SEAL Firsts

by Sharon Hamilton

  When they got to the complex, T.J. tried one more time to ask her to stay in the truck while he went inside and got his things. The answer was the same.

  First thing he noticed was the smell coming from the brown bag left by the front door since he hadn’t invested in a garbage can. He’d left remnants of a sandwich and a sour half-quart of milk. He’d not turned on the AC because he had to pay the electric bill, which was not part of the lease. He never left it on, because he never knew when he’d be back home.

  Shannon went over to the sliding glass door and opened it, looking for a non-existent screen. She quirked up an eyebrow.

  “Football accident. Screen is downstairs in the carport, a little bent.”

  She walked to his efficiency kitchen. T.J. tried to place his body between her vision and the sink full of dishes.

  “Shannon, stop checking me out.”

  She glanced down at his package. “I wasn’t checking you out, but come to think of it, that might not be a very bad idea.” She slid over to him and placed her palm warmly against him and smiled. “Nice, T.J. I can see all this turns you on too. Like playing house?”

  “Seriously, Shannon, let’s just get this stuff out of here and get out. You don’t have to look over everything, do you?”

  She stepped as close as she could to him, her belly being the obvious impediment. She squeezed and pressed her palm against the hardened ridge of his shaft. “What are you worried about, T.J.? We’re all friends here, very good friends.”

  He was having a hard time liking it, but his groin loved the massage her strong little hand was giving him. Damn, he was filled with such confusing thoughts and feelings. A real mixture of dread and lust. He allowed himself to be led while she had her way with him. He was powerless to stop it.

  “Show me your bedroom. Now,” she demanded.

  If she hadn’t been so pregnant, he’d have refused and fucked her on the living room floor, but because she was rubbing that enormous belly against him, showing him her need, he took her hand and pulled her to the bedroom.

  He had black sheets and a matching comforter cover. A used dresser from Goodwill stood in the corner. Other than the posters of naked women all over the walls, the room was empty. Some were just pictures of large asses and boobs. He also had a couple of pictures of women bound and trussed with black silk straps across their bulging chests.

  She raised her eyebrows. “Seriously kinky, T.J. I had no idea.”

  “Really, Shannon? Really? You had no fuckin’ idea?” He wasn’t sure if he was mad or excited by her perusal of the things he liked to see just before he went to bed at night. “Like I said, I don’t entertain here.”

  “No. You probably like the beach, or the back of a pickup, or a motel.”

  He nodded.

  “I happen to like it. Turns me on, kinda.” She took off her shirt and slipped off her pants. Naked except for the huge nursing bra trying desperately to hold her breasts inside, with her bulbous tummy swaying underneath her she crawled up on his bed. Her sweet ass waited for him, her sex wet with need.

  “Not here,” he whispered, fixated on the peach between her legs he so wanted to kiss.

  “Here. Am I the first, T.J.?” she asked, peering around her thigh, making sure he couldn’t miss her ass. “Am I?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Oh, that makes me so hot.”

  “But not here.”

  “Come to me baby. I need you,” she said.

  Well, fuck it. He wondered if it was because she was pregnant or if the posters really did turn her on. Didn’t matter what she said, he would not be bringing any of these to their bedroom at the new house. He’d done too many unmentionable things to the sight of these posters, and there was no way he would introduce that to their world. He dropped his pants, as she backed up into him. He took hold of her hips and pulled her back onto his shaft, careful to slide in along her wet channel without forcing himself. She seemed to be getting tighter each time they’d made love. The cheeks of her rear jiggled as he gripped and released them, spreading them wider for his selfish penetration. She moaned like a cat in heat.

  “Shhh. Shannon the walls are thin,” he whispered.

  She let out another moan.

  The woman was out of control. He hoped to God the neighbors next door, two newbie SEALs, were out.

  He thought perhaps he had pushed Shannon over when she lurched forward, grabbing his pillows and then squeezing them with her arms, pushing onto him deeper. She screamed into the pillows.

  Good idea, Shannon.

  “You like that, baby?”

  “Yes. More, T.J.”

  “Glad to give you what you want, baby.” He thrust inside her so deep he thought she’d split in two.

  She jumped a bit at first, and he thought he’d hurt her or the baby. But then he felt her clamp down on him as her orgasm came with terrifying speed. She plunged her face into the pillow and wailed as he pumped her deep and slow.

  He arched over her and finished, holding her breasts through the heavy cotton fabric of the bra that seemed more of a BDSM torture device. He made a mental note next time to get that thing off her first. He sure wouldn’t be thinking of it later on.

  Chapter 16

  Shannon helped T.J. move his meager things into the house. She was surprised it all fit into half his trunk, and recalled how Frankie’s things had been reduced to just a box as well. T.J. had more equipment than anything else. His kitchen things he’d agreed to give to whatever young SEAL would eventually take over his apartment. He had no furniture to speak of. She liked the fact that it was the man who was moving into her home with her and the baby, not the stuff he had. The man was who she wanted, not his stuff.

  It moved her to see where he had spent his single days, where he and Frankie had stayed before Frankie moved in with her. The simplicity of his lifestyle and the private side of him that wasn’t displayed to anyone else turned her on. He was embarrassed about his lack of decorating skill, and yet he had shown such tenderness with the flowers he’d planted around Courtney’s playhouse and the beautiful words on the poster in her bedroom. She liked that he’d chosen to share intimate moments with her, intimate things about himself that no one else, and perhaps even none of his SEAL buddies, knew. All he showed the outside world was his equipment and the posters of naked women. She didn’t even mind that he liked to look at them before he fell asleep. Even that was sexy to her. The man was a tight package, bound up in that hard body of his. He kept his personal life guarded, not public. No trappings to weigh him down. Everything he needed was inside him.

  She’d cleared out Frankie’s clothes two weeks into her mourning, knowing that it would help her heal. She’d held each one of his shirts up to her nose and inhaled his unique man scent, crying while she refolded the shirts and laid them in the box for donation. Though his clothes had been washed many times, she recalled how his scent remained, even after the man was gone.

  What surprised her, as she laid T.J.’s shirts in the same drawer Frankie had used, was how comforting it was having him watch her do this little activity. She smoothed over the American flag-splashed boxers he wore, rolled up his socks in the same direction, and refolded his jeans to fit inside the shallow dresser. He let her position his clothes, ever careful to not intrude. She knew he was taking his lead from her. If she wanted it fast, he’d go fast. And fast or slow, he appeared to enjoy just watching her work out the details. She felt his respect for her private thoughts.

  He took her hand, leading her to the kitchen, where he obviously felt most comfortable.

  “T.J., I love watching you cook,” she said.

  “I’m not cooking, I’m making you a salad.” His dazzling white smile sent a tickle to the top of her spine. His long fingers stroked the lettuce and caressed the tomatoes he was slicing. “You have to eat. You’ve exerted yourself this morning.” He didn’t look up at her, but maintained a Cheshire cat smile as he watched the sharp knife do its job.

&n
bsp; “I still like watching you,” she whispered.

  “I know,” he said, grinning down at the countertop, his cheeks slightly pink from a touch of shyness. “I kind of like it.” He backed up a bit so she could see the tent in his pants.

  “Wonder what we’re going to do after the baby comes. We won’t be able to be so selfish with our desires, will we?”

  He nodded to the bowl he was preparing for her. “I’ll definitely let you sleep a little more, Shannon. But honey, you can let me handle everything else but sleeping and feeding the baby. I want to cook for you.” That’s when she saw the deep blue of his soul. He passed the bowl across the countertop, handing her a fork.

  “And here, I never pegged you for any of those domestic talents. Your kitchen couldn’t have been sparser. Where did you learn to cook so well?” she asked.

  “One of my foster mothers owned a restaurant. We learned how to do all sorts of things in there.”

  “Where’s your lunch?” she asked.

  “I’m going to fix something after you go down for a nap.”

  “What if I want you to nap with me?”

  “I have a little research to do on the computer for work—which I can’t tell you about, so don’t ask, okay?”

  She was hungrier than she’d thought. The crisp lettuce and fresh multicolored heirloom tomatoes looked like they’d come from a farmer’s market.

  “You get these at the Friday market?”

  “Glad you noticed.”

  “I can’t believe you know that about me too.”

  “You forget, Frankie used to talk about you all the time. We know more about you than I think even your parents do.” He shrugged. “Guys talk to pass the time. You were his favorite topic of conversation. Shit, it was much better listening to him talk about you than his sorry life. I’m sure there wasn’t a guy in the squad who minded his descriptions of all the things you liked, and the way they…” He hesitated, and then continued, “the things that turned you on, baby. Most of us had yet to find that. A woman who would love us like you loved Frankie. We could tell just by the way he described you.”

  Sadness crept over her like an old shawl. She took in a deep breath and found it helped when she let out all the air.

  “This okay to talk about, honey? Don’t want to upset you.”

  “No. I have to get used to it.”

  “Yeah. Helps me too, in a way. My promise to Frankie was to make sure his little girl knows him as her daddy. I intend to tell her lots of things about Frankie, the censored things, of course,” he said with a warm smile.

  She nodded and searched the remnants of her salad. “I’m moving forward, just not always easy.”

  “Roger that, Shannon. I’m right there with you.”

  She loved looking into his cool blue eyes, experiencing his passion and his pain. He was a package containing two powerful forces. What does he see when he looks at me?

  “I’m grateful that I have you to walk me through this. Unfortunately, I suppose you have been through this before—I mean, losing a Team guy.”

  “Yes, but this time is different, sweetheart.” He came over to where she sat atop the stool and smoothed a lock of hair back behind her ear. “You being here is helping me too. And in a strange kind of way, the promise I made to Frankie is helping too. Maybe he knew that, Shannon. Maybe that’s why he made me promise him.”

  She gripped his forearm, feeling the corded veins covering powerful muscles. She let her palm glide over the dark hairs, then travel over his bicep and slip around his neck. “Thank you. Thank you for loving me, and loving our baby.”

  He massaged the top of her spine the way she loved. “My pleasure, sweetheart. My mission in life. Always will be. I’m never going to leave you, Shannon. I promise.”

  It caught her up short, tears spilling over her cheeks at the complex mixture of pain and the pleasure. She had a past she still mourned, but also a bright future. Remembering the past and anticipating the future was making her tired. Or perhaps it was the pregnancy.

  Little Courtney kicked, a stunning reminder of her baby’s demands to have a future more compelling than her past. Shannon smiled, and patted T.J.’s broad hand against her belly, disregarding the shadows that lurked. Courtney’s coming was slowly stretching her, expanding her capacity to feel. Her love for her baby, and now the new love for this fine warrior were helping her heal the pain of Frankie’s absence.

  He pointed to her nearly finished salad, and she nodded, yes, she was done.

  After he rinsed her bowl, he washed his hands and came around the counter to take her hand in his, leading her to the bedroom. “Cinderella has left the ball. She is going to go take a nap,” he said to the spirits in the walls of the bungalow.

  She followed behind him, loving that he towed her, drew her to the bed, like he was drawing her to the rest of her life. With T.J. she felt secure. Unafraid of whatever was coming next.

  She slipped off her shoes and undid her drawstring pants so she could sleep loose inside her clothes. He’d pulled back the covers, and after she crawled in, he rested on top of the covers, holding her body through the comforter. He kissed the back of her neck, and tangled his fingers in hers. She found herself matching his breathing.

  “What was it like for you growing up in all those foster homes?”

  “Frankie never told you?”

  “No. He said you never talked about it.”

  “He lied, Shannon. It was nothing like the life Courtney will have, I can assure you that. Made me a man at fourteen. You don’t want to know all the details. Boring, really.”

  “I want to know. Tell me.” She felt him tense behind her. “When you’re ready to tell me. I want to know everything about you, T.J. I need to know.”

  “Well my parents, they say, weren’t married and were young. I suppose I could feel grateful they placed me for adoption rather than, you know, the other choice.”

  “Did you go looking for them?”

  “Nope. All I know is they lived somewhere in the South. And from then on, my foster caretakers—whatever they felt like telling me, told me stories. I don’t think anybody really knew. I was told my mother was beautiful, a lady, but they were very poor. My dad was a war hero they said. Who really knows? What kind of hero abandons his child?”

  “Maybe he didn’t know. Happens.”

  “Like I said, the stories I was told are contradictory. As a kid I used to wonder what it would be like if they came, together, a couple, you know. It’s every orphan’s dream. I would lie there on my bed, look out at the stars and wonder if they were looking at the stars too, wondered if they ever thought about me. Ever.”

  Shannon was moved to tears again, but let them travel silently down her cheeks so T.J. wouldn’t see them. Her life had been so different, but there was some toughness that had developed in her that matched T.J.

  “I knew it was folly. Knew at the time it was just what I told myself to keep from crying at night, acting like a girl. It would take a while before I liked girls.” The rumble of his chuckle rolled over her and nested in her heart.

  “I can just see you lying on that bed looking up at the stars, T.J. I used to stare out at the lights and wonder whom I would fall in love with. Who would I marry? I didn’t have your kind of childhood, but I still wanted a handsome prince to come whisk me away, take my vanilla life and ignite it. Take me away from the organized and ordinary and make it sparkle.”

  “I’m gonna work on that, babe. I’m gonna perfect that.”

  “You already have done a pretty good job, T.J.”

  She fell asleep dreaming of what it would be like when the baby was born, when she’d get to meet her little Courtney, hold her, and pass her into T.J.’s waiting arms.

  She awoke to the sounds of T.J. tapping on his computer keys. The nap had freshened her. She cinched her pants up, brushed her hair and put it up in a clip. Examining her face in the mirror, she saw her skin was pinker, and perhaps a little fuller, but she looked good. S
he looked rested, and for the first time in many weeks, content.

  The T.J. effect was definitely good for her. She tiptoed to the hallway and watched him work on the computer, intent, focused. The man could do anything and it looked sexy.

  Little Courtney kicked as if she agreed.

  Shhh, Courtney. You’re way too young to have such thoughts.

  The baby kicked again.

  Chapter 17

  T.J. took Shannon to a dance recital held by the wife of one of his Team buddies. Italian-American Sophia Beale was married to one of T.J.’s best friends, Mark. They’d met in Italy, where Sophia was living, before the two happened to find themselves on the same cruise ship. Their one night stand in Italy bloomed into a happily ever after while crossing the Atlantic, even surviving an attempted terrorist takeover.

  The dance space was located adjacent Gunny’s Gym, now owned and operated by the widow of the newly deceased Gunnery Sergeant. Amornpan had come all the way from Thailand to care for the aging Marine in his final days.

  “Amornpan is Thai, a really beautiful woman,” T.J. explained to Shannon. “Sanouk told us she never stopped loving old crusty Gunny, who used to describe her as an angel of the jungle.”

  “Who is Sanouk?” Shannon asked.

  “He’s the son Gunny didn’t get to meet until his last year here. He got Amornpan pregnant when he was a young man in Thailand, but he never knew it.”

  Shannon nodded, frowning.

  “Sort of a fact of life, really. Military guys do this all the time, litter the world with babies. I have friends that have four or five kids with like three different women, never marrying any of them.”

  Shannon’s eyes were round with disapproval.

  “Not me, Shannon. Never me.”