Page 18 of Deadly Sins

11Grant

IWASN’T BUYING KSENYA’S GOOD-girl act, but I was game to play along. Her eyes had dilated at my request, but she still agreed to go to the hotel with me. She was, in fact, a stripper. Not that I cared.

I’d worshipped Mia—we’d been each other’s firsts, and I would’ve never made it through BUD/S without her support. But whenever I’d wanted to ask her to try something new in bed, I’d chickened out, afraid of how she would react. I didn’t want to lose or disrespect her, so I’d repressed my desires. She was a “good girl,” and I’d figured that making love to her should only be about tenderness.

Since we’d been apart, I’d had mostly one-night stands with chicks in bars and flings with messed-up strippers. I wanted to be with a girl who could fulfill my every fantasy. I wanted to fuck this girl, not marry her.

I sent a quick text to my buddy to reserve the Bachelor Pad Suite at the Coronado Bay Resort. Equipped with its very own stripper pole and a huge mirror over the bed. I couldn’t think of a better place to watch Ksenya ride me. The trip over on my motorcycle was sexy as all hell. Her tight little body wrapped around mine, her huge tits pressed into my back.

The regular girls who worked at Panthers didn’t seem to have any light inside them. Their eyes were cold, their hearts dead. Fuck, I felt dead when I dated them. But not with Ksenya. This chick was different. There’d been other damn sexy strippers from there, but this girl seemed almost innocent. Her immigrant-orphan hardship story was way more compelling than the typical stripper drama. She awoke something inside me.

Even so, I wasn’t going to chase her. I had enough willing women ready to drop their panties and suck a SEAL’s cock.

I’d only pursued one woman in my life. And frankly, I didn’t have the time to put into getting to know someone when I was deployed nine months out of the year. How could I ever build a relationship with a sweet girl who’d always be there for me if I didn’t have any time to spend with her? I’d done that with Mia and failed.

I pulled up to the hotel entrance with Ksenya and tossed the valet my keys. I pressed her against the building. My lips met hers, and her fiery mouth tasted as sweet as freedom.

She let out a slow, sweet moan. My cock hardened in my jeans—only a fine layer of denim between it and her wet panties. Navy SEALs rarely wore underwear.

I checked in at the front desk, the key already waiting for me. One of my Team guys knew the concierge; whenever a suite was vacant, he was happy to let one of us use it.

Ksenya’s mouth dropped when I opened the door to the suite. The pad was pure decadence: a black leather sofa faced the gold stripper pole, a mirror overhead. A full bar beckoned to me.

“Oh, Grant. This place it is very beautiful. It must be very expensive. Do you come to here many times?”

I studied her face; she looked almost dazed.

“Don’t worry about it, baby. I have a friend who hooks me up. Would you like a drink?”

She smiled in agreement, so I poured her a glass of wine, myself a shot of whiskey.

She studied the pole. “You want me to dance for you now?”

Hell yeah, I did. But I didn’t want her to feel cheap. “Let’s just relax for a bit.”

“Can I look around?”

“Sure. Make yourself at home.”

She walked around the suite, examining the pole, the gaudy painting of a naked woman to the right of the bar.

I downed my shot and poured another, then another. My head buzzed from my earlier beer.

She sat on one of the barstools, slowly sipping her wine.

Then I saw it.

Her lips. Big and pouty, but the left edge of her mouth curled when she smiled.

Just like Mia’s used to.

Fuck. I was still so hung up on that girl that even sitting here with a beautiful woman, all I could think about was my ex.

I studied Ksenya’s face. It was perfect. Completely symmetrical, as if an artist had sculpted it. No imperfections, like the small bump Mia had on her nose. Still, I’d loved Mia’s face; she was unique. She had been all mine. I still wasn’t sure why I was never enough for her. But that was history. This was my present.

Ksenya bounced her knees, fidgeting in her swivel chair. I turned the satellite stereo on in the room. Some deep bass dance song was playing. Perfect.

“Dance for me.” I relaxed on my sofa, the bottle of whiskey in my hand, waiting for my private show.