Pleasing Her SEAL

“Then, you’d better be quick,” he growled. “Because you didn’t say stop.”

She swiped her telltale swimsuit bottom from the top of the table. They were going to get busted. She’d die of embarrassment. But the arousal was there, too, and a growing sense of excitement. She wouldn’t have guessed Mason had this devilish side to him. “You can’t be serious.”

He gave her that small half smile. “We’re not done here.”

Then he curled his fingers, finding a spot inside her that made her body feel like Fourth of July fireworks. She felt her resistance—what there’d been of it—melt away. In the distance, someone called to him.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he yelled. Then, to her, he said, “Faster.”

“What about you?”

She didn’t take orders. Honestly, she was more the type to give them. Except... Just looking at him made her wet. He was a big, broad-shouldered shadow looming over her, standing between her and discovery. Maybe this could work.

“You don’t worry about me.” He stroked his fingers deeper, finding a spot that had her breath whimpering out of her and her heels drilling into his back. So good. “This is for you.”

Okay. She could work with that.

His head descended again and she held her breath. Listening. Anticipating. He pressed against her again and the sensation was just as good as before. His mouth tickled and set her on fire, sensation shooting through her. It was almost more personal now that it wasn’t just the two of them, not just their game. Someone could come in, could catch them, and then...then she had no idea. Faster, he’d ordered.

She arched her back, digging her heels in as she pushed up, hips rising to meet his mouth. His tongue moved faster, harder, stroking and circling her clit in a maddening pattern. She jammed a hand into her mouth because if she screamed, if other people knew...she had no idea, but then all thought flew out of her head as the tremors built and built, her body flying apart because suddenly she was right there. Coming for him as he pressed the heel of his hand hard against her, riding the wave of pleasure with him.

“Gorgeous,” he whispered hoarsely, lifting himself away from her. “If only I had more time, sweetheart.”

Yes. If only. If only they had more time. If only she could hold on to this moment forever. She tugged free, determined not to lose a second. Grinning because, damn, he made her feel good, she brushed a kiss over his mouth and pulled her swimsuit bottom back on. He had to get going, but the heat in his eyes warmed her. She wasn’t quite ready to let him go. Not yet.

She pulled back, easing up on her grip on his T-shirt. “Maybe we’ll see each other soon?”

He cupped her face, gave her another quick, hot kiss. The sensation of his fingertips brushing her skin was electric. He’d touched her, made her come with those same fingers, but her body tightened and quickened, already eager for more of this man.

“I’d like that,” he said huskily. “I’d really like that.”

Me, too, she thought, sliding off the table and forcing herself to walk away. I’d like that, too.

7

Okay, ladies. Advice time! Mr. Fantasy Fodder isn’t one for chitchat (think Tall, Dark, and Almost Always Silent), but when he does smile and say something, I can’t help but notice. He actually has a wicked sense of humor and gets this little twinkle in his eye when something amuses him. Yay for melting girl parts! Our chemistry is off the charts. Is this what you all felt when you met The One? Was your bedroom rocking from the get-go? Because FF seemed a little reluctant to get entirely naked with yours truly. Not that I wouldn’t have let him keep some clothes on (adventuresome is good!), but the possibility that he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to go to bed with me is a downer. Especially since the man really, really knows what to do with frosting. My lips are sealed, but the memories... I’ll just say that FF definitely lived up to his nickname and I’d like to get to know him biblically. Send advice stat!

—MADDIE, Kiss and Tulle

MASON POUNDED ALONG the jungle trail, working through mile five of his morning PT. The sound of his boots hitting ground was a familiar rhythm, but everything else about the morning was off. He’d organized cakes, for crying out loud. Really girlie, over-the-top, flower-and-frosting numbers with little plastic bride and groom dolls perched on top. He’d be making cupcakes and whipping out the Easy-Bake Oven next.