Bastard SEAL: A Bad Boy Forbidden Baby Romance (Contains bonus book Based!) (39 page)

T
o
: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: 12/15/2015

Subject: long distance fuckin

Brie baby,

H
ow you doin
’
? You know I hate that show, but I still have that stupid line stuck in my head. I mean, seriously, it’s like the basis for a failed spinoff and we’re supposed to still think it’s funny? But I guess it is if we’re talking about it.

I don’t need to say this, but I’ll get it out up front: I miss your sweet ass. Yeah, I know, we Skype and text and talk on the phone all the time, so these emails are pretty pointless, but I like it anyway. Feels old school. Like I’m a soldier writing home from the front. My sore as hell legs sure make it feel like I’m in some shitty war.

I do have some news that I haven’t gotten to share yet, even though you just texted me. Bacon and eggs for breakfast? Good job.

The divorce is final. Jules and Cliff are officially splits. That was pretty fast, apparently. Cliff didn’t fight it. Jules wanted it over with. I feel bad about how all that went down, but Mom officially owns the Colorado house and I’m officially under her guardianship until my parole ends.

Which, as you know, is next fucking week.

So our parents are done. You know what that means, right?

We’re no longer stepsiblings.

We no longer have an illicit relationship.

Is that fucking weird? Do you still want to fuck me? I have to be honest; most of the appeal was the taboo part. It was wrong, you know? Really fucking dirty. I loved going down on my stepsister right under her dad’s nose. Now that you’re just another girl, I don’t know. Seems like it lost its appeal.

Just kidding.

I love going down on you. And the stepsibling thing was more annoying than sexy. Okay, maybe at first it was pretty sexy, but I’m done with that.

Another text? I didn’t even answer the first one. I had cereal for breakfast.

I had another dream about you last night. I guess it came from our Skype convo. Your hair was really long, and we were both laying in the backyard here, completely naked. We wrapped ourselves in your hair, it was like Rapunzel length or some shit, and you started going down on me. I kept saying, “The hair will move the hair will move,” but you didn’t care. I stopped caring too as soon as you slipped your wet little pussy down on my cock. We fucked like that in the meadow, surrounded by your hair, like we were in some weird cocoon.

I woke up with the biggest fucking morning wood ever. But you already know that, considering I sent you like ten pics of it.

Is that getting to be a little much? Too bad. You need to keep my cock in mind at all times.

Anyway, can you imagine what a hair cocoon would be like? Probably smell fucking bad. Really terrible. I mean, of course your hair smells amazing.

But the point is, I can’t wait to see you again. I can’t wait to wrap my arms around you, taste your lips, grab that perfect ass and tits and ravage you. I want to fuck you so rough you can’t walk for a week. I want to tongue your wet little tight pussy for hours, make you ride my face like a slut, make you moan and come. I want to treat your body like my own personal fuck toy. I want to make you come so hard you forget your own fucking name.

I can’t help myself. These emails always turn dirty. You’re just lodged so far in my skull, and I’m always so god damn hard for you.

Okay, anyway, I have a surprise for you. I’m not saying what it is, but I promise it’s good. I think you’ll like it at least. And don’t call me after reading this and try guessing for, like, an hour. I’m not going to tell you. But be excited.

I think I hear Tracey calling me. The torturer beckons. She can wait another minute though.

Oh, I meant to tell you. I heard from Jess yesterday. Seems she’s doing good, started a new movie with my money. I told her to list me as a producer, she told me to fuck myself. I guess she hasn’t changed.

I didn’t ask her about the documentary. I mean, we both know it’s done, it’s finished. I wanted to ask what happens in it, what we look like, all that shit. But I guess we’ll find out at the premier. That’s when I’m giving you the surprise, by the way. Or really I’m showing it to you.

No more hints though.

Gotta go. Tracey is getting annoyed. I’m seeing you soon, so fucking soon, at this premier. And then who knows?

Love,

Lincoln

I finished reading his most recent email and shut the lid of my laptop, excitement jolting through my body.

Lincoln. I hadn’t seen him or touched him or smelled him in what felt like forever. Really, it had only been a few months. I hadn’t been able to get back home because I was insanely busy with my new lab job, but we kept in constant touch.

Things were good. As good as they could be, at least, considering our relationship consisted of emails and texts and calls and Skype.

I hadn’t really spoken to my dad after everything that went down. We weren’t on bad terms, exactly, but things were weird. It was hard to see him as the same guy I knew after everything that had happened. I didn’t hate him though. He was human and humans messed up all the time.

Some messed up worse than others though.

I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror one last time. I had been reading Lincoln’s old emails to help calm my nerves, but I was ready to get going. The pale blue of my dress made my eyes look great, and Jules said it really flattered my figure. She had picked it out.

Lincoln was already gone when I got back from school. It was a little weird, being in that house, since technically it wasn’t mine anymore. But Jules said it would always be my home, and plus, it had all my stuff in it still.

Except Lincoln. He had insisted that the first time we saw each other in person had to be at the premier. He said it was poetic or something like that. Really, he just loved to make an entrance. I tried to argue, but he was stubborn.

I sighed, running my hands down the fabric nervously. I hadn’t seen him in person in so long. What if he didn’t like what he saw anymore? What if things were weird?

I shook my head. I shouldn’t let myself worry so much.

“Aubrie? Are you ready?” I heard Jules yell.

“Coming!” I called out.

I grabbed my purse and steeled myself for what was about to happen.

The theater was huge and gorgeous. It was old, really old, but had been renovated in the past few years. Apparently, they kept as much of the original structure and layout as they possibly could while still updating it.

All in all, it looked amazing.

There weren’t a lot of people milling around outside. Lincoln had insisted on keeping the premier small. After my dad backed out of the documentary, Lincoln had bankrolled what was left of it, and Jess used the footage she had already shot. I heard that it was pretty good, but I hadn’t seen it yet. We only had Jess’s word.

Jules and I pushed open the front door, moving out of the chilly December air and into the heated lobby. Inside, people dressed in gowns and tuxedos moved around. There was a live string quartet playing soft music, and waiters walked around with champagne.

“Fancy,” I said.

Jules laughed. “Lincoln always did love a good show.”

“I can tell.”

She smiled at me. “I see some people I need to go hit up for donations. Will you be okay?”

“Have fun.”

She laughed and walked off to talk to a group of older men. For some inexplicable reason, old men loved Jules. It probably had to do with her classy attitude and the perfect cleavage she was always showing.

I glanced around, heart beating nervously. I didn’t see him anywhere. A waiter walked by and I grabbed a glass, downing half the drink in one gulp.

I moved through the crowd, not recognizing anyone. Where was Lincoln? He promise he would see me there, promised that he wouldn’t stand me up. What if he had changed his mind, and the whole thing about meeting at the premier was just an excuse to get away?

Before I could let myself spiral into a stupid worry fest, someone moved into my line of sight.

I stared at him. Lincoln Carter, perfect, better than perfect, incredible. He was in even better shape than the last time I saw him in person, if that was even possible. Pictures and videos didn’t do him justice. I couldn’t help but stare.

And then my heart nearly stopped. As he walked toward me, he was leaning heavily on his cane, much more than I remembered. It looked like he had hurt himself again.

I was terrified. Had something happened? Why wouldn’t he tell me about it?

His face was serious and strained as he approached me, and I was terrified. Something bad was happening. He looked like he was hurting.

And then, just as suddenly as he appeared, he dropped his cane and spread his arms.

“Hey, Brie baby,” he said, his face breaking out into his usual cocky grin.

I threw myself into his arms. I didn’t think about it, didn’t care who saw. It was Lincoln, finally, in person. I needed to touch him more than anything else. He wrapped his strong arms around me and pulled me tight against him.

“You asshole. What’s going on?” I asked.

He laughed. “This is the surprise.”

I looked up at him, confused. “What is?”

“The cane. Look.” He stepped back, away from me, and walked over to a waiter. He grabbed a drink from the tray and walked back.

It took me half a second to realize that he was walking just fine without a cane. He was barely even limping.

“Holy shit, Lincoln!” I said.

He laughed. “Surprise! I’m not crippled anymore.”

I threw myself at him again and hugged him, breathing in his smell.

“This is so amazing,” I said.

“Now do you get why I wanted to wait?”

“God no. I would have seen you anytime, anywhere.”

“What can I say. I like a little theatrics every once in a while.”

I laughed. “So are you done with physical therapy?”

I felt him shake his head. “Not yet. But close.”

I pulled back. “Can you jump?”

“Soon. I will be able to soon.”

“That’s amazing.” I couldn’t tell if I wanted to laugh or cry.

“Don’t get teary on me, Brie baby.”

“I’m not, asshole.” I slapped his chest.

He grabbed my wrist. “God I fucking missed you.” He paused and moved close to me. “You’re so much fucking sexier in person.”

I blushed. “I missed you too.”

And then he kissed me. It took me completely by surprise. Even though our parents were divorced, it still seemed wrong to kiss in public, like we still had to hide our relationship from the world. But if he didn’t care, then neither did I.

It was like the first time, like every time. It melted my defenses, made my knees weak. His mouth and touch and tongue simply felt right. I wrapped my arms around him and he pulled me tight against his chest.

He pulled away. “I’ve been wanting to do that for too long.”

“I can’t believe—”

“In front of everyone? Fuck them.”

I laughed. “Okay. Fuck them.”

We kissed again, long and deep. It felt right.

It felt like coming home.

As the lights in the theater came up, I felt completely stunned.

I looked at Lincoln. “What did you think?”

“Wasn’t what I expected,” he said.

“Yeah. Same.”

He looked at me and grinned. “People are going to eat that shit up.”

The room was full of murmurs as people stood and filtered out of the theater, chatting with their neighbors.

“They really are.” We laughed together.

Jules poked her head around Lincoln. “So, you two liked it?”

“I thought it was interesting,” I said.

“It was moving,” Jules replied, nodding.

“Didn’t expect ‘moving’ to describe my months of pain, but yeah, it was,” Lincoln said dryly.

“And I was barely in it!” I said, shaking my head.

He laughed. “For all that torture in those interviews, you got maybe two minutes.”

“I know. I’m almost upset about it.”

Jules laughed. “I got more time than you did, and I was barely around.”

I smiled at her. She hadn’t mentioned the kiss yet, though I was positive she knew. There was something in her look, knowing and playful, and for a second I thought she winked at me.

“Anyway, I’m heading out,” she said.

“Oh. We’ll come with you.”

“Actually,” Lincoln cut in. “We won’t. I’ll drive us back.”

We stood up and began walking back out of the theater, laughing about the film as we went. Lincoln said he remembered pretty much everything that happened opposite of how Jess portrayed it.

Instead of inspirational and heartbreaking work, he remembered annoying, tedious hours of torture. Instead of an enlightened journey of a man used to breaking the law in the name of his sport, he remembered a guy who couldn’t wait to jump off the biggest, most illegal tower possible for the fun of it.

I glanced around the room, wondering where she was. I figured she was probably too busy filming her latest to show up.

All in all, Jess came through. She made Lincoln’s struggle, from the time he jumped off the building, through the trial, and up until the moment we stopped filming, seem like a heroic journey. Lincoln said he could hardly believe anyone was buying into it, but according to the conversations we heard around us, people seemed genuinely moved. People kept coming up and shaking his hand and congratulating him.

“I’m amazed you could get any emotional response out of these people,” I said between admirers, elbowing his ribs.

“Yeah. Since most of them are so old they’re practically dead.”

I laughed. “You’re not exactly the most subtle person in the world.”

He stopped walking and grinned at me. I couldn’t believe he was moving around so freely, with only a slight limp. But he didn’t seem to need the cane at all, and that was an enormous improvement.

We stood out front of the theater underneath a large tree, out of the way of the crowd.

“So what are you doing all summer?” he asked.