fingers through her blonde hair. Finally, she seemed to notice his scrutiny and gave him back an equal examination, her brown eyes widening at the bulge in his shorts.
He shrugged. “Can’t help it, baby. You are one hot mama.”
“Crude troll!”
When she was sufficiently clean, Zach turned off the faucet and picked her up again. This time she’d gotten her energy back and struggled hard, still to no avail.
“Keep squirming, honey. You’re making my hard-on very happy.”
She stopped immediately. Hard-on must be one of those universal language things.
Carrying her into the next room, he stepped up to a large tub filled with gurgling water. “The whirlpool is going to feel too hot at first, but it’s the best thing for those sore muscles.” When he eased her into what must seem like boiling water, she tried to rise, sputtering her indignation, but then she relaxed when she realized that the water was actually soothing. In fact, she murmured, “Heavenly!”
Soon he returned with a clean T-shirt, shorts, and socks, similar to what she’d had on before. She made him turn around while she put them on. Once she was dressed again, he took her by the hand. “I’ll walk you to the chow hall.”
When he unlocked and opened the door, they both got a big surprise.
Standing there, arms folded over his chest, was Commander MacLean sporting the world’s biggest frowny face.
“Lieutenant Floyd, they oughta gold-plate that dick of yours and put it on display at Ripley’s. You surely have a death wish. And you, Ms. Asado, surely you can’t think that the way through WEALS is paved by this guy’s overused cock.”
Zach was about to object to MacLean’s crudity, not to mention his mistaken notion that they’d been doing the deed.
Britta gasped. “You missay…I take exception to…,” she began.
But MacLean put up a halting hand at both of their sputtered protests and said, “Since you two are so fond of each other, maybe you’d both like to work out together tomorrow. Let’s say, oh four hundred for surf appreciation.”
“Surf appreciation” was a SEAL exercise meant to be hated, not appreciated. It involved the icy waters of the Pacific Ocean, where victims were required to sit, arms locked, in water up to their shoulders as waves crashed over them. It usually only lasted six minutes, but it felt like six hours. Occasionally they were ordered to run into the waves, then run back to shore where push-ups in shallow water were de rigueur. Each time the body lowered, the person would be covered with water.
“And Ms. Asado,” MacLean added, stepping around them and walking into the room, then returning with Britta’s bra and panties dangling from each forefinger, “could these be yours?”
Britta glared at Zach.
MacLean glared at Zach.
Zach was in deep shit, even deeper than before, and now he’d dragged Britta down there with him.
Could life get any better than this?
MEMO
From: Captain Lenore Feldman
To: Commander Ian MacLean
Subject: WEALS
Discourage flirting. Article 83b.
Chapter 4
Beer: A clueless man’s answer to any of life’s problems…
Zach was sitting at a table, sipping suds, in the Wet and Wild, an off-base bar that catered to SEALs and other Navy personnel.
It was early, so the usual nighttime crowd wasn’t around. No band. No sprinklers at the entrance to wet the female T-shirts. No horny men, well not too horny yet. And no wild women. Mostly old or married fuddy-duddies on their way home. Like him. Except he was only thirty-two, and he sure as hell wasn’t married.
He checked his watch for the fifth time since they’d arrived. It was only five thirty, but he needed to relieve Madrene pretty soon or Lean Mean would be after his butt. He wasn’t worried about any immediate danger to Madrene or Sammy. Hell, his town house had been made more secure than a virgin with a chastity belt, and more help was on the way. Nah, it was his kid who worried him. The boy had more than
He shrugged. “Can’t help it, baby. You are one hot mama.”
“Crude troll!”
When she was sufficiently clean, Zach turned off the faucet and picked her up again. This time she’d gotten her energy back and struggled hard, still to no avail.
“Keep squirming, honey. You’re making my hard-on very happy.”
She stopped immediately. Hard-on must be one of those universal language things.
Carrying her into the next room, he stepped up to a large tub filled with gurgling water. “The whirlpool is going to feel too hot at first, but it’s the best thing for those sore muscles.” When he eased her into what must seem like boiling water, she tried to rise, sputtering her indignation, but then she relaxed when she realized that the water was actually soothing. In fact, she murmured, “Heavenly!”
Soon he returned with a clean T-shirt, shorts, and socks, similar to what she’d had on before. She made him turn around while she put them on. Once she was dressed again, he took her by the hand. “I’ll walk you to the chow hall.”
When he unlocked and opened the door, they both got a big surprise.
Standing there, arms folded over his chest, was Commander MacLean sporting the world’s biggest frowny face.
“Lieutenant Floyd, they oughta gold-plate that dick of yours and put it on display at Ripley’s. You surely have a death wish. And you, Ms. Asado, surely you can’t think that the way through WEALS is paved by this guy’s overused cock.”
Zach was about to object to MacLean’s crudity, not to mention his mistaken notion that they’d been doing the deed.
Britta gasped. “You missay…I take exception to…,” she began.
But MacLean put up a halting hand at both of their sputtered protests and said, “Since you two are so fond of each other, maybe you’d both like to work out together tomorrow. Let’s say, oh four hundred for surf appreciation.”
“Surf appreciation” was a SEAL exercise meant to be hated, not appreciated. It involved the icy waters of the Pacific Ocean, where victims were required to sit, arms locked, in water up to their shoulders as waves crashed over them. It usually only lasted six minutes, but it felt like six hours. Occasionally they were ordered to run into the waves, then run back to shore where push-ups in shallow water were de rigueur. Each time the body lowered, the person would be covered with water.
“And Ms. Asado,” MacLean added, stepping around them and walking into the room, then returning with Britta’s bra and panties dangling from each forefinger, “could these be yours?”
Britta glared at Zach.
MacLean glared at Zach.
Zach was in deep shit, even deeper than before, and now he’d dragged Britta down there with him.
Could life get any better than this?
MEMO
From: Captain Lenore Feldman
To: Commander Ian MacLean
Subject: WEALS
Discourage flirting. Article 83b.
Chapter 4
Beer: A clueless man’s answer to any of life’s problems…
Zach was sitting at a table, sipping suds, in the Wet and Wild, an off-base bar that catered to SEALs and other Navy personnel.
It was early, so the usual nighttime crowd wasn’t around. No band. No sprinklers at the entrance to wet the female T-shirts. No horny men, well not too horny yet. And no wild women. Mostly old or married fuddy-duddies on their way home. Like him. Except he was only thirty-two, and he sure as hell wasn’t married.
He checked his watch for the fifth time since they’d arrived. It was only five thirty, but he needed to relieve Madrene pretty soon or Lean Mean would be after his butt. He wasn’t worried about any immediate danger to Madrene or Sammy. Hell, his town house had been made more secure than a virgin with a chastity belt, and more help was on the way. Nah, it was his kid who worried him. The boy had more than
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