SEAL's PromiseBy: Sharon Hamilton
Bad Boys of SEAL Team 3, Book 01
T.J. TALBOT LIKED weddings because he could always enjoy generous helpings of his two favorite things: alcohol and young lovelies.
Whenever a buddy got sweet on a girl and was contemplating ‘walking the plank’, as he liked to call it, T.J. was only too happy to help him celebrate. He never did mind the cost of the tux rental, the dinners and bachelor parties he had to spring for. It was all a means to an end. And his end was usually hooking up with someone and getting it on.
That was why he usually went to weddings stag. He’d sometimes promise to meet this or that lovely there, but usually he would go alone and play the field. Playing the field was much better for everyone involved.
He didn’t think of himself as a one-woman guy. He doubted anyone would be able to satisfy his appetites, especially his appetites in the bedroom. Experimentation was the norm for him. He didn’t want anyone crying to him after the fact, so he was careful. Yes, it did occasionally mean he went home alone. Far better to do that than to go home with a woman you had to console or peel off your skin the next day.
Tonight he had his eye on one of the bride’s best friends, Cindy. She had a funny little laugh, and he liked the way her tits jiggled whenever she did it. Her big blue eyes struck him right away as being interested in whatever he could dish out.
He always liked it when he could surprise a girl, help her learn new things about her sexual nature, and Cindy seemed like the perfect type, all spunky and full of sexual tension. He was going to pace himself, make sure he stayed in her line of sight a lot, and hope she’d chase him. He didn’t like it that way … unless he orchestrated it. Hell, he’d almost forgotten to line up with the other groomsmen he was thinking so hard about where he could take her for a bit of minor relief until he could have an all-nighter with her.
Four other SEALs were in the wedding party, and he had to admit they’d make a wedding portrait which would look good on the cover of any bridal magazine, except for their dark glasses. Only Frankie, the groom, posed without shades. Shannon had wanted them all without the shades, but T.J. smiled at her and put his back on in open defiance, and the others followed his lead.
She’d flounced off in a huff, a flurry of white cream puff material, and her perfume that made him sneeze. He knew about that hellcat streak she had. He angled his head to the side and intently studied her as she marched off to whatever mythical place brides hide when they go crazy. Even he had to admit that.
Frankie was white as a sheet as they gathered. “I wanna pray first,” he’d said to his best buddies. Tyler was there, of course, and Kyle. Ollie and Rory were as well. But T.J. was Frankie’s best friend, and that meant he had to be best man.
“Fuckin’ going to need a lot more than fuckin’ prayin’. Gonna need a miracle, Frankie. Shannon’s had the evil eye on me all morning…yesterday, too, and that means I don’t think you’re getting any tonight, not that you haven’t—”
“Fuck’s sake, T.J. It’s my fuckin’ wedding and has nothing to do with how my bride looks at you. Get that fuckin’ thought out of your head.”
“I was just sayin’—”
“Not what you’re sayin’ I have a problem with. It’s what you’re thinking.” Frankie was so nervous he was seeing conspiracies behind every plant, guest and bouquet.
“Just be glad we didn’t send you to Alaska,” Tyler said, making it worse. Last year, one of the young recruits was honored with time off from BUD/S to get married—a request which was almost never granted. The boys thought it necessary to save him from his quickie wedding in Las Vegas, and so they got him stinking drunk and put him on a plane to Alaska so he missed his own wedding. They incurred extra wet and sandy for that one, and the toilets were cleaned so many times you could eat out of them.
This had worried Shannon, and worried her mother even more. Mrs. “I Want Moore” was one of the hottest women T.J. had ever seen, a toned marathon runner in her fifties. He had never before had fantasies about the mother of the bride. Mrs. Moore was twenty-five years his senior, but he knew she could clean his clock. He’d enjoy chasing her around a few places.
Turning to face Frankie again, he felt a tad sheepish about his lusty thoughts. He wiped his mind clean and decided to concentrate harder on Frankie’s day. His buddy was so crazy in love with Shannon, he needed extra protection to keep him from stepping out in front of traffic, or bumping into caterers, which he’d already managed to do several times today.