Gathering the wits I have left, I narrow my eyes and approach him. He’s not scary anymore, just utterly mouthwatering, and I will take him up on his offer. My small stature is eye level with his chest. I pull my right hand back and swing at him. He catches my hand easily.
“I said speed,” he growls, minty breath hitting my face and entering my blood stream, traveling directly between my legs. Quickly, I swing with my other, weaker arm and he catches that, too.
I growl out in frustration. Both sexually and physically. He releases my hands, and I take a step back and actually process what he’s said. Speed. Surprise. Violence of action. If he actually wants to give me a lesson I need to heed it.
Surprise, I think. I can do that. “Kiss me,” I order. He shakes his head no, the predatory smile appearing. “Will you kiss me?” I rephrase. The smile drops and curiosity lights his face. He cocks his head to the side. “I’m asking you to kiss me right now however you want to kiss me. Your way.”
A droplet of sweat slides from his tousled brown hair, down his face and falls off his top lip. I lick my lips, because that’s where his gaze is locked.
“Will you?” I tilt my head to the side, hoping my coy act is affecting him as much as it’s affecting me. I want his hot mouth on mine. Cautiously, I take a step forward, his eyes roam my body for any tell. He should know better by now.
“I said hit me,” he finally replies.
I take another step. And then another, until the heat from his body fires against every inch of my bare skin. I look up to him and force my lips into a pout. “And I asked if you want to kiss me.”
Steven quirks one brow, but his answer is written on his face, his eyes soften for the first time today. A large bead of sweat rolls over a pec and I watch it fall all the way down to the waistband of his shorts. Removing my gloves, I trace the droplet’s line of travel with my finger and draw the same finger into my mouth.
Flicking my gaze back up to his, I recognize his desire. He leans down and I can almost feel his kiss, his passion, but I can’t imbibe just yet. Drawing my right hand back I fire it up, solidly connecting it to the side of his face. I step away because I’m wary of his reaction.
“Speed, surprise, and violence of action was it?” I ask, smiling. He brings a hand up to cradle his red face. I grin even wider, blowing on the tip of one of my hands and then the other. It was a square hit, a powerful one that he can’t deny.
His gaze turns icy. “You obviously don’t need my help there,” he says. Watching him watching me, I kick my gloves to the side and run a hand through my ponytail.
“Exactly where do I need your help, Steven?” I ask, pulling my bottom lip in between my teeth. He will take the bait in three, two, one…
He pounces, his hot body picking me up effortlessly. I wrap my legs around his waist, but his tight grip doesn’t relent. I hold him around his neck and wait until he gives me a clue about what’s next. I want to give in—to give this to him however he wants it. Not just because he thinks he needs it, because I do need it.
His chest rises and falls at almost the same pace as when he was destroying the punching bag. His fierce gaze dances between my mouth and my breasts. Quickly he kisses me, his tongue taking my mouth prisoner. I slide down his slippery chest, but he readjusts me to the perfect position where our lips are at the same height.
“Speed,” he whispers against my mouth as his teeth pull at my lips, creating a pleasurable pain. I want to tell him exactly what to do, but I refrain, letting him guide us down to the mat below us. He takes off my bra, pulling it over my head and then my tiny shorts that are soaked with his sweat and my own wetness. He throws them out of the ring.
“Stand up,” he says kneeling before me and then rising to his feet, casting a shadow on my body. I comply, kicking off my shoes and socks without taking my eyes off his body. “Now turn around,” Steven growls.
Taking in a deep, turned-on breath, I turn and see our reflection in the mirror that spans an entire wall. Steven looms behind. He approaches quickly and I wince, but he leans down gently and presses his sweaty lips against the top of my shoulder while he tugs the hair tie out of my hair. I lean my head to the side and watch in the mirror as he kisses the side of my neck. I inhale his scent greedily.
“Whatever you want, Steven. Whatever you want. I want you. I want you to have all of me,” I say. One of his huge arms wraps around the front of my slight body and his fingers slip into my wetness, stroking me firmly. I press back against him to feel his erection against my backside. It’s hard and huge and throbbing in protest. The unladylike words that I want to say shock even myself. His fingers work me skillfully, unmercifully. A moan slips as the sounds of my wetness fill the air.
“I’ll give you what you want. Trust me,” he says, gaze fixed on our silhouettes in the mirror. “Hands and knees, M.” His wet lips at my ear make me shiver. With his hands on me, I’m basically putty. I do trust him. I’ve always trusted him. I comply, getting down on my hands and knees, arching my back so his fingers have better access.
“Don’t fucking move. I’ll be right back,” Steven says. I watch in the mirror as he leaves, swinging out of the ring like a skilled boxer, and returns moments later without shoes or socks and a condom dangling out of his mouth. He really does look like a tiger right now.
I swing my hair over the other shoulder and smile at him in the mirror. He smiles back, but it’s not the friendly smile I’ve seen my entire life. This is something more calculating and sexy. This is a man taking what he wants.
“This is the quietest you’ve ever been since the day I’ve met you Morga-liscous.” He steps out of his shorts and leaves them in the corner of the ring. His cock is at full attention, pulsating with every word. Steven stands behind me looking at my small frame, ready for his taking. I spread my legs further to give him a better view. He knows my silence is for him—my obedience in his conquest.
Tipping his head to the side and narrowing his eyes like he’s appraising me, he brings one hand up to rip the package in his mouth. The condom is rolled down his massive shaft the next second. My legs quake in anticipation. I never realized how much I need this. I crave him badly, my insides knotting and twisting in realization. He kneels behind me, slapping the side of my backside with an open palm. My skin shakes for seconds after, the erotic sight forces me to lean back, hoping to connect with him.
He smacks the other side, the evil smile lighting up his face like a kid on Christmas morning. Shaking his head slowly, he says, “I’m going to fuck your brains out, Morganna.” And I hope he does.
I bite my lip and lean forward. His fingers dip into my wetness and I feel his other hand caress the side of my hip, and then his finger slips up, to the forbidden, no-access entrance. My eyes widen and I automatically flinch.
“I said trust me. Do you trust me?” Steven asks, but he doesn’t remove his finger.
“Yes,” I say, my voice creaking with disuse. An affliction I’m not used to. Using my own wetness, he presses the finger deeper inside me. I moan, because despite what I thought it would feel like, it feels better.
He laughs a quick, throaty noise as he moves the solitary finger in and out. “That’s right, baby. Take it.” I moan again, new uncontrollable sensations soaking into my awareness. I want to touch him, to grab his cock and take possession of him because I want him to know how badly I want this, but my mind goes black with desire as he works me in this new delicious way.
Without another word, he plunges his erection into my sex, all the way to the hilt in one thrust. The pain and pleasure balance each other perfectly. I glance up to find him watching our reflection jut and bounce. I’ve never been so full. His face is victorious as he hammers into me, his sweat dripping down onto my body. I arch my back and call out his name loudly. His smirk turns into cocky laughter as he slams into me, filling me over and over again, his body coming in and out of view as the shadows flit around him as he moves. I can’t even press back against him; he has full
control over my entire body.
He spanks the side of my ass with his free hand as he claims me, and this time he hits me harder. I love it—the feeling of being owned by Steven Warner is unlike anything else in the world. I scream out unintelligibly as I come around him, new unfamiliar waves of pleasure actually causing my body to shake as my orgasm takes me over. Wave after wave, Steven keeps his furious pace and I feel the intensity building again. Our eyes lock in the mirror and the passion between us ignites. I want his kiss.
As if reading my mind he says, “On your back.” Gently he pulls all the way out of me as I roll onto the mat. Looking up at him as he looms over me, I open my knees and he sinks into me. Steven kisses me in rhythm matching the pace of his thrusts. Although his cock is punishing, his lips are cherishing.
Wrapping my legs around his waist, I slide my fingers into his hair, across his face and neck, enjoying every inch of his body. I feel the fire in my core building and I know I’ll come again. Steven buries his face in my neck, his kisses by my ear seem more sensual. His pace slows and he draws back to look at my face.
I open my eyes to meet his gaze. “I love you,” I confess.
He smiles. “I fucking love you more.”
My hands slide over his slippery back and down to his ass as he continues making love to me. We come together, his hot breaths slipping into my mouth in between kisses.
“Violence of action,” he says leaning his forehead against mine. He closes his eyes and neither of us can wipe the stupid smiles from our faces for hours.
The next day he leaves for six months.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Steven
I FUCKING MISS her. Every single fucking second I’m gone, I miss her. It’s how I know my feelings for her aren’t half assed, nor a long survived victory. Never before did I feel this way about another person during deployment or a long separation. In the past, I missed sex, but I didn’t miss Chloe, or Cass, or Sasha. Now, I do my work and I look forward to her e-mail and video chats. I eat dinner and I wonder what she’s doing.
Falling asleep at night, I toss and turn as I imagine her in bed by herself. I drive myself insane with scenarios that put her in harm’s way…or with another man while I’m gone. I’m jealous, I’m obsessed, and I understand exactly why men get all up-fucked about their women while they’re away. I’m checking every box in the in love category and hating every second of it.
Try as I might, the pit in my stomach doesn’t go away. It’s almost a false confidence I rely on because of the extent of our history. That has to count for something, doesn’t it? If it doesn’t, I’m merely a rebound or plaything until she realizes she does want something different. The insecurities I feel are bastards that I’ve never, not once in my life, felt before.
Morganna refuses to get the police involved with anything, assuming that the person stalking her is “as harmless as a fly.” She assures me and anyone who will listen it’s nothing—that it’s a figment of her imagination and there are enough security measures in play that no one needs to worry. It’s exactly what you’d say if you were worried. I know her too well. Maverick does, too. I keep in contact with Phillipe and a few of the guys on another team that aren’t deployed with us. They check in on her and she’s to let them know if she needs anything. It puts my mind at ease for the meantime, until I can get home and stand watch like a super hero guardian—except with guns and terror. Hell, maybe I’ll even wear a cape…and nothing else when I go off duty.
Maverick taps me on the shoulder. I’m scrolling through my iPad looking at a racing website, waiting for Morganna to get online to chat. We’re in Africa—well, we’re on the waters adjacent to Africa, on a big, fucking ship. Ships suck. I prefer the dessert shanties over a rocking bed and tight quarters with nowhere to escape. The adjustment period is always a little longer. “You done looking at porn man?” Maverick asks, thwacking me on the back of my ear.
I laugh. “I want to race this course when we get back.” I hold up the iPad so he can get a better look at it.
Grabbing it from me, he sits on the bottom bunk and is immediately engrossed. He mumbles his affirmation before clicking links to watch videos.
“We’ll make a guys’ weekend of it or something. Whatdya’ think?”
Maverick has so much money that he doesn’t even need to rent one of these cars. He has one—a beautiful, fucking machine that makes my cock hard and my mouth water. One day, when I’ve saved the world from itself, I might have one of my own too. Racing by itself, without even owning the fine ass car, is an expensive hobby. I’ll sink my money there for now and play with Mav’s when he’s in a charitable mood.
“Fuck yeah,” he says, narrowing his eyes in concentration as he watches a Ferrari roar around a slim track.
It gets my heart pumping watching the videos, too. Danger. Speed. Adrenaline. All unavoidable characteristics we need to breathe. I shift things around on my desk and try not to think about the pending mission we have the next night. It’s why we’ve been floating around here for the past month, collecting new intelligence, watching people who don’t know we’re watching, and preparing to kick ass. It’s what we’ve focused on for months back in Virginia Beach. It’s our one job during this deployment. We can’t fuck it up. We won’t fuck it up.
If I think about it prematurely, I’ll get wound up and my mind won’t clear. Sleep won’t come, my appetite will leave, my drive to do anything other than focus on the task will dwindle down to nothing. I’m not ready to be there quite yet. I thrive on order and plans. Don’t tip the tower, or rock the boat, or put the shoe before the foot. All policies I subscribe to.
A mobile phone symbol pops up next to Morganna’s name on my laptop. It alerts me that she’s now available, if only by cell phone to message. Glancing at the time, I tap out a quick message.
I’ve been waiting for you all day! It’s true. Sad and true.
She responds quickly. I have a life, Steven. How was your day? I miss you a ton.
She’s been distant since I left. I only picked up on it because her brevity became even briefer in her e-mails and messages after I left. Sometimes she’s so busy we go days without speaking. I’ll send an e-mail on those days and she’ll usually reply with a quick response. She always gives me just enough—drone-like, words she thinks she’s supposed to say. Between her distance and my physical location, it contributes to the why I miss her so much.
Realizing this could turn into a fight I don’t want, I decide to head a different route. You were in my dreams last night doing naughty things. How flexible are you in real life? I grin.
Depends. Where were my feet?
Maverick is leaning over my shoulder. I swat at him without taking my eyes from the screen. When he stays silent I turn, eyeing him down, ready to rumble.
He shoots me the dimple-popping smile. “This is where I’ll take my leave. I’m excited for tomorrow night,” Mav admits, his eyes sparking with excitement.
I nod once. “I can’t wait.” He shimmies out of the door of my room sideways because he can’t fit walking normally.
Feet were on my shoulders. Busy schedule tomorrow? I won’t be able to talk tomorrow night. Slipping in my absence with a sex position was intentional.
Oh. Yes, busy tomorrow. Lots of new cases coming in. Tis the season for divorces it seems. She ignores tomorrow night completely.
Such a depressing job. Are you sure you don’t want to stay home barefoot and pregnant instead? You’d be so happy. I try to lighten the mood. She’s ignoring it for a reason.
I let out a sigh.
You know I’ll be okay, right? I type.
Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I’m over empty promises. I’m over a lot of things actually.
Ouch. I’ll be home before you know it. Damage control. Panic. Panic. Panic.
I’m sick of pausing my life because of a man. I’m sick of being the woman who waits. I don’t even grant myself that much leeway with patience. I’m sick of it. Is
it so wrong for me to want something tangible, someone who is around all the time? Someone who waits for me instead?
I need to see her face. She needs to see me. It’s imperative. Where are you? We need to video chat. Don’t talk like this.
The guys told me this happens. They said it’s just part of the job. I never believed them because Morganna is different. But is she really? She’s has every reason to distrust the situation we’re in right now. M has every reason to walk away and not look back.
I thought we were over this hump? That you were committed to making this work?
I can’t anymore.
I press the connect button three times for good measure. Her face pops up on the screen about thirty seconds later. It’s blotchy because of the connection, but I can tell it’s red and that she’s upset.
“Don’t make this any harder on me, Steven. Please don’t.” She wipes under her eyes and fusses with her hair. She’s so fucking beautiful—stunning even in distress. I shake my head.
I must look like a complete tool, all silent, mouth agape, trying to formulate something to say. “Don’t you dare do this while I’m gone. It’s wrong and you damn well know it.”
Her eyes dart to the side. Her mind is already made up. Changing her mind will be impossible.
“You said you missed me!” I hang on to the only positive thing she’s said today. “You told me you loved me!” Now I’m screaming. My emotions are boiling to the surface, uncontrollable and fierce. “Was that fuck-all bullshit?” My chest is rising and falling at a rapid pace.
Pulling her bottom lip into her mouth, she averts her eyes down. I see her home office in the background and I realize she’s in her nightclothes. “The possibilities are all too vague for me. I can’t commit to possibilities. I need more. You need more than I can give. Don’t act like this is one sided.”
I grab the screen, like maybe I can grab her face. “It is fucking one-sided, you crazy woman! I changed for you. I wanted to change for you! Our relationship is the first and only real quality thing I’ve had in my life except for work, ever. Either everything you’ve told me this entire time is bullshit or you’re lying. Which is it?” I despise conversations over video chat. I hate that I feel so much and I can’t hide behind well-chosen words.
The Crazy Good SEAL Series: Books 1-3 Page 52