SEAL's Virgin: A Bad Boy Military Romance

by Juliana Conners

  She had been wearing red panties but they're now in the pocket of my tuxedo suit. Of course she got married to me wearing the same red panties that had started us off, back when I had first proposed my bet and guessed the correct color. But today she wasn’t wearing them for long because I took them off her when I was only supposed to be removing her garter belt.

  And I had a little fun while I was under her wedding dress, teasing her by sticking my finger in her pussy and even licking her clit a little bit, until people started asking if I was okay down there and saying we should save something for the honeymoon. As if.

  Now, I squeeze her ass and look at its perfectly round curves. Then I look down at my cock, which is sticky with her juices.

  "I can see that you still get dripping wet for me."

  "You make me come so much," she says, turning around to look at me.

  "I want to take you in your ass," I tell her, as I put my hand on her head and turn it back around.

  "Yes, Boss."

  She's still so supplicant and permissive. I love it. I love her.

  "I love you," I tell her, as I reach for some lube I've learned to keep in my desk drawer for precisely this purpose.

  "I love you too," she says, as I slide my cock into her ass and bite her gently on the neck

  "Woah," she whimpers, but it's more like a love bite I've just given her.

  And my wife is used to my cock in her ass by now. Soon she leans back a bit and enjoys the ride. Just like she did when I was fucking her pussy up against the wall.

  "You take your Boss's cock like a champ now, don't you?" I ask her, as I cram my shaft into her ass hole.

  "I do," she says. "I'm so glad you showed me how amazing this can be."

  "I'm so glad we got married," I tell her.

  I hold her hands back and pull her into me as I push my cock further into her. It feels so good that I allow myself to give into the overwhelming need for release, even though I wish I could fuck her all night. I know that soon we'll go again though.

  "I'm coming in your ass," I tell her, feeling my cock get even harder and bigger.

  "Do what you want with me, Boss," so says, so I let myself come a bit inside her and then I take out my cock and let my cum shoot all over her ass and back.

  I rub my cum around her ass, using my cock, for good measure.

  "There," I tell her. "Now you're isaaced. Claimed as mine."

  "I think I already was," she says, as I sit down on the couch in my office and then pull her into my lap.

  "That's true," I tell her.

  I look around, noticing that the expensive paintings hanging on my office wall are returning to their normal colors and shape.

  "I had quite a few drinks," I tell her. "I think they're just now starting to wear off."

  "Well, a few drinks is exactly what you should have on your wedding night, Hubby. And rough sex too, of course."

  She laughs and leans her head against my chest. I pet her hair, thinking.

  "You didn't have anything to drink tonight," I tell her. "Why is that?"

  She pauses.

  I had been so busy taking shots with Ron and downing beers with my buddies that I hadn't really thought about it until now. Whenever I had noticed she didn’t have a drink in her hand, I figured she was just busy playing host and would have one later, once most of the guests left and she could relax. But now I realize I hadn’t actually seen her have a drink all night.

  "Madilyn?" I ask her.

  I'm too afraid to ask the question. Because I’m afraid of the answer.

  Just tell me, I silently will her. Because if it's true then I'll be so fucking happy and if it's not true then I don't want to think about it tonight of all nights.

  "Well," she says, turning her head up to look at me, her beautiful eyes glistening in the moonlight shining through my office window. "I was actually wanting to tell you that I'm sorry for being late to our wedding. But something came up."

  "What came up?" I ask her.

  She reaches over to get the red clutch she was carrying around tonight. It matches her red high heels that she's still wearing and the red panties that are long gone.

  She takes something out and hands it to me with a happy grin spreading its way across her face.

  "This little plus sign came up."

  "What?"

  I look down at a pregnancy stick with a pink arrow sign.

  "The plus sign means you’re pregnant right?" I ask her, unable to fucking believe it.

  "Yes, silly," she says, laughing. “It’s a positive pregnancy test. It means I’m pregnant.”

  I pick her up and swing her around.

  “You’re pregnant!” I exclaim. “With my baby. You’re pregnant!”

  "I felt really sick this morning," she says. "I thought it was just pre-wedding nerves but it got really bad, to the point where I couldn't keep anything down. This is embarrassing to admit but I was in the bathroom throwing up right before I walked down the aisle.”

  I just stare at her, not thinking it’s embarrassing at all. Instead, I’m thinking that it’s fucking amazing.

  “But don't worry,” she continues, assuming I’m staring at her because I’m grossed out rather than amazed. “A kind secretary from the wills and trusts department happened to have some toothpaste I used my finger to apply, and some mouthwash too. She tried to tell me she was spending the night somewhere after this but the story didn’t make a lot of sense and I've always suspected that she's a day drinker and that just confirmed it for me."

  "Who is she?" I demand, wanting to know who is fucking drinking on the job at my firm.

  Not that half the senior partners aren’t, I chide myself once I realize how hypocritical I’m being.

  "I couldn't snitch on the person who helped me pull myself together just before my wedding," she says. "And she's a good secretary although you might want to have someone proofread her documents."

  She laughs.

  "Whatever," I tell her. "I don't even care. Law firm drama can figure itself out later. It's our wedding night and you're pregnant. You're really pregnant!"

  I had really started to think it would never happen.

  "Well shit," she says. "There go the daquiris I planned our honeymoon around."

  Of course, I'd wanted to take Madilyn on a mountain- climbing expedition for our honeymoon but she'd told me she just wants to relax on a beach with a frozen Daquiri— not try to literally conquer the world.

  I've been teaching her to climb at the climbing gym in town as well as in the Sandia Mountains. But she said she didn't think she'd be ready for a real expedition for at least another six months to a year.

  "So, I guess you won't be able to…"

  I begin, realizing that those plans involving dangerous terrain and a tight rope around her waist are now dashed.

  "Yeah," she says, with a shrug. "But we'll go eventually."

  "I would much rather have a baby," I tell her. "I just didn't think it would happen. Mountain climbing trips can wait!"

  Suddenly my phone buzzes with a text.

  "Fuck," I tell her. "It's the limo driver. He's saying that the cops are giving him a problem about waiting in the no parking lane out front even though it's late at night and no one is around. They gave him a five minute warning or else they’ll cite him."

  "That's okay," she says. "We should head to the hotel anyway and enjoy our honeymoon suite.”

  "True. Maybe without being given a time limit we’d just stay here and fuck all night."

  "Fine with me. Although I’d prefer a hotel, then our honeymoon, then back home before we return to work as Mr. and Mrs. Boss,” she says. “Now you're going to be my boss and my husband and my baby daddy.”

  "I sure am," I tell her, as I stand up and hand her her wedding dress, struggling with the weight of it and surprised by how heavy it is. "So why didn't you tell me until now?"

  "I didn't want you to get scared of hurting me during sex," she says, with a giggle, as sh
e shimmies into the dress.

  I smile as I myself get dressed again.

  "I guess I would have felt a little worried about tearing you up the way I do, knowing our tiny fragile little guy is living in there now."

  "Or little girl," she says, with a grin.

  "Or that."

  I smile.

  “I'd be happy with either one. He or she will definitely make a great lawyer in either case.”

  “I wouldn’t wish that on our poor child,” she says.

  “Yeah, maybe they’ll be the creative type and smarter than us. They’ll avoid the rat race and build art installations at Burning Man all summer or something, and somehow figure out how to make that profitable.”

  "You have high expectations for our offspring already, I see,” she says. “And by the way, I'm going to have to hold this dress in place because you tore it.”

  "I'm sorry. I was a little bit too eager."

  "That's fine, because no one is here anyway," she laughs, as we leave the office. "Just like back in the day when you would make me walk through the hallway half naked to see you."

  "You always did anything I wanted," I tell her. "And you still do."

  "That's why you married me," she says.

  “Sure is,” I agree. “But not just because of that. For a lot of other reasons too. Your smile, your big brain and your amazing ass, to name just a few.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t get those last two mixed up?” she jokes.

  Suddenly, in the middle of laughing, we hear a noise that makes both of us jump. The old days of sneaking around and being afraid of getting caught are still engrained in us— both the thrill of it and the fear of it. But then I realize we aren't the ones who have anything to worry about.

  "That noise is coming from Ron’s office," I tell Madilyn, pointing at the corner office just down the hall. It's the only one that’s almost as big as mine.

  "Oh my God."

  Not able to stop ourselves, we tiptoe over towards the closed door and listen. As we stand under the name card that says “Cameron Sanchez, Esq.,” there’s no doubt what’s going on inside.

  "Are those the same sounds we just made?" Madilyn whispers, suppressing a laugh. “And for the same reason?”

  "They sure are."

  "He and his secretary Ruby have been getting close," Madilyn says, as we stop spying on the love birds and head towards the elevators. "She's probably one of the most down to earth people I’ve ever met, so I approve of him for her. But I still can’t believe it. She’s his not- so- secret office fling and his wedding date, and then they come back here to fuck?"

  "What can I say?" I ask her, with a mischievous grin, thinking, Atta boy, Ron.

  Maybe if he's lucky she'll be a keeper and they'll get married and have a kid. And live happily fucking ever after, just like me and the new associate I knowingly hand picked to be my pet and also ended up choosing to be my wife and mother of my child.

  "He learned from the very best."

  THE END.

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  Please, Boss: A Bad Boy Office Romance (Always, Boss Book # 2)

  Copyright 2017 by Juliana Conners; All Rights Reserved.

  Published by Swann Song Books.

  Cover Design by ReddHott Covers.

  This book is a work of fiction and any similarities to real places, people or events are entirely coincidental. This book may not be reproduced or distributed in any format except for short quotes for review purposes, without the express written consent of the author.

  ***

  “I want to do to you what spring does to the cherry trees.”

  Pablo Neruda, Poem XIV: Every Day You Play

  ***

  To M, Q, S and MW.

  And to Lauren V., with thanks for all you do and with happy birthday wishes!

  ***

  Chapter 1 – Cameron

  Today is not a good fucking day. In fact, it’s the worst day I’ve had in a while.

  First, I lost a fucking hearing today and I almost never lose hearings. It’s all because of a new judge on the bench— Baez— who doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. His ruling came out of nowhere and makes no sense at all. This argument should have been a surefire win. But thanks to Baez, I lost.

  Sure, I’ll win on appeal. That’s definitely a sure thing, because the court of appeals justices are smart— unlike that new idiot Baez— and it doesn’t hurt that I play golf with three out of five of them once or twice a month, and made hefty donations to their campaigns.

  I’ll turn this one around. I never lose in the long run because I only take winning cases and I’m a damn good lawyer. One of the best there is. But I hate losing even in the short term. And worse, I hate coming back to the office after I lose a fucking case.

  The second shitty thing that happened today is that everyone is staring at me and whispering under their breath as I’m forced to take my little walk of shame from the elevator in the lobby to my office on the partners’ floor. The secretaries’ eyes are downcast while the partners raise their eyebrows at me in a jeering manner. Everyone’s thinking the same damn thing.

  “Woah buddy, heard you took a beating today,” someone calls out.

  I know from his voice, without having to turn around and look, who said it. Fucking Asher Isaacs. My best friend and law partner. He’s the only one other than me who has the balls to say what everyone else is thinking. Usually I admire this trait of his but I don’t fucking need to hear his bullshit right now.

  “Make sure to exercise your preemptive strike on Baez,” I announce loudly to everyone in the office, ignoring the fucking shit-eating grin on Asher’s face.

  “Oh sure, blame it on the judge,” Asher says. “It couldn’t possibly be due to anything you did or didn’t do.”

  “I’m serious,” I hurl back at him, and everyone. “Judge Baez is as plaintiff-friendly as they come.”

  On my way back to the office, I’d shot out an email to a trial lawyers’ list I belong to, asking about Judge Baez. Granted, I should have done that a lot earlier— while I was preparing for the hearing. Asher’s right on that count but I’m not about to admit it.

  The former judge— Elliot— that I am used to appearing in front of had fallen ill right in the middle of this case and is on an indefinite leave of absence. Judge Baez was appointed interim judge and I should have looked into whether or not to strike him during the first ten days after notification of his appointment, which the rules allow me to do.

  But I’d heard that Judge Elliot had just checked himself into rehab for the eighth fucking time, and he’s always back better than ever after his standard twenty-eight days are up. I figured no judge could be dumb enough to grant summary judgment this early on in the case and that it wasn’t worth the hassle of paperwork.

  Turns out I was obviously fucking very wrong. A flurry of email responses had come in, letting me know that this interim Judge Baez is a bleeding heart pro-plaintiff’s guy through and through. He had already granted lots of judgments in the plaintiffs’ favor in cases against big corporations left and right in the fifteen days he’d been on the bench.

  And of course, I’m representing a big corporation. Because I make a shit ton of money, and big corporations have the ability to keep it that way.

  Don’t get me wrong, I do pro bono work too. And I take on cases I believe in. Like right now I’m about to represent the manufacturer of toys for kids with disabilities. His name is Damien Hudson.

  There’s not a lot of money in such cases. But I believe in the guy’s work. I want to help.

  But obviously, I have bills to pay too. Big ones. Like the one for my fucking yacht. And my
jet skis. And my jet that takes me to the yacht and the jet skis. Therefore, in general I represent the biggest, filthy rich and often downright scummy corporations. And apparently, this Judge Baez has a problem with that.

  “Oh sure, you just lost the case because the judge has a soft spot for the little guy,” Asher laughs. “Good thing Volcan Corp. has the money and the resources to fight this unfair ruling. How dare the court be so unjust against a giant entity used to stomping its way to victory?”

  He just can’t let it go. I know he’s joking— giving me a hard time because he knows I’ll win on appeal and we’ll get even more money along the way from the legal bills our client will have to pay to fight Judge Baez’s original crazy decision— but I’m not in the fucking mood.

  “Judge Baez is seriously not someone we want on any of our cases,” I tell him. “Not that you would know what the hell has been going on in them lately anyway.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he growls at me, but I just turn away.

  Asher knows exactly what I fucking mean. He’s been too busy fucking Madilyn, his latest bright and shiny new associate— whom he likes to refer to as his “mentee” but is really his office plaything— to pay attention to anything going on in this firm.

  His firm, my firm and Reed’s firm. That we started together even though Asher is always the one who takes— and gets— all the credit for it. And which has so much respect for me that everyone is secretly laughing at me because I just lost one case for the stupidest reason ever: a bleeding heart judge who’s too new to know how things work.

  I clear my throat.

  “Listen up everybody,” I call out.

  The secretaries sitting in their cubicles finally lift up their eyes to meet mine, although a bit hesitantly.

  “I want everyone to search through all of our active files and find any of them that have Baez assigned as the judge. We’re going to need to file Motions to Recuse for Cause in all of them. We’ll cite his bias and the fact that all he’s done since taking the bench is rule against corporations such as our clients. Does everyone understand?”