Second Chance SEAL(159)

I went back to cleaning up, my cock hard as hell. I loved the look on her face when I talked dirty to her, both surprised and loving every second of it. She acted like she was this nice girl, but I knew the truth underneath all that polite, Midwestern bullshit.

She was a fucking animal. That night she showed me her true colors. She loved fucking, loved having my cock deep between her legs, and she could barely pretend otherwise.

I was glad she was taking point on this parents thing. I would have done it, but now I was fucking distracted by thoughts of fucking her up against the kitchen counter.

I wanted to hear her beg for it, hear her say my name again.

Good thing Travis was coming soon. If I couldn’t stop thinking about my cock slipping deep into Tara’s wet cunt, I was afraid I’d make some stupid mistake.

The girl was under my skin, and I fucking liked it.





Chapter 11





Tara





My stomach was a pit of nervous buzzing as my parents walked into the kitchen. If they were surprised, they didn’t show it as Dad shook hands with Emory.

“Good to meet you, son,” Dad said.

“Likewise, Roger.”

Dad squeezed Emory’s hand and inwardly I cringed. He was giving Emory his best intimidating look, which wasn’t very intimidating. Emory was a good three inches taller, and although he weighed less, Dad’s weight was fat whereas Emory’s weight was muscle.

“I hope you’ll be sticking around for a while,” Dad said.

“I will be, sir.”

I smiled. Dad would like that military “sir” stuff.

“Very good.”

“Actually, guys,” I said quickly, “we need to talk.”

“Is everything okay?” Mom asked me.

Dad let go of Emory’s hand and took a seat at the table.

“Mom, why don’t you sit with Dad.”

She frowned. “Are you two getting married?”

Emory laughed. I shot him a look and he grinned back, keeping himself under control.

“No, we’re not getting married,” I said.

“Why not? You have a baby together,” Dad added.

I wanted to absolutely strangle him.

“Guys, please listen. Mom, sit.”

She sat down next to Dad.

“Really, honey, if you two want to get married, we’d be very happy.”

I clenched my jaw. “We’re not getting married. Will you just listen?”

“You’d marry our daughter, right, Emory?” Dad asked him.

I almost strangled him right then and there.

“Dad!”

“What? I’m just asking.”

Emory could barely contain his laughter.

“Listen to me, guys,” I said. “This is serious.” I glanced at Emory, and he got himself under control, giving me his best serious face.

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” Mom said.

“Look, I’m in trouble. We all might be in trouble actually.”

“What happened?” Dad asked.

I glanced at Emory. “What can I tell them?”

“Everything you know, they can know,” he said.

I looked back at them. “You’ll find this hard to believe, but please, just listen with an open mind. And keep in mind that Emory didn’t want any of this to happen.”

And so I told them. I started with how we met in India, which they mostly knew already. I left out the amazing sex, of course, since the baby pretty much implied that had happened, but I told them Emory was a SEAL doing anti-terrorism in Pakistan and about how the terrorists had been watching me ever since the resort.

I told them about The Network, about the pictures, everything. I even told them about feeling like I was being watched in the park, which I only told part of to Emory. Through the whole thing, Emory stood there and let me speak, never once correcting me or contradicting me.

By the end, my parents were staring at me with openly disbelieving looks.

“And that’s it,” I said. “We got another photograph this morning. Emory thinks we’re all in serious danger.”

They were silent for a second as I stopped talking. Finally, Dad began to chuckle.

“Roger,” Mom said, “knock it off.”

“What? It’s a crazy story; I’ll give him that.” Dad looked at Emory. “How’d you get her to believe in all this?” he asked.

“It’s the truth, sir,” he said.

“You expect me to believe that terrorists are after my daughter because you’re some elite Navy SEAL?”

“Yes, sir,” he said.

“I saw the pictures, Dad. The man I described matched the man Emory told me about.”

“Pictures can be faked. Descriptions can be made up.”

“Roger,” Mom said again.

“I’m just saying,” he went on, “we don’t know this man. He could be some crazy person for all we know.”