A SEAL for Christmas (All I want for Christmas is... 2)

d her against the wall with his body, tearing his mouth from hers to trail hot kisses over her cheek to her ear. She writhed against him, her skin so hot and soft pressed to him. He wasn’t sure if it was the flannel or their chemistry or what, but he couldn’t get the buttons of her top undone fast enough. When her breasts were finally bared to him, he just leaned back and gazed down at her loveliness. Maybe it had been too long since he’d been with a woman, but she was seriously the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen—all creamy, mocha skin and straining pink nipples, begging for his attention. While she stroked him through the denim of his jeans, he bent and took one taut peak into his mouth, loving her sharp inhale and the way she arched hard into him. Her fingers speared through his hair pulling him closer, as if she’d die without him, and damn if he didn’t feel the same way about her.

Earlier he’d mocked her choice of sleeping attire. Now? He couldn’t have been happier. Once those buttons were undone, it was easy access to all the delicious parts of her he’d only dreamed about before tonight. He worshipped one perfect breast while toying with its twin between his fingers then switched, captivated by the salt on her skin and the low hum of her pleasured cries.

His cock hurt it was so hard, but he refused to rush this, especially the first time. He wanted to savor Shayma, taste every delectable inch of her before burying himself so deep inside her he never wanted to leave. As he kissed a path across the valley between her breasts, he traced the backs of his fingers down the middle of her quivering stomach to the waistband of her PJ bottoms, teasing her by dipping just the tips of his fingers inside her pants, then—unable to wait any longer—plunging his hand inside to cup her heat through the lace of her panties.

A deep, needful groan escaped her and he lived and died and was reborn in that sound. So dark, so dangerous, so delicious. Her wetness soaked through her panties and drenched his fingers, she wanted him that badly, and his tightly leashed control frayed even more.

Ever ready, his eager cock twitched. Perhaps taking this first time slow wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Murphy returned to kiss her hard and she took his lower lip between her teeth, answering his need for a bit of roughness with his sex.

“I need you. Inside me. Now,” she snarled, her nails scraping along his scalp and making him shudder against her. “Please.”

It was that last word, that last plea, that did him in.

“Yes.” With his chest and her clinging arms, he balanced her against the wall as he reached into his back pocket for the condom he always kept there, then quickly undid his jeans. After preparing himself and ridding her of her PJ bottom’s and panties, he cupped her bottom and lifted her higher against him, loving the heady scent of her arousal and the slick wetness of her sliding along his rigid length. He wasn’t even inside her yet and this was already the most amazing sexual experience of his life. There was something about Shayma that made him harder, hotter, hungrier than any other woman he’d ever been with. Usually, he was the one taking charge, calling the shots, dominating the interactions. But with her, his control went right out the window.

A tiny warning bell sounded deep within his mind, telling him this was too much, too soon, but that caution was quickly drowned beneath an avalanche of desire. Still, he didn’t know that much about her past, didn’t know how experienced she was, and he wanted to make this good for her too. He forced himself to slow down, pull back, ask the question that needed to be asked, even though his breath panted and his words shook from the effort. “Are you okay? You’ve done this before, right?”

Her already flushed cheeks darkened in color and her eyes lowered, but she nodded. “I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you’re asking. But I’m not super experienced either. I’ve had lovers. A reporter from the US, the summer I spent in Egypt during the protests.”

The last thing he wanted was a rundown of all the men before him. A savage, possessive streak he hadn’t known he had clawed through Murphy. He might not be her first, but goddamn, he’d be her best. Unable to resist, he slid his fingers down between her legs, stroking her slick folds before tracing the tip of his index finger over her swollen clit. Shayma cried out and bucked in his arms, pressing into his hand.

“Please…” she begged.

“Please, what?” Her lack of experience didn’t bother him. Not at all. In fact, he liked being the one in control. He continued to stroke her, sliding lower to insert first one, then two fingers into her tight channel, preparing her for him. “Tell me, darling. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” she said, meeting his gaze now, her eyes black with need. “Inside me.”

He pulled his fingers out of her and brought them to his lips, licking her arousal from them as she watched. “You want me to fuck you?”

“God, yes!”

“Then hold on, darling. Your wish is granted.” He pressed her hard against the wall and angled her hips to enter her in one long stroke. Balls deep inside her, Murphy held still, allowing her body time to adjust to his length and girth. He wasn’t a small man, in any capacity. The heat of her wrapped so tight around him damned near made him cum on the spot, but he summoned every last bit of willpower. He traced his lips across her jaw, down the side of her neck, his fingers laced with hers as their hands pressed to the wall on either side of her head. Their only point of contact was where their hips and bodies met, her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his buttocks.

“How does that feel?” he growled into her ear before taking her lobe between his teeth gently.

“Amazing.” She rocked against him, as if testing him, before groaning low.

“Yes,” he hissed, withdrawing slightly before slamming home again. He let go of her hands to guide her hips in time to his thrusts. Soon, the rhythm he set had them both teetering on the brink of oblivion. She dug her nails into his shoulders and he reveled in the pleasure-pain of the situation. This. This was what he’d wanted from the first moment he saw her. This heat, this intimacy, this blinding need that obliterated everything else from his mind and centered his emotions in a way that nothing else did. All his pain, his past, their shared connections—none of it mattered now when he was buried to the hilt within her giving, welcoming warmth.

Her breath hitched and she clung tighter to him, burying her face in the base of his neck. “I-I…”

“Are you going to cum?” he asked, nudging her head with his chin to get her to meet his gaze. “I want to see you when you come apart in my arms.”

She gave a little nod, her expression a mix of ecstasy and uncertainty, as she ground her clit into his groin and clenched tight around him. A small gasp left her as she orgasmed, her eyes never leaving his, her pupils blown wide and her nails gouging his flesh. The intensity of her climax only made his own impending orgasm stronger. He drove into her hard—once, twice—before he came hard inside her, his knees trembling and his body taut as a bowstring. Wave after glorious wave of pleasure cascaded over him as he captured her cries with his mouth and returned them to her in his own growls of completion.

When he withdrew from her at last, spent and sated, he carried her across the living room to the bed and they both collapsed atop it. Air cooled their sweat-soaked skin and Shayma shivered against him. He barely had the strength to pull the covers over them before shutting off the lights and falling into a deep sleep beside her, Shayma’s steady, even breaths telling him she was right beside him in dreamland.

* * *

Shayma awoke the next morning to a heavy weight draped over her middle and a wall of warm, hard muscle against her back. It took her a moment to realize where she was as she blinked her eyes open.

Aileen’s apartment.

The tree she’d decorated still glowed merrily from the wall opposite the end of the bed though the rest of the lights were off. Mornings weren’t her best time and it took a moment for her fuzzy brain to remember what had happened the night before, the man she’d slept with. Heat flooded her cheeks as she recalled her steamy night with

Murphy. How he’d woken up in the wee hours of the morning and they’d made love again, this time in bed, with her on top—though he’d still been in charge.

She stretched and smiled. There was something about an alpha male between the sheets that got her every time. Outside the bedroom she was a firm believer in equal rights, but when it came to sex, she enjoyed a man who liked to take charge. And boy, did Murphy Coen fit that bill. In truth, he was everything she’d ever wanted in a man all wrapped up with a pretty big bow.