by Anthology
“I’m with you,” she whispered.
“So beautiful.”
“I like hearing that.” I need to hear that. Except external validation was a fickle bitch—Emme should know better after the last year. Alarm bells sounded in the distance, but with the blood pounding in her ears, she couldn’t pay any heed to the caution.
“I like saying it,” he said huskily, climbing back on top of her. A scorching kiss led to another, and then he was stripping her out of her shirt. “Fuck me, M. Your tits.”
Your tits. He’d said a lot of sweet things to her tonight. They were all nice. Better than anything she’d heard in a long time, maybe ever. But hearing his unguarded comment was the best—validation that her wobbly, average-sized breasts did it for him.
He ground his erection into her belly.
Really did it for him.
With a grunt, he flipped their positions, ending up on his back with her straddling his abs. Against her butt, his erection strained. Up and down her naked front his gaze raked. Up and down.
And then his hands. Big. Rough. Gentle. Deliberate.
She was going to explode just from his touch—his fingers stroking from her knees to her hips, his thumbs glancing over the sensitive creases where her thighs met her pelvis, and then her waist. He paused there, squeezing as if holding her was a joy in and of itself.
Which reminded her—she hadn’t had nearly enough time touching him. She reached back, wrapping her hands around his bent legs.
“Yeah, baby, spread yourself for me.” He brought his knees higher again, making a chair out of his body for her to recline in. And because he had the world’s longest arms, he still had no problem reaching his original destination.
He stroked her breasts with reverence, then cupped them both. As his thumbs circled her nipples, her hips started rocking—she couldn’t hold still any longer, and the way his eyes got dark and his erection flexed behind her, he didn’t mind. So she let herself go, a little bit for his gaze, but mostly for herself. For how good it felt to be turned on in a safe space. For how fun it was to be sexy.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice low, so low. Dirty-low. “You just got the best look on your face.”
“Thinking how sexy this is,” she admitted, then laughed. Throatily, and that was sexy, too.
“Fuck yes.” He dropped his hands to her ass. “Come here.”
For the rest of time, those two words would instantly make her wet. She’d close her eyes and remember this night with her sailor, remember his hands on her hips, urging her closer to his face.
She’d drift into the technicolor memory and feel his tongue parting her folds. The groan of appreciation at her taste, then his fingers, holding her open as he kissed her, open mouthed and wet, lapping her up. Sucking hard as she trembled and shook, coming apart for him.
It had to be madness, how much Nathan wanted this woman. Sex was usually fun and lighthearted, an easy release with a willing friend. And while he’d never laughed quite so freely or so often in his entire life as he had tonight, this moment was the opposite of light. Underneath the flirting and headiness was a scary depth of feeling for two perfect strangers.
Need and desperation drove him. To make time stop and pleasure explode, to try and drive them both to satisfied exhaustion in the hopes it would feel like enough.
And every time he started to think one night might not be enough with this woman, the voice on his shoulder reminded him she didn’t want him to even know her name.
But she had no problem riding his face, and from the obvious thrill it gave her—and the now-obvious fact she trusted him with her body—was a win.
It’ll feel like a hollow victory in the morning.
That would have to be morning’s problem.
They rolled to the side, then Nathan grabbed a condom and sheathed himself.
On the bed beneath him, she stretched like a cat, all pale skin and curves and freckles. And that sparkly fucking skull dancing against the flat of her stomach above a neatly trimmed triangle of dark red hair.
“You tasted amazing,” he said roughly as he notched his cock between the swollen, slick folds of her pussy. He hissed at the warm, gripping welcome. “You feel amazing, too.”
She rocked her hips up, inviting him inside. He sank an inch into her heat, and it took all of his willpower not to keep going, but she was tight and his thickness would take some getting used to. He held himself above her, reaching between them again to pull out, swirl the head of his cock around in her moisture, and slide in again, deeper this time.
“More,” she breathed, circling her hips.
“You okay?”
“It’s been a while, but oh my God… ” She wrapped her legs around his lower back, groaning as he stretched her depths. “Please, more.”
Nathan closed his eyes, giving in to the sensations as he thrust again. Slippery movement. Snug heat. All his good spots rubbing against her good spots, and the whole was most definitely better than the sum of its parts.
With each stroke, his thoughts got more fragmented and his primal beast brain took over. She clung to him as he surged deeper, driving into her body again and again.
Around his neck, her arms tightened. Her heels dug deep into his ass. He fisted his hand in her long, silky hair and found her mouth, open and willing.
He kissed her like he fucked her, right on the edge of losing control.
Teeth and tongues. Lips, swollen and wet. God, her lips. He sucked the lower one into his mouth, loving the way she clenched around him when she did.
Fuck. He needed her nipple in his mouth.
He drove his hips hard against her, holding them together as he flipped their positions again.
On his back, he held her close, curving his body beneath hers, bringing those glorious tits to his face. Soft. Perfect.
She was making the best noises now, constantly, half words and half whimpers. He loved them all.
“Sailor,” she breathed, and that fucking did it. He tugged more of her breast into his mouth, sucking hard as she rocked on top of him.
She came around him as he drove his cock deep. Hard. Too hard, probably, his hands so tight on her hips she’d probably have bruises in the morning.
He came too, with such intensity he saw stars and maybe blacked out for a second.
But when he thundered back to consciousness, all of his nerve endings firing, his first thought was that he was getting on an airplane and leaving her here. Alone, and marked by a complete stranger.
Fuck fuck fuck.
“M,” he said into the quiet after his heart stopped thudding. She was glued to his chest, and that was fine—he wanted her on top of him for the rest of the night—but he needed to get rid of the condom.
She tightened her arms around his neck, burrowing her face deeper into his embrace.
“Need a minute,” she whispered, and his heart cracked.
“Please tell me you don’t hate me.” He muttered the words ever so quietly against her hair. His voice was unsteady. He’d gone a bit crazy there at the end, but she’d been right into it.
“No hate. Never hate. That was perfect.” She pressed a small kiss against his skin, then rolled to the side, wiping her eyes. “Just girl feelings, that’s all.”
“Hey, boys have feelings, too.”
She laughed. “Have you ever cried after sex?”
“Well… no.”
Another laugh. “When was the last time you cried?”
“Not the point.” He got rid of the condom before tucking himself against her back, palming her ass because he could. “Shower?”
She sucked in a deep, ragged breath. “God, yes.”
“Come here first.” He turned her face toward his, kissing her gently. “Thank you.”
“For what? Pretty sure that was a mutually beneficial thing we just did.”
How to say what was on his mind without sounding creepy or emo? He rubbed his thumb over the corner of her mouth while he
searched for the right words. “You’re one of a kind, M. Tonight felt like a rare gift, that’s all.”
“Now I think I’m the one who needs to say thank you,” she whispered, lifting her head to kiss him back. “And if you wash my hair, I think you’ll ruin me for all men forever and ever.”
“Deal.” Totally selfish that he wasn’t kidding, but he was okay with being selfish when it came to this woman. At some point before they said goodbye, he’d find a way to invite her to visit him out west.
CHAPTER FIVE
At quarter to four in the morning, Emme’s phone went off. She rolled over to grab it but was stopped short by a heavy arm wrapped tight around her naked waist.
“Don’t answer it,” her sailor mumbled into her hair. “Let’s run away and join a circus together.”
“It’ll be the overnight shift supervisor; they’ll need extra staff this morning. I just need to answer this and then I can come back to bed for a bit.” And maybe we can use that last condom before I report in.
After their shower, he’d pulled his last three condoms out of his bag and tossed them on the bedside table with a wicked grin. They’d used one before she begged him to get some sleep. Of course then she’d woken him up two hours later, rubbing her ass against his erection.
She flushed at the memory of him silently rolling her onto her stomach, hiking her hips in the air, and sliding his fingers through her folds to make sure she was ready for him.
No problem in that regard.
He’d taken her fast and hard, still silent, her face pressed into the pillow and her ass in the air.
She wanted that again.
She wanted that forever.
Damn it. No falling for the rebound guy. Not allowed.
She swallowed hard, then put on her awake-voice and answered her phone.
As she listened and responded, realizing she wasn’t going to get back into bed with him, she had to tip her face to the ceiling and fight back hot, angry tears of regret.
Ten minutes later she hopped out of the shower and let herself cast a single, sad glance at the slumbering giant she was leaving behind. He really was the most beautiful man. Hard and lean, warm and safe.
This was better.
She was needed on a flight to Denver at six, and if she woke him, she’d never make it on time.
This was better.
If she climbed back into bed, even for a minute, she’d lose her heart to hopeless dreams.
Shit.
This wasn’t better.
But it was what needed to be, because she needed the extra-long shift and the overtime. Because she needed to remember who she was and who she wasn’t.
She found the first note after she got on elevator. It was in her blazer pocket, a sheet of paper from the hotel room note pad, folded in a neat square with a capital M on the front. Her fingers shook as she opened it.
You’re beautiful. Thank you. ~ Nathan
[email protected]
She traced over the letters in his name. Nathan. So her sailor had a name. A nice name. And she’d crept out while he slept. The tears threatened again, and she stared at the elevator numbers, lighting up in descending order.
She should go back up. Nathan. She should go back and kiss him and tell him her name.
But then what?
That would just make goodbye harder.
It would still be goodbye.
She ducked her head as she headed through the lobby toward the airport concourse, letting her hair curtain her face from the early morning travellers.
Nathan looked for her as he went through the checkin process for the second day in a row. He wasn’t sure what airline she worked for, or what her name was, although he had at least one way of finding that out—she’d left her ID with the hotel clerk.
But he wanted her to find him. Not now. She wasn’t ready.
When she was, he hoped she’d still have his notes.
There were five of them in total. One in her jacket pocket. One in her passport wallet—and it had been damn hard not to peek at her name when he was tucking that away while she slept. One in the outer pocket of her suitcase, one in her Kindle case, and the last one woven into the laces on her running shoes.
He smiled at the thought of her finding them. Hopefully she’d already found at least one.
Author’s Note - Zoe York
You’ve just finished reading FALL FAST, a short story in the SEALs Undone series by Zoe York. Nathan and Emme’s story will continue this summer, and there are two standalone romances in this series currently available. For more Navy SEAL romance, try FALL HARD.
FALL HARD by Zoe York is available today at:
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Fall Deep – a newsletter exclusive! Miles is on his way back to war. He isn’t supposed to fall in love. Piper left San Diego behind, looking for adventure in Europe. The nostrings, easy-breezy kind of adventure. And now her heart is headed to the Middle East with a man she won’t see for months.
Fall Deep is a novella in many parts, delivered straight to your inbox every Thursday starting in early 2015. Once finished, it will be published as a single title and available for sales as an e-book, but you can read it for free if you subscribe to Zoe’s mailing list.
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Zoe York is a busy working mom of two young boys, wife to a very understanding soldier, and creator of modern, sexy, small town contemporary romances. Her debut novel, What Once Was Perfect, started the popular Wardham series, and her first military romance, Fall Out, was released as part of the international bestselling SEALs of Summer super bundle.
Zoe lives in London, Ontario and is currently chugging Americanos, wiping sticky fingers, and dreaming of heroes in and out of uniform. You can find her on Facebook and Twitter, or at her website.
Zoe York
www.zoeyork.com
Vegas Holiday
JJ Knight
A woman who calls off her high-profile wedding to an MMA fighter is rescued by her groom and a helicopter full of Elvis impersonators.
DESCRIPTION: Jo isn’t sure about her wedding anymore.
Her overbearing future father-in-law is using the event as a publicity tool. Her bridesmaids are models. The reception is super fancy. She’s afraid to ask how to pronounce the main course. Her groom is too busy defending his MMA championship to notice her distress.
She escapes to Vegas with her best friend, a drag queen known as Zero, to take a day off and get her bearings. But confusion about who is the real bride leads to mayhem, a surprise attack by an army of Xena Warrior Princesses, and the arrival of an entire troupe of Elvis impersonators.
GENRE: New Adult Sports Romance. 9,000 words or approximately 35 pages.
HEAT LEVEL: Moderately spicy.
Turn the page to begin reading Vegas Holiday by JJ Knight, or click here to return to this anthology’s Table of Contents.
Vegas Holiday
JJ Knight
One: A Getaway Fit for a (Drag) Queen
As the helicopter sets down on the helipad in Vegas, I try to calm my nerves. I’ve taken a little getaway to escape all the wedding plans in LA, but so far it isn’t helping.
My stomach quivers again.
I’m going to be on display for over one thousand guests. My fiancé is Colt McClure, the current MMA light heavyweight champion. His father is a famous boxer.
Our wedding is in three months, and the biggest concern has been how to keep the paparazzi from ruining everything. Colt has commissioned an enormous camouflage netting to be strung over every location where we have to move from a car to a building.
His friend Dylan Wolf, a rock musician who faced a similar problem and had two fake weddings to hide the real one, has been giving us advice.
&n
bsp; It’s too much. I’m petrified.
The diamond on my finger catches the light blasting in the window. I’m not used to wearing it. I never wore a ring in my life up until Colt proposed. And even since then, my job training MMA fighters means I almost never put it on.
Buster, a friend and owner of the gym where Colt and I train, is the one who suggested I get out of town for a few days. He noticed that I’ve been getting more and more wound up over the festivities since our engagement was made public.
Colt is so tied up with his duties as the reigning champion that he’s left the planning to professionals.
And me. As if I know a soup spoon from a shovel.
I grew up poor, ignored, and left to the whims of a stepmother after my father died. I’ve never even been to a wedding other than Aunt Maureen’s third marriage to some guy we had to call Uncle Big, held in the VFW hall. The whole thing consisted of ten minutes of slurred vows, some punch destroyed by a bottle of Mad Dog 20/20, and a grocery store cake that said “Congradulations.” Yes, with a “d.”
That’s all I know.
We land and the helicopter starts to shut down.
My phone goes wild with a dozen text messages now that we’re on the ground. They’re all from Colt.
Hey, baby, hope you have a good trip in Vegas. I’ll try to come up.
I’ll miss you.
I think it’s good for you to take a day or two away.
Don’t let Zero get you into trouble!
I love you.
Colt “Gunner” McClure. The only guy I’ve ever trusted. He’s done so much for me. Given me a life I love, training MMA fighters and seeing them shine in the ring. Finding my mom and helping us put back together our fragile family.
I can picture him easily. The shaggy hair, hard jaw, and the tattoos that swirl around his bicep and meet up into an intricate pattern on his back. I already miss him.
I don’t doubt how I feel about Colt. It’s just everything around us. All the attention. The criticism. So much pressure. I can’t always feel sure that I’m the right girl for him. His life requires someone with more poise, more confidence. Someone who likes the spotlight and could make real use of all the money.