A SEAL's Fantasy

by Tawny Weber

  His eyes followed as she angled her body up just a little so she wasn’t pressed against him any longer.

  She slipped her finger along her wet clitoris, her knuckle grazing his erection.

  Castillo gulped.

  Lara grinned.

  “That’s what makes me boss,” she decided.

  * * *

  BOSS.

  Goddess.

  Most incredibly sexy woman on earth.

  Dominic was pretty sure she could lay claim to any and all of those titles.

  He stared up at the gorgeous sight above him and gave fervent thanks that he was a man.

  Her breasts were amazing. Large, full and heavy, tipped with rosy nipples the size of his thumb. He could spend hours worshipping her breasts alone. He wanted to bury his face between them, to slide inside that deep valley and find heaven.

  Her body was a gift from Mother Nature. He had enough experience to know that there was no silicone here.

  Everything about her was all natural.

  All delicious.

  And he was hungry.

  Dominic grabbed her by the waist and lifted.

  Lara squeaked, her hands grabbing as if to latch on to his shoulders, but he moved too fast. For a girl with so many curves, she was pretty light, he decided as he shifted her body up so she was straddling his chest instead of his hips.

  “Sorry, boss,” he said, grinning at her expression. “I always wake up hungry.”

  The sleepy shock left her eyes and she gave a wickedly delighted smile as she slid her finger over his mouth.

  “Be my guest,” she murmured, shifting her weight to her knees and leaning forward to brace her hands on the edge of the couch. “Mangia.”

  He wasn’t a man who needed to be told twice.

  Dominic wrapped his hands over her full butt and lifted his head. He slid his tongue along her pouting pink bud, sipping at the wet juices.

  Damn.

  She really was delicious.

  She rose over him, panting and undulating against his thrusting tongue. Her hands gripped her breasts, fingers teasing and pulling. Desperate to take over that particular task, Dominic shifted his lips, nipping her bud between his teeth. She shuddered.

  He sucked.

  She exploded.

  Her body clenched. Lara’s fingers gripped her breasts, her head thrown back as she gave a long, keening moan so tempting, Dominic almost exploded then and there.

  He called on every modicum of control, honed both from years of perfecting his sexual style and his time training in the Navy. It took every bit and more to keep from heading over the cliff when Lara shot him a heavy-lidded look and purred, then scraped her nails down his chest.

  Dominic didn’t remember grabbing his pants, pulling out his wallet nor putting on a condom, but long-term reflex and muscle memory assured him that he did.

  Before Lara stopped shuddering, he moved. Sliding up so his back was against the couch, he grabbed Lara’s hips.

  “Climb on,” he murmured as he yanked her down, impaling her with his rock-hard erection.

  Oh, baby.

  It felt like coming home.

  If coming home was wrapped in sexual pleasure, layered with passion and cut with a painfully needy edge.

  “Well, hello,” Lara murmured in a gasping tone.

  Bless her limber body, she wrapped her legs around the small of his back and angled herself so they were facing each other, her breasts at just the right height for his mouth.

  “Hello,” Dominic murmured, leaning forward to take one of those tasty, berry-sweet tips between his lips. He sucked hard. Lara whimpered, squirming. He didn’t move his hips, though. Nope, he wanted her settled there until he was ready.

  He swirled his tongue around the rock-hard tip of her breast. One hand anchored her butt to keep her where he wanted and the other cupped her breast, his fingers teasing the tip with a light strum.

  Damn, she tasted good.

  His dick throbbed. Need pounded through him.

  But Dominic was taking his time.

  Savoring.

  Lara squirmed again, shifting her hips back and forth as if trying to entice him into moving, too.

  Nope. Dominic knew what he liked and how he liked it.

  And he was really, really liking what he had right now.

  “I’m busy here,” he told her, his mouth still on her breast.

  “You’re...” Her words cut off in a gasp when he bit, just hard enough to get her attention.

  “Busy.” He laved his tongue over her red bud, then blew on it, grinning when it tightened even more. She was so incredibly responsive. “Worshipping takes time, you know.”

  He glanced up just in time to see her eyes go soft and her lips round into an O. “You’re worshipping me?”

  Her tone was lightly mocking, but he could see the vulnerable sheen in her eyes.

  Had no man ever shown her the adoration, the reverence she deserved?

  He could tell none had. He couldn’t understand why, though. Lara was gorgeous; she was funny, sweet and clever. A sassy woman with a spine of steel. And, of course, the body of a goddess.

  Looked as if it was on him.

  A mission he was thrilled to take, although the first he’d ever accepted while naked and straddled.

  “A woman like you deserves worship,” he said, his words just above a whisper as he slid his lips across her shoulder. His fingers trailed softly over her nipples, circling, swirling, brushing. He ran his hands over the silken-smooth flesh of her waist, her lush hips, down her soft thighs.

  “You’re beautiful,” he breathed.

  Lifting, he took her mouth with his. Underneath the passion was a sweetness that surprised Dominic. Her or him? The combination of the two of them? He didn’t know, but he rolled with it all the same.

  Her tongue slid along his, her teeth nipping as if to urge him to hurry the hell up.

  Never one to disappoint a lady, he did just that.

  The pace quickened. He buried his face between her breasts, his fingers working, his tongue sliding deep into the heavenly valley. His dick throbbed.

  He couldn’t hold out much longer.

  “Dance for me,” he said, his teeth tight as he resisted the urge to thrust. Hard and deep. He wanted to be inside her as deep and as far as she’d take.

  But this wasn’t about him.

  It was about them.

  Lara took over.

  Her knees wedged against his thighs, she undulated. Up and down, swiveling here and there with a rhythm only she heard. But she made him feel it as she danced with his body.

  Tension built, tight and needy.

  Dominic gripped her thighs, his fingers dipping between to feel her wetness.

  She shuddered, then shifted to welcome him into the dance.

  Their eyes locked, Lara moved, slow and sensuous. Sliding up, then down his rigid cock. Wet heat gripped him, but suddenly Dominic barely felt it.

  What was going on between them, the intense power in Lara’s eyes—that was an even bigger turn-on.

  Her fingers teased, so light they were barely there, over his shoulders, down his pecs, across his nipples, then back again.

  Her breath washed over his face, just a little ragged and minty fresh.

  Dominic thrust deeper, his thumb working her bud as he moved.

  “Oh,” Lara cried. Her eyes closed and her breath came in pants now.

  He thrust harder. Faster.

  She exploded.

  Her orgasm was like a door opening.

  Dominic’s heart, his mind blew before his body even caught on that it was climax time.

  His vision blurred, everything going hazy.

  Except Lara’s face.

  Her brilliant green eyes, her pouting lip and the vision of her exploding in delight sent him over the edge.

  Her body gripped him, milking every last drop of passion.

  And all Dominic could think was when could they go again.

  A
s if his orgasm pulled the plug on her energy, Lara collapsed against his chest, her face buried in the curve of his shoulder. The intimacy of their position, the implicit trust in her body, sent a warning signal so loud it burst through the passion fogging his brain.

  Dominic rolled, shifting so they were both flat on the floor. Even as one arm held Lara close, emotionally he took a fifty-foot vertical shift away.

  Holy hell.

  Dominic was a man who appreciated sex.

  He considered it one of the major reasons for living. And as a fan of life, he’d made it his mission to appreciate it as often as possible.

  So he considered himself something of an expert.

  An expert on good sex.

  An expert on dangerous sex.

  He threw one arm over his eyes, as if he could block reality along with the morning light.

  If he was such a damned expert, how had he ended up here? Totally screwed.

  She’d done him in.

  He’d set out to show Lara what it was like to be worshipped, to give her a hot, sexy time. That’s what sex was all about.

  Instead, she’d blown his mind. He’d lost it.

  Lost control. Lost focus.

  Lost a piece of himself.

  He’d never felt anything like that before.

  His breath still short—a pretty rare thing for a man in his condition—he tried to calm his heart rate. Mellow, he thought. Bring it down. If he could convince his body this had just been another tumble, his mind would follow along, filing it under lust-inspired oops. A sleep-fogged mistake that could endanger the mission and totally screw with his peace of mind.

  The problem was, he was reaching for her before his mind got the message. After all, if one round was bad, how much worse could two or four be?

  6

  LARA MADE IT a point to be honest with herself.

  When she did something beyond-belief stupid, it was better to fess up and deal with it. Pretending, excuses, denial—all they did was drag out the inevitable consequences. It was like reneging on payoff to a loan shark. In the end you forked over twice as much cash, usually while crying over your broken kneecaps.

  So here she was, still naked and floating on a sea of orgasmic delight, knowing she’d just made a mistake she couldn’t afford to pay for.

  She’d never felt anything like that.

  Never lost every ounce of inhibition in her quest to make someone else feel as amazing as he made her feel.

  “Hell of a way to start the morning,” Castillo said, his voice husky.

  With regret? With delight? She couldn’t tell what was beneath the neutral surface, so she turned her head to look at him.

  Yep.

  Gorgeous, sexy, with sleepy eyes and that heart-melting dimple. But gorgeous or not, his expression was neutral.

  Lara struggled to match it, not wanting him to know he’d just rocked her world and blown her mind. He was already holding all the cards, so why give him any more power?

  “Beats an alarm clock,” she finally said in an offhand acknowledgment of his words.

  His lips twitched.

  Since she knew her comment hadn’t been that funny, she figured he saw right through her. Lara automatically shifted to the side, tilting her chin and giving him a flirtatious look from under her lashes.

  His eyes narrowed, flaming hot as his gaze skimmed the view. Good. Lara didn’t like anyone looking too deep.

  “I’m gonna grab a shower,” he said, suddenly vaulting to his feet. My, what a body. Golden, smooth and muscled, he looked like something you’d see in a Greek museum. Lara’s eyes shifted to his well-sculpted butt and she sighed.

  She barely had time to wipe the imaginary drool off her chin when he glanced back at her.

  “You wanna join me?”

  Oh, boy, did she. Lara almost raised her hand for help up before the warning signals blared in her head.

  “I’ll wait,” she said, reaching over to pull his abandoned blanket over her. “Order coffee, breakfast.”

  “Don’t forget the bacon,” he instructed on his way to the bathroom.

  Life, in its infinite wisdom, had offered her a choice.

  Hot guy whose tongue could make her see fireworks, in the shower. Naked and wet.

  Or an unguarded door.

  More than anything else, she’d wanted to climb in that shower and lick the water drops off Castillo’s body. To see if he could make her standing-up-in-a-shower fantasy into a body-melting reality. To climb up and down that delicious body of his, explode into another handful of orgasms, then cuddle next to him and stare at his dimples.

  So she did the only thing she could.

  She ran.

  Ten minutes later, Lara shifted her duffel strap more securely on her shoulder as she swayed with the moving bus, her eyes watching but not taking in passing streets.

  She’d had to move fast, considering he was one of those military guys who probably showered in three minutes. The moment the bathroom door shut, she’d grabbed her bag, her laptop and backup drive. She didn’t slow down to dress, instead yanking on her jeans and boots in the elevator and hiding her sleep shirt under her jacket.

  The bus ground to a stop, pulling Lara from her sex-induced stupor. Shouldering her way through the people, down the steps, she gave a cursory look left and right for big goons.

  Goon-free.

  She rolled her eyes over Castillo’s over-the-top warnings and stormed across the street. What a drama queen. King? There was definitely nothing feminine about him. His huge, um, muscles balanced out the dimples and kept him firmly on the manly side of life.

  Get over it, she mentally ranted. Quit thinking about him. Obsessing over naked mistakes never helped.

  Of course, she’d never made such a huge naked mistake before. So maybe a little obsessing was, like, an obligation.

  Stopping at the top of her stairwell, Lara laid her head against the wall, barely resisting the urge to bounce it a few times. Who knew? Maybe she could shake a little sense back into her brain.

  Since her body was still carrying Castillo’s fingerprints, she decided to hold off beating herself up any more, at least until she’d showered. Then, if instead of heading to a friend’s to crash, she was still fighting the urge to hop on a bus, ride back across town and beg him for another round? Well, there was a nice cement wall outside. She’d whack her head against that instead.

  Wait. She frowned as she stomped down the empty hallway. Why was she freaking so much? Who said those guys who’d trashed her place were anything more than sloppy burglars? Castillo had probably played off the incident to get her into that hotel room. The guy was buddies with Phillip. Yet another rich frat boy out to get lucky.

  Just because the fraternity was paid by the government to off bad guys didn’t mean they were any different, she sniffed.

  Ready to start pretending the past twelve hours hadn’t happened, Lara tugged the crime scene tape off and pushed her broken door open. She’d be irritated that the super hadn’t fixed it, but she wasn’t sure whom the ambulance had taken away the day before.

  She pulled it shut the best she could and looked around.

  Her stomach slid into her toes.

  She had to close her eyes, then open them again to see if maybe part of her brain had fried from sexual overload.

  Nope.

  It was totally trashed.

  She frowned as she dropped her duffel bag next to the door then settled her fists on her hips.

  It hadn’t been this bad before, had it?

  Had dirtbags—or her neighbors—sifted through the mess looking for valuables? Or any single item still intact?

  She kicked her way to the kitchen, figuring maybe she’d open a window and let some of the ugly out. She grabbed the mail off the table, trying to remember if it had been there before.

  With a drunken creak, her door swung back open.

  She glanced over her shoulder, hoping it was the super with some duct tape.

 
Oh, shit.

  No super.

  No duct tape.

  Lara’s stomach dropped, tension slamming through her so hard she was lucky she didn’t land on her ass. Her breath knotted in her chest, hurting as she tried to make her lungs work.

  Looming in her doorway, looking as though he was on death’s payroll, was one of the goons.

  A very big, very ugly, very mean-looking goon.

  “Been looking for you,” he said in a heavily accented guttural growl.

  Okay, so maybe Frat Boy hadn’t been exaggerating about the danger thing.

  She could handle this. It was broad daylight—her door didn’t even shut. Her fingers shook on her hips and she felt like throwing up. But the only thing in her stomach was a grease slick of fear, so she swallowed it down and tried her only option.

  Bullshit.

  “You must be looking for Lara,” she said, adding a strained laugh and big wide eyes. “Sorry. She’s not here right now.”

  Mean and Ugly just stared.

  Then, not even glancing around as if he might be concerned with witnesses, he stepped farther into the room.

  Uh-oh.

  Lara would have stepped back, but her feet were frozen to the floor.

  “I’m her neighbor. She, you know, called and asked me to check her mail.” She waved the envelopes as if they were covered in truth dust to verify her claim.

  She couldn’t tell if Mean and Ugly believed her or not. He just kept staring with those dead shark eyes.

  “So, um, I can give her a message if you want.”

  Still nothing.

  She winced, glancing past his shoulder. Was he waiting for his buddy? Didn’t goons travel in pairs?

  The idea of another one sent a wave of terror washing over her. Lara tried to swallow the slippery, hot fear clawing its way up her throat. She’d be okay. She was street smart; she’d handled bad before. She could handle this.

  Somehow.

  He moved closer.

  She wanted to run. To scream. To jump up and down yelling, no fair, dammit.

  But she couldn’t move.

  Lara’s fingers clenched, the mail crumpling loudly. The sound snapped her out of the foggy terror. She frantically looked around for a weapon. Keys, a big stick. A stiletto.

  Nothing.

  She had a handful of mail.