of you.”

  I giggle and bit my lip, looking up at him with my heart so full it could explode in my chest. He furrows his brow at me and asks, “What? What is it?”

  Here it is. The moment I have been waiting for. It’s been so hard to keep it a secret, and now the time has finally come…

  “Adrian, you already have,” I tell him excitedly, trying to remain calm and even-toned. He nods.

  “Yeah, I know. Maya,” he says, looking at me funny.

  I laugh and sit up, bending down to kiss him on the lips before going on, “No. I mean you’ve done it again. Adrian… I’m pregnant.”

  The joy in his eyes is almost enough to make me burst into tears. Adrian sits up and wraps me in his arms, covering my face with kisses. “I can’t believe it! We’re having another baby?!” he laughs.

  I nod vigorously, almost too overwhelmed with feeling to even speak.

  “God, Bex. I love you. I love you so much. And I love our little family. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, darling,” he gushes, his usual cocksure attitude pushed aside for a moment. And when he holds me in his arms and we start to talk about the future, I know in my heart that this is what I have been waiting for all my life. This is my fairytale.
This is my happy ending.

  Description

  She's terrified of me. She should be.

  I'm no saint, but apparently even killers have limits. When the Bratva hired me as security for the night, I didn't know it was a flesh trade. I could have kept my cool, done my job, but then I saw her. Pure as a lily, dressed in skimpy lingerie, and being auctioned off to the foulest men in Brighton Beach.

  I'm not used to this white knight sh*t, but I did what I had to do. I outbid those pieces of trash and bought myself a bride.

  What the hell do I do with a sweet, subservient woman who's been trained to obey her husband? I can think of some things my baser instincts want me to do... But when she submits to me, I'm going to be the man that deserves it, not just the one she owes it to. So I'm going to make her life better. I'm going to make her want me just as bad as I want her.

  And at night, when my new princess is slumbering, I'm going to make every one of those pimps pay in blood. I will protect her... and our unborn baby.

  A full length Standalone Romantic Suspense novel. No Cliffhangers. Safe from cheating. Explicit language & swearing.

  Andrei

  I never feel out of place in the unique stillness that the streets of this city maintains at night. Even if the noise in Brighton Beach keeps on at a dull roar long into the late hours, there’s a certain sense in the air that in this little corner of New York, the gears of the city are taking a rest.

  And these special hours give me my hunting grounds.

  I’m leaning against the brick wall that makes up a side of The Vixen, a gentleman’s club that seems to draw just about every man in the city through its doors at least once. Its reputation and popularity have made it a true asset to its owners, my associates of the Bratva — the brotherhood we Russians in Brighton have established.

  The men who come through this club couldn’t be more useful. They drink in the front, they gamble in the back, and they’re loose with their words in both.

  All of this and more is what I suspect my target is doing while I wait for him. I take a drink from the flask in hand and check my watch before glancing around the corner — 2:24 AM. Most of the time I’m faking the swig, but a forlorn-looking Russkiy drinking outside a strip club looks less suspicious than a large man waiting outside it with arms crossed. Not that it matters. According to my client, the target should be stumbling out any minute now, and in no state to notice the difference.

  And nobody in their right mind would question me.

  As if on cue, the man my client wants dead staggers past the haggard-looking bouncer, narrowing his eyes at him as he does. He’s got ratty, thin hair tied back in a ponytail that’s graying, and he hasn’t shaved in a few days, a patchy, greasy beard sticking out from pale cheeks.

  “The fuck you lookin’ at, ya thin-dicked cock-splatter?” he sneers at the bouncer.

  The bouncer just gives him a brief glance before going back to his phone. He has impressive patience. My target spits on the ground and starts off towards his apartment. He’s wearing a nice suit that fits him poorly, and it’s got visible stains on it. He reeks of sleazy, ill-gotten gains, just as expected. The kind of man who steps on others to get where he’s going and makes a fool of himself with the spoils. I wait half a minute before starting after him, silently. The bouncer pays me no mind.

  I feel good about this job. That seems to be rarer these days, but this particular hit has a few things going for it — the first being that this sleazebag has it coming.

  This is a freelance contract, meaning I’m not being sicced on someone for my boss. My boss is one of the most feared men in Brighton Beach, in part because of how wantonly he doles out violence against people he thinks are his enemies. My last hit was on a man I knew to be innocent — a simple man vaguely tied to the Bratva, but guilty only of making some small slight against my boss.

  And if my boss ever discovers how I really handled that job, it will be my name next on his list. The memories flash in my mind’s eye.

  I’m tailing the man on his drive to his beach house. He pulls over at a gas station and heads into the bathroom. I leave my car beside the dumpster and head to his. I slip into the backseat and lie down. A few minutes pass, and I hear him open the car door, not suspecting a thing. He pulls out of the gas station, and once he’s back on track, speeding to his home, I cock my gun in the backseat.

  I come back to reality with a start, and I remind myself that the man I’m following tonight is no such innocent by any measure. My client was nearly incoherent with fury when he contacted me, so I figured this was something very personal. After I got the essential information from the client, the rest of the story fell into place with only a little digging.

  The scum I’m walking twenty paces behind through Brooklyn runs a string of payday loan offices. When he isn’t drinking on the job or conning the working-class clients who had to turn to him, he was making advances on one of the poor employees who worked full-time at his office not far from here — my client’s sister.

  Four days ago, this woman was reported missing. Two days after that, my client contacted me.

  He knew what had happened to his sister. Just before disappearing, she had come to him in tears over how her boss had been unusually aggressive in his advances that day, grabbing her and saying unspeakable things to her. She rejected him, and he threatened to fire her. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why she disappeared shortly after. But the investigation went impossibly slow; this scumbag had bought men on the local beat. Moreover, he knew the law never cared for the poor folk barely scraping by in the best of cases. So like many helpless souls before him, he turned outside the law.

  The other upside to this job is the pay. This is one hundred grand I’ll be making with a clean conscience, for whatever my conscience was worth.

  The target is ahead of me, still staggering, but I’m impressed by his ability to keep his eyes forward. Drunks are often easily distracted, but I can tell this is a walk this sod has made many, many times. He has a remarkable ability to shake from his mind that he’s guilty of murdering a young woman.

  I wonder how his candor would change if he knew this stumble home would be his last.

  The target was finally reaching his apartment, and I slowed to a halt and pretended to turn off into an alleyway as he bent over near a storm drain to start puking his guts out. I’m silently thankful I won’t have that mess to deal with in a few moments.

  As I hear the target stop, I slip out from the alley and watch him head around the apartment building towards his own underground residence. Despite my bulk, I’m able to move behind him like a shadow drawing ever closer.

  When I was being trained, my partner at the time thought it was amusing, the sight of such a large man dressed in all black slinking around like a predator. He was the first one to call me Shadow, and it seems to have stuck.

  Still far enough back that I’m out of sight, I hear the target’s keys scrape and clatter on the metal lock as his drunken stupor makes him struggle with the door, and memories of my last job flood back to me.

  He struggles with the lock, his hand shaking violently with fear as he feels the cold barrel of my gun pressed to the back of his head. “Faster!” I bark, and he drops the keys with a whimper. When he finally manages to get the door open, I take him by the scruff of his collar and toss him inside, and he sprawls out onto the floor of the sparsely furnished home he can barely afford. The man is jelly, looking up at me with tear-streaked eyes.

  “Please, sir!” he gasps, gesturing wildly around the room as if offering its contents to me. “All of this, my house, my car, you can take it all, but please —”

  I silence him as I put a cloth to his mouth, pressing it tight into his teeth as I lean forward, keeping him from making sudden movements. “Enough talk,” I order in a still voice.

  The sound of the clicking lock brings me back to the present, and just like that, it’s time to act.

  I start to close the distance
behind him as he jiggles the knob of the door, pushing it open with a little effort before he stumbles inside when it finally gives way. By the time he’s got his bearings back, I’m within arm’s reach of the door. When he tries to throw the door shut, it meets only my hand.

  “What th-” is all he has time to get out before I’m on him, the cloth in my hand muffling his scream as I press it into his mouth, holding the back of his head in the other. He’s too startled to resist me as I spin him around, forcing him to the ground with a sharp kick to the back of his knees. His legs give out easily.

  I kick the door shut with a quick motion. He’s starting to jerk around under me, and I know I don’t have much time. The couch is next to the door. In a fluid motion, I grab one of the stained pillows and press his head into the ground, cloth in his mouth, and I cover his head with the pillow.

  The next instant, I draw my pistol from the back of my belt, a silencer placed upon the tip of the barrel, and I aim it at the pillow.

  Two quiet thumps of the silenced bullets hitting the pillow, and the target’s struggling stops.

  I stand up from the man’s lifeless body as blood begins to trickle out from under the cushion. I reach over to a blanket draped across the back of the couch and toss it over the man’s body. He won’t be missed.

  “More will come for you if they don’t think you’re dead,” I tell the cowering man as he looks at me incredulously. I’m looking him dead in the eye, speaking carefully, as if giving instructions to a child. That’s all this poor man is in the world of the mafia. “I know you to be innocent. My boss does not care, but I do.”

  He claps his hands together as if in prayer, putting his forehead to them. “God bless you, sir, I can never —” But I cut him off.