Page 2 of Three Cranky SEALS and a Christmas Menace

No, it wouldn’t. No one knew her destination or her plans. Instead, her tombstone would bear the inscription, "She died going somewhere."

The truth of those words shocked her. She needed to get her life in order. Pick a career and stick with it. But now was not the time for an existential crisis. She had eight minutes left, according to her GPS. Her car would get her there. That was all she needed to do. Get to the cabin.

It was fine. She was going to be back home just in time for Christmas lunch no matter what, and sans her virginity.

She heaved a sigh of relief when suddenly the cabin came into view. She made it. But crap, it was cold. She shivered as she climbed out of her car and hurried to the back door since she’d come around the back and not the front entrance. She unlocked the door before she returned to her car to unload all her stuff. Lucky for her, her brother’s cabin came with all the necessary luxuries while maintaining its rustic charm.

And boy did the cabin deliver. She appreciated the top-of-the-range heating system, which included underfloor heating as well since she couldn’t start a fire unless she planned to burn the cabin down. She knew her limitations. Except when it came to sex. She wanted it all, and she came armed with a list.

She figured she could cram everything there was to know about sex into two days. She’d worked extra hard at the gym last week and felt stronger and definitely more agile. Not agile enough to do splits, but she could easily keep her legs up against her ears without getting a cramp. Plus she came bearing a supply of electrolytes to hydrate a desert. She was, in two words, overly prepared. If only she could exercise this much organization when it came to the rest of her life.

With her car unloaded—it took her three trips—she shut the door behind her, then turned up the heating as she explored. She’d never been here before, but it was exactly how she envisioned it. Big, but not overly so, the open-plan-styled abode came with a quaint and cozy kitchen and living room, a beautiful fireplace, thick, fluffy rugs strewn here and there, heavy, dark furniture that looked soft enough to sink into, and, of course, one giant four-poster bed, dressed in a colorful quilt.

Perfect.

She glanced at her watch and needed to get a move on. She had fifty-five minutes to turn this into a sex shack and herself into a sex siren.

Once she refrigerated the food she’d brought, including champagne, and stored all the extra snacks she’d also brought in a cupboard, using some to decorate a table, for ambiance, she emptied three festive bags, all from an online store called Santa Triple X. She’d been browsing for stuff for her sexual adventure when she came across Santa Triple X, and since Christmas was her favorite time of the year, if she could implement that theme into her first time, she called it sexy serendipity.

Thirty minutes later, she’d unpacked everything and transformed the cabin into a sensual haze, with rose petals littered everywhere, candles burning in the scent of jasmine aphrodisiac—that’s what the label said––and soft, seductive music playing on a small speaker she’d also brought with her.

Now all she had to do was jump into the shower for a brisk lather up. The first thing she’d done when she remembered she had to lose her virginity before Christmas Day so Annique couldn’t scare away any potential boyfriends anymore was to book herself into a spa for the full treatment, and by full she meantfull.

Her whole body was smooth and hairless. She’d given herself enough time to recover from the waxing and the prodding and the probing, and now, apart from being supple, her skin was also satiny soft.

Patting herself partially dry after her invigorating shower, she moisturized her skin with scented oils, then sprayed on alittle glitter at her décolletage and perfumed her pulse points, including on the inside of her thighs, just a drop on each thigh.

Then she glanced at the lingerie she’d laid out on the bed. She loved it. In the color Christmas red, the transparent babydoll slip dress reached just over her butt while squeezing her C-cup boobs together. Trimmed with white fur and decorated with green bows on the thin straps, she looked good enough to eat.

Well, she would, once she got her underwear on later on. Edible panties. How perfect. The G-string style garment beaded with candy cane balls in red and white had been a must on the Santa Triple X menu. Of course, she’d bought an extra set so she could taste the candy and make sure it was good quality. It was. She’d eaten the whole thing. But that was for playtime later on.

For now, she slipped into the next-to-nothing flimsy panties that matched the babydoll lingerie. A string of pearls hung from the tiny, tiny triangle covering her pussy, and sensually bumped against her thigh with every movement she made. She glanced at herself one more time in the mirror in her panties, adjusted the string between her ass then slipped into the babydoll dress.

Perfect.

She then used her remaining minutes to decide where she should be situated and in what pose when she welcomed her date. She tried posing on her bed, seating herself in the middle with her legs crossed and her arms out on her sides, but then she needed to unlock the door, which meant she needed to get off the bed anyway.

She unlocked the door and then tried sitting in a chair, all seductive-like. No. Fine––she’d just drape her arm along the backrest of a high back chair, her hip jutting out. There. That was the pose.

And any minute now there would be a knock on the door, and she would, in her most sultry voice, filled with innuendo, say, “Come in, it’s open.”

Before she could practice more of her come-hither voice, the sound of snow crushing under a vehicle gave her full body a quiver.

It was time. This was going to happen. Her sexual awakening in forty-eight hours.

Eat this, Annique.

Chapter Three

Holden

Maybe he was getting too old for this sort of shit, Holden Reynolds mused as he navigated the vehicle through the light dusting of snow. But then again, this was the only shit he knew how to do and do well.

Right now Holden, and he could say the same for his friends and SEAL brothers, Waylan Gray and Myles Sherwood, felt as if they were thirty-two going on sixty-two, and they were saying that based on the fact that their bodies were honed machines of power and prowess.

They hadn’t known any other kind of life except being in the military and putting their lives at risk. But then they weren’t the settling down-in-one-place kind of guys either. It was also weird not being in the pit of some undercover work for the holidays.

After a grueling mission abroad, one that had lasted one hundred and sixty-seven days in total, they were glad for a few days of doing absolutely nothing. Half of the time they slept in a fucking jungle with a crazed drug lord, and the other half inmountainous Nepal, while making sure they stayed alive long enough to cut deals and bring back prisoners. They needed time to rest their bodies. They’d certainly earned themselves a fresh collection of combat scars on their latest mission.

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