Amy Fetzer - The Seal's Surprise Baby

“Oh, Jack,” she said, bowing away from the wall, gasping for air.

Jack toyed with her, a single fingertip sliding over slick, soft flesh. Her panting breath tumbled from her lips and filled the elevator. He introduced another finger.

“Oh, my!”

“Oh, yes,” he growled, kissing her throat. She was wet and slick and tense against him, tuned for the explosion. Then the ping of the elevator made them draw apart, both moaning in disappointment. He muttered a curse and when the doors opened, grabbed her hand and damn near ran to his room. The hall was empty and he fumbled with the key card.

She took it, met his gaze, then inserted it in the slot. The door sprang open and he dragged her inside, kicked it closed and pushed her against the door.

She laughed at his impatience and he kissed her. Deep and heavy and thick. She popped the buttons of his dress white jacket and kicked off her shoes. He toed off his own and shrugged out of the stiff coat. Then she turned around, her hands braced on the door. Jack pulled the zipper of her satin dress down. His eyes flared and his body tightened when he saw the matching lavender bra and panties. He laid kisses down her spine, taking the dress with him as he did, and when it was a pile on the floor, he turned her around and looked his fill.

“Man, oh man,” was all he could say.

She arched a brow and unhooked her bra. His gaze raked her, his breathing quickened, and he stripped off his T-shirt.

She grasped his wrists and placed his hands over her breasts. Jack didn’t need encouragement. He was ready for her now. Had been ready for this for two long weeks.

Each time he’d brushed against her, electricity shot through him.

Each time she’d smiled or laughed, he felt alive and rewarded.

He rubbed her breasts, his palms brushing over her nipples. They hardened and he couldn’t wait to taste them. Then he did, taking one nipple into the heat of his mouth and sucking deeply.

Her leg lifted, her foot sliding up his calf.

Melanie felt her world tilt and shift. Pleasure radiated outward from her breasts, singing through her like music, making her blood run fast and hot and to the rhythm of Jack’s touch. He nibbled and licked and her nerve endings grew taut. His teeth scored, his tongue soothed, over her breasts, her ribs and lower.

Deliciously lower.

He caught his thumbs in the sides of her panties and drew them down as he sank to his knees. He touched and kissed her legs, hands smoothing down to her toes, then back up. Then he hooked her knee and drew it over his shoulder.

He met her gaze. She smiled, running her finger over his lips.

Then he tasted her. And everything she knew shattered.

“Jack,” she groaned softly.

His tongue plunged and laved and flicked, and she cried out, wanting more. She was greedy for this man. Greedy for everything she could get because she more than liked him, much more, and she knew he would leave, knew he’d disappear into the mist. A quiet warrior. It was his job, his life. There was only right now. And she wanted all he had.

And he gave it, finding and teasing every sensitive pulse point, every bit of flesh that was charged and waiting for ignition. He lit the fuse and she burned. Oh, how she burned!

Jack felt it, the spiral of heat racing through her, the tightening of her muscles, the liquid softness of her desire. He spread her wider and thrust two fingers inside her.

Desire exploded, shuddering through her, clutching at him.

“Jack!” she moaned. And he wanted to hear more, wanted to be the only man she did this with, wanted to be the one she shared herself with. A possessiveness he’d never known rose in him.

He didn’t ignore it. But he didn’t need it. Couldn’t encourage it. Not when he might be a thousand miles away from her in a few hours. So he savored the moments, the small and big ones, as he had for years, as he would for the next decade.

He took her past her climax, beyond madness and satisfaction, and back into his world, his arms.

He stood and she fell against him, limp for a moment, only a moment. Then she kissed him and fire kindled as she reached between them to unfasten his belt. She shaped him, the bulge in his trousers, then pulled the zipper down. His hands braced on the door beside her head, he smothered a groan as her fingers dipped inside his trousers and freed him.

“My turn.”

“Nah-ah.”

“What’s the matter, Lieutenant—running out of steam?”

“No, afraid of launching without a target.”

She laughed and increased pressure, stroking him wildly and pushing his trousers down. He kicked them aside, pulling her flush against him. The impact of flesh to flesh left them shuddering, weak.

His hands mapped her body, stroked and dipped, and he wasn’t the only player. Her touch taunted him, made him grow harder, and he scooped her into his arms, then strode to the bed. He set her in the center and she pulled him down, opening for him, eager for him to be inside her.

Skin met skin and he held her, wrapping her in muscle and man, and Melanie thought, Never in my life has it been this perfect. When he reached for the end table, she took the condom from him.

He arched a brow.

She grinned and pushed him onto his back and straddled his thighs. Jack sat up. She pushed him down, then opened the packet and drove him wild as she rolled it down.

“Melanie! Sweet mercy!”

“I don’t think so,” she said, and shifted to straddle his hips.

He grinned, loving her openness, and cupped her breasts, leaning up to take her nipple into his mouth.

Melanie forgot almost everything when he did that. “Oh, Jack, you do that so well.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled, kissing his face, then rose. “My hero.”

He guided himself into her, and she held on to his shoulders, meeting his gaze as she sank down. He filled her, thick and throbbing. Jack experienced more than the feel of this woman around him, of being so deep inside her. But he didn’t understand it. He tipped his head back and she smoothed hair from his brow, let her fingertips stroke his face.

“Melanie—”

“Shh,” she said. “Not now.” She saw it, the connection that went deeper than sex. All wild and hurried eagerness was gone. The rush had died to a sweet poignancy. They had to have each other. It was as if pieces were missing and here they came together. Joined. One.

She moved, releasing him and taking him back, claiming a man she could never have. He was a mustang. Free. Noble.

And she wouldn’t dare try to tie him down. Or ask him to stay. Though she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him when she’d only just found him.

Two weeks was not enough. Yet in his eyes, in the eyes that could be cold as ice and tender as a lamb, she saw more. More than he could give. More than sex.

Jack grasped her hips, his gaze never leaving hers as he gave her motion, never leaving hers as he pulled her down onto the bed beneath him and pushed deeply into her.

Her legs trapped him and he went willingly into the snare.

Her heart beat against his and he danced to the tune. Sinking. He withdrew and plunged, and she rose to greet him, to take him into her and into her soul. And when feminine flesh gripped him in a slick glove, pulsing as he pulsed inside her, Jack knew he’d relive this night a thousand times in the future. And want it never to end.

He pushed, long deep strokes that brought cries from her, brought pleasure in mounting waves. Their tempo increased, bodies moving in a damp and primal rhythm, his gaze locked on hers and refusing to let go. Flesh throbbed and squeezed; he drove deeper.

Then it came, the hot prickling rush that fought the surface of skin and bone and erupted. Sensations folded in on each other, breaking apart and coming together in a blinding moment that hung for seconds, then minutes before releasing them.