Chapter 16 #3
He was pretty sure he gurgled something out. And in that split second when his eyes were rolling back in his head, she’d begun caressing his chest with her breasts, back and forth.
“I like how that feels. Do you?”
Are you kidding? “I don’t know. Do it again.”
She did. Again. And again. Then she plucked at his nipples, which had a direct line to sex central. “Now your nipples look like mine,” she murmured.
“Huh?” I don’t think so.
“They’re all pointy and hard.”
Okaaaay. “Let me see.” His fingers played with her breasts then, fluttering the engorged peaks, twirling them between a thumb and a forefinger, then fluttering again.
She moaned and arched her back so her breasts stuck out even more. What a picture! Like a hood ornament. Which gave him an idea.
He sat up, then stood. Picking her up by the waist, he carried her to the hood which faced the woods behind the lot and placed her on the cool metal so that her head was almost to the windshield.
“Don’t move.” He pulled off her high-heeled sandals, tugged her jeans and bikini panties off, then put the high heels back on, spreading her legs slightly in the process. “Raise your arms.”
“Like this?”
His you-know-what gave a mental shout of “Hoo-yah!” He, on the other hand, was unable to speak, at first. Then, “Don’t move,” he repeated again.
Damn, he wished he had a camera. This was a picture he’d like to have. But, no, he didn’t need a photograph. This image was imprinted on his brain for life.
He shook his head to clear it, which was almost impossible with testosterone barreling through his body, sizzling his gray matter.
In the blink of an eye, he was nude, covered, and ready for action. He crawled up and over her, kissing his way, till he was on his elbows facing her, and they were belly to belly, with his cock pressing against her clit. Sex heaven.
She lifted her belly, trying to make him enter her. “Not yet.” He panted for control, sweat beading his forehead.
He kissed her softly, once he was reasonably sure he wasn’t going to embarrass himself. “You didn’t have to do this for me, you know.” Am I nuts? “But thank you anyway.” I’m carrying on a bleepin’ conversation on the hood of my car with a naked woman. How amazing is that?
I better be careful, or there’ll be a dent in the body work.
Hah! Who the hell cares?
“Do what for you?”
“Make love.”
“Oh, I am not doing this for you.”
What? his brain squawked. “For the team then,” he joked.
“Do not be a lackbrain. I am doing it for me. I want to have another orgasm.”
“In case I don’t come back?”
“You’d better come back. I am not being stuck here in the future without you.”
“You sweet talker, you.”
“Nay, I need a comparison.”
“With what?”
“Other men?”
“You’ve been with other men?” This is unbelievable. She’s having sex with me so she can rate my prowess.
“When would I have time to be with other men? Nay, ’tis just that I felt nothing when Dylan touched me, and I wondered—”
Okay, so it hasn’t happened yet. “Dylan touched you? I’ll kill him. Where?”
“In the tavern.”
“I meant, where on your body? He copped a feel, didn’t he?”
She tilted her head in confusion. “You speak in riddles. I just meant that when he touched my hand or danced with me, I did not feel that tingle that I do with you.”
A big ol’ smile started to spread across his mouth, and he didn’t even try to hold it back. “I make you tingle?”
“Hah! All you have to do is look at me and I tingle.”
“I tingle, too,” he admitted, though that wasn’t quite the word he would use. “Are you tingling now?” he asked as he rocked against her clit, then thrust inside in a long, slow stroke.
She gasped out, “Like a bell.”
He started to tell her that bells tinkled, not tingled, but stopped himself. Actually, he liked the comparison. “How do you like my gong?” He moved from side to side.
“Nice.”
“Nice?”
“That was a compliment.”
“No, babe, nice is not what a guy wants a woman to say about his favorite body part. More like, ‘Wow!’ ‘Huge!’ ‘Yikes!’”
She started to laugh, then stopped abruptly as her inner walls began to clasp and unclasp him in a hard rhythm. She closed her eyes and stiffened.
“No, open your eyes. I want to see your orgasm. I want you to see me enjoying your orgasm.”
Meanwhile, he was still imbedded in her, to the hilt, trying his best not to move, because to move would mean instant, way-too-quick ejaculation.
When her body stopped its delicious squeeze on him, he leaned down and kissed her parted lips. “Babe” was all he could manage to say.
But she said nothing.
He soon found out why.
She spread her bent knees wider. “If you do not start moving, I am going smack your arse to get you moving.”
He would have laughed, if he could have.
Instead, he began long slow strokes against her friction.
Sweet torture. He kissed her as he moved.
He caressed. He murmured his appreciation of all she did to make this better for both of them.
When he came, she came with him. They shattered apart but at the same time seemed to melt together.
Every time he made love to Britta it was different.
Every time he made love to Britta it was better.
When he was able to breathe without gasping for breath, he raised his head, still half limp inside her. She stared up at him, wide-eyed, with parted lips. She looked stunned.
“That’s what I call ringing your bell.”
She remained dazed, gazing at him. “Is it always like this betwixt a man and a woman?”
“No.” He traced her lips with the tips of his fingers, then kissed her softly. “No, it’s not. It seems you and I have something special going on. I’m not sure what it is. Chemistry. Emotion. Probably both.”
She frowned, not understanding a word he’d said. “Can you do it again?”
“What?”
“Ring my bell.”
“Oh, Britta, you are priceless. No, we don’t have time. I’ve got to get back to the—”
She rocked her hips against him, which of course caused his half-limp cock to come to life inside her again and protest in manly sign language, Who doesn’t have time?
Then she did something so uninhibited, even a little kinky, that caused him to almost swallow his tongue.
He checked the glowing face on his watch.
“Maybe a little ring,” he said.
A short time later...a really short time later, Zach was dropping Britta off in front of the Wet and Wild.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you back to the base when I report for duty?”
She shook her head. “Nay, I must needs return with my comrades. We made a pact afore coming here that we would stick together. Unless one of us got lucky.” She was deep in thought for a second. “What does ‘getting lucky’ mean?”
He was about to say, “Getting laid,” but figured she wouldn’t understand that, either. “Getting their bells rung.”
Her mouth formed a perfect O, then she giggled. Zach realized then that he’d never heard Britta giggle. Hell, with the childhood she’d had, she’d probably never ever giggled before. He put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed.
“Don’t go away, Britta,” he blurted out. Where did that come from?
“I must go back to the base.”
He shook his head. “Not there.”
“Oh. I see. Well, I may not have a choice about going back.”
“Just don’t. Please. Wait till I get back and we can talk.”
Her friends were coming out of the tavern now. Britta called to them out of the open window, telling them she would be with them in a moment. Then she turned to him, and there were honest-to-God tears in her eyes.
Tears? From Britta? What next?
“Be safe,” she whispered huskily, kissed him quickly, and was gone.
Zach sat behind the wheel, unmoving, trying to fathom what had just happened. His heart felt funny, sort of achy. There was a buzzing in his head. He wanted desperately to call her back and ask what she’d really meant because what he was thinking was impossible.
One thing he did know. There was no way that little sexercise in the back parking lot was Britta taking notes to compare him with other guys. Nope. Britta had been telling him in her own way that she cared about him.
He had a light-bulb moment then, the kind that makes a guy wonder how he could be so dense.
As he drove home to pick up his gear and make last-minute arrangements, he was alternately smiling and frowning about this particular epiphany. And it wasn’t related to Britta turning the tables on him sex-wise, or not entirely.
I’m falling in love.
No, no, no! I can’t be falling in love. Falling in love is a bad thing. Bad time. Bad in every respect. Bad, bad, bad!
Like love waits for the right time. Like love is bad.
I. Am. Not. In. Love.
But what if...what if, for the first time in my friggin’— literally friggin’—life, I’m falling in love?
It’s just lust, and some mind-blowing sex. That’s all.
Ha, ha, ha!
MEMO
From: Captain Lenore Feldman
To: Commander Ian MacLean
Subject: WEALS
Fraternization between Navy SEALs and WEALS is to be discouraged.
Commander Ian MacLean glanced at the memo in his hand and passed it to Floyd, whose face immediately turned red.
“This is just great! Now they expect me to be the sex police.” He glared at Floyd who didn’t have the sense to keep his skivvies under lock and key. Too bad the Navy didn’t make chastity belts...for its men.
“It’s not really fraternization. It’s just that I’ve known Britta for a while, and I feel responsible for her. Like a brother...or something.”
“That doesn’t even pass the giggle test, boy.”
“Yeah, it was pretty lame.”
“What next?” He threw his arms out in disgust.
He found out the next day, just before the team went boots up, when he got another blasted note from his female ombudsman.
MEMO
From: Captain Lenore Feldman
To: Commander Ian MacLean
Subject: WEALS
Sexual encounters between SEALs and WEALS in the parking lot of the Wet and Wild are expressly forbidden.
“What?” His outraged exclamation could be heard down the corridors of the Command Center.
Luckily, a certain SEAL was out on assignment and was not expected back for several days. Otherwise, a certain SEAL might be minus a certain body part.