The Crazy Good SEAL Series: Books 1-3

by Rachel Robinson

  “What the hell happened here,” I growl, now on full alert, adrenaline hitting my system like a dose of some illegal drug. I drop the light on the ground and proceed to make a full lap around her house, clearing the perimeter—checking each corner. When I affirm that nothing else is amiss, I slide back into her house hoping she’s busy with work so I can investigate without her knowledge.

  I case her house thoroughly. No one is in here now, maybe no one ever was, but I’m cautious where these things are concerned. Add M to the mix and you might as well have fucked with me, because that’s how I’m going to treat it. Nothing that I can see is misplaced or disturbed. I close and lock the suspect window. I have one more thing to check—her bedroom. Currently, she’s occupying this room with the door closed. Part of me wants to warn her. The other, smarter section of my brain wants to protect her. That means she can’t know anything. It would only scare her and potentially for no reason.

  I blow out a breath in the hallway outside of her bedroom. She will kill me if she finds out that I kept something from her. If it even ends up being something… but I can protect her. I always have, so I brush it off and start a mental checklist of everything that needs to happen. Just because she’s independent and takes care of herself does not mean a little help wouldn’t hurt if she’s unaware of it.

  Add another camera.

  Motion detectors outdoors.

  Automatic system arming from remote location.

  Luckily, for the interim she will be right next to me—an entire week in our hometown without any disturbances or distractions. This is my chance to make her see everything I’ve always felt for her. I’ll be open. Maybe I’ll joke a little less. Show her a more serious side. Boyfriend material. Morganna deserves the best of everything. The figurative shoes I have to fill are large and strong. I can’t even remember the last time she went home, so when she asked if I was going for Christmas I jumped at the chance just for close proximity alone. The rest of my plan to woo her came after I agreed to ride with her. After all this time I have one chance to knock this out of the park…to do things the proper way.

  Leaning my head against the cold wall, I glance at a huge framed photo of Morganna. It’s the only art she has hanging in this expansive, red hallway. She’s removed photos—I can still see the holes in the wall waiting to be patched. In the lonely portrait it’s only her face turned away, her black wavy hair and bridal veil blowing in the wind. The sunlight masks her face, and it could be any bride, in any city, on any given day. The non-descript simplicity takes my breath away. Her beauty is unfailing even when hidden by a shock of white. I also come to the conclusion that this could be Morganna on any wedding day. Not just the day that she married Stone. I clear my throat.

  It is her wedding day to Stone, I remind myself.

  Deflated, I decide to check on her—privacy be damned. She’s had enough time do whatever girly shit she needs to do, and I need to see her, to know that she’s perfectly fine—because right now, I’m feeling the opposite of fine. The massive French doors remind me of a church, or a temple of some form. The ornate carved wood complements the slender gold handles. I try the right side and find it’s unlocked. I enter slowly, not wanting to disturb her, especially if she’s still upset by the dinner conversation. Peering in, I don’t see her.

  When I do, I wish I hadn’t. This image will be singed into memory for the rest of time. She’s lying in the middle of her massive bed, partially hidden by white sheer fabric. It drapes around the posts of her bed that seem to tower to the sky. I’m reminded of a princess…no, a Queen. Her tanned, naked body writhes with pleasure as one hand strokes her pussy and the other hand, a whisper light touch on one breast. Her chin is pointed toward the ceiling, her eyes closed, her black hair creating the perfect contrast against the white.

  I take in a silent breath and hold it. There’s no going back now. I’ve gotten a glimpse of my darkest, most sinful desire and I only want more. A moan escapes her parted, full lips, and I wish I were tasting it. I take another step into the room and then another, my cock hardening with each passing second. Remember that adrenaline, that controlled, professional feeling? I have it now, except I am not in control at all. My breaths come quicker and my heart beats wildly against my chest. My gaze lands on her hand between her legs. Her perfectly manicured fingers circle her clit at a tempo that is perfect for her. I take note while rubbing my palm down my unruly dick. It wants in, all the blood in my body pulsating to my groin. I have to believe she’s thinking of me. Of the fucking hot kiss in her office that left me wanting every inch of my body inside of hers.

  I know I only have seconds before she senses she isn’t alone. “Don’t fucking move,” I say, my voice falling to a guttural timbre. Her eyes fly open, but she doesn’t look my way. The hand on her breast moves to cover both of her tits and her poor clit is probably bereft as she’s stopped stroking it. I told her I wanted her father’s permission. I meant it. I won’t touch her. Her breaths are still shallow and panting and it’s so God damned hot that I might come in my pants watching her pillow lips in a state of ecstasy.

  “I just want to watch. Keep going.” I walk to the edge of her bed and pull some of the gauzy fabric out of my line of vision. I want to take all of her in. “Show me,” I push. “It’s just me. Show me.”

  Her beautiful face turns to the side and her gaze meets mine. Need. Desire. Fire. Flame. Fuck me now. I see all of those things in her fierce, gray eyes. I unbutton the top button of my shirt and then the one below it. She nods. I smirk. Another button, and another until my shirt drops to the ground. I rub my hand over my cock as her eyes ravage me. Taking the button of my dress pants into my hands, I unbutton the top button. She pants. Her eyes narrow further. I know for a fact I could have her right now and that makes me so fucking excited.

  “Show me,” I urge again. I fold my hands behind my head in the least threatening pose I can currently think of. I’m surprised my brain even works on this frequency, honestly. “I’m not going to touch you tonight. I’m just going to watch. Look at me.”

  Slowly, she uncovers her breasts revealing pink, taut nipples. The perfect tits to lick, suck, and then push together to fuck like an animal. I stand in front of her, towering. She looks so small and fragile, but I know she’s anything but. My dick throbs. Her lips press together in a smirk. Now, it’s a game. She lets her knees fall open to reveal a small patch of hair in the shape of a triangle and soft pink lips, more tempting than the ones on her face. The woman deserves a medal of honor. I let my eyes glass over the small, blue tattoo on the inside of her hipbone. It’s the letter S in script.

  She strokes both of her nipples at the same time, keeping her legs wide open for me to drool over. This is me controlling Morganna and Morganna controlling me. I wouldn’t want it any other way. The round curves on her waist tempt me to grab and hold on tight. The only reason I stop staring at her delicious pussy is because I feel her gaze on my face, so I make eye contact. In my peripheral vision I see her right hand trailing down to her core, and then start moving at the same pace as before. Pre-cum leaks onto my underwear. I’ve never wanted to fuck more than I do right now. Granted it’s been a while, but watching Morganna’s face in a state of bliss I know I could exceed makes me crazy. I grab my cock and stroke it a few times to remind it I didn’t forget about it.

  Morganna moans loudly, the white tips of her teeth peeking from behind her wet lips, her eyes tightly closed. The red fingernails doing my job go faster and then faster as she clutches one breast. I wish I could touch the other, I wish I could fuck her into oblivion, but I know it can wait.

  She comes and comes and comes, her index and middle finger deep inside her dripping pussy. My balls hurt and my breathing matches her hurried pace. Several noisy seconds pass while we process what happened. Lines in the sand are crossed, our friendship breeched.

  “The best late show I’ve ever seen,” I whisper, watching a huge smile break across her relieved, satiated face.

/>   I watch intently as she removes her wet fingers, dragging them up her stomach. “It can be a little interactive if you want?” she drawls.

  She extends her right hand to me, keeping one hand firmly on her breast. I lean over, grab her wrist with a predatory smile, and deep throat her two fingers, salivating over her scent. Closing my eyes, I fold my tongue around them and suck until they’re clean.

  “Matinees are always less busy, but I think I prefer the late show, too,” Morganna rasps, her eyes still begging to be fucked. I take in an exaggerated breath and pray to God my dick doesn’t fuck this up. Leaning forward between her legs, I fall over her, my hands holding me up.

  She brushes hair out of my eyes and grins. Morganna knows I won’t take it any further even though my cock is nestled against her wet pussy. I smile back with pure confidence. Then I kiss her. I can’t kiss my first choice of lips tonight, but the warm, softness of our kiss makes up for it. Her hands wrap around my neck pulling me closer, and closer until I’m on top of her, feeling her heart thud against my own chest. I turn my face and kiss her from a different angle, relishing in her tongue against mine and the way my body responds to hers.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to kissing you.”

  Rubbing her thumb across my bottom lip, she pulls it down and watches it snap back into place. “It’s pretty awesome. Have you always kissed like this?”

  Taking her bottom lip between my teeth I bite down, wanting to eat her up. I lick where I just bit. “Probably. But it could be because I’ve waited twenty years to play tonsil hockey with you.”

  Her eyes widen. “Twenty years?” She looks shocked. A look she doesn’t wear often.

  “Lets put it this way, if you start warbling out a country song right now we’ll come full circle with my desire to kiss this mouth,” I say, closing my eyes and taking her lips with mine. Harder this time—punishing even. Because she really didn’t know. How could she not know?

  I thrust my hips a little, because my dick is basically drooling at this point and I can’t help it. She stares into my eyes like she’s looking at me for the first time. Or in a new light. I place a quick kiss on her cheek and then another on her chin.

  “Exactly like it was in my dreams,” I say.

  A wistful smile crosses her face. “Mine too,” Morganna whispers.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Morganna

  “DADDY, I TOLD you he’s going the speed limit. We’ll be there in time for dinner,” I say into my phone. I listen to him prattle on about how excited he is that I’m coming home with Steven. He also asks where I’ll be staying the night. Obviously, unmarried, good southern girls stay at their parents’ house, but if Steven wants to stay at our house he can. Just in a spare bedroom.

  I sigh away from the mouthpiece and glance at my wildly hot driver. We took my car because I convinced him it would be more comfortable and gas efficient for the trip. The back seat and the trunk are loaded down with gifts and our numerous bags. It feels like a real holiday for the first time since…Stone. He would want this, I think. My happiness and the fact that I may finally be moving on. The hesitance is still there, of course, because after this vacation Steven is deploying. Again. The lump that usually forms in my throat resides in my stomach as well.

  “He’s an exceptionally safe driver,” I answer my overprotective daddy’s question. “Yes, we’ll see you soon. Sugar to you, too. Bye.” Hanging up the call, I catch the tail end of Steven on the phone.

  “No, even if he begs. He only gets the measured amount of food per day,” he explains to Phillipe. My glorious assistant volunteered to house sit for me and watch Gunner while we travel. Steven’s eyes flick to the side toward me. “Yeah, that room,” he says, lowering the volume of his voice. “Right-o, Phil. Talk atcha’ soon.” He hits the red end button and plugs his phone into one of our various charger cords.

  “Which room were you talking about?” I ask, lowering my seat into a reclining position. I was up most of the night thinking about the hottest masturbation session of my life. I was vulnerable, but had all the control. It was beautiful. His body was beautiful, his erection taunting me. I respect that he wants my daddy’s permission, but I wouldn’t have gotten upset had he removed his pants and eased his massive erection into me, slowly…inch by thick, wet inch until he ran out of room. A hot shiver shoots up my spine. I want him so badly. He’s so gentle and firm. Steven is the perfect contradiction.

  His eyes focused straight ahead on the black freeway, he says, “Oh, just the guestroom where he can put Gunner to sleep at night.” He smiles, puts a hand on my knee, and turns the radio on low. “He told me to tell you he’s compiling your messages from your business line and will send you one massive list at the end of the week so you’re not tempted to work on a daily basis.” My assistant knows me well.

  “Work is the very last thing on my mind right now.” Closing my eyes, I wrap my fingers around his big, warm hand. I feel his smile wrap me like a hug.

  Then I fall asleep dreaming of a brown-eyed boy, with floppy hair and a flawless laugh. It doesn’t even register that the boy in my dreams isn’t Stone.

  It’s Steven—the boy who has wanted to kiss me since I had wobbly knees and bushy brows. The person who knew me as a girl, and then a teenager, and now a woman who has lost everything and still knows exactly what she wants.

  _______________

  I awake to the windows down and warm air rushing in the cabin of the car. We’re almost home. I can smell it.

  “You drooled enough to fill a swimming pool.” Steven chuckles, while banging his thumbs on the steering wheel to some country song.

  I clear my throat and wipe my mouth. No spit. He’s such a liar. “Forgive me. Someone had me occupied last night.” I kick off my three-inch heels and prop my feet up and out the window. It’s basically a rite of passage. Steven throws an arm out his window, waving his hand up and down on the air current, a laugh on his beautiful mouth.

  “What will you tell your parents,” he asks, motioning to the outdoors. I know he means everyone. What will I tell everyone about Steven and I? The thought does create a riot of panic, but I force it down.

  I shrug one shoulder. “The truth. Isn’t that always the best advice to follow?” There will be a million questions. I’ll have to be ready. The attorney in me can bullshit anything.

  “You tell me. Don’t you basically lie for a living?” Steven cackles. It’s been a few weeks since he let a lawyer joke fly. Unfortunately, I end up laughing.

  I agree. “Sometimes. Most of the time I steer clear of those cases.” We get into a moral code of ethics for the rest of the drive. He asks questions and I defend myself. We’re somewhere in between the Simpson trial and Bill Gates when we pull onto the gravel drive of my ranch.

  The first thing I always think is that it looks so big. So open and spacious, sprawling for miles. It’s the opposite of the suburbs where I live in Virginia. The pink and orange sky melts into the horizon, casting a mixed pastel color over the never-ending green fields and the stables in the distance. I never could look at this place and question God. Down-home Georgia is that magnificent. Steven pulls my Mercedes into a parking spot, which is not really a parking spot; he just knows it is because I grew up in this house. We’ve created a small dust trail leading out to the main road that makes me smile.

  “Well, look what the cat dragged in!” my daddy yells from the massive porch. There are six huge columns wrapped in Christmas lights that sparkle in the dusk hour.

  I smile at the man who made me who I am today. His worn out baseball hat tips to the left a touch as his calculating gaze lands on Steven. “Hey Daddy. Told you we’d make home before dinner.” I rush up the stairs and into his arms.

  “Damn near the whole town is talking about you coming around again. It’s been too long, sweetheart. How many years?”

  I brush off his question, because even I’m too embarrassed to give an answer. My daddy’s visited me a few times, so it’s
not as if I haven’t seen him at all. Just not as much as I’ve should. It makes my heart hurt. I let the porch door slam behind me as Steven and my dad exchange pleasantries and talk about traffic and the weather. Uncomfortable topics when you’re not sure where to start. Steven is a big boy and can handle himself. The house is just as eloquently quaint as when I left it. My heels make a comforting noise on the unpolished wooden floors as I make my way to the bay window in the back of the house.

  It’s my favorite spot as it shows the pastures that never end and the stable. There aren’t neighbors or, civilization for that matter, for miles. The guys are milling around the kitchen, their voices booming, my daddy with an accent so thick that it makes me wince.

  “I can’t wait to ride tomorrow,” I call out. Steven walks to stand next to me to admire the view.

  “Tomorrow, huh?” he whispers into my ear. I shiver.

  “I’m not even sure I remember how,” I admit, playing into his hand.

  He clears his throat. “Someone once told me it’s just like riding a horse. You get in the saddle and it all comes back to you.”

  I shake my head. “You will ride horses with me tomorrow,” I order. His eyes widen—probably as he remembers the last time I forced him into equestrian gear and on top of a beast. It didn’t end well. “Do your parents know you’re in town yet?”

  “They do. I called them. Every high school friend I don’t remember wants to hang out while I’m in town. I told them I have a full schedule, but let me know if you’re up for some small town fun. We can go to the honky-tonk and cut a fucking rug into pieces.”