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

by Alana Albertson

What a fucking dick. What kind of dad does that? “I’m not going to trust my story with some jackass who steals from his daughter.”

  “No, wait. He’s not a jerk, I swear. He’s desperate. He’s been a mess since my mom died. And he was in Vietnam so he has his own PTSD issues. He’s an alcoholic and he has flashbacks too. But I know he’d do an amazing job. I promise you that he’s a brilliant writer. He was even nominated for the Pulitzer. And honestly, he’s so in awe of you. He first told me about your story before you won your medal. He thinks you’re a hero. You are a hero.”

  My mind raced. She was desperate.

  And I held the power.

  So now I’d get what I wanted.

  “What’s in it for me?”

  Her eyes brightened. “My dad’s agent is excellent. I’m sure you’ll get a huge book deal.”

  I laughed, leaned in closer, and eye-fucked her slowly. “No, that’s not what I meant, baby. I’m not talking about the money. If I agree to do this, and choose your father, what are you going to do for me?”

  “Oh.” Her face finally registered the meaning behind my question. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to be my date for the Commandant’s Marine Corps Ball. I’m the Guest of Honor. We’ll fly to Hawaii together, spend a weekend attending official events, and when the weekend is over, we will go our separate ways.”

  “Wow.” Her lips widened into a smile. “Grady, I’d be honored to be your date to the ball. When is it?”

  “November tenth. The Marine Corps Birthday.”

  She beamed. “That’s a few months away. I can’t wait. Yes, of course.”

  I let out a laugh. No way was I going to let her off that easily.

  “Don’t get too excited. There’s more to the deal. I want the full girlfriend experience.”

  Her smile dropped. “Full girlfriend experience?”

  “Yup. I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend in public, at the ball, and at any events we have to attend. The President will be there. I can’t exactly bring my fuck buddy to meet the leader of the free world. One year, the guest of honor tried to bring a porn star to the ball and the commandant banned him. The tabloids have interviewed my ex-girlfriends, so I really want to keep this clean and avoid a scandal.”

  “Makes sense. I understand.”

  “No, you don’t understand. In order to pull this off, we need to get to know each other. I want you to myself. No drama. Just you and me, alone, away from the rest of world. Whatever I say goes. You disobey me, and I won’t sign the contract with your father. Once the ball is over, we go our separate ways.” I moved toward her, placing my hand on her upper thigh. “But until then, I own you. All night, every night. On your knees sucking my cock, on all fours while I fuck you from behind. I want to lick your pussy until you’re begging me for release. I want to fuck you until you can’t do anything but come and come and come for me.”

  Her skin flushed, her eyes blinked, and her lips parted. I couldn’t tell if she wanted to slap me or kiss me. “Sorry, I’m not for sale. This was a mistake. I’m going to go.”

  I laughed and grabbed her wrist. “You’re not going anywhere. You contacted me; you asked me for a favor. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me again.”

  She swallowed hard and I remembered how hot she looked sucking me off. “Our night together was incredible, but it was a mistake. I’m not looking for a fling. I can’t have sex with you every night and not get attached. I know you must think I’m a slut, but you’re the only man I’ve ever had a one-night stand with.”

  I’d heard that line from many girls—but something in her voice made me actually believe her. “I don’t think you’re a slut. I think you’re a good girl who wants to get wild, who wants to be tempted and cut loose. Use me, Isa. I’m not your fairy tale prince, I’m your beast.”

  Now she rubbed her hand over her heart, her mouth alternating between gaping open and closing shut. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

  I pulled her into me, tilted her head toward my mouth, whispering into her lips. “Say yes and I’ll make all your fantasies come true.” My lips kissed her neck, and my hands gripped her wrist. I flipped her under me, and she writhed against my body. This kiss was urgent, menacing, yet at the same time comforting. My tongue explored her hot little mouth, until she let out a little whimper.

  “And you swear you’ll let my dad write your memoir?” She kissed me back, her leg wrapping around my waist.

  “I give you my word.” I pinched her nipples, and took off her shirt.

  “When do we start?” she asked breathlessly, her hands exploring my body, tugging at my shorts.

  “Now. Get on your knees and suck my cock.”

  Her hand undid my belt buckle, and my pants dropped to the floor. She pulled down my black boxer briefs, releasing my cock from its prison.

  Her soft lips brushed against my tip, and the anticipation was almost too much to handle. How many nights since I’d met her had I jerked off thinking about her doing this exact thing? In my fantasies, despite myself, I imagined her as mine. No labels, not my girlfriend or my wife, but mine—all mine. No other man would ever feel her lips on his cock—she was only for me.

  Her hand grasped the base of my cock and slid up the length. She licked her lips, teasing me, and I was desperate to feel that tongue on my tip. I resisted the urge to place my hand on the back of her neck and guide her to me. She knew what I wanted—and she was about to give it to me.

  She kissed the lower part of my stomach, licking her way down my happy trail, clearly enjoying that she literally had me in the palm of her hand. I’d do just about anything for her right now. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally took me deep, her hot, little mouth creating a tight ring around my cock. She sucked me so hard I could barely handle the pleasure. I wanted to fuck her mouth, pound the back of her throat, but I didn’t want to scare her. One glimpse of my primal desire, the beast within, and she could leave me again.

  “Fuck, baby, that feels so good.”

  She pulled out all the stops—her hands gliding up and down, her lips pressed against me, her tongue darting under the base of my tip.

  I gripped her hair, trying to push her off me.

  “I’m going to come. Stop.”

  But she didn’t stop. She kept sucking, licking, and stroking. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to let go, and a wave of complete ecstasy reached every cell in my body. Isa didn’t recoil in disgust; she lapped up my cum like a kitten devouring warm milk.

  I pulled up my boxers and shorts and clutched her to my chest. I debated asking her to stay but I had to check into my unit tomorrow to start processing my exit paperwork

  “I’m traveling to Lake Tahoe; I have a cabin for a week. I want you to stay with me.”

  She nodded. “Okay, when?”

  “Next weekend. I’ll message you the details.” I took out my phone, and we exchanged numbers.

  “Okay, that works. Grady, I . . . I wanted to apologize for running—”

  I stopped her. “We’re not going to do that.” Though I wanted to know the reason she’d bolted, I didn’t want her to lie to me. And I couldn’t trust her to tell me the truth. We had a week together to get to know each other. Telling her I wanted nothing to do with her at the end of our deal gave us both an out.

  “Oh, okay. Bye then.” She squirmed away from me. I walked her to her car, and watched her drive away.

  The traffic buzzed, triggering my anxiety, and I needed to get back inside my place ASAP before I lost it. What the fuck had I just committed to? A book? All because I couldn’t get her pussy off my brain?

  At least I had a date for the ball. I just hoped my bargain wouldn’t blow up in my face.

  I reasoned with myself that all the decisions I’d made were good decisions, decisions for my future.

  I did want to tell my story, to honor Rafael. And I would refuse to do any book signings. Give the public the patriotic war story they craved, and t
hen retreat back into my shell.

  And getting to fuck Isa for a week in exchange was the best book bonus I could ever receive.

  16

  Isa

  I drove alongside the ocean to meet Marisol for coffee. I hadn’t told her yet about my deal with Grady because I didn’t want to deal with her negativity. She would no doubt be apprehensive about me heading to some mystery cabin with some dangerous Marine I barely knew. I also couldn’t risk details of my agreement with Grady being leaked to the press. I refused to do anything to jeopardize my dad’s book deal. But I needed to confide in someone, and despite her tendency to gossip, I did trust her.

  I sat at Bird Rock Coffee in La Jolla, people-watching through my dark sunglasses. Young mothers dressed in their Lululemon leggings strolled by pushing their kids in BOB strollers. Businessmen dressed in surf clothes and Reef sandals held meetings on their laptops.

  When I’d left Grady’s place and the fog of lust disappeared, I was livid. How dare he demand sex in exchange for letting my dad write his book? But I’d since calmed down and attempted to see it from his perspective. We’d hooked up, I’d stolen his bullet and left. When I’d finally contacted him, it was to ask for a favor. I secretly hoped his demands would be for more than just sex, that he wanted to get to know me. I guess I would know soon enough.

  Marisol finally showed up, fifteen minutes late as usual. We hugged and took our place in line to order our lattes. Since there was nowhere to sit at the café, we took our drinks down to Calumet Park, a little area that overlooked the ocean and sat on a small cement bench.

  I sipped my drink, the nutty macadamia flavor transporting me back to Hawaii. Last time I’d been on the island was for a Dancing under the Stars tour, only months before my mother died. And now, I’d be attending the ball there with Grady.

  “So, girl, what’s up? What’s so urgent?”

  “Not much, just studying for the GRE. You?”

  She sipped her beverage. “Oh, just spending time with Paloma and working at my dad’s restaurant trying to save up money.”

  Marisol definitely liked to have a good time, but that girl worked harder than anyone I’d ever met. She didn’t even learn English until she was six years old, and she graduated top of her class in high school. In order to pay for college and medical school, she’d joined the Navy ROTC program. A year later, she found out she was pregnant. After she graduated from undergrad and medical school, she would serve in the Navy.

  “Did I ever tell you how cool I think you are to join the Navy?”

  She gave me the side eye. “Is this about Grady again? Are you still thinking about him?”

  She knew me too well. “Yes, actually it is. I saw him again. Well, I wrote him first. And I’m going to visit him in Tahoe next weekend.”

  Her eyes widened and her long lashes blinked. “You’re kidding me. Why did you write him?”

  Marisol knew everything about my mom, my father, and me. I could tell her what was really going on. “The truth is my dad is in debt, going to lose our house.” I paused. “Don’t tell anyone, but he stole my tuition money trying to stop the bank from foreclosing.”

  “He stole from you? Damn, chica. I know he’s your dad, but that’s straight fucked up.”

  “I know. I’m pissed. But it’s in the past—getting mad isn’t going to bring the money back. What could I do? Press charges?”

  “Uh, yeah. He should figure this out, not you. Why do you have to always clean up everyone’s messes?”

  Good question. “That’s not the point. I don’t want to lose the house either.”

  “Fine, but what does this have to do with going to Lake Tahoe with Grady? Oh my God! Did you hook up with him again?”

  “Uh. . .yeah. I can’t help myself when I’m around him. He’s so sexy—like electric. I actually asked Grady to let my dad write his memoir. He said yes—if I went to Lake Tahoe and the ball with him.”

  Marisol grabbed my shoulder. “And you agreed? Are you nuts? Are you forgetting the fact that this dude had a flashback at the party, threw you to the ground, and then you found a loaded gun at his house? I’ve been around some of these PTSD vets at the VA, and some of them are nuts.”

  She had excellent points.

  “I’ve thought this out. I even admitted to him that I stole his bullet. But here’s the thing—I can’t stop thinking about him.”

  A toddler boy played with his dog in the grass. I smiled at him, hoping his nanny hadn’t overheard our conversation. She seemed to be staring at me but maybe I was just being paranoid.

  “I call bullshit, Isa. I don’t care how amazingly he fucked you, and believe me, I’m no saint. And I’m not judging you. But he’s dangerous. He’s unstable. He’s a recluse. So you go away with him, he fucks your brains out, you go to the ball with him, and your dad writes his book. Then what? You pretend you never met him? You’re playing with fire.”

  “It’s more than that. I like him; he’s fascinating. I mean, what kind of guy throws himself on a grenade?”

  “A crazy one. Dude’s got a death wish. If I saw a grenade, I’d run away.”

  “Right. That’s the thing. He was willing to die to save his friends. He has to be a good man, just messed up.”

  Mirasol pursed her lips. “I guess. And let’s be real . . . his scars don’t bother you at all?”

  I gulped. “I mean, yeah, his scars are horrific. But it doesn’t matter. He’s still incredibly sexy.”

  She downed the rest of her latte like it was a shot. “I know you admire him. But—and I don’t mean to be a bitch, honey—he’s not your mom. You can’t save him. After all the crap you’ve been through with your mom, you can’t be in a situation like that again. It wouldn’t be healthy. From what you told me, Grady needs help. Real help. I’m not saying that you guys could never find common ground, but I just don’t want you in danger.”

  I turned my head away from her and stared out to the ocean, fixating on a rock with a bunch of brown pelicans perched on it. Marisol was right. I’d fought so hard to overcome my depression and fear, to stop blaming myself for not realizing my mom was hurting. But my healing came from within. Grady needed to find a way to live with his injuries and his memories. Playing house with him wouldn’t solve anything.

  17

  Grady

  My buddies threw me a “going to fuck a reality star” party. I couldn’t believe Isa had actually agreed to my demands. As a show of good faith, I’d exchanged a few emails with her father and his agent. Her father was incredibly excited and passionate about the project, and I felt confident that he would completely dedicate himself and write an honest, heartfelt memoir. His agent was certain he could sell the memoir at auction for six figures—apparently the American public was hungry for “heroic tales of valor.” I embraced the idea of writing the book once I realized that I would be able to tell my story my way, without embellishing it. But I refused to sign the contract with the agent until after my vacation with Isa, just to make sure she kept her promise to me.

  Some patriotic Silicon Valley multimillionaire I’d met at a fundraising function had offered to let me use his mansion, his vacation home, whenever I needed to get away. He owned a waterfront house in Incline Village that he pretty much never used. I’d initially told him there was no way I could accept his offer, but he’d said it was his honor to lend his home to a hero. I still felt uncomfortable being praised, but I thought some time to detox would do me some good. Better yet, a free house to fuck Isa in wasn’t the worst idea in the world. My favorite type of therapy.

  Beau, Diego, and Trace all took leave for a few days to party with me in Tahoe before Isa arrived. These men were my brothers—we’d all fought together, we were the survivors of the attack.

  Beau raised a bottle of Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale. “Here’s to the best Devil Dawg I know. Get some!”

  We all drank, and the other men milled around the cabin. This place was sick. Had its own sandy beach, a hot tub on the deck, nestl
ed in the pines. Maybe I could find some peace out here, besides losing myself in Isa’s pussy.

  Beau smirked, his eyes reflecting on the lake behind him. “Man, I can’t believe you fucked Isa. She’s fucking gorgeous.”

  “Yup. But she’s just another stuck-up celeb. She’s only agreeing to spend time with me if I let her dad write my memoir. I’m not doing the book for her, I’m doing it to tell my story and honor Rafael. And the money is nice. Maybe I can buy a place out here so I have somewhere to go since the Corps finally decided to kick my broke ass out.”

  Beau placed his hand on my shoulder and I brushed it off. I was jealous of this motherfucker. Before my injury, the two of us would hit the clubs, compete to gain the attention of the hottest girl in the bar. There was no competition now—he’d win every time. He had everything going for him. He rocked his boy-band smile, was in perfect shape, had just completed sniper school, and had escaped our attack unscathed. He had a future in the Corps, for as long as he wanted it.

  “Whatever, dude. The Corps medically retiring you is a good thing—groups will pay you to speak, politicians will milk your Medal of Honor for all it’s worth.”

  I sighed. “But I don’t want that—I hate public speaking. I don’t want anyone pitying me. I want to go back overseas. I want to fight. I want some action.”

  Beau again put his hand on my shoulder, and this time I didn’t remove it. “You’re looking at this all wrong. Write your book, rake in the cash, fuck your hottie girl, get out of the Corps, and you can do whatever you want. Hell, go on Dancing under the Stars and every bitch in America will want to fuck you.”

  “Fuck that. You go on. You’d look good in the makeup and shit.”

  “Whatever, man. I’m telling you. You’ve got it made.”

  Easy for him to say—he still had his looks, his career. The career that should’ve been mine.

  All my friends were living their dreams. Diego was going to McMap to be a Marine Martial Arts instructor, and Trace was going to be a Marine Security Guard at an Embassy. We were young Devil Dawgs—raised on Eminem and Facebook. Most of us had never even thought about life after the Corps. Do twenty years, retire, get a paycheck for life. If we were lucky, find a beautiful girl who wouldn’t fuck around on us while we were deployed.