Page 15 of Unexpected Christmas with the SEAL

He grinned and tipped his gaze up her body, where he snagged her desperate eyes, staring down at him.

She whimpered and pouted. “Please?” But it was all for show because a second later, she reached down, grabbed his head and lifted her hips, forcing his face to make contact with her pussy.

He smiled as he encircled her clit with his lips and sucked.

“That’s better,” she said, relaxing into the bed.

He chuckled and started to do swirls with his tongue.

“No, keep sucking.”

Like a good soldier, he followed orders.

She kept her hands on his head, her fingers using his hair to control him, to keep him in place. And he fucking liked it. He particularly liked it when he flicked her clit in a certain spot and she yanked hard on his scalp at the same time she cursed, “Jesus fuck,” up to the rafters.

He kept her riding that sweet edge for a long time. Every time he could feel her getting ready to tip over the side, he’d mix it up and pull her back so she could teeter a little longer.

It wasn’t all about the orgasm. It was about the journey, the fun and the pleasure of getting there. And there were very few things Cal enjoyed more in life than going down on a woman who liked to take her time getting to the finish line.

“Cal,” she mewled, still hanging onto his hair. “I’m so close.”

“Don’t have a condom,” he murmured, flicking her clit with his tongue.

“Neither do I. But I don’t care. I have an implant and I’m clean. But I want to come with you inside me.”

“Next time,” he said, pushing two fingers into her pussy and pumping. “This time, though, you’re going to come all over my face.” Then he curled his fingers, hit that spot on her clit with his tongue, and she exploded.

“Holy … holy … holy fuck!” Hannah exclaimed, her body hinging upward as she used his hair to help pull her forward.

He grunted from the pain, but in reality, he liked it. Pain reminded you that you were alive. And sometimes, after all the shit he’d seen, after all the shit he’d had to do, he was so numb that he needed a quick reminder.

“Oh God. Oh God, yes.”

Her pussy gushed across his tongue and throbbed against his lips. Her clit swelled, and she squeezed her pussy around him as she rode out her orgasm, her legs quivering beside his head, muscles going stiff.

Eventually, she collapsed back onto the bed. It took her several heartbeats to release his hair, but by the time she did, his scalp burned and his cock was hard as a fucking rock.

He gave her one last lick, one final suck, and gently removed his fingers, sucking them clean as she watched him with hooded eyes.

“Inside me,” she said, reaching for him. “Please.”

“Ooh, baby, I like it when you beg.” He yanked down his boxers to reveal his erection and tossed them to the floor, before climbing up the bed the rest of the way to cover her. “I’m clean, too,” he said, as he slid inside her with ease and she welcomed him by spreading her legs wider and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Just figured I should probably mention that.”

“Appreciate it.” She pressed a kiss to his clavicle over his tattoo that ran across part of his left collarbone, upper shoulder and back. “This octopus is beautiful and so lifelike.”

“I love to scuba dive. Got this after a wreck dive on the west coast of British Columbia. A Giant Pacific Octopus—which is the biggest species of octopus in the world—was so curious and friendly. She followed us for the entire dive. By the end, she was hanging onto my tank, petting me and asking for scratches on the top of her head. I’ve experienced nothing like it before or since. So I got this tattoo to memorialize such a unique event. It’s an actual picture of her we took, too.”

Hannah smiled beneath him. “I love that entire story and absolutely everything about it.” She kissed his tattoo again.

“What about yours?” He rubbed his thumb across her robin tattoo. “What’s the story behind this little guy?”

Her eyes turned glassy, but not because of sadness, but remembering something that brought her joy. “Growing up, I had a tree outside my bedroom window. A robin built a nest there for several years. She always had two sets of hatchlings. I started leaving pieces of colored yarn out for her on my windowsill so she could make a colorful nest, and she did. Then I’d dig up worms and leave them in a bucket for her to give to her babies. Which she did. She’d sometimes even peck at my window. Not to ask for food, but to just sayhior show me her chicks. Then one spring she didn’t return. My father cut down the tree, and that was that. I just remember that in a house full of yelling and arguing, this robin brought me a lot of joy. I would spend hours sitting by my window watching her build her nest and tend to her babies. They’re my favorite bird.”

“I love that entire story and almost absolutely everything about it,” he said, paraphrasing what she said. “Except for the house full of yelling and your dad cutting down the tree.”

Her smile was sad for a moment, but then she shrugged. “At least he waited until she didn’t return.” Her gaze turned avid, and she raked her fingernails down the sides of his back. “You do realize you’re inside of me right now?”

“Not something I’m inclined to forget.”

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