THis was the perfect mission—unbeatable, the kind Navy SEALs like Justin Brandt dreamed about, prayed for and rarely got.
His target was locked in. No opposition in his periphery. He maneuvered through the water easily, focused on his one, his only intent. The temperature had to be close to eighty degrees and the sun was starting to go down. Darkness gave him the perfect cover, especially with the moonlight reflecting dimly on the water.
There would be no stopping him.
He closed in, swift, silent, his one hundred pound advantage on the intended target rendering resistance futile. He met his prey with determined contact. There was a slight struggle, some splashing, and then, success, at last.
"Justin, I have to check on dinner." Monique giggled as she held the bikini top he'd just unhooked against her breasts in one last attempt to subvert his efforts.
He held her, her back pressed against his chest, with no intention of letting her go. "Not hungry. Check on ...
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