Matched (Navy Seals of Little Creek Book 2)

by Paris Wynters

“Yeah.” His eyelids are at half-mast and never have I been so turned on. He helps me off the stage, careful to angle his body so I’m blocking the crowd’s view of the bulge in his pants.

  “I don’t think you heard me.” Before we make it back to the booth for our stuff, I stop and stare up at him until I have his full attention. “I said that we should go home. Together.”

  Chapter Nine

  Tony

  After that performance and keeping her in front of me—which is just as much because I like her ass rubbing against my cock as it is to hide my hard-on—no one’s asking questions when Inara orders our Uber. It was warm in this bar to begin with, but right now it’s hotter than a damned sauna. There isn’t a person in this place who doesn’t understand our hurry to head somewhere more private.

  But I’m nervous. Not because I’m new at this sleeping-with-people-I-hardly-know thing. Sex usually doesn’t mean much and has never been a big deal for me. Just a couple of bodies taking care of business. Most of my partners have been hit and quits. But it’s a new experience to go home with a woman, knowing she’ll still be around the next day. There’s a certain level of awkwardness attached I’ve never had to deal with, causing me to freeze up when we’re alone outside of the bar as we wait for the car to show.

  “You sure about this?” I’m not even sure who I’m talking to or that I’ve asked the question aloud until Inara glances at me over her shoulder.

  Her hair is pushed back, and I enjoy the full view of every curve of her face. Her beauty steals my breath and she smirks as my gaze travels from her mouth and down the length of her throat to her rounded breasts.

  “They say there’s no such thing as a stupid question.” The smirk on her face deepens and her brown eyes dance with amusement. “Not true.”

  Fuck nerves. I’d be an idiot to bow out now. Ever since we met, I’ve wanted to slide inside her. More so in the last few weeks, sleeping down the hall from her, hearing her throaty laughter, experiencing the rush of heat that accompanies every brush of her hand against mine. She’s magic and perfection and . . . my wife. Somehow, though, the idea of Inara’s approval is what leaves my palms sweaty and my stomach in sudden knots.

  Fuck.

  I’m screwed.

  My mind is toying with my body. A mixture of desire and anxiety leaves me hot, then cold. My wife. The woman who’s going to be my one and only for the next year. And if things aren’t up to snuff this first time . . . Oh fuck. The pressure intensifies. And not the good kind of pressure. This is the weighty kind that makes it hard to breathe or think.

  The Uber pulls up beside us and we climb into the back together.

  My wife drops her hand to my thigh the moment the car pulls away from the curb, her fingers splayed across the wide expanse of denim. And I’m okay until she traces a nail across the inner seam of my pants. My world narrows into two warring factions: panic and desire. I stiffen in my seat. The urge to touch her in return sends blood rushing to my groin until my cock aches as it punches against my zipper. She reaches for me, chatting easily with the driver even as she grips my girth with one hand and gives an experimental squeeze.

  The touch screams of ownership and a low, desperate growl rattles in my chest. I clutch the door handle tighter, hanging on for dear life. Once I start touching her, I won’t be able to stop. Even as desire claws at me, I marvel at her boldness. She’s talking restaurants and valet service while she strokes me through my jeans. There’s an ease to the set of her shoulders and the rolling, confident way she’s working my dick that speaks of familiarity. I’m not her first, and after this year is up, I know I won’t be her last, but like a dumbass, I want to know what proverbial number I’ve pulled.

  The Uber stops and we jump out, then stumble inside. I slam the front door shut, and as soon as the outside world is cut off, Inara pounces, seals our lips together, and plunges her tongue into my mouth. She makes quick work of my belt and before I can register what’s going on, her slim fingers disappear beyond the waistband of my boxers.

  Oh fuck.

  I tear my mouth away from hers. “Bedroom.”

  Inara steps back, blinking up at me, and frowns slightly. Not as if she’s unhappy, but more as if she’s confused. “Never pegged you as the shy type, but sure.”

  Me either, but somehow, Inara has that effect on me.

  She grips my hand, tugging me toward the bedroom. She’s single-minded and determined, and I miss her fingers wrapped around my dick, but also I’m reminded of a lamb on its way to the slaughter, and swallow hard past the lump in my throat. Overthinking is the quickest way to kill a boner, but it’s too late. My dick is dying and the more I scramble to keep the poor guy blazing, the more gun-shy he becomes.

  Great.

  Awesome.

  At this rate, I won’t have to worry about whether or not Inara considers me a decent lover because I’ll never manage to get that far. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten laid, and just when I’ve managed to clear away one worry, another hits me.

  What if I come too quick? What does she consider too quick? What’s going to make it good for her? What’s going to make me last long enough to find that out? Worrying is only making things worse and I’m one breath from hyperventilating because Inara isn’t some fling, she’s my wife. And deep down, I’m invested in how this all plays out. She’s finally opening up to me, at least physically. If I disappoint her now, in the one way that she wants me . . .

  We clear the bedroom door and Inara leans forward to capture my ear between her teeth. Her tongue delves across the sensitive skin and I shudder, my eyes rolling into the back of my head. I’ve always suspected Inara has more experience than me when it comes to sex, but I guess we’re about to find out. And if her kiss is any indication, I’m doubly screwed. The woman can bring me to my knees with just a look and I can’t even figure out where to put my hands.

  Where the fuck do my hands go? Why do I even have hands? Have they always been this useless?

  Her expert fingers move over the outline of my dick, stroking me through the thick material until the slightest brush of her nail across my length nearly sends me shooting out of my skin. Instinct regains control and my cock springs back to painful life. One problem down and a million more to go.

  Inara doesn’t touch me with hesitant fingers but jerks me close, the edges of her nails biting into skin and demanding more. She growls playfully against the side of my neck. “Why are you still wearing pants?”

  “Sorry.” I undo my jeans and shove them down in a rush to kick them away. Unfortunately, I am too close to Inara and our heads collide with a crack that reverberates through me. She draws back with a hiss and I clutch my forehead until the ringing goes away. I reach for Inara, who’s crouched before me with her head in her hands. “You alright?”

  “I’m fine.” She stands and the look in her eyes is no longer sexy, so much as it is fiercely determined. I swallow hard, stumbling back as she stalks toward me. “Now let’s get you naked, big guy.”

  A distinctly undignified yelp escapes my mouth as she starts pulling at my clothes. For a moment, my jeans are entangled with my shoes, and I have to sit bare-assed on the floor undoing my laces, so I can finish pulling my jeans and boxers off. Inara stands over me, staring like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing. I have news for her. I don’t quite believe it myself.

  “For Christ’s sake.” Inara takes a deep breath, runs her hands over her face, and plops onto the bed. She regards me for a long, quiet moment. “Okay.”

  My eyes narrow as I shift nervously from sitting to standing. “Okay, what?”

  She gets slowly to her feet and I stiffen, prepared for her disappointment. I should be better at this, so why do I feel like a teenager again? Awkward and unsure.

  I jump when Inara’s hand brushes mine and look up to meet her eyes. There’s no disgust, no anger, no derision. Her gaze is unwavering but there’s a hint of softness I’ve never seen before. She places her thumb on my chin t
o tilt my head forward the slightest bit. “Just breathe.”

  Without thinking, I do. Breathing deep so that our chests rise and fall in tandem. The noise in my head and the doubts in my gut slide away, and it’s just me and Inara. The two of us. Alone. And before we go further, I take all of her in. I love her eyes, dark brown with hints of amber, pools I can get lost in. I want her so bad I can’t speak, even when she cups my cheek with her cool hand.

  “Get out of your own head.” Gripping either side of my face, she pulls me down until our lips are a breath apart. “You’re here with me. Keep it that way.”

  Inara steps back and keeps her gaze locked on to mine as she crosses her hands and slowly—inch by slow inch—lifts the hem of her shirt.

  “Holy. Shit.”

  She’s perfect. Extraordinary. Exquisite.

  She grins and chews one corner of her lip, ever the temptress. Her bra is frilly and lilac, flimsy in ways I never would have guessed she likes, but also one of the most perfect pieces of clothing I’ve ever seen. She unlatches the front closure and slips the straps down until it falls away. Her breasts are round and heavy with dark areolae, and glistening silver metal bars bisect the nipples.

  Fuck. Me.

  My fingers twitch, and I want to taste her, to roll my tongue around her nipples. My cock is heavy between my legs and I wrap my arm around her slim waist, lifting her off her feet. Lowering Inara down to the bed, I undo her jeans and begin to work them down her hips inch by inch. Her panties match her discarded bra and I take a moment to fully appreciate the contrast of delicate sexuality with the eroticism of her piercings. If I hadn’t guessed it before, her nipple piercings would have been all the confirmation I needed. Sexually, she’s in an entirely different league than yours truly, and it’s a struggle to decide whether that’s a bad thing.

  On one hand, she’s clearly more open-minded than I’ve ever been, both in the bedroom and outside of it. On the other, I have no fucking clue how to please a woman like her. And it’s not like I can check the Yelp reviews for something like this. My fear of letting her down is a cold lump in my gut.

  She pulls me down on top of her and presses her lips to mine and for a moment, the whispering doubts in my mind go quiet. I’ve never tasted anything as sweet as her mouth. She’s warm honey and gingerbread, spice and sugar. My tongue delves deeper and for the first time, she moans, arching against me so that the hard points of her nipples slide across my chest. She trails eager fingers down the length of my body, across my hips, then down the sides of my thighs.

  “What’s this?” she whispers, toying with the scar on my left leg in a delicious way that makes me wish my entire body was made of scars.

  “Bullet wound,” I manage to say.

  She pauses and then nips my lip. Her fingers move to the insides of my thighs and inch their way up until she can wrap her hands around my length. I shudder, bucking when she drags her thumb over the slit of my cock. Pre-cum soaks her skin and she rocks her thumb back and forth, bathing the rounded tip.

  A low groan rips from my throat. I grip her hips as she kisses her way from my mouth to my chin. Her lips dance down the side of my neck, her teeth and tongue at war as she struggles to reach as much bare skin as possible. I lean in for another kiss and put my hand between her legs. God, she’s soft. And wet. And still. So still I can’t tell if she likes it or not, and I’m too embarrassed to admit that I have no idea what she likes. It’s like I’m a virgin all over again. A virgin without a clue. So, I wiggle my fingers around, pressing my thumb against her clit and flicking until Inara mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “Dios mío,” not quite under her breath.

  Planting a hand against my shoulder, she shifts her weight and rolls me onto my back. Part of me is relieved to have her take the lead. Her weight is a delicious pressure against my aching cock and her breasts sway just out of reach of my mouth. Unable to help myself, I lean forward and capture one of her nipples gently between my teeth.

  Inara gasps, her fists clenching in the sheets next to my head. I glance up the length of her body but can’t quite read her expression. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

  With her piercing I should have considered the possibility before putting teeth on her, but I was acting purely out of instinct.

  “No.” She giggles and grabs the back of my head to hold me against her. I nuzzle her breasts with teeth and tongue, and she shudders helplessly above me. Oh, for the love of God, she’s so hot. The faint taste of steel is overridden by the richness of her skin, and I growl against her flesh until goosebumps dance across her body.

  She reaches across to the nightstand and pulls a condom from the drawer. After she tears the wrapper open, she grips my shaft and slides the condom on. My fingers grip the sheets of the bed as I fight to keep from coming. Inara holds my dick still while she slowly lowers herself down my length. I bury my face against her chest and grit my teeth as she lifts herself a few centimeters, only to come sliding back down.

  A second time, and a third. I’m panting as I grip her by the waist and lift my ass off the bed as she lowers herself for the fourth time. One moment there’s nothing but need and the next, my cock is working its way inside her. We gasp, breath mingling, as gravity pulls us both as close as we can get. She takes a moment to grow accustomed to my size and, with a flexing of my hips, I silently urge her to ride.

  Straddling me, she grips my hips with her thighs, the muscles tensing as she works to meet my thrusts. The room is soon filled with the sound of flesh against flesh. Inara grabs my hand, pressing it against her breasts and I squeeze. She makes a noise that’s half desperation, half frustration and presses closer. Chest to chest, our bodies still moving, still straining for relief, she kisses my throat and rakes nails down my shoulders, as if she needs something from me, craves it. But I don’t have a clue what it is.

  I hang on as long as I can, but there’s only so much a man can take with a goddess riding his cock, especially when that man has been aching for this exact moment since I first laid eyes on her almost a year ago. My body clenches and then spasms with my release. “Oh, God!” Then there are no words as I ride the wave of my orgasm out.

  When I come back to earth, I’m simultaneously exhausted and suffused in a warm, fuzzy sensation. “That was amazing. You’re amazing. I didn’t know it could be that wild.”

  Inara makes a strange noise in her throat as if she’s choking back a laugh. Hard to know for sure because I can barely focus. I roll out of bed to make my way to the bathroom to clean up, intent on returning and satisfying my wife. But her voice chases me down the hall, the words causing both my stomach and my confidence to plummet to the ground.

  “If you call that wild, we’ve got some work to do.”

  Chapter Ten

  Inara

  As nice as it would be to play dumb, Taya won’t allow me to get away without answering her question about my first sexual encounter with my husband. But this isn’t a conversation I want to be having with anyone. I pick at the polish on my toes and grimace. Jesus. I must have been drunk when I painted them. “How was what?”

  “Your one-way trip to pound town. That’s what you called it the other day at work, right?” Taya lowers her voice on the other end of the call so it’s barely a whisper. “Come on. I need ‘dicktails.’”

  I take a cotton swap and add some polish remover so I can fix the disaster that are my feet. “First off, don’t ever say that. You lack the proper swag credentials to pull it off.” I pick out a dark-purple polish and roll it between my hands. “Second, pound town is pretty apt because it was pretty much all pound and nothing else.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  I consider the question. “Not so much bad as . . . super vanilla? Okay for the first time, except my husband seemed to be under the illusion that we’d done something wild and crazy, which is concerning.” I swipe off the old nail polish. The bubblegum pink was cute at first, but I need something fiercer right now, especially since Taya’s end
of the line is silent. I sigh and pick up the plum-colored polish and begin painting each toe, trying to focus on the smooth swipes. But my night with Tony comes rushing back and my hands shake in response, ruining the polish. A color that is already hard enough to paint smoothly.

  Taya’s trying to be caring, making excuses on the other line, but I’m too focused on fixing these nails to care. I grab some Q-Tips and dip them in the nail polish remover. The sharp, acidic smell is enough to make my nose wrinkle, so I put the call on speaker and set the phone aside. This is serious business and I’m a multitasker. I scrub at the outline of my nails, growing more irritated by the second. “God, he has so much potential. That face, and those muscles. That smile. Perfect ingredients for some serious action. But nope. The only saving grace to the whole thing is that he’s hung like a horse and he’s so supersensitive, especially around the—”

  “Oh my God,” Taya interrupts, voice mildly desperate. “Please stop.”

  “You asked.” I blow a curl from my face, examining each toe for any missed smeared paint. Although, doing the autopsy isn’t so much fun since his is the only dick I’ll be enjoying for some time. Maybe I should rethink my stance on making this work for longer than a year. Maybe Tony’s right and our marriage should just be a short-term arrangement.

  My chest tightens. I signed up specifically in hopes of gaining a real partner who would last and somehow ended up stuck with one who has a one-year limit. Sex was supposed to be a consolation prize, at the very least.

  Taya huffs. “Maybe you just have to give the guy some pointers.”

  She’s right, but I’m demoralized about the whole marriage again. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for teaching. Maybe in college, but we’re in our thirties now. Shouldn’t he have figured it out on his own by now?” My toes are basically dry and shimmer a luminescent dark purple. I admire them for a moment and continue getting dressed for work. No one will see my feet in my work shoes, but I like my toes and fingers to match, keeping that whole put-together vibe going.