To Seduce a SEAL (Sin City SEALs) by Sara Jane Stone Page A

this wasn’t meaningless—not to him—even if it did come with an end date.
    “Come here, honey.” He drew her into his arms and claimed her lips. He felt the give as her body melted against his. And he gently turned her and guided her movements until the back of her legs touched the bed. Then he drew back. “Lie down on the bed. On your back.”
    Yeah, his words sounded like a command. But he liked calling the shots. He’d asked her to stop pretending, and he planned to do the same.
    She turned, offering one helluva view of her perfect backside, and climbed up on the smooth surface of sheets and blankets. Then she rolled onto her back and stared up at him.
    “Don’t move.” He stepped back and turned to the bathroom door. “I need to get a condom.”
    Inside the bathroom, he moved quickly and rifled through his toiletries bag as if conducting a search. He didn’t give a damn if his travel-sized shampoo bottle rolled away and he never saw it again. He needed that condom. Now. He couldn’t leave her waiting too long. He didn’t want her to start second-guessing herself.
    Bingo! His hand closed around the plastic packet. He returned to the bedroom, tore open the packet, and covered himself.
    Then he joined her on the bed. He placed his hands on her bare legs, spread her limbs, and settled himself between them. He leaned forward and placed his left elbow on the mattress. He wrapped his free hand around his cock and nudged at her entrance. And let out a low, needy moan.
    Jesus.
    He slid the head of his dick against her wet folds, not even an inch inside, and he was close to losing it. He hoped like hell she wasn’t expecting a buffet of sexual positions designed to push that flexible little body of hers to the limits. Right now, he wanted her too damn much.
    “I want you just like this. Straight up missionary.” He growled, staring down into her blue eyes. He rocked his hips forward and slid inside another inch. She moaned, and he pressed forward. She was so damn tight, and it had been a freaking long time for his eager dick. Too long. He wasn’t going to last beyond the first few thrusts. “Sorry if this bores you to tears. Next time, you can ride me, or I’ll take you from behind. But right now…I can’t, honey.”
    …
    Chrissie didn’t have a lot of experience with sex. But she knew that if missionary was his idea of boring, she might not survive another position.
    “This…” She moaned, a low sound that began at her core and rippled up through her and momentarily erased her ability to speak.
    “I’m not…” she began again. But then one of his hands slipped underneath and wrapped around her backside. He tilted her hips up and thrust deeper.
    “Chrissie.” He gasped.
    She looked up at his face. His brow was knit together as if he was concentrating as hard as he could. She swore he looked like a man who would give her the world if she asked. But what she wanted…what she needed…
    “This isn’t…” she tried again. He drew back and buried his cock inside her. “ Oh God!”
    Her muscles clenched, and pleasure erased everything else. Her world narrowed to Dante. His hands…his cock…and the feeling that she wanted to stay right here, rushing, tumbling, and yes, falling headfirst into this orgasm.
    He slammed into her one last time. Then he threw his head back and roared. The low, primitive sound felt like a caress designed to draw her pleasure out until he’d taken everything he needed.
    Slowly, his chin lowered to his chest, and he stared down at her.
    “You’re going to have to try harder,” she said, finally able to string the words together. His eyebrows shot up, but she pressed forward. “A lot harder. If you want to bore me while you’re inside of me.”
    He laughed as he withdrew from her body. She felt his weight lift from the bed—disposing of the condom she’d guess—before sinking back down onto the mattress beside her. “Next time, honey, I’ll let you ride me until