Wanted: Wife 4 Navy Seals: A Military romance

by Dee Palmer

  “Good, you’re going to love this, but we’ll take it slow.” His timbre is guttural and raw.

  “Okay.” I’m sure I don’t sound convinced.

  His fingers slide down between my cheeks and I instantly clench. “Relax, baby, nice and slow.” He leans over me, and I feel his weight and his warmth; I feel safe, and I relax. Not sure how long it will last, but at that moment I am relaxed, relaxed and needy. He runs his finger the length of my folds, circling with a small amount of pressure on my clit, making me jump. He glides over my opening and takes his now very slick fingers and rubs the wetness around my puckered entrance. He uses the pad of his thumb to begin to rub a circle with increasing and varying degrees of pressure. It’s really sensitive and causes a throbbing sensation deep inside; I can’t help the urge to push back. “That’s it, baby, push back and relax.” He slowly and gently inserts his thumb, working in a rhythm, which is sending prickles all over my skin. He shifts, and I can feel him position his cock where his thumb has just been removed, and I clench again.

  “Fuck, sorry, involuntary response, Daniel. I’m nervous. It’s going to hurt, isn’t it?” He softly kisses my neck and below my ear.

  “Shh, baby, it will to start with, but then it will feel amazing, intense and amazing, I promise. Now, try and relax again and push back onto me.” I take a deep breath and exhale and push back. Ah, fuck! He is way too big. A thousand prickles and an extreme feeling of fullness cause an intense flush of searing heat through my body. My teeth clench as I try and relax again, as I feel Daniel rock slowly into me. Slowly, gradually, deeper and fuller. I take shallow breaths and feel lightheaded. “Almost there, baby, you feel so good. God, you feel so good.” My body starts to welcome the invasion rather than fight it, and I get a deep and sensual stirring inside, touching my very core. I am hypersensitive as wave after wave of exquisite pleasure rolls from the fullness I feel throughout my body. I can feel my orgasm start to build, but it’s different. It is like a deep rumbling, a steady enormous climb rather than a violent peak, and I begin to shake uncontrollably. I cry out, and Daniel slips his hand around my waist and, with the pads of his fingers, gently rubs my clit, and I collapse, body shaking, hips convulsing, and I think that might be me screaming, but the sound is muffled. Daniel holds the nape of my neck and my hip firm, and pumps slowly, deeply, thrusting only a few more times before releasing his own climax, breathless but controlled. He slips from me and pulls me into his lap, holding me tight and kissing my hair.

  I don’t know how long he holds me, but I am awakened by the sound of typing. He has me cradled in one arm on his lap, and he is typing with one hand.

  “You can multitask, too? Are there no end to your talents, Mr. Stone?” My voice is heavy with sleep.

  “Welcome back. You went out like a light.” He squeezes me. “But you feel so good, I wanted to keep you here. Would you like a shower?”

  “Oh, a shower sounds good. Where?” He lifts me in his arms and carries me to a concealed panel. In his bathroom he undresses me and washes me, reverently with gentle hands. He kisses every inch of my body as he dries my skin, and I feel adored. I fight to swallow the building emotions in my throat. His touch makes me feel alive, and I tremble. I am terrified.

  DESPITE MY AMENDED schedule, I still managed to stay at Daniel’s apartment every night this week. I really need to develop my negotiating skills if I’m to stand a chance at ever getting my own way. We have eaten take out, I have brought food from the restaurant, and I cooked on Wednesday. Joe had taught me how to make fresh pasta when I was sixteen, and I made my other favourite pasta dish, ravioli with a wild mushroom stuffing and an herb butter. I even made a lemon panna cotta dessert. We fucked, we made love, and we talked.

  We spend the evening lying on his sumptuous sofa. I am wrapped in a silk robe, and my legs are draped across Daniel’s lap. He is massaging my feet, while I am trying my best not to squeal. I am extremely ticklish there and don’t want him to know this weakness. It’s okay if the pressure is firm, but the minute it becomes feather light, I will be scrabbling for the ceiling. I manage to contain myself, and he starts to ask me questions about growing up and my family. I think I keep my answers detailed enough to be interesting and factual, but vague enough to not actually give too much away. The late night conversation, I believe, is the reason why Daniel woke me as I started sobbing in my sleep and now has lifted me into his arms and is crushing the breath from my chest. I am dripping with sweat and trembling. I wake up fully when he carries me into the bathroom and sits me on a warmed towel on the marble vanity unit. His large warm hands sweep my soaked hair from my face and tucks it behind my ears.

  “Okay, that was new.” His smile is wary, his eyes are kind and warm. “Care to share?” He starts to strip the wet silk slip I sleep in, which is now translucent. He has the shower steaming and carries my trembling body into the welcome heat. Within minutes I am again dressed in one of his T-shirts, which swamps me, but is warm and dry. He carries me into one of the guest rooms. I raise my eyebrow at the change of location.

  “Did you see the sheets?” He laughs lightly. “I never knew the human body could hold so much fluid.” He pulls back the covers and helps me in.

  “Are you staying?” I whisper. “It’s okay if you don’t…” But I don’t get to finish that sentence as he climbs in on my side and pulls me half onto his body.

  “Now, if you’ve stopped being ridiculous, would you like to talk to me?” He plants a soft kiss in my damp hair.

  “No.” I can feel his glare. “No, I mean I really don’t want to, but unfortunately I have to. It’s the only way I will ever get back to sleep.” I let out a defeated breath.

  “You have these a lot?” His obvious concern is touching.

  “Used to, not so much now.” I nestle into his chest. It feels good, and I sigh. “Okay, the usual is just to spill the details of the dream, well, nightmare, but actually I think you woke me before it really started. How did you do that?” I crane my neck to see his answer.

  “Hey.” He kisses my forehead. “I just felt you. Anyway, who do you usually spill to?”

  “Sofs or Marco the other week.” I feel him tense. “He wasn’t quite as quick as you though. He had to come from his bedroom, and that’s after I had made enough noise to wake him.” I flinch as I flashback to that nightmare. “Anyway, I don’t remember what this one was, so that’s good.” I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath smelling his intoxicating aroma.

  “You sure you don’t remember, you’re not just saying that?” He sounds doubtful, but I snort.

  “Believe me, if I could keep this shit to myself, I would, but then I’d never sleep again, so yes, I’m sure. There, aren’t you glad I sleep over now?” I nudge him, and he just holds me tighter.

  “More so now.” He grumbles. “I definitely don’t want Marco coming to your rescue or anyone else for that matter.”

  “Well, that just makes you crazy.” I yawn and relax into his strong comforting hold.

  “You make me crazy.” He kisses my hair and strokes his fingers up and down my body until I fall asleep.

  It’s Friday, and I am working in Daniel’s office, which is more distracting than the library, but better than Daniel accompanying me to the library, which he threatened to do. Since my first visit, where Daniel informed me that my screams were nowhere near as muffled as I imagined, every time he wants me, he sends Colin on an errand around the building. It’s like Pavlov’s dogs - Daniel tells Colin to hold all calls and to visit some department, and I’m dripping wet by the time he puts the phone down.

  Today he was distant at lunch, and his mood has deteriorated as the afternoon progresses. I feel for anyone who has a meeting with him today, and I feel for our lecture group later if this continues. He is giving one of his lectures at my University this evening. I start to pack my bag.

  “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” My head snaps to look at him, his eyes glaring and his jaw clenched.


  “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” I snarl back at him. He instantly softens and walks toward me, picks me up, placing me on my desk, and wedges himself between my legs. “I should go.” He tightens his grip before I get the chance to move.

  “No, you shouldn’t.” He declares firmly.

  “Daniel, it’s your fault.” I push against his hard chest, which doesn’t give an inch, and he smells so good this close. “You insist on all this time together, but it’s too much, and now you’re pissed, so let me leave. It’s fine, I understand, and it’s all right.” My chest constricts painfully at this, and my hand reaches for my hair but quickly moves to his. He doesn’t need to know I’m lying.

  “And you could just shut down like that. It’s that simple?” He is barely containing his temper.

  “Yes, Daniel, that is exactly what I could do, After all, I am a fucking robot!” I can’t do this, I can’t let him know I’m in over my head with him, in over my heart, not if he is ending it. I feel needy and pathetic, but he doesn’t need to see that, so I set my chin and meet his dark eyes.

  “Wow, you are really stubborn. Kiss me.” He demands, and I frown, not what I was expecting, and I hesitate. “Now!” He growls, soft but stern, and I reach up to gently kiss the corner of his mouth. His lips are sweet and seductive. I need more, and he obliges, slanting his lips over mine, taking control of the kiss. His tongue pushes between my lips, and he tangles with mine, tasting and searching. He stops too soon, and I let out a sad sigh louder than I had intended, and his mouth curves to one side. “I am angry, but assuming it’s because I don’t want you says more about you than it does about my behaviour, Bethany. Have I given you any reason to doubt how I feel about you?” I swallow hard at the openness of this conversation. He tells me he wants me all the time, shows me with his body, with his time, but I haven’t thought about what that really means--I can’t. He wisely decides not to push this. “I am angry because I have an obligation that I have to fulfill, and it will mean that I am unable to spend Saturday and Sunday with you, and it fucking pisses me off!” He shouts the last bit, and I jump at the volume.

  “And tonight?” I add quietly. He has a look of panic, and God, it makes my heart swell. I’m so fucked. “I have a drinks thing with Sofia. I did tell you, I’m sorry.” I stroke his jaw, which is ticking something fierce. He has the start of afternoon stubble.

  “No, you tried to hide the request, and I ignored it. Shit, this is fucking great! I’m not going to see you at all then?” His irritation is bordering on downright fury.

  “Well, you can join us for a few drinks if you’d like, but then I’m staying at Sofia’s for some girl time. I’ll work Saturday and can come over to you after work and after your thing. I’m at my Mum’s on Sunday, anyway, and then back to normal on Monday.” I like our normal and I flash him my warmest smile “That’s not so bad?”

  “Fuck.” He is still not happy. “I’m not happy about this, Bethany.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. I’d hate to see you really angry.” I placate him with more kisses but I have to leave.

  His lecture is at seven, prompt, and I don’t want to be late. Although I do get an excited twinge in my core at the thought of what he might do if I was. My phone buzzes with a text.

  MISS THORNE, NO PANTIES, FRONT ROW, ALONE-NO NEIGHBOURS. UNDERSTAND?

  I did try and sit at the front, but Sam and Mike called me to sit with them and it just felt rude to refuse with no good reason; I text back.

  ONE OUT OF THREE’S NOT BAD? ;)

  The theatre is full except the front row, which has reserved notices along it. The main door clicks shut, and the room falls instantly silent. Daniel dominates the room with his power and presence, and I shiver at my intimate knowledge of that dominance. He narrows his eyes, sweeping the auditorium until he spots me. He flashes a wicked smile. I blush and immediately worry what he might do in front of all these people. He pulls a piece of paper from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and clears his throat.

  “Is there a, Miss”--he pauses to look at the paper, and my whole body tenses--“Thorne?” No. No, he is not going to do this.

  “Crap.” I mutter.

  “What have you done now?” Sam elbows my ribs, mocking me with his ‘you’re naughty’ expression.

  “Sir.” I raise my arm.

  “You’re assignment was not completed. Whether you were too distracted or too far away to understand the instructions carefully, I would suggest you take a seat in the front row to prevent this happening again.” His eyes bore into mine, which must be the size of saucers. Oh. My. God. He cannot be serious?

  “The front row is reserved, Sir.” I am so red right now, I clash with my dark green woollen skirt and sweater.

  “I know.” He smirks and raises a brow. I have to move, as I don’t know how far he will take this. “Do you think it is polite not to follow simple instructions, Miss Thorne?” Crap! All right, now I know exactly how far he will go. I pack my bag and have to squeeze awkwardly across the row of students to the aisle, where I begin my descent of shame. I am so fucking angry right now. I have a good mind to storm out, but the wicked look in his eyes tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking and is challenging me to ‘try him’. I sit and loudly throw my bag to the floor. I then rummage until I find my pencil and pad before I return to look at him with my angriest glare. He is delighted with himself, and I sit and stew. I also write pages of notes; he is really rather brilliant when he is not infuriating.

  It suddenly occurs to me that I am alone in the front row, and the tiered rows with their desks shield me from the view of those above me, as does the one I’m writing on. I can only be seen from the waist up by everyone else but only someone on the stage would have a view below my waist, too. My turn to smirk. I give a light cough, and his eyes flick to mine, his cool expression gives nothing away. He doesn’t even pause in his presentation. I quietly uncross my legs and spread my knees wide. His face is turned to the screen but on looking back, his eyes widen as he recognizes my change in position. His eyes continue to address the room, but my heated stare is fixed on him, and I catch every furtive glance my way. I pull the woollen material from my dress, bunching it at my waist just enough to prevent any material falling between my legs and obstructing the clear view. I sigh as I become very aware of the change in temperature. Now that my legs are open, it is cooler, but I’m heated by desire, and I wiggle a little in my seat. I see his throat swallow, and I lick my lips to mimic the dryness he is trying to moisten.

  His jaw is clenched, but other than that, he looks the picture of calm. He does however, move to stand behind the podium, and that makes me grin. I think one last bold move and we’re even. I slowly take my finger, wet the tip between my lips and in a movement so slow it would go unnoticed by the unobservant. I trace this finger down my body and start to slide it under the waistband of my skirt.

  “The material from this lecture is available on-line, but unfortunately I will have to finish this lecture here, and I am unable to field questions tonight. Until next time.” His abrupt finish halts my move immediately. He switches the presentation off, but remains on the stage. As he has dismissed the room, there is a surge of activity and deafening noise. I hear him call, “Miss Thorne,” but I use the general level of disturbance as cover and hurry out the door. I know there was at least another ten minutes of the lecture, and he is a perfectionist. There is no way he didn’t have the exact and appropriate amount of material for the time allowed. I can see as I leave that he is again surrounded by gushing students. Perhaps it wasn’t the smartest of ideas to provoke him when I know he is angry. because of the weekend. anyway, but he wasn’t the only one who is angry. Fuck it, I’m not going to dwell. I’m going to meet my best friend, get roaring drunk, and deal with Daniel’s ‘man-struation’ later.

  “I bought us a bottle, as I didn’t fancy bar hopping tonight. Is that okay with you?” Sofia calls to me above the noise of the bar.

  “Absolute
ly.” She hands me a glass and starts to pour. We’ve managed to secure an alcove seat in a very busy wine bar. It’s lively and intimate, but perfect for catching up.

  “Are you going to get that? It hasn’t stopped ringing.” She nods to my vibrating bag.

  I know who it is, and he’s really pissed. “My phone, my convenience.” We clink glasses and drink. I ask Sofia about her wedding plans, and she tells me at length the stress she is under. The only daughter with a huge extended family, trying to please everybody, and Paul just wanting to please her. I can tell she’s really excited about it all, though, and she secretly adores all the attention.

  “So?” She raises her brows and addresses the elephant in the room. “How’s it going with Mr. Hot and Horny, still ‘fun’?” She uses air quotes to mock me, but her expression is serious. I haven’t dated since her brother two years ago, and before that it was only ever John.

  “Oh, definitely fun.” I follow this understatement with an uncontrollable surge of heat to my cheeks and a large gulp of wine.

  “You’re not getting away with that Bets, spill! You’ve stayed at his place how many nights this week?” She tops up my glass, hoping for the “lots of liquor equals loose lips” scenario.

  “A few, he’s very insistent when he wants something.” I try to bite back the giggle, but it’s useless.

  “And he wants you…lucky you.” She giggles and nudges me.

  “For now.” I smile lightly, the sobering sentiment quelling the giggles. I may not like the feeling I get when I acknowledge this fact, but, when I am not in the thrall of Daniel Stone, I do see this for what it is and where it will end.

  “Oh, I have missed your ‘glass half full’ world view. Look, he’d be nuts to let you go, Bets.” She softens her voice. “How do you feel about him?” My shoulders stiffen, and she thinks it’s in response to her question. It isn’t. I’d happily tell her if I knew myself. No, my shoulders stiffen and my skin tingles because I can feel him. How does he do that?