Raging Hard: A Stepbrother SEAL Romance (With bonus novel Based!) (3 page)

“Get in, bitch. It’s taxi time to pukeville.”

The cab driver looked at me. “You better take care of your friend or I’m kicking her out.”

“Okay, okay, sir. Just one second.”

I turned back to Nate. “I just keep apologizing, but I really am sorry. This is so annoying.”

Lydie literally started grabbing me and pulled me into the back of the cab. Nate crossed his arms and laughed loudly at us, still grinning that cocky smile.

“It’s okay. Save your friend.” He closed the door and mouthed the words “see you later.”

The cab started pulling away. I watched him disappear as we made a left turn, heading back toward my dad’s house.

“I liked him,” Lydie said after a second. “He was a good donkey.”

“A donkey?”

“Yeah. I rode him. Like a donkey.”

“Okay, Lydie. How drunk are you?”

“I’m drunk as fuck, bitch. What more do you want? It’s spring break!”

“No, it isn’t. It’s summer break.”

I laughed to myself and watched as the beach flew by the window, the cab driving into the wealthiest part of the Outer Banks.

I’d never done anything remotely like that in my whole life. I couldn’t believe how badly I wanted to taste his salty pre-cum, how badly I wanted to feel his hands on the back of my head as I made him come into my throat. He was incredible, getting me off with just his hands. Maybe he was the exact type of guy I needed to lose my V-card to.

He was definitely totally unlike the pretentious, preppy assholes my dad loved to parade around me whenever he got the chance. Nate was gruff and dirty and confident like nothing I’d ever seen.

And I wanted him more than anything I’d ever known. I was annoyed at Lydie for pulling me away.

Suddenly, as the cab pulled into the driveway, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

“Shit!” I said after we paid the cab driver and began to struggle up to the front door.

“No, puke. I shit earlier today,” Lydie slurred.

I made a face. Gross.

“No. I mean, I never got that guy’s number.”

Lydie looked at me suddenly, as if she were totally sober. “You done fucked up then, girl. He was hot as hell.”

“I kissed him.”

“You total whorebag!”

And then she turned to the side and puked into the bushes.

That was a great way to end the night. I helped Lydie inside, trying to stay quiet so we didn’t wake up Dad.

I got into my own bed, my head swimming with visions of my mystery man.

I
still felt the ache in my thigh every single day where the bullet had torn right through the meat and the bone. I rubbed it absently, trying not to think about that particular mission. I was on leave, after all, and should be getting piss drunk, not moaning about some terrorist asshole that got lucky enough to put a bullet in me.

Besides, the U.S. government owned my ass for the foreseeable future, injury or no. It didn’t matter if I was shot or beat up or burned to a crisp; I still had a job to do. The scar was just another badge of honor.

I got out of the cab in front of the piece of shit motel I was staying at for the next few weeks and climbed slowly up the stairs. I kept thinking about the girl from the club, Claire, and my cock began to stir all over again. I had to grind my jaw to keep it under control as I unlocked the door and went inside.

I wasn’t usually the type to keep thinking about a conquest. Normally on leave, I’d find the easiest piece of ass possible and fuck her until she had nothing left to offer, and then I’d move on to the next one. Rinse and repeat until I was recalled to base for a mission. I’d fuck so hard and fast that my past couldn’t keep up with me. That was how I had to live as a Navy SEAL, always one foot in the grave, a single step ahead of death himself.

And I never kept thinking about those chicks. This girl though, there was something about her. Normally I would have left her and her drunk-ass friend to fend for themselves, not wanting to get caught up in their stupid bullshit drama. But the way she had looked at me, practically dripping wet on my fingers, biting her lip, I couldn’t help myself.

I needed to fuck that girl. I needed to feel her tight pussy grip my dick. I needed to watch her pretty, innocent face take my cock between her lips and suck it hard. I could tell there was something dirty under that prissy, good-girl exterior, and I wanted to see exactly how dirty it was.

Except I never got her damn number. Grumbling, I turned on the shower and decided to rub one out while thinking about her. I had to go see my insufferably crazy mother the next morning, and it was always a bad idea to go into a mission half cocked.

As I got out of the shower and dried myself off, my thoughts kept drifting to Claire. I wondered if her daddy was just another rich asshole with a big house and figured that was probably the case. But girls like her usually didn’t give me the time of day, at least not in public. They were normally too busy trying to get roofied by one of the rich dickwads that went around acting like they owned the place. In private, though, they loved slumming it, and I loved making them come harder than their limp-cock boyfriends ever could.

Which was usually fine with me. I’d pick up a girl that actually knew that she wanted a man. The rich douchebags thought they were better than me because I didn’t drive a Ferrari, but that never bothered me. I’d seen and done things that would make them puke their guts up, because I was a real warrior. They could posture and strut around like peacocks with their nuts cut off all they wanted. I knew what I was.

I was a killer. I was a trained Special Forces operative for the United States Navy, a SEAL with all my training and battle experience. I didn’t need the approval of anyone, let alone effeminate, polo-wearing assholes.

Claire though, she seemed to know right away the kind of man I was. At the bar she was practically oblivious to all the looks those douchebags were throwing at her, until I showed up at least. She just needed a man to take control, to show her exactly what could be done.

I smiled to myself, slightly annoyed that I was still thinking about this girl but interested anyway. I hadn’t gotten her number, but that had never stopped me before. I knew her name and her friend’s name, and the Outer Banks weren’t that big. I was pretty confident that I’d run into her again, and sooner rather than later.

I got into bed and poured a shot from the whisky bottle next to my bed. I knocked it back and shut off the light, feeling drowsy. I didn’t feel like sleeping much, since the next day I had to meet my mother’s, Lucille’s, new rich husband, but there was no avoiding it. I could try to skip, but she’d throw a fucking fit and I’d never hear the end of it. As pushy and shrill as she could be, she was still my mother.

Besides, I was used to this by now. This was rich husband number four, or at least I thought it was husband number four. Hopefully the guy was smart enough to make her sign a prenup. I could still remember the phone call I got, the day after I got out of the hospital. She kept saying over and over that this was different, that she really loved him, and that he made her happy.

Which, if it was all true, would be great. I’d love to see Lucille happy. It would help keep her off my fucking back and maybe help relax the branch that was constantly shoved up her asshole. For most of my life, I was the disappointment, the child star that never panned out. She wanted me to be a professional athlete or a singer or some other bullshit, but the United States military beat any notion of stardom out of my head. Now, the only thing I loved more than pussy was fighting for freedom.

Still, I had to try my best to be nice. Even if Lucille was pulling her usual bullshit.

I closed my eyes and started to drift off to sleep with thoughts of Claire’s full ass in my hands.

––––––––

I
was up at 0600 the next morning, ignoring the tinges of a hangover, for my usual run. I wound my way along the beach, my breath coming in deep and heavy, my body drenched in sweat.

There was nothing better than running early in the morning along the beach. I loved the smell of the ocean and the feeling of the sand between my toes as I pushed my body to its limits.

Afterwards, I showered and dressed. It was 0900, and Lucille would be expecting me by 1000 for breakfast, or brunch, or whatever the shit she was calling it. Then I’d meet her new man and his daughter, smile and be all polite and shit, and then hopefully get the fuck out of there to start hunting down the girl that had promised to suck me dry.

I did some quick body-weight drills, getting my muscles back into shape after the long stay in the hospital. My leg ached still, but I didn’t mind a little pain. Sometimes the pain just made all the good stuff that much sweeter.

Finally finished, I hit the road, walking into town. I was supposed to meet her at this little uppity restaurant to catch up first before meeting her new man, probably because she wanted to feel me out before bringing me back home. That was typical of my mom, always expecting me to fucking embarrass her. Which was ironic, because I spent most of my life either trying to ignore her or feeling embarrassed by her shit.

I found the place around 1010 and started to walk inside. The skinny blond man with a thin mustache standing at the station out front gave me a huge frown when he got a look at my sneakers, tattered jeans, and tight black T-shirt. However, Lucille caught my eye and waved me over before he could make some comment about their dress code. I gave him my most winning smile as I walked by.

“Nathan, dear!” she said, standing up.

“Hi, Lucille.” We hugged, a little awkwardly, and sat back down at the table.

“It’s great to see you. You look thin!”

“No, I don’t.”

“Is the army not feeding you?”

“I’m not in the army. And they’re not feeding me at all since I’m on leave.”

“I know that, dear, but before.”

“I was in the hospital, or do you not remember?” Of course she had never once visited me. I couldn’t imagine Lucille stepping foot anywhere near a military-affiliated place, let alone an actual VA hospital.

She frowned and took a sip of her drink, a Bloody Mary, which was Lucille’s usual breakfast.  

“Of course I remember that, dear. I’m just making an observation.”

“Understood.” I opened the menu and sighed at the options. “Can’t a man just get some damn normal pancakes?”

Mom laughed. “Oh, Nathan, you haven’t changed. They have pancakes here, just ask.”

“So what’s with this breakfast, anyway?”

“I wanted to see you.”

“Yeah? Or did you want to feel me out before taking me to meet your new guy?”

“Honey, that’s enough. I don’t know why you’re always so suspicious of me.” She paused and sipped her drink again. “Besides, it’s not like you haven’t made a scene with men in the past.”

I nodded, not surprised at her confirmation. Those “scenes” she was referring to were more like “punching an asshole for treating me like I was a little kid.” I regretted that particular moment, but then again, the guy turned out to be a total dick. Went to jail for embezzlement, cost his company and his employees a lot of money. Lucille got out of there pretty fast, and I had felt a little vindicated.

The waiter came over and I ordered a black coffee and a stack of pancakes. Lucille asked for toast and another Bloody Mary.

“Okay. Tell me about this new guy,” I said to her once the waiter left.

“You’ll really like him. He owns bars and restaurants and clubs all over the place, including that new place called Secrets.”

I nodded. I was at Secrets the night before, which reminded me of Claire. I took a sip of the scalding black coffee the waiter put down in front of me to distract me from Claire’s lips.

“I’m not as attracted to his money as you are.”

“Nathan. He’s a very nice man. He treats me very well.”

“Yeah? And is this one going to stay out of jail?”

“Nathan, please. You don’t have to be so antagonistic all the time.”

I sighed and shook my head. “Okay. Fine. We can call a truce.”

She smiled, relieved when her second drink appeared. “Okay, a truce. Just try and be nice to him and his daughter, okay? Did I tell you about his daughter? Her name is Claire, very pretty, maybe a little younger than you.”

I raised an eyebrow at the name. Claire? How common was that name? There was no way it was the girl from the night before. That just wasn’t possible.

“That’s good. So long as you’re happy.”

“It makes me very happy to hear that.”

Our food came not too long after, and I put up with Mom’s constant stories about all of the expensive dinners and parties she had been going to with her new man. I was distracted, wondering about that name, Claire, and if it could possibly be the same person. Could the universe be so cruel as to make that girl my new stepsister?

Or maybe the universe was going to give me exactly what I wanted.

“So, honey, when
are
you going to leave that dangerous job of yours and go back to college?” Lucille asked suddenly.

“It’s not just a job. You understand that, right?”