TRITON: A Navy SEAL Romance (Heroes Ever After Book 2)

by Alana Albertson

  My only working eye made out the image of a man in a white coat walking into the room, a reluctant smile hiding the pity on his face.

  “Sergeant Williams, I’m Dr. Evanson. You’re at Walter Reed Medical Hospital. You’ve been in a coma for three months; we didn’t think you’d make it. Congratulations, son, you’re a hero.”

  It was a smile I would get to know intimately, for that same condescending smile would end up gracing the face of every politician asking me to pose for a photo, every active duty Marine praying they wouldn’t end up like me, every woman I propositioned.

  It was a look that said simultaneously “Thank you for your service” and “This poor bastard.”

  4

  Isa

  Guilt from my initial reaction to his injuries tormented me.

  At first I was determined not to stare at his face, horrified that he’d be insulted by my reaction. But the second his face came into focus, I held back a sob, and a lump grew in my throat.

  The right side of his face was mangled, taut raw flesh accented with blue and red scars. His jaw was uneven, and his right eyelid slumped, filled with what must’ve been a glass eye. The remnant of his ear was dappled and twisted. But the other half of his face was clean-shaven, handsome and rugged—a bright turquoise eye, strong chin, black hair shorn in a Marine Corps high and tight haircut.

  Flashes filled my brain, stored images I must’ve retained from newsreels and graphic war movies. Had it been a roadside bomb? An outmanned firefight? Some type of chemical attack? I wouldn’t ask him. For now, I was content with the trust he had shown me by unveiling his scars.

  “I guess I should’ve gone to the party as Two-Face,” he said, his voice somber.

  “No, you’re beautiful. You make a sexy Hulk.” I caressed his face, my fingers tracing its divots. “Plus, then you’d be DC, and I’d be Marvel. We would’ve never had a chance.”

  He let out a small laugh, but flinched at my touch. “You’ve seen me now. You’re free to go.”

  This was my chance to end this night safely and in control.

  Or I could get wild—do what I’d only ever read about in my books.

  Cut loose.

  I’d always admired those women who owned their sexuality, like Marisol. Indulged in pleasure without any guilt or shame. I wondered what it would be like to live in the moment.

  I was picky, but I still had needs, and right now I needed some action—and sadly these days the warm glow from my eReader was about the closest that I felt to having any heat radiating on my body. But even the artificial afterglow of one hot night with my latest romance hero did little to warm my heart. After all, I hadn’t had sex since my last relationship ended. I missed everything about being around men—their masculine scents, their non-subtle eye fucks, their rough hands. At least my book boyfriends were gorgeous, witty, and incredible lovers—but most importantly, they wanted more from their heroines than just a one-night stand.

  And I was sure this man wasn’t looking for anything more than a hookup.

  Isa, put on your clothes and get the hell out of here. This is not you. You are responsible, conservative, and goal-oriented.

  Faced with the opportunity to indulge in my fantasy of hot, wild sex with a hunky alpha male, I had to admit that the reality of the situation made me realize how rigid I’d always been.

  But somewhere deep in my soul I wanted to lose myself in this damaged man, give him pleasure to alleviate his pain, experience ecstasy and release.

  And maybe he could heal me too.

  The heat between us rose, and I erased the distance between us, like two magnets being drawn together.

  I traced his face with my fingers, running the tips over his lips. Rough, wild, and dangerous. As he remained still, my hands explored his incredible body—rock-hard muscles, deeply embedded scars, and intricate ink. All making him look like the sexiest badass alive.

  He bit his bottom lip; his pupil dilated.

  Hungry.

  Ravenous.

  Intense.

  His chest heaved, and the sight of this raw, ferocious man before me sent a shock between my legs. I ached for him to relieve the tension that consumed my body.

  I pressed my palm onto his chest, the green body paint staining my hand. “I want to stay. I want you.”

  Damn, did I just say that? My words betrayed my will.

  The left side of his mouth widened into a grin, although his right side remained frozen in time. With one arm, he clutched my ass and wrapped my legs around his waist. I gasped as his mouth covered mine. His lips were neither soft nor sweet—they were hard and hungry. The length of his cock and the hair on his chest let me know that, unlike my previous boyish lovers, I was about to be fucked by a real man.

  There was no turning back. I needed this Marine inside me in the worst way.

  His kisses were out of control. I’d never been kissed like this before, like I was an oasis in the middle of the desert. His mouth tasted minty and hot, and his manliness intoxicated me. He awoke a latent desire in me, summoning my inner wildcat. I kissed him back, kissed him everywhere. His mouth, his lips, his neck, his scars. My hands explored his insanely ripped body, stroking him like he was my personal sex toy. I gripped his hair and dug my nails into his back, kneading him closer to me, never wanting to let him go.

  I’d always been the good girl, living vicariously through my friends’ hookups, only indulging in my fantasies in the safety of my mind. Whether it was from a place of fear or control, I had never allowed myself to fulfill my desires. But tonight, with this nameless sex god in my grasp, I made a silent vow to not hold anything back. I was going to let him fuck me like it was the last night of the world.

  He shoved my ass on the countertop as his hands worked their way down my body, his mouth suckling on my nipples. A moan escaped my lips. I could feel my pulse beat in my core, and the thought of his hot tongue working its magic between my legs was almost enough to make me orgasm. I arched my back as his fingers teased my pussy, his thumb rubbing my clit.

  “Oh, yes,” I moaned. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”

  He groaned and dropped to his knees, his lips teasing me, showering my warm, wet flesh with kisses. He pushed his finger, first one, then two, deeper inside me, twisting and turning, and I gasped. I ran my fingers through his hair, wanting more of him, more of his tongue, more of his fingers. One wicked glance up at me, and he buried his face in my pussy. Ohmigod. His tongue danced around me, licking me into a frenzy as sensations of bliss pulsed through my body. Glancing down at this sex god going to town on me, my legs now wrapped around his neck, I felt so naughty. I didn’t even know this guy’s name, so why did he feel so right?

  “I’m gonna lick you until you come all over my face, baby.”

  Ahh. His tongue worked its magic against my clit. A rush of pleasure coiled in my core, rising and falling, desperate for release. My pussy throbbed and a wave of ecstasy exploded through my body, the sweet freedom making my body tremble.

  He looked up at me as he slowly stood up, his one eye hungry with desire. I kissed his neck, careful to give his wounds extra attention. I wanted to take my time, explore every inch of his body. It would take me a lifetime to memorize it, but I might only have this one night. I kissed his chest, lavishing love on his nipples. I massaged his hard flesh, all the while studying the scars and tattoos on his muscular frame.

  What was his story? Where was he from? What had happened to him?

  I licked my way down all eight sections of his abs to his happy trail before dropping to my knees. His shorts were still on, so I unbuckled his belt, pushed down his boxers, and his huge cock stood at full attention. Wow, it was beautiful—thick, long, and harder than concrete.

  I took a moment to look up into his eye and smile. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t taking pity on him—I wanted this, I wanted him. He was the hottest man I’d ever seen, and the scars only made him sexier to me.

  He bit his lip and ran his finge
rs through my hair. My mouth opened and my lips created a seal around his cock, and he let out a heavy grunt. I licked the head and did my best to take him deep. I’d never really enjoyed giving blowjobs, even though I’d wanted to please my ex-boyfriends. But pleasuring the man standing above me, his sculpted body naked for my eyes only . . . for the first time in my life, I truly appreciated how sexy this act was. How giving him this pleasure might take away even a small bit of his pain.

  He groaned and his eyes hooded. “That’s it, baby. Suck me hard.”

  I obeyed his command, locking my eyes with his. I took him deeper, sucked harder, my hand wrapped around the shaft. I needed to give him pleasure, make him need me.

  I wanted to taste his hot cum in my mouth, but he pushed me off of him. I rose, never losing his gaze. He threw me over his back like he was some caveman and I was his possession, opened his bedroom door, and tossed me down on the bed.

  He reached for a condom, ripped open its package, and rolled it on his cock. I touched his hand. I had so many questions, but before I could open my mouth, his body hovered over me. He asked me if I was sure, and I gave him an affirmative nod and a breathless yes. He exhaled one deep breath, parted my thighs and slid inside me, setting my every nerve on fire. He grabbed my hips and pushed deeper. I was so wet for him, my pussy clamped around his cock.

  “Baby, you’re so tight.”

  I moaned and he pulled out and thrust fully inside me. He pinned my hands behind my head and fucked me.

  “How do you want it, baby?”

  Lust had taken over my mind. I had only one goal—to completely lose myself in this moment, and have him lose himself inside me. “Hard and rough.”

  “My kind of girl. Spread your legs, baby, that’s it.”

  He pushed my legs back so my knees were near my neck. I arched my back and he thrust harder, faster, rougher, my pussy stretching to take him, take him deep. His left hand clutched my ass, pulling me into him, ensuring my clit received the indirect stimulation that I craved.

  “So fucking sweet. Show me how much you want me.”

  And I did. I writhed under him, working my hips, rocking back and forth for him, like I was performing an intimate dance just for him.

  “That’s it, baby. Take me deep.” He squeezed my hand and pumped deeper, rubbing my nipples. He was so huge I was astounded that I wasn’t in pain, but I was loving every to-the-hilt second of him being inside me.

  He released my hands, pulled me up so we were facing each other, and wrapped my legs around his waist. His mouth sucked on my tits, and I almost came again, but he slowed the pace, edging me like I’d only read about in my romance books. “Not yet, sweetheart. You don’t come until I say you come. Ride me now; don’t hold back.”

  My hips swiveled around his cock, my clit rubbing against him. My ecstasy came in waves, but every time I was close, he somehow managed to change his pace, not allowing me to go over the edge, to end this moment.

  He slapped my ass and pulled my hair. “God, you’re so fucking sexy. Good girl. Do you want to come?”

  “Yes.” I ground deeper into his body, savoring his touch, his silent intensity, his beautiful cock. I was so wet, so hot, every cell in my body bouncing in euphoria.

  “Say it. Tell me what you want.”

  “Make me come.”

  Mouth on my nipples, he grasped my hips in both hands and pounded me down on his cock, finally setting me free. I let out a scream as he held me close, rocking my body through my orgasm. A final deep thrust and he let out a guttural groan. Then I collapsed in his arms.

  We cuddled for a few minutes, our bodies intertwined in the now green-stained sheets. The silence was awkward; I didn’t know what to say. Despite my assurances to myself that I could handle this random hookup, a wave of guilt crashed down on me. I couldn’t believe I just had sex with this man.

  I didn’t even know his name.

  I wondered what this naked man next to me was thinking.

  My fingers traced the scar on his shoulder. “What’s your name?” I whispered.

  “Grady,” he said in a low tone.

  Grady? Holy shit! As in Grady Williams? The war hero? I’d read a magazine article about him. He couldn’t be. But Grady wasn’t a common name.

  I popped up in bed and stared down at him. “You’re Grady ‘The Beast’ Williams? The youngest living Medal of Honor recipient?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Ay dios mío!

  There had been a before picture of him in the magazine and I remembered thinking he was so handsome, but I hadn’t recognized him tonight underneath all his scars.

  “Oh my God! You’re a hero. My dad’s, like, obsessed with you.” So obsessed, in fact, that my father dreamed of writing Grady’s war memoir. My mind raced, trying to recall all the details of the article I’d read. Grady was legendary. This badass had thrown his body on a hand grenade to save his friends’ lives.

  He rolled away from me and sat up on the side of his bed. I sat next to him and noticed his hand was shaking. “I’m not a hero. I was just doing my job. Fucking bullshit that I was given an award to remember the worst day of my life.”

  This guy blew my mind. “Are you kidding me? You saved the lives of your friends—you could’ve died. You threw yourself on a grenade, Grady. How are you not a hero?”

  “Anyone would’ve done it.”

  Um, okay. Not true. Hell, my old dance partner once used my body as a shield because he didn’t want to get wet in the Splash Zone at SeaWorld. Worse yet, he split the second my life fell apart.

  “So that’s why you freaked out back there?”

  I wanted to feel something, connect on more than a physical level. I’d always been fascinated with warriors—I’d written a paper for my classics course on “The Ancient Greek Hero”—it was about time to get to know the modern version.

  He didn’t reply, not that I expected him to, and instead stood and walked into the bathroom. I heard the water turn on and I lay back down, paralyzed in bed.

  I’d just been fucked by the man the press hailed as “America’s Bravest Beast.”

  5

  Grady

  I scrubbed the green body makeup off my chest, the saccharine sweet aroma filling the shower—at least it smelled better than the coppery scent of blood. I flashed back again to that night, the image of my buddy’s brains strewn on cammies before my body imploded. No matter how many fucking therapy appointments I had, no matter how many bottles of vodka I drank, no matter how many girls I fucked, every time I closed my eyes, I was right back in Iraq.

  Black Widow, AKA Isa, however, had done something that no girl had done since I’d been back. She didn’t abandon me after one of my episodes. In fact, she chased me down to make sure I was okay.

  I had been shocked she ran after me. Her presence calmed me down faster than I normally would have had I been alone.

  I never realized how much I needed someone to care about me.

  After forty surgeries, flat-lining twice, and excruciating rehab, I definitely had my share of freak-outs. Fireworks, of course, were an obvious trigger, but lesser things set me off too. The sound of dogs baying in the night, the scent of diesel, the crush of a huge crowd. After a few too many flashbacks, my ex-girlfriend flipped out, packed her bags, and left without looking back. Fuck that bitch. All those nights in the hospital, dreaming about her, and she left me the second she could conjure up an excuse. But I knew the truth—it wasn’t because of my nightmares; it was because she couldn’t stand to be dating a circus freak. Her new boyfriend was one of those collegiate pretty-boy types—lean body, shaggy hair, looked like he could be an Abercrombie & Fitch model. He could blend in at her country clubs, where I’d always stand out like a mutant.

  But I couldn’t blame her for not wanting to deal with my problems. Even in Beauty and the Beast, at the end the Beast turns into a prince. I would always remain a one-eyed jackass.

  I stepped out of the shower. By now, I’d given Isa enoug
h time to flee the scene of the crime. No matter how she tried to hide it, I saw her look of disgust when she saw my face. And this girl had recognized my name—she’d definitely find an excuse to bail.

  Back in the bedroom, I was shocked to find her still naked, curled in a ball on my bed. I’d expected her to already be dressed, phone and keys in hand, ready to make an exit.

  She was so fucking hot and I’d seen her somewhere before, but I couldn’t remember where, which wasn’t surprising with my memory loss. Looked like an angel—well, the Victoria’s Secret kind. Her long hair cascaded around her chest, the wisps barely covering her nipples. Her green eyes were the color of kryptonite, and her tanned skin was completely smooth. And her body—full, natural breasts, tiny waist, and a tight, round booty.

  I recognized her, but where the fuck from?

  Before my injuries, I never forgot a face, which was why I knew I would’ve made an excellent scout sniper, my dream job. But I would never qualify anymore with one eye and a spotty memory.

  Her pupils appeared dilated and she pulled at her hair. “Hey.”

  Yup, she was definitely looking for a reason to bail. “Hey. I’m going to drive you home.” I walked over to my dresser, threw on some boxer briefs, gray sweatpants, and a T-shirt.

  Her shoulders slumped. “Oh, okay. I hoped I could hang out for a bit.”

  Kickass. Maybe I’d read her wrong and she was up for another round. Maybe she even could look past my face. “Okay. You want some pizza?”

  She hopped out of bed, and I stared at her naked ass as she walked into the bathroom. This chick was fine as all hell. She looked like a movie star—she definitely didn’t want to date a guy who looked like the Terminator.