Page 15 of SEAL’S Baby Surprise (Lanes #2)

LEE

Maybe we should’ve had a grandma to talk to us, but I’m not really interested in conversations with preachers. I’d had about enough of Reverend somebody-or-other when we’d had mandatory chapel in most of my boarding schools.

I’d made really sure not to go to church once I was living independently. But it is good to have a memory to share with Austin, and to learn about him.

In just a few minutes, we are cuddled up in his bed, the opening credits are rolling, and the strains of “Bless the Beasts and the Children,” sung by the Carpenters come from the speakers.

I cry most of the way through it. I really cry at the end because even though the kids are all right, the buffalo really aren’t.

“I’m sorry,” Austin says, holding me and stroking my hair. “I should have thought. I watched this a lot while I was trying to get Julia.”

“It’s a super movie,” I sniffle. “I’m crying because the buffalo won’t ever get their range back. It’s all gone.”

“It is,” he says, “but the buffalo aren’t.

Next year, when Julia is a little older, I hope to drive up to Yellowstone so she can see the geysers, hot springs, and the buffalo.

Ark needs a little more training before then.

He needs more practice heeling, and he’s better about barking, as long as I have my hand on him, but I don’t want him to start a stampede. ”

I laugh at that. “I haven’t heard him bark since the morning he found me. He is such a sweet boy.”

“He is,” Austin agrees.

I lay my hand on the side of his face and kiss the light stubble on the underside of his jaw. “And you are a sweet man. I am so glad you are the person who belongs to Ark.”

Austin chuckles that adorable laughing-with-you laugh he has and kisses the corners of my eyes. He then runs a hand over my head.

“Maybe another person would have thought to dye that pretty pink hair before you took the scissors to it.”

“That was me,” I say. “I did it, you just cleaned up after.”

“Well,” he says, cuddling me up a little tighter. We couldn’t get any closer. “That’s a better description of my life than many I can think of. I’ve done a lot of cleaning up after. Just once, I’d like to get ahead of the problem so there would be less clean up.”

We are sitting in the corner of his bed, leaning on big pillows up against the wall. I squirm around so that I’m half facing him and look up into his face. I can imagine a young Professor Bhaer looking like this.

Not runway model handsome, but good-looking in his own way. His skin burned to a golden tan, and his hair bleached nearly white blond by sun and salt water. He is the near epitome of “California-surfer-dude.”

But more than that, his expression is kind and gentle. His touch is tender. His care of Julia and Ark make it plain that he is a guy who would always care about animals and kids. “Did you tease people when you were in school?” I ask.

“I might have, some,” he says. “I’m not a saint, Lee. Don’t try to make me into some kind of hero. I’m just a guy. I’d like to think that some of what I do makes the world a little bit better.”

“You’ve made my world better,” I say, combing my fingers through the light, golden curls on his chest.

He shivers at my touch. “Careful there, Lady Mermaid,” he says, “You might get more than you’ve bargained for.”

“What if I want it?” I ask. “What if I want all of you, my sailor?”

“Well,” he temporizes, “I saved the long parts of your hair. So, I guess you could say I’ve got your selkie pelt.”

“That means I must stay with you for a year and a day,” I say, laughing as I remember the fairy tale. “Longer, if you want me.”

Austin scoops me up as if I weigh nothing and sets me on his lap. His arms go around me, and I hug him back. I can feel his hard length growing against my thigh.

“Oh, I want you,” he says hoarsely. “I do. But is it right? You are under my care.”

I lean back far enough to poke him in the chest with one finger. “I’m a consenting adult, and I want you. How much right do you need?”

He laughs again, but this time there are tears behind the laughter, “A sign from God, perhaps? But I’m not a saint, and I don’t think any angels are going to come around telling me that it’s fine.”

“No angels needed,” I say, peeling off the pretty shirt, leaving me in my panties.

“I am only a castoff from the seas, come begging shelter and a bit of reassurance.” Then I add, dropping the playacting, “I’m sorry that I’m not a very good gift.

I’m not all muscled and you know... broad like you.

And now I’ve cut off all my hair. I used my hair to take attention away from my body. ”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Austin says. “You are beautiful. You were beautiful with your hair, and now you are beautiful without it. You’ve got curves, and under those curves you’ve got muscle.

You’ve got the biggest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, and your eyelashes tell me that you are a true blond.

You are my gift from the sea, and now that we’ve got the seaweed off you .

. .” I smile a bit at that “. . . you clean up real nice. You’re a catch I for sure don’t want to throw back. ”

“Then give me all of you, Austin. Show me how beautiful I am.”

Gently Austin lifts me off him, and re-positions the pillows so I can lie down flat. He slides his hands down me appreciatively. “Lee, you are absolutely gorgeous. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

His confidence boosts me up. Daringly, I say, “Show me. I could feel you; I want to see.”

He blushes, starting at his navel the color ran up his chest and right into his hairline. “You sure?” he asks.

I nod. “Yes. I want to see all of you. Maybe later I will draw you. I want to see.”

He is already shirtless, but he obliges me. He moves so that I’m sitting and he’s standing. He steps out of his cargo shorts. He is wearing speedo swim trunks under the shorts, and they barely contain the grand tumescence going on there.

His manly bulge is threatening to pop out at any minute. His stomach is flat and well-muscled. I almost drool, he looks so good. “Go on,” I manage to say. “I want to see everything.”

He blushes even brighter but peels off the speedo. His hair is a darker gold down there than it is on his head and chest. His equipment is amazing, and it is so very ready for me. I am melting under his gaze and the sight of it. It is all I can do not to spring up and pull him to me.

“Come to me, my sailor,” I say, lying back on the pillows using what I hope is a seductive, enticing voice. “Come pleasure your mermaid from the sea.”

“Just a second,” he says, reaching into a compartment in the headboard. He brings out a little foil-wrapped package. A condom, I realize.

It’s pretty sexy that he came prepared.

Most of my experience had been with hasty hand jobs sneaked in underwater at the pool or in the backseat of a limo with the privacy screen up. I haven’t actually used a condom before.

But I’m sure excited to do so now.

“Want to do the honors?” he asks.

I nod. He has to show me how to position it and roll the thin plastic down his shaft, which is a process that I have a lot of questions about. For one, he’s so big. Does the condom even fit over him? More importantly, is he going to fit inside of me?

I can’t pretend I don’t like it, though. My personal juices are definitely flowing, and I can tell that I want to find out.

There’s only one way to get answers to these questions, and I’m interested.

I shimmy out of my sodden panties and spread my legs wide, lifting my hips invitingly, eagerly.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Austin says. He brushes my opening with his fingers. “Sure, you don’t want to play a little while first?”

“No,” I say. “I want to feel you. I want you so much. Make me feel beautiful, Austin.”

He clambers onto the bed, careful not to put a knee on my legs or otherwise squish me, and positions himself between my legs, as if he was doing a modified pushup.

He holds himself up on one arm, while he uses the other hand to check to make sure he knows where everything is located — mine and his. He brushes my clitoris with his thumb, and I nearly climax right then and there.

Then he slowly slides into me. I had thought the condom would feel weird, but it has some kind of moisture on it. I can feel the heat of him through it, and he fills me, stretches me, and my parts open to accept him.

Something seems to resist him for a moment, and it hurts a little. Austin looks at me funny, then he pulls back and lies down beside me. “Lee,” he says, “Are you a virgin?”

I blush, and tears start to form in my eyes. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Guys don’t find tears a turn-on. I know that. But, it’s too late now. “Yeah,” I confess.

“Lee,” he says gently, “This is something you should save for your wedding day. Or, at the very least, it should be a special person.”

“No!” I burst out. “I’m not getting married, not ever. But I want you. I want you to be my first. I don’t want to be a thirty-year-old virgin. You can be my special person. I pick you.”

“You aren’t thirty,” he says with certainty, keeping one arm around me gently. “You’ll be beautiful when you are thirty, but you aren’t that old yet.”

“No, but I will be in just three years,” I say stubbornly. “Please, Austin.” I reach over and run my hand down his penis, clad in the condom. “You’re all dressed up for the party., I joke.” I wiggle my hips in a way that is probably ludicrous instead of inviting.

He laughs. “Okay, that’s a little much.”

I stop. “Seriously. Austin, I want this. I want you. I’m so hot, and I’m wet...” I trail off.

I’m not sure what to say to seduce him.

He groans. But his penis doesn’t lose any tension, which I note happily, so I know that I must be doing something right. “Woman, you’re killing me,” he says. “I’m human, not a saint. Are you sure about this? Because a hymen doesn’t grow back. Giving your virginity can only be done once.”

“I’m sure,” I say, nearly desperate with longing. “The world could end tomorrow. I want to know what going all the way feels like. I want to know if it is as wonderful as it is in the books.”

“It might not be, the first time,” he says. “I’ve been told that it kind of hurts.”

“You won’t hurt me,” I say. “I want you. I am so, so ready for you. Please, Austin,” I beg.

“All right,” he says. “I’ll try to make it good for you.”

He tenderly kisses each corner of my mouth, then explores the inside of it with his tongue. I respond, trying to focus on kissing him back. But I want him so much, it’s hard to.

That, and he’s... everywhere. I feel like I can’t keep pace with him, because he knows every single part of my body, and how to play it like a fiddle.

He slowly gives me nibble kisses starting at my ear and working his way down my neck. I feel as if they are brands burned on my flesh, even though I can tell he isn’t leaving any marks.

Then he moves to my breasts, tenderly nibbling the tips. I’m melting! If he doesn’t hurry up and get to the good stuff, there isn’t going to be anything left of me!

Keeping one hand cupping my left breast, he continues kissing his way down my stomach, then he blows hot air through my pubic curls setting every nerve to shivering. Here it comes, I think. He’ll do it now.

But he doesn’t. He rolls me over onto my stomach and starts kissing his way down my spine. Every kiss is a new sensation, driving me higher and higher. By the time he reaches the sensitive spot just at the end, I’m nearly frantic with desire.

He rolls me over, slides down the bed, and begins kissing my toes, despite my arching back and all of my moans. I had no idea that feet could be erogenous zones, but he makes them into ten of them – one for each single digit.

Holy cow.

That’s way sexier than it should be.

Then he begins a slow journey up the inside of each leg, kissing, stroking, loving. I can hardly stand the anticipation. Finally, he pulls my thighs up over his shoulders, and slowly…oh so very slowly…runs his tongue up one inside labia fold then the other.

He finds my clitoris – the spot the books say a guy needs a map to locate – and delicately licks it. I give a little gasp of pleasure as he does it. I can’t help it. It feels so much like exquisite torture.

At the sound, he lifts his head. “Should I stop?”

“No!” I exclaim. “More, I want more!”

So, he gives me more. While he does it, he gently slides one finger inside me, then two. I’m torn between wanting to spread my legs wide and wanting to clamp my thighs around his head, trapping him. I’m lost in sensation. But it isn’t enough. “More,” I say, “Please, please, more.”

I hope he remembers what the words mean.

He lifts his head. His mouth is dripping with my juices. He spreads me wide, rises above me in a sort of push-up, then gently, gently enters me. And there is a little moment when I feel things stretching, but it doesn’t really hurt. Or maybe a better way to put it is, it hurts good.

Then he is in, and it is everything I wanted. He is big, and warm. I’m so wet for him, I want him so badly, that he slides in easily.

God.

It’s everything I have ever imagined.

He begins to move, and I move with him. The world moves. I begin to melt. I want to stay in this wonderful place forever.

I am full of him; he covers me; I am dissolving into him.

I am suspended in a place with no time. My body is winding higher along some kind of invisible thread.

It’s different than earlier. It’s... more.

The sensation seems to flow across all of my senses.

Then it explodes, and I am gasping, arching up to him, trying to get more of him, and a moment later, he stiffens and he groans, pauses, and collapses beside me.

I kiss him, and he kisses me back. “You are beyond beautiful,” he says.

“And so are you,” I reply.

I fall asleep in his arms. I feel beautiful. I feel safe in the arms of my sailor, and with his dog on patrol outside.