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  Soon it’s joined by a second, and then a third, folded upwards and pressing against the roof of my sex, rolling and twisting in the slickened boiler room it has become.

  He continues to whisper in my ear, relaying each microscopic detail, running me through his every stroke and touch, detailing what will come next in languid clips of syllables.

  I spread my legs wider. I’m aware now of his stiff cock stabbing at my leg as his joined fingers continue to slide in and out of my body.

  As his fingers curl against me internally, he presses the pad of his thumb against my clit, moving it in soft circles.

  A steady thrum starts up inside me. I close my eyes, lost in the sensation, his breath warm on the gooseflesh of my neck, his hand at my back now, cradling me, supporting my body as my climax builds.

  I’m sopping below. I offer no resistance at all, wet and completely open, my lips winged outwards and pressing moisture against the sides of my thighs. My clit throbs, rises to meet his thumb. Caught between his fingers and that weighty digit, my wet pussy fills with sensation, a deep and steady need that threatens to overwhelm me at any moment.

  Eyes closed, I clamp my teeth together, terrified if I don’t a cry will emerge from me so loud it will wake everyone from here to Texas.

  “Come for me,” he whispers. “Come on my fingers.” The hand that was at my back slides around and upwards. His fingers are moving faster below, his thumb’s pressure remaining consistent and the need to release so strong my entire body is shaking against him and the hard backboard of the bed.

  His fingers curl up inside me in a come-hither motion, thumb adding additional pressure. I can’t stop shaking, and as he takes the stiff tuft of my nipple between his fingers, I come, bucking against my bed, biting down as hard as I can and gushing against his fingers. My pussy clenches against him as he moans softly into my ear. Clench, release, clench, release, completely out of my control until the fire that has just crested across my vision fades and his fingers exit from my slackened hole.

  When I open my eyes, I find that smile once more, not a sense or triumph or domination, but instead a kind, warm smile that imbues me once again with fresh desire.

  I take charge, seeking to distance myself from the submissive.

  My lips collapse upon him hard. My tongue spears into his mouth.

  The smell of spice and soap never leaves his skin.

  I want him to come, come just as hard as he made me. I want to feel his cock pulsing in my fingers.

  I find his cock stiff and solid to my touch.

  I roll my hand over its glossy helmet as we kiss. I lubricate the head of his cock with his own arousal before pumping his shaft with both hands.

  He falls back and his mouth opens, eyes closed, an expletive on his lips.

  As I’m fisting his member, marveling at how hot and rigid it is between my hands, I whisper in his ear, “Do you want me to suck it? Do you want me to suck your cock?” I repeat, adding an inflection on the last syllable.

  He nods and I bob my head over his member, lips wrapping around the head before I take him fully in my mouth. As I do so, his whole body eases, tensing up again as I run my hands up his shaft to meet my lips.

  I’m already getting wet again.

  His hands run through my hair as I work. I savor it and with some effort drive my lips down almost to the base of him, his entire ten inches filling my throat. Every time I do this he seizes my hair and his hips rise.

  And then it’s gone. He’s pulling my head away, holding my face in his hands, his cock wet with my saliva and his own hot sex unnaturally stiff, bobbing in the air.

  He takes my legs under the thighs and lifts them so I’m reclined.

  Slowly, he strips my panties away, the crotch coming away stuck fast to my cleft. He drops them in a lacy bundle on the floor and positions himself above me so I’m lying flat across the length of the bed.

  I bring my knees up, my slickness open and willing.

  Gabe lowers himself upon me carefully. My hands fall onto his buttocks. I squeeze them, press them forward, eager to have him fill me. “I want you inside me,” I whisper, breathy. “I want you inside me now.”

  With that, his hips dip, an infinite second passing before his cock drives in to the hilt. My mouth turns into a ring beside his head at the sensation of being filled completely, our pubic bones pressed hard together.

  “You’re so fucking wet,” he confirms, as his cock glides easily out, driving forward again to be buried deep inside me. I roll my hips forward to meet his thrust. It’s effortless, natural. This is how it’s meant to be.

  My fingernails rake his back and he groans in my ear, sliding back and forth on top of me.

  As he thrusts I can hear the sound our bodies make as they come together, the squelching, organic meeting they make. It’s loud, obscene, but I love it.

  Already another orgasm builds. I sense that Gabe is not far away himself, driving us deep into the corner of the bed so that with every stroke my head presses against the soft fabric of my headboard, our mouths working over each other, tongues twined together.

  I struggle to maintain composure as Gabe thrusts with increasing speed, building to his climax and my own climbing steadily to meet it. My pussy twitches against him in expectation.

  I feel the pull now, the coming of it as he pistons forward relentlessly. But just as I’m cresting, falling into that space of no return, he pulls free.

  No! What are you doing? my head cries. It’s soon quelled as he flips me over so I’m kneeling on the bed, one foot flat on the carpet. He thrusts forward in one go, driving my face into the mattress. The sudden change in mood almost makes me come right away, but I regain control and focus on the feeling of him inside me, the mass of his body falling against me, seeking out new and uncharted areas of my body.

  His finger finds my clit. There he frigs me, his cock sliding in and out above as I come, mouthing into the quilt in a silent scream of rapture, my body shaking and convulsing savagely from the force of the orgasm.

  His own follows. He lurches forward hard, twisting me sideways. I’m dimly aware of his cum pumping hot into my body, pulsing and collecting there as the walls of my pussy milk him for every last drop.

  He collapses against me and we kiss again.

  We kiss until he’s hard once more.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  GABE

  “How’s the thumb?” I ask, stepping out of the shower. My cock’s still twitching from our special wakeup call. If that’s what I have to wake up to every morning, I’ve got it made.

  Shannon, doing her hair, gives me a thumbs-up. Reset, it looks brand new, most of the swelling having dissipated over the last week.

  “No problem,” she replies. How’s the arm?”

  I turn my shoulder to look at the wound. It’s healing nicely. “Nothing but a flea bite.”

  She rolls her eyes in the mirror. “You can drop the Action Man routine around me, you know.” She nods towards the birthmark on my ass cheek. “It really does look like Colombia.”

  “I simply call it the ‘stamp of approval.’”

  “More like tramp stamp…

  I take her around the waist, grinding myself against her ass. “So I can’t be your tramp-stamped action man? You’d rather a, what do they call it, metrosexual?”

  “I’ll settle just for the ‘sexual.’” A short pause follows. “You know, if you need a life of adventure, you can go and do that. I don’t mind.”

  “I’ve had all the adventure I need. Now, I just want you.” I place one hand on her shoulder, watching her in the mirror. “How did I get so lucky?”

  She shrugs. “Beats me.”

  I notice she’s stiffer than normal. “You okay?”

  “I’m just nervous about meeting more of your family.”

  “Distant cousins and uncles hardly make for family, but even so, there’s no need to worry. They’re going to love you, and if they don’t…”

  “How ar
e we going to say we met? People are going to ask.”

  “We tell them the truth. We met at a bar called The Swinging Dick, I walked you home like a perfect gentleman, and then we got engaged.”

  Shannon places the hairbrush down and laughs. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  I see her hunt around the vanity, looking down at the small bowl she normally places her ring into before she gets into the shower. “You haven’t seen your mother’s ring, have you?”

  My chest tightens.

  I turn her around to face me, my hand palm up.

  She looks down and freezes.

  Her mouth drops.

  I open the small, white box there and take out a new ring with a princess cut diamond bigger than is probably sensible. “You deserve a proper engagement ring,” I tell her.

  “But your mother’s—”

  “…Ring will work perfectly as a wedding ring.

  “I, ah…” she stammers. The poor thing can’t get a word out.

  “Breathe,” I tell her.

  “I… I don’t know what to say.”

  I turn the ring between my fingers, let it catch the light. “She wanted me to do this. It was in her will. She left money for it and everything.”

  With shaking fingers, Shannon takes hold of the ring. “Does this mean…”

  “Yes,” I tell her. “It means I want to spend my life with you, Shannon. ‘Home’ is the sweetest word there is to a SEAL, but until now I never felt I like I had one to come back to. Now I do. Now I have you. I have purpose, and life, and it’s all your doing.”

  She starts to cry, wiping away tears and looking so heart-breakingly beautiful I want nothing more than to sweep her up in my arms and never her let go.

  “Shannon Bailey, will you marry me?”

  She kneels down to the floor in front of me and stammers, “Yes,” throwing her arms around my neck and kissing me in full as her tears pass between us. I drop the box and pick her up, carrying us towards the bed.

  I place her down and brush tears from her cheeks.

  “We’ve got a funeral to go to, remember,” she smiles.

  I run my hand down her side, the delicate sweep of her hip making me hard. “My mother didn’t want a funeral. She only wanted me to be happy.”

  “And, are you?”

  “More than you can know.”

  EPILOGUE

  SHANNON

  As far as weddings go, we weren’t going to win any competitions. I wore a simple, flared A-line dress, Gabe a dark, navy suit. He had joked at first he was going to show up in camo. “Not. Going. To. Happen,” I replied.

  Matt was Best Man. I went without a maid of honor, though I had the kids all involved in various ways—even if Percy refused to play ball when it came to handing over the ring.

  Did I mention we had the ceremony at the city zoo? Well, not the zoo proper, but on the premises looking out over the harbor, giraffe heads in the background, curious peacocks parading around us. I needed special permission to get my animal friends access, but they were generally well behaved. You should have seen the Swoonfest 2017 when Gabe took Buffy out of his suit pocket and perched her on his shoulder.

  There he was, the man of my dreams. Well, not exactly. I never imagined I’d end up with a guy like Gabe, the very definition of a man’s man, a patriot and hero. I didn’t think I’d be with him let alone married to him—for real, this time.

  When I mentioned how proud his mother would be in my vows, I saw that tough exterior start to crack, but he managed to hold it together for his SEAL buddies taking up the front row.

  He wanted me to have a dream wedding, no expenses spared, but that’s not me. It never has been. I’m a simple girl at heart. Give me a book, a quiet corner, and I’m happy—doubly so when Gabe is around.

  Sometimes he’ll wake restless, tossing and turning in his sleep fighting off foes unseen. I calm him down as best I can. I was surprised when he opened up about Triss, but I’m finding we’re still learning to trust each other, Gabe working out precisely how much to share with me lest he weigh me down with his own demons.

  Often I’ll catch him staring into the distance, thoughts adrift. I know he still thinks about Triss. I don’t mind. I think it’s important for him to know that even though she’s institutionalized, she’s okay. He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if anything happened to her again, or me. That’s Gabe for you, always the perennial protector.

  I suggested he look for a job when we get back from our honeymoon. He doesn’t need the money, but I think it would help him adjust back to normal life, or as normal as it can be for an ex-SEAL. My god, the acronyms I’ve learnt off his SEAL buddies… I’m a walking, talking tome of military jargon these days.

  Dad would have loved him, loved having a son-in-law in the Special Forces. I remember Dad telling me once that SEALs are another breed, forged from a different material. “The stuff they make a man go through to get in,” he told me, “you wouldn’t wish upon any man. They strip you down, like an onion, layer by layer until there’s barely anything left. Then they build you up, working their way to perfection.”

  I don’t know about perfection, but Gabe’s pretty damn close. And the sex… Where have you been all my life? I’ve come so hard at times I was seriously concerned for my life, like the little beast that my heart was just going to give up beating. Two, three, four times in one day—Gabe and his ‘weapon’ never seem short on stamina.

  Lately I’ve been thinking about my own future, where to go to from here. The answer? I have absolutely no idea. PETA? A vet? I ticked off potential options one by one, even considered becoming a marine biologist until I realized it would be another four years of study. No, those college days are done. I’ve got no idea what’s around the corner, but with Gabe I really don’t mind. We have each other and for now that is enough.

  It’s the last night of our honeymoon on Lord Howe Island. Gabe promised somewhere exotic. He didn’t disappoint. He took my love of wildlife into account, and my distaste for crowds. This is a little-known island to the rest of the world, but thanks to its isolation and varied landscapes, it’s rich in animal habitats. It’s home to over two-hundreds species of birds alone. Thirty-two species breed on the island… and maybe thirty-three now given the use our hotel bed’s been seeing over the last few days.

  I run my finger over Gabe’s lips as we lie in bed, an ocean breeze fanning the curtains out by the balcony. “This is paradise.”

  “You don’t miss the kids?”

  I smile. “Sure, I miss them. You think Matt’s survived?”

  Gabe laughs and takes hold of me, pulling me on top of him. His cock’s hot and hard trapped between his abs and my sex.

  He moans in delight, taking hold of my ass and squeezing. “I really can’t be thinking about my brother right now.”

  “No?” I tease, grinding on him.

  He takes charge, flipping me over. “You have to do what I say, I’m afraid. I outrank you, remember?”

  I run my nails down his back. “What if I’m the enemy?”

  He smiles, pressing my hair behind my ear on the pillow. “Then watch out. I’m coming in hot.”

  EPILOGUE II

  FIVE YEARS LATER

  GABE

  I press the receiver. “Blackbeard, what’s your position?”

  Squawk. “On your six, taking heavy fire.”

  I spin around and cop it right in the chest.

  Josh comes bounding out of the bushes near the fence, a radio in one hand, another water balloon in the other.

  I hold my chest and go rolling along across the grass. “I’m down. I’m down!”

  Serg, our four-year-old shelter rescue lab comes bounding over to join in the fun. Josh and him give up on me and go squealing into the sandpit where a motley collection of half-chewed action figures awaits.

  “Chow time!” calls Jason from the grill. He’s got Shannon’s ‘World’s Okayest Chef’ apron on (thankfully, not naked) an
d a paper hat Joshua made him earlier teetering on his head.

  I stand. Hands slide around my waist.

  I give a mock gasp and spin to take Shannon in my arms. “I thought you were Jason there for a second.”

  She checks no one is watching before squeezing my cock through my pants. “I should hope Jason doesn’t do that.”

  “All those cold, lonely nights down range…” I start.

  She slaps my chest. “Can you go attend to our son before he suffocates Serg over there?”

  I look over. Josh is practically sitting on Serg, who, funnily enough, doesn’t seem to mind.

  I run across the yard and pick Josh up, spinning him in the air before placing him on my shoulders and walking him over to the grill.

  Percy’s hobbling behind us.

  Jason closes the grill lid and smiles up at Josh with tongs in his hand. He clicks his boots together and salutes. “Master Chief.”

  “Peddy officer,” Josh salutes back, still struggling to pronounce his ‘T’s properly.

  He is only four.

  Shannon comes up beside me. “Mmm, something smells good.”

  Josh rubs his tummy. “Sausages, Momma! Yay!”

  She stands on her tippy toes and kisses him on the side of his head. “Not too many this time, hey, kiddo. Too many and you’ll turn into a sausage.”

  “A sausage boy!” giggles Josh. “That’s silly.”

  There’s nothing sweeter than the sound of his little laugh. I could listen to it over and over and over again, but he’ll be five soon enough and that laugh will be gone. My once tiny man will be off to school.

  It’s hard to imagine how fast these last five years have gone by. Of course, Shannon and I weren’t exactly planning a honeymoon baby, and I suppose that was the best part of all.

  It’s been a blessing in so many ways. Shannon has taken to motherhood so well, not that I should have expected anything less given the other ‘children’ she’s raised, and the others who have joined our family since. I often joke we could start a zoo. “We could cage Jason,” she joked. “He could be our star attraction.”