Page 33 of SEAL by Fate

“Now apologize for your naughty behavior.”

“Sorry.”

He dropped his hand and straightened the neckline of her torn shirt. “There. Now why don’t you be a good girl and clean up the mess you made?”

Without another word, she grabbed a rag and headed to the puddle of glass and booze.

Phantom looked at the clock and then at the phone. It was time to make a call.

Picking up the receiver he dialed a familiar number and it was answered on the second ring. “I’m checking in…yes, keep her…she’s leverage. Then keep her quiet…you know how. I’ll be there soon to take over.” He looked over at Natasha who was busily scrubbing the stain from the floor. “She’s a smart mouth…I suggest you teach her in a very creative manner.” Phantom noticed how Natasha stiffened. He smirked and felt very superior. He liked seeing the weaker sex squirm—liked the control that gave him.

Hanging up the phone, he strolled to where she was knelt on the floor and he unzipped his pants, pulling his already throbbing cock from the confines of his slacks and squeezed the shaft. He pumped himself until he was fully erect.

He didn’t have to voice any commands because she understood his need. That’s what he liked about her, outside of the fact that she could suck a ping pong ball through a straw.

“Remember, darling, you’re in this scheme as deep as I am. Do I need to remind you that you were driving the car that almost killed the lawman? I do believe attempting to kill an agent is a federal offense. And…have I mentioned, you write such meaningful letters. Who would have thought?”

Staying on her knees, she positioned herself in front of him, taking his length deep into her mouth. Her teeth scrubbed against his sensitive skin and he jerked. “Behave yourself, Natasha,” he warned, threading his fingers in her lush hair as he rammed himself deeper…and deeper, feeling her throat clasp around his tip.

Yeah, he liked a deep throat.

*

Gray put on the snowshoes that were a little snug, but better than wearing only his boots and headed outside with a shovel. Lola followed behind him. “Stay close, girl.” The dog looked at him as if she understood.

Stormy was taking a shower and anywhere he moved inside the small cabin, he could hear water splashing which conjured images and raw fantasies of the water streaming over parts of her beautiful body. He needed to do some strenuous work and fast before he did something very stupid.

His knee still throbbed and he limped off the porch where he thought the sidewalk must be. The snow had finally stopped but it was still cold enough to freeze a man’s balls. He pulled his hat low to cover his ears and stared into the bright white landscape. Last night he’d demanded that Stormy take the bed and he the couch which, as expected, she’d argued but what type of man would he be if he hadn’t insisted.

The lumpy couch had been like sleeping on the cots across the pond. He growled and stabbed the snow with the shovel.

There was an image stuck in his head. That morning, early, the sun was just shedding light and she must have thought he was still asleep because he’d opened his eyes and found her tiptoeing across the living room toward the bathroom. He’d almost swallowed his tongue when he saw her. The pink cami had been like a bow on a present. The deep scoop neck exposed the tops of her braless breasts, which he knew because he could see the outline of her thick nipples under the lace material. The hem landed at her flared hips where a pair of boy shorts cupped her tight bottom. They were anything but “boyish” or “shorts”. They were lethal weapons designed to wrap a man around a woman’s finger in record time.

When she came back out of the restroom he had his head buried in the cushion so he wouldn’t look, although he thought he chipped a tooth because he’d had his teeth clenched so tight.

He stabbed the snow again. Scooped. Tossed it to the side.

There was something wrong with him being out here shoveling snow. He needed to do something because, as his thoughts for Stormy became more frequent and naughtier, he was feeling like a bastard. Even jacking off wouldn’t ease the pain.

Lola bounced across the yard, barking at something in the woods. “What is it, girl?” he called out. Before he managed to get halfway across the snow-covered space, Lola had darted through the tree line and disappeared. “Ah, shit!” Gray tossed the shovel to the side and took off at a jog, ignoring the stabbing ache in his knee. Stormy would never forgive him if something happened to the dog.

Lola’s barking sounded loud through the woods. By the time Gray had breached the tree line, he couldn’t see her any longer. “Ah fuck, girl! Come back and save me some energy,” he grumbled.

Following her tracks, he stopped. Unless Lola had shifted into a human, the footprints that continued were not a dog’s. Gray turned and looked where he walked. The tracks ended, but from the position where he was standing, a person had a clear view of the cabin. And they were fairly fresh prints. What the hell?

Who had been out here watching the cabin?

Several thoughts fired across his brain cells. Could it be the ex looking for Stormy? Yet why was he watching from the woods?

Who else could it be? Only the team knew Gray was on the mountain.

Damn, he’d left his gun back at the cabin.

Following the tracks, Gray ducked under the branches until he came down an incline onto the road where the prints faded into a snow drift. He looked up and down the empty road. Listening hard for any sounds in the distance…or for Lola who had also vanished.

He whistled through his teeth. “Lola? Come on, girl.”

Nothing but the shrilling sound of the wind blowing through the trees could be heard.

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