Page 12 of Three Cranky SEALS and a Christmas Menace

Was it any wonder they called her Miss Hades? How perfect a play was that on her name? She was born to be their Miss Hades and no one else’s. But fuck...

Because they’d been away undercover in some deep, dangerous shit, the last time they had seen her was when she was fifteen years old. She sent them Christmas cards every single year and small, little, quirky gifts, miniature beer mugs, toilet-shaped chocolate, and cards that sang Merry Christmas every time they opened it.

She’d send them funny pictures of herself making a face at them. She told them she missed them and couldn’t wait to see them, and ordered them to come back to her. By the time she turned eighteen, she downsized to only sending them cards with generic messages and no gifts. No, she missed them and couldn’t wait to see them. No telling them to come back home to her. No pictures of herself making faces at them.

And it’s been like that ever since.

Until for them, that time two years ago when something changed.

They had a small layover in New York after successfully handling a hostage situation in the Philippines and went out to get some food at a local restaurant.

And there she was, sitting at a table, alone, reading a tattered copy of Jane Eyre, and every few moments she would lean over, and spoon melted ice cream between the luscious pillows that were her lips before she resumed reading again.

They knew she was in New York, finishing her business degree; they just never thought they would actually see her.

They were highly trained to assess any situation in a second. It took less than that to assess her. They cataloged everything about her. She wore a long white summer dress with straps so thin over her glossy shoulders they could rip it apart with their teeth.

The exquisite delicateness of her clavicle, the swell of her breasts, rising and falling with every breath she took, her pretty fucking hands with their pink-painted nails, her feminine wrists, the way her hazel-colored eyes moved over each word, everything about her jolted the earth beneath their feet.

She put her book down on the table and reached over to add sugar to a steaming cup of tea—they knew it was tea because that was all she drank. Only Mercedes would eat ice cream soup and then drink tea afterward.

She dropped the book to the floor in the process and bent over to pick it up, her face blocked by the curtain of her satiny smooth and shiny chocolate-colored hair.

Everything about her gave them an instant hard-on. The kind they’d never had before, the kind that fucked with their heads. How was that possible? They weren’t unaccustomed to beautiful women; they’d had their fair share, but it had taken Mercedes Samson to turn their lives upside down, just sitting there eating melted ice cream like soup and drinking tea, reading her damn book.

While they shared everything else, sharing a woman had never crossed their minds, but when they’d passed each other a glance, it had been blatantly obvious that she had the same effect on all three of them.

They were thinking the same thing. Fuck. Mercedes Samson. This wasn’t supposed to happen. But they’d let their thoughts run wild and free, aligned in the stratosphere where their bond was made. They’d learned that putting their lives into each other's hands meant they were brothers.

Not one of them could deny they wanted to toss her over their shoulder, carry her out of the restaurant, and then take turns doing bad fucking things to her body until she couldn’t breathe, until she was nothing more than a quivering hot, wet, mess, their scent all over her sexy body.

They wanted to slip their fingers so deep inside her, fucking her so hard, finding that sweet spot, so when she came, she would soak their faces, and they would drink her nectar like starved men.

They wanted to fuck every part of her. Her mouth, her ass, her pussy. And then they wanted to share just her ass and her pussy between them, not her mouth, because they wanted to hear her scream their names from her beautiful lips as she milked them,her body the central point for their cocks, their souls, so all at once they could brand her as theirs.

Two years ago, they’d turned around and left the restaurant. They’d lost their fucking minds. She was Jeff’s kid sister. They saw her grow up. She thought of them as her big brothers. They would never lay a hand on her. Never.

They also never spoke about that incident. Not once.

But now… they couldn’t outrun her anymore.

This twisted fucking Christmas miracle menace had just offered herself to them. A virgin. His cock swelled all over again.

“Come on,” she said, stamping her feet when the song ended. “Look, I don’t even want the other stuff. Blowjob? It’s okay. A sixty-nine would be nice but not even a train smash if it doesn’t happen. Anal sex? Forget it. You want me to put a brown bag over my head so you can pretend I’m someone else; fine by me. I’ll get the bag, but please, just take my virginity so I don’t have to put up with Annique about it. Please,” she ended softly.

Could they do this and walk away from her?

Waylan glanced at Holden, only to find Myles had gone through the same thought processes as Waylan had. They were only doing this if Holden was in.

Both he and Myles understood Holden’s mind. He came from a highly dysfunctional family where his parents hated each other but were too spiteful to divorce. Both his parents were fucked up crazy, and they passed that thinking onto Holden, who vowed he would never marry. It was clearly in his genes to be fucked that way as well, he thought.

If Holden wasn’t on board, they would gladly go and cut their dicks off because this little Hades of theirs was going to give them a case of balls so blue, they would wish they were in hell already.

With both his and Myles’ eyes on Holden, their friend looked at them seated from the far side of the room. His fingers steepled.

“We’ll go our separate ways afterward and never talk about it again. You’ll never see me again. No one will know this happened. I promise. I’m just asking for some help. That’s all. My lips will be sealed. Get it? Sealed.”

Waylan shook his head. This girl… but then Holden gave a surreptitious nod. Fuck. Waylan took a deep breath.

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