Filthy SEAL

by Amy Brent

  “No way,” I said, shaking my head, tears welling up in my eyes as I looked over at my father in disbelief.

  “Sabrina,” Julian said, holding my hand in his, “I've already asked your father permission, and he gives us his blessing – will you do me the pleasure of being my wife?”

  “Seriously? Yes! Yes! Of course,” I said, my mind and body alternating between a sense of euphoria and a state of shock as he slipped the giant rock on my finger. He stood up and we kissed, but I still felt like I might pass out.

  “When? How?” I asked, not able to form a coherent thought, let alone sentence.

  “Your father called to talk to me last night. Then we met earlier today,” Julian explained, pushing my hair from my eyes so he could stare more fully into them. “We worked things out, Sabrina. We worked it out and he understands now. He understands that what we have is real. And this isn't just some old guy preying on a young, naïve girl.”

  “Daddy?” I asked, choking on the words. “Is this true?”

  “It is,” he said, a small smile on his face at last. “I just want what's best for you, sweetheart. And Julian is a good man. He's one of the best I've ever known. If you two are in love, I support you being together. It's just going to take a minute for me to get fully used to it and comfortable with it. But – I'll get there. Just be patient with me, honey.”

  I couldn't believe it. Not only was my father saying we could be together – openly – he had given us his blessing to get married. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined anything remotely like that happening.

  “Are you happy, sweetheart?” my mom asked me.

  “Very much so,” I said, tears of joy filling my eyes. “I'm getting married to the man of my dreams! How could I not be happy?”

  EPILOGUE

  TWO YEARS LATER

  SABRINA

  Do you ever look at your life and wonder how you ever got so lucky? It's like, you can't quite figure out what you've done to deserve all of the good fortune to come into your world. It happens to me every single day of my life. I've got a husband who adores me, takes care of me, who provides for me, and who treats me better than any man my own age ever could, I feel truly blessed.

  Sure, people comment on our age difference and assume I'm with him for his money. Little do they know that I was once a little girl madly in love with him, long before he found success in business. It wasn't his money, it was him. But some people would never be convinced. I could just shrug those people off though, knowing the truth of the matter.

  I find myself sitting next to him, doing mundane things like eating dinner or watching tv, when it hits me all over again – he's my husband. Julian Pierce, the man I'd grown up around, the man I'd always crushed hard on, was my husband. This was real. Absolutely real. It was no longer a dream or a teenage girl's fantasy for me.

  I was better for him than Beth ever was too. I knew a side of him that very few people did, a side that only came from having grown up around him and seeing him in normal, everyday, mundane life. He was so amazing to me back when I'd been a child – I always knew he'd make a wonderful father. He was scared, of course, but once we discussed the idea, weight out all of the pros and cons, he realized that maybe I was right.

  My parents were excited for their future grandchild – a little girl according to the ultrasounds. Our family was just getting started, and no matter if we'd only have the one child or many more, I knew we'd be happy.

  The day Ella was born was the best day of our lives. I'll never forget how beautiful she was. She'd stolen my heart from the first moment she'd drawn breath. She was the most beautiful little girl in the history of the world. I was convinced of it and nobody would ever be able to convince me otherwise.

  But even more amazing than seeing my child enter this world and draw breath for the first time, was seeing both my father and Julian doting over the little girl, making cooing noises, and planting soft kisses on her chubby cheeks and belly.

  “She looks like you,” Julian cooed. “She looks so much like you.”

  My mom beamed proudly at me, tears rolling gently down her cheeks. Her genes were good genes to have, I had to admit. Ella wasn't going to be lacking for beauty, I was convinced. Between my mother's genes and the genes of my very handsome husband, Ella was going to be the envy of many girls. I thought I did pretty okay for myself with my mom's genes – I did snag the man of my dreams, after all. But I knew that Ella was going to be an absolute stunner. She was going to do just fine for herself in this world. I was sure of it.

  And I made Julian promise me that no matter what, he'd always be understanding of Ella, allowing her to be her own person and be free to love whoever she loves. The last thing I wanted was for him to turn into my father and start punching out the men she fell in love with. Not only would he probably break a bone if he tried to punch somebody at his age, he would be a giant, flaming hypocrite if he objected to somebody she loved. All I needed to do was remind him of the incident – and that should shut him right up.

  Oh, and he better not punch any of her future boyfriends, no matter the circumstances. Because just like she was his little girl, I had been someone else's daughter once too. And he'd swept in and swept me off my feet. He needed to make sure to make allowances for such a fairy tale to happen for our little girl.

  But I had to admit, as I stared down at her sweet, innocent face, I understood my father – and my mother – more than ever before.

  Dad’s Business Partner

  Chapter 1: Megan

  It is a fact of life that when a woman wears sexy lingerie underneath her clothes - no matter how modest - she will feel confident and beautiful, even if no one sees it.

  It is a fact of my life that if I wear sexy lingerie underneath my clothes, not only will I feel confident and beautiful, but I would want someone to see it.

  I grew up around fashion shows. My father created one of the top modeling agencies in the country. Fashion had become my life - The slinky models with clothes that're barely appropriate, the snooty onlookers with money and skewed standards of what's acceptable, the electricity in the air.

  There was lust in the air too, tonight. I wasn't sure if that was because of me and my intention to get laid, or if it was the particular designer who had a way of making even a coat seem sexual.

  I was back from college at the ripe age of twenty-three - we grow up so fast - and I was aware of the undercurrents now when I hadn't been before. The men's eyes that told women so much more than their lips did. The women who had so much more to offer than a limply extended had. The potential of something wild when everything was so damn sophisticated.

  The show was open-air, the night air clung to my cheeks the same way the sweaty urgency clung to my waist and my breasts, and I was on the prowl.

  He sat opposite me with the ramp between us, one leg crossed with his ankle on the other knee. His suit pants rode up to reveal dark socks and Italian loafers. He leaned against his hand, finger on his cheek, and there was nothing sexual in the way he looked at the models. Good. If was going to make sure he ended up inside me tonight the sex in his eyes should only be aimed in my direction.

  There were two flaws in my theory of sex on demand tonight.

  One, I was a virgin. Sure, I wanted sex. I wanted it all the time. But I'd been around enough guys my age at college to know that they were exactly what I didn't want.

  Two, Brian Waters was almost twice my age, wildly successful, rich - basically a wet dream - and my dad's business partner. They'd set up the modeling agency together and he saw me as his partner's little girl. He'd never seen me as a woman, not even when I'd started developing breasts and physical urges and a crush on him.

  Tonight that was going to change. He didn't recognize me - he would have done something if he did. He didn't know that I was the Megan Philips.

  I was dressed to kill. I knew it because all the other men were staring at me. My dark hair was blown out and hung over my shoulders like a w
aterfall. Men would just love to stick their hands in it. My dress was scandalously short but I covered up more than the models on the ramp. My heels were high enough to make my ass look like dessert.

  There was a break between shows. The models were all off the ramp and backstage getting dressed at breakneck speed. The designer had just made his final bow and stepped off. Brian's eye slid over the row of people opposite him and fell on mine.

  My heart fluttered and my stomach turned a little. I was nervous. I hadn't ever done this before - not the flirting, of course, that I did all the time. But following through. I knew that this was what I wanted, though.

  I uncrossed and crossed my legs, knowing I was giving him a show of my own. His face didn't change at all - there was nothing sexier than a man with an expressionless mask of steel. But he tugged at his collar, then his belt, and looked away.

  It gave me a chance to stare at him openly. His hair had turned silver in the time I was gone, but not in a way that made him look old. Just distinguished. He still filled out his suit like he used to and he sat just like he walked - with an air of complete control.

  My friends think it's weird that I like older men. If they even know about it. I tend to keep my different sexual preferences a secret. There's just something orgasmic about a man who has money, power, sex at the tips of his fingers. The younger ones don't even know who the hell they are yet. How will they be able to handle a woman like me?

  It wasn't fair, of course, They others never had a chance. I'd been fantasizing over Brian for six years. When I masturbated I imagined him, his mouth all over my body, between my legs, his tongue doing what my finger usually did. It was the perfect recipe for a shattering orgasm. The images were left wanting now. I didn't feel naughty when I touched myself thinking of him anymore. I just felt unsatisfied. I needed more.

  The people around us started getting up and moving toward the finger food buffet or the champagne bar. Chatter filled the air like a flock of birds. I stayed seated, pinning Brian with a look he couldn't break free from the next moment he looked at me. He swallowed visibly and uncrossed his legs.

  My father made his way through the crowd and held out his hand to Brian. I got up, turned my back, and disappeared into the crowd. I wasn't going to make sexy eyes to Brian with my father right next to him. I was desperate but I wasn't stupid.

  Chapter 2: Brian

  Owning a modeling agency is one of the best jobs a man can ask for. I'm in the business of women's bodies. Ask any male. That's the best job there is. There are the occasional models that will even sleep with the boss. I'm not proud of my actions all the time, but who am I to say no to a pretty face when she's throwing herself at me? I'm divorced and I like to play.

  The night air felt clammy against my skin. The tie was too tight, the night dragging on too long. I didn't like the finger food - I'd gotten food poisoning from a mini quiche before and my digestive system wasn't what it used to be. Champagne hurt my head the next day. I reiterate. My digestive system wasn't what it used to be.

  Tom was somewhere making the right friends to make our business grow. That man had a knack for business, an eye for money, and he knew exactly how to combine the two to make both of us rich. Being a business partner with him was the best choice I could ever make. There was nothing I would let get in the way of our company. Giving how things were going now I could retire soon, and didn't that sound like music to my ears.

  I didn't see myself as old, but it happened more and more that I was around the sixteen-to-twenty-year-olds and I felt like I didn't really belong anymore. It's been a long time coming, but growing up, and then growing old, is a bitter pill to swallow.

  This time, though, it was different. It wasn't one of the models that caught my eye, the way they usually did. And it wasn't instigated by me, either. The heated stare came from the other side of a ramp from a woman I'd never seen before, and desperately hoped I would see again. Her hair was dark and luscious and she sat there like a goddess, offering herself for me to look at.

  When she crossed and uncrossed her legs my erection punched against my pants and I had to look away before I openly drooled at her. Men my age shouldn't have little boy crushes anymore. I've been married, divorced, and through the mill when it came to sex. I knew how to keep my cool, dammit.

  Except then she licked her lips - delicately, not in a slutty way - and rolled them, and I knew I was in trouble. I had to have her. It sounded wrong. Women weren't possessions. But I wanted her. And judging by the looks she gave me she was on board with that idea.

  She was young enough to be my daughter. That hadn't exactly stopped me before, as long as it didn't stop them. Again, I didn't get the feeling it mattered to her.

  Tom came out of nowhere and stuck his hand in my face. I pulled myself back to reality and smiled, standing up to shake his hand.

  "Schmoozing again?"

  "I met a woman I think we might be able to work with."

  I nodded, rubbing my hands together. "I knew you would have something for us to work with. I can always count on you."

  "That's what partners are for."

  I glanced toward the seat where she'd been sitting. It was empty. I looked around, searching, but she'd disappeared.

  "Who are you looking for?"

  I shook my head and looked back at Tom.

  "I thought I saw someone I knew." Liar. "How's your daughter?" I didn't ask for a name because I kept forgetting what he called her. How old was she now...? I didn't know that either. I was a poor friend if I couldn't keep track of his life, but then again, we were business partners first and foremost.

  "She's good, thank you. Traveling up tomorrow. She got her MBA now."

  I nodded absently, trying not to look like I wasn't searching the crowd. Yes, I was being juvenile. Yes, I could have anyone I wanted and it didn't matter who the woman was if it was just a body to get off. And by extension, yes that made me sound like an asshole. But this one was different. I didn't know if it was that she looked like more than just an ass or a pair of tits, or if it was because for the first time since my divorce a woman had made me feel worth more than just a cock with a lot of cash, but I wanted her. Specifically.

  "Oh, that's Sonya Schiffer. We have to show face," Tom said. I looked in the direction he was pointing, didn't register anything, and shook my head.

  "I think I'm going to go grab something to eat."

  Tom frowned. "You never eat at these things."

  I raised my hand to my head. "I forgot to eat earlier and my blood sugar is dipping. You don't want me stealing the show by passing out in front of everyone, do you?" I nudged him and grinned. He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. Maybe he didn't think I was funny. Maybe he wasn't buying it. I didn't care.

  "I'll catch up with you later. I just need to get something in the system."

  I patted my stomach but when I said 'something' I didn't really mean food. Tom passed me to make nice with Sonya Someone and I made my way to the buffet. If she wasn't here she would be at the champagne buffet. If she wasn't there... I didn't know.

  I spotted her at the champagne buffet just as I was running out of options. The dress she wore was royal blue. Golden jewelry. Fitting. She defined the word Goddess. I walked up to her.

  "Are you enjoying the show?" I asked.

  She smiled at me, her eyes dark and drowning deep, and nodded.

  "You know, I own the model company that."

  She raised her eyebrows. "Really. So you're in the body business."

  I chuckled and scratched the back of my head. "Yeah, something like that."

  She nodded and looked around. "Looks like business is good."

  I looked her up and down. Curves. Hips drew my eyes to her secrets. Breasts that made my mouth water. And she knew it. When she noticed I was looking she shifted her weight from one leg to the other, turned her body to me. She wanted me to look.

  "You should be on the ramp." Of course, there was nothing about her that would qualify her
as a model. She wasn't sickly skinny or taller than I was. But that wasn't the point.

  "Oh, I can't do that."

  I frowned. Was she going to be modest and say she wasn't pretty? "I think you could pull off modeling."

  She shrugged. "Maybe, but if I joined your company you would be my boss. There's no sleeping with the boss."

  I blinked at her, at a loss for words. Had she just said that? Straight up? She looked at me with an open face, an innocent smile, and eyes that told me I would be a fool if I believed at all that she wasn't capable of dirty things.

  Chapter 3: Megan

  He was eating from the palm of my hand. If you show your body to a man he's like putty in your hands. There are very few men that can look away from a pair of breasts staring them in the face and say no, anyway. That was honorable. I wasn't looking for honor tonight.

  It was sweet that he was trying to throw compliments about being a model my way. We both knew that would never happen, but he was trying. That counted for something, at least.

  I had to admit I did feel like a million dollars standing there. A million dollars playing with fire. Brian was around forty now if he was anywhere near my dad's age, and my dad was around here something. He didn't know I was, though, so he wouldn't just recognize me. I'd come up a day earlier than I was supposed to. My dad was a man and he wouldn't be looking for my face in the crowd.

  "How long is this night still going to be?" I asked. I wanted to go home. I wanted to go home with Brian.

  "It's still a long event, I'm afraid. I can call you a cab if you would like, though."

  My heart sank with the ugly weight of disappointment. He was so eager to ship me off. Was it because I was too young? Or because he knew who I was?

  "Of course, it will be a pity to see you leave before the real fun starts."

  I shivered when he said that. His words weren't that special but the way he looked at me when he said 'the real fun' made me think we weren't talking about the after parties that usually happened after the fashion shows were over.

  "You think it will be worth my while to stay?"